Memorial Day Mayhem

Archived show text

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

	**********************************************************
**********************************************************
**********************************************************
                           American Wrestling Alliance
                                 Proudly Presents
                            Memorial Day Mayhem

                         Live from the Arena Theatre
                                Houston, Texas
                                  May 31, 2010
**********************************************************
**********************************************************
**********************************************************

[As the closing notes to the Andy Griffith Show theme fade into nothing,
it is replaced with a shot of the American flag flapping in the breeze
outside of the Arena Theatre.  The voice of Gordon Myers is heard.]

"Francis Marion Crawford once said... 'They fell, but o'er their
glorious grave floats free the banner of the cause they died to save.'

On this Memorial Day, we proudly send our thoughts and our prayers to
the memories of those who have died for their country and to the loved
ones they left behind."

[A silent moment, still holding on the flag...

...and then we fade through black to a shot of Corey Lawson, clapping
his hands and clearly excited about the Rumble.  He's sporting baby blue
leg-length tights with white bandannas tied around his wrists, knees,
and boots.]

CL: It's the biggest match I've ever been in, daddy, and let me tell
you, there ain't no place I'd rather be than right here tonight! 
Samoans, you two better watch out, because if you get in my way?

[Lawson mimes throwing someone over the top rope.]

CL: It's over the top you go!  And let me tell you, there ain't nothin'
soft about the concrete floor.  Bailey Fitzgerald and I are ready for
tonight, and Samoans, I don't know what kind of weird island God you
pray to, but you better get on your knees and beg Him not to be in the
ring when my number's drawn!  Whoo!

[Lawson claps his hands and marches off-screen as we fade to a shot of
"Prince Of Darkness" Anton Layton standing in front of an AWA backdrop. 
Layton's eyes are rolled back into his head as he speaks.]

AL:  Verrrrrrrrnon Riiiiiiiley...

[Layton slaps himself across the face, his eyes straightening.]

AL:  Your time has come.  No more can you run.  No more can you hide. 
No longer can you shuck and jive your way around the ring and try to
make these blinded fools cheer you.

Tonight, you meet me.

Tonight, you meet your destiny.

And the eye of destiny sees you on the floor on your back with me
standing over you.

So it is written... so it shall come to pass.

[Layton emits some weird kind of growl as we fade from him to Michelle
Bailey, dressed in a specially modified Memorial Day Mayhem shirt:
sleeves cut off, diagonally tapered starting at the ribcage and down to
the hip.  He is also wearing a black skirt with leopard print contained
within the pleats, along with black kneepads, black wrestling boots, and
white and black striped tights that disappear under the hem of the
skirt.]

MB: I've heard everyone is, like, totally interested to know just who
I'm goin' to help in the Rumble tonight!  Well, baby... you never know
just what Michelle Bailey's going to do!  So tonight, keep your eyes on
me!

[Bailey giggles.]

MB: Not like you can help it!

[We fade from Bailey to bulky Vladimir Velikov standing in front of the
Memorial Day Mayhem logo.]

VV:  The time has come for you Americans to recognize the true global
power.  I am no stranger to the Rumble... but what is new to you is just
what I can do in there.

No more do I stand to protect my pathetic nephew.

On your Memorial Day, I fight for MY country.  I fight for me.

[Velikov claps his massive hands together.]

VV:  And on your country's holiday, you can all rise up together and
celebrate when I throw twenty-nine pathetic Americans over the top rope
and walk out with a guaranteed shot at the National Title.

Glory returns to Mother Russia!

[And with that, we fade again to Shane Destiny, standing in front of a
Memorial Day Mayhem banner, dressed out in royal blue trunks, black
kneepads, and black boots with white laces.]

SD: Everyone's trying to say Mark Langseth is the guy I need to worry
about... but let me tell you... yes you, the idiot sitting at home
eating bologna and potato chip sandwiches.  Mark Langseth's not in the
Rumble!  Mark Langseth's got _nothing_ to do with this match!  I've
humiliated old Uncle Mark, and I ran his piddly little nephew out of
this place.  Let me tell you something relevant... tonight, I ascend to
the top of the throne and _earn_ my rightful spot as the #1 contender to
that National title.  It doesn't matter who's in there!  It can be
Vasquez!  It can be the whole Southern Syndicate!  I don't know what
mall you dug Michelle Bailey out of, but it can be him!  Heck, if Todd
Michaelson wants to crawl up into the ring, it can be him too!  I'm
mowing down 29 other people tonight, and I'm walking out of here as the
uncrowned National Heavyweight Champion!

[Finally, we fade to the interior of the Arena Theatre with a graphic
reading, "Memorial Day Mayhem - Arena Theatre - Houston, Texas.  The
crowd is roaring as we get our first look at the capacity crowd of just
under 3,000.  The camera pans over the cheering fans, showing people of
all sizes, shapes, colors, and ages screaming their lungs out for
Memorial Day Mayhem.

With the fans still cheering, the camera continues to pan, showing the
standard AWA ring camped out in the middle of the Arena Theatre's unique
"theater in the round" style setup.  The ring sits atop a raised
circular stage in the middle of the arena with a level of floor seating
and an upper deck surrounding it.  There is no room for barricades so
the AWA has invested in some rope to keep the front row fans at bay. 
One of the aisles has been roped off to allow entry from the locker room
area.

The shot cuts to a ringside "pit" section near the stage where we find
Gordon Myers in a spiffy black tux for the occasion.  He is all smiles
as the camera hits him for the first time of the night.]

GM:  Good evening, fans, and welcome to the historic Arena Theatre in
Houston, Texas!  We are LIVE for the next three hours here on WKIK as we
bring you Memorial Day Mayhem!  And for the second year in a row at
Mayhem, my broadcast colleague Bucky Wilde is up in the ring and is
demanding to get to start the show in his own way.  We've got a big show
coming up tonigh-

[The voice of Bucky Wilde is heard over the house mic, interrupting.]

BW:  GORDO!

[Gordon Myers turns towards the ring.]

BW:  AY, GORDO!

[Myers throws up his hands.]

GM:  Obviously Bucky's not going to let this show start up as planned
until he gets to say whatever in the world's on his mind.  I wanted to
talk about all the big matches we've got coming up tonigh-

BW:  GORDO!  Can you hear me?

[Gordon shakes his head, sighing heavily.]

GM:  Fans, I apologize but let's just get this over with.

[Gordon switches off mics, taking one offered from off-camera and the
next time he speaks, we hear him over the house speakers.]

GM:  Bucky Wilde, what in the world has gotten into you?

BW:  Gordo, I've got a scoop!

GM:  A scoop?

BW:  That's right.  I've got a scoop that all of these people here in
Houston - including you - will want to hear tonight.

GM:  Does that mean-

[Bucky nods his head wildly... no pun intended.]

BW:  That's right, daddy!  It's time for an impromptu version of THE
CALL OF THE WILDE!

[There's actually kind of a cheer for that... surprisingly.]

GM:  Well, you've got a mic... let's hear it...

[Bucky shakes his head.]

BW:  Nah, nah... you'll want to be in the ring for this one.

[Gordon shrugs, climbing the steps to join his partner inside the ring.]

GM:  Alright, Bucky.   You've got me in the ring.  Now what do you have
to say to all of these people?

BW:  Gordo, this is big... and consider this one a gift from me to you
because I usually only do these about people I really like - men like
Shane Destiny.  Heck, it was one year ago that I brought Kevin Slater
back to the AWA in this very ring - a ring that he'll be mopping up with
Bobby Taylor and Brent Maverick later tonight!

[Big jeers for that one.]

BW:  But that's not why I'm here tonight.  Gordo, who is my least
favorite wrestler?

GM:  Sweet Daddy Williams.

BW:  Besides him.

GM:  Rough N Ready.

BW:  Besides them!

GM:  Juan Vasq-

BW:  It's City Jack, okay!  It's City Jack!

GM:  I see.

BW:  Yeah, but he don't.

[Wilde cackles at his own joke, drawing more boos from the crowd...
until Bucky holds up a finger.]

BW:  Not yet at least!

GM:  What are you going on about?

BW:  I spoke with City Jack's doctors earlier today.  They were calling
for Dane, I think, but I took the call.  Gordo, you know the doctors
think he'll never see again, right?  He's been in the hospital for
months... he's been in rehab for weeks... they thought he'd never see
out of that eye again, right?

GM:  Bucky, what is the point-

BW:  Hold on now.  I talked to his doctor.  And his doctor told me that
later this week, City Jack will be undergoing major surgery on his eye. 
It's extensive surgery... it's... well, it's a little bit dangerous too.
 But they think if it goes well, he just might get his sight back in
that eye.

[Big cheer!]

GM:  Bucky, are you serious?

BW:  I swear.  I absolutely swear.  If that surgery goes well, City Jack
may be able to see out of that injured eye again.

[Gordon brightens.]

GM:  Well, that IS big news.  Thank you, Bucky, for presenting that news
to the fans here in Houston and all over the nation on WKIK.  In fact,
fans - and Bucky, if you don't mind - I think I'd like to call for a
moment of silence - a moment for all of us to say a little prayer for
City Jack and wish him the best of luck in his surgery this week each in
our own way.  

[Gordon bows his head.  We can see several members of the crowd doing
the same thing...

...when suddenly, the moment of silence is shattered by the opening
guitar riffs of ZZ Top's "Sharp Dressed Man".  The crowd responds with a
shattering sound of their own - a chorus of jeers as "Ladykiller"
Calisto Dufresne comes strutting out from the entrance portal.  Dufresne
is already clad in his wrestling attire for his match later with Soup
Bone Samson, but the disgusted looks from the fans are focused on the
arrogant smirk plastered across Dufresne's face.  

Dufresne stops about halfway down the aisleway to dance near an
attractive young female fan whose demeanor has clearly softened a bit as
she appreciates Dufresne's good looks.  Dufresne tosses a wink her way
and continues to head towards the ring where Gordon Myers is standing in
the center of the ring staring darts at the Ladykiller.  Dufresne climbs
in the ring and heads towards Myers, a broad grin on his face.  He leans
over to the microphone, which Myers makes no attempt to put his way,
intent on scowling at Dufresne.]

CD: Hey, Gordo, how's it going, pal!?

[Silence from Myers as the boos rain down.  Dufresne looks a little
confused.]

CD: What's wrong, buddy?  You look like somebody ran over your cat.

[Still nothing.]

CD: I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?  I can come back lat-

[Myers cuts Dufresne off with an explosive retort.]

GM: Interrupting something?  _Interrupting something!?_  You know
exactly what you're interrupting!  First you take the man's career. 
Then his vision!  His _vision_ for the love of- and you can't even give
him ten seconds of silence?

[Dufresne looks around a bit, looking confused.]

CD: To whom are you referring, Myers?

GM: City Jack, you callous son of a-

[Dufresne cuts Myers off, patting him on the shoulder condescendingly as
he yanks the microphone from his hand.]

CD: Eeeeaaasy, tiger.  Let's not have the FCC pull your creds and then I
get blamed for sending you off to retirement, too.  

[He shakes his head a bit in a "Do I have to do everything around here?"
kind of way.]

CD: I had no idea we were having a celebration for City Jack tonight. 
Someone should have told me; I would've brought a veggie platter.  What
is it, his birthday?  

You know the great thing about a City Jack birthday party is?  You don't
have to call some dirty old man to show up dressed like a pirate; you
just have Jack throw on his eyepatch and you're good to go.

[Dufresne snickers a bit as the boos rain down.]

CD: Seriously, though.  Why are we starting off this show on such a
downer note?  Tonight, yours truly is going to come out twice to
entertain my throngs of adoring fans.  In the main event, of course,
when I win the Rumble and keep the gold at home with the Southern
Syndicate.  And then later tonight I'll be running roughshod over some
guy whose name I already forgot.  I think he works at a soup kitchen or
something, I can't quite remember.

[Dufresne turns back to Myers.]

CD: Hey, Gordo, who is it I'm going to destroy tonight, again?

[The crowd explodes in cheers as Myers peeks over Dufresne's shoulder
toward the entrance portal.]

GM: Why don't you ask him yourself?

[Dufresne spins around just as a charging Soup Bone Samson slides
headfirst under the bottom rope, climbing to his feet, and DRILLING
Dufresne with a spear tackle that takes him off his feet and down to the
mat!  The crowd explodes as Gordon and Bucky scamper from the ring,
racing to retake their seats at ringside as Samson hammers Dufresne with
punches from the mount.

The crowd "OHHHHS!" along with each hammering blow as Samson seems ready
to knock Dufresne out of this plane of existance as the voices of our
announce team comes back in.]

GM:  Fans, I hope you can hear us because this thing just got started in
a hurry!

BW:  How DARE that Soup Bone Samson interrupt a moment of silence with a
brawl!  I thought he claimed City Jack is his friend!

GM:  Bucky Wilde, you very well KNOW that it was Dufresne who broke up
that moment.  He was the one who- ohhh!  What a right hand by Samson!

[The crowd is still roaring for Samson as he gets back to his feet,
dragging the Ladykiller up by the hair, and lashing out with a big chop
across the chest, a blow that sends Dufresne falling back into the
turnbuckles.  A referee, Mickey Meekly, slides into the ring as well,
signalling for the bell to ring.]

BW:  Wait a second!  This is the match?!

GM:  You know Jim Watkins' attitude about this kind of thing.  If two
guys want to fight, let's let 'em fight!  Dufresne wants to try and pour
salt in the wounds of City Jack and Soup Bone Samson wants to shove that
salt shaker right up Dufresne's-

BW:  Gordo!  What in the world has gotten into you tonight?

GM:  This Dufresne guy just gets under my skin, Bucky.  He knows how to
rub me the wrong way.

BW:  From the way the ladies respond to him, I'd say he knows how to rub
some people the-

GM:  That's enough of that.

[Samson clenches both fists, throwing hooking blows to the ribcage of
the Ladykiller as the crowd roars.  A right hand connects to the ribs,
causing Dufresne to grab the top rope to stay on his feet.  Another
backhand chop snaps Dufresne back, forcing him to hook onto the top rope
with both arms.]

GM:  Dufresne's just trying to hang on - trying to survive this
onslaught from Samson...

[Grabbing Dufresne by the wrist, Samson whips him from corner to corner,
smashing his back into the buckles.  With a shout, Samson barrels across
the ring...

...and SMASHES the Ladykiller with a running clothesline!]

GM:  Ohhh!

[Samson bounces back out of the corner, rearing back his right hand.]

GM:  Here it comes!  Here it-

[A wild swinging right hook comes flying towards Dufresne who ducks
under it, reaching up blindly to jab a thumb into the eye of Samson,
stunning the veteran.]

GM:  Ohh!

BW:  Samson swung for the fences with that.  He went wild with it and
didn't throw it with the usual precision accuracy that he usually does. 
He missed the hook though and now Dufresne's making him pay for it.

[Dufresne lashes out with a kick to the body, knocking Samson back into
the corner.  A few more kicks to the ribs follow, knocking Samson down
to a knee.]

GM:  This is what Dufresne needs to do.  He needs to get Samson off his
feet so he can't use his power edge and he can't use those street
fighting tactics he excels in, Bucky.

BW:  Don't you worry about the man who's a former National Tag Team
Champion.  And you can bet that Ben Waterson, the genius that he is, has
it all figured out as well.  He's got a gameplan to get Dufresne through
this fight.

GM:  Oh yeah?  Where is Mr. Waterson in all this?

BW:  I'm sure he's watching.

GM:  Shouldn't he be out here for his client?

BW:  If he's not here, he's got his reasons.  This is a big night for
the Southern Syndicate, Gordo!

[Dufresne grabs Samson by the back of the head, clenching his fist and
driving it into the skull of the veteran.]

GM:  Big right hand by Dufresne!

[A second punch follows and a third is delivered which knocks Samson
down to the mat.  Grabbing the top rope, Dufresne immediately starts
stomping Samson into the mat.]

GM:  Stomp after stomp after stomp by Dufresne... and he knocks Samson
right out under the ropes to the floor!

[Taunting the jeering fans, Dufresne steps out on the apron, looking
down at the kneeling Samson on the uncovered wooden stage that the ring
sits on.]

GM:  Dufresne's measuring him...

[And the Ladykiller drops off the apron, smashing a double axehandle
across the skull of Samson, knocking the veteran down on his stomach on
the wooden floor.]

GM:  Nice hammer blow to the head.

BW:  These fans really got quiet in a hurry, Gordo.  Maybe we should do
that moment of silence now.

GM:  Oh, that's real funny, Bucky.

[Dufresne delivers a few more stomps to the back of Samson's head,
smashing his cheek into the wooden floor.  The counting official reaches
six as Dufresne ducks back into the ring, breaking the count before he
rolls back out to the floor.]

GM:  Dufresne keeps up the assault on the floor, kicking Samson in the
ribs now over and over!  This guy may not look like much, Bucky, but
he's as violent and brutal as they come inside that ring.

BW:  Or outside at this point.

[The Ladykiller drops down to his knees, grabbing Samson by the back of
the head by his short hair...

...and SMASHES his face into the wood floor!]

GM:  OHHH!  Come on, ref!

BW:  Is that illegal?

GM:  It certainly is!

BW:  That's debatable but it's certainly not worth getting all worked up
over.

GM:  I'll remember you said that.

[A smirking Dufresne drags Samson up off the floor by the head, shouting
at him as he does.]

"You're the best defender he's got?"

[A hard slap across the face punctuates his shout just before he grabs
Samson by the wrist, going for a whip...

...but Samson reverses it, hanging onto the wrist and pulling Dufresne
into a short-armed clothesline!]

GM:  OHHHH!  Samson turns the tide in this one!

[Samson leans against the apron for a bit, sucking wind into his aging
lungs as Dufresne rolls around on the wooden floor.]

GM:  Samson takes him down hard with the clothesline but you can tell
he's feeling the effects of this one already.  He is not a young man by
any stretch of the imagination, Bucky.

BW:  He makes Dave Cooper look like a young pup.

GM:  Samson's obviously having a hard time out there.

[Shaking his head, Samson DRIVES a boot into the ribcage of Dufresne,
causing the Ladykiller to turtle up, clutching his torso.  The count
gets to six again as Samson delivers a second kick before hauling
Dufresne off the floor, rolling him back in.]

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

[Samson rolls up to a knee, visibly breathing a bit heavy as Dufresne
rolls further away, crawling on his hands and knees towards the far side
of the ring.]

BW:  Gordo, we're not even five minutes into the match yet!  This guy
looks like he's gonna keel over running the ropes!

GM:  Samson exerted a lot of energy running out here and right now, he's
fighting on pure emotion.  That emotion may have burned up some of the
gasoline in his tank.

[Straightening up, the veteran slowly walks across the ring where
Dufresne has pulled himself to his feet, his back to the corner.  Samson
moves in on him, fists balled up as he approaches.]

GM:  Here he comes, Bucky... looking to deliver some more punishment...

[Samson reaches out, grabbing Dufresne by the throat with both hands.]

GM:  He's choking him!

BW:  Get in there, ref!

GM:  Mickey Meekly is right there, counting Samson...

[Just before the count of five, Samson releases the choke, leaving a
doubled-up Dufresne gasping for air.  Grabbing a handful of hair, Samson
drags him from the corner, and SMASHES his face into the top
turnbuckle!]

GM:  Ohh!

[Dufresne stumbles out of the corner, hanging onto the ropes to stay on
his feet...

...and Samson presses his fingernails into the flesh of the Ladykiller,
raking both hands down to tear the flesh of Dufresne!]

GM:  OHHHH!  A vicious move by Samson!

[Grabbing Dufresne by the hair, Samson pulls him in and ducks down,
scooping him up in an inverted bodyslam...

...and THROWS Dufresne facefirst down to the mat!]

GM:  Down he goes!  One of the trademark moves of Soup Bone Samson.

[Samson immediately drops an elbow on the back of Dufresne's head,
pushing to his knees and grabbing two hands full of hair, raking
Dufresne's face back and forth across the mat!]

BW:  Look at this, Gordo!  He raked the back, he choked the man, now
he's rubbing his face into the mat!  What in the world makes anyone
cheer this maniac?

GM:  He warned Dufresne!  He warned him that he'd pay for what he did to
City Jack!

BW:  This isn't about City Jack.  This is about Samson's own pathetic
career.  He's fifty years old!  He knows he's almost at the end and he
wants to knock off a top superstar here tonight.  Well, that ain't gonna
happen, daddy!

GM:  We'll see about that.

"FIVE MINUTES HAVE EXPIRED!  TEN MINUTES REMAIN!"

GM:  You heard Melissa right there - ten minutes left in this fifteen
minute time limit.

BW:  I don't think Samson'll last ten minutes, Gordo.

GM:  You could be right about that.

[Samson climbs back to his feet, dragging Dufresne off the mat by the
hair.]

"THIS IS FOR JACK!"

[Samson rears back a left hand and DRIVES it right into the eye of
Dufresne, sending him falling back to the mat clutching his face.]

GM:  Oh my!  He hit him right in the eye!

BW:  You knew this was coming, Gordo.  You knew at some point, Samson
would go for the eye.

GM:  It's an eye for an eye here at Memorial Day Mayhem and Calisto
Dufresne may be feeling a little more sympathy for City Jack right now.

BW:  Wanna bet?

[Samson slowly approaches, leaning over to roll Dufresne onto his
back...

...and gets a thumb jabbed into his own eye, sending him falling back
away from Dufresne!]

GM:  Dufresne turns the tide!  He goes to the eye himself!

[Samson grabs at his eye, leaning over the ropes as Dufresne climbs up
off the mat.  An angry-looking Ladykiller quickly approaches, blasting
Samson with a double axehandle across the back of the neck, smashing his
throat into the top rope.]

GM:  Dufresne's all over him!

[The crowd jeers as Dufresne throws hooking blows to the body, lands big
overhead forearms across the lower back, and finally upends Samson over
the ropes, throwing him down to the wood floor!]

BW:  Samson's eliminated!

GM:  This is not the Rumble, Bucky.

BW:  I know.  I'm just warming up.

GM:  It's not the Rumble but we WILL see Calisto Dufresne in the Rumble
later tonight trying to do exactly what he just did to Soup Bone Samson,
throw people over the ropes to the floor.

[Dufresne angrily leaves the ring, dropping down to the floor where he
immediately starts stomping Samson again.  After a few stomps, he drags
Samson up, drilling him with a right hand near the eye he jabbed
earlier.  Holding the back of the head, he drags the veteran over to the
ringpost.]

GM:  Oh no.

[Winding up, Dufresne SLAMS Samson's face into the ringpost, causing him
to clutch the steel to stay on his feet.]

GM:  Good grief!

BW:  You do not mess with the Southern Syndicate, daddy, and I think
Soup Bone Samson may have just figured that out.

[Dufresne shoves Samson back under the ropes, rolling in behind him to
make a cover.]

GM:  We've got one!  We've got two!  But that's all - Samson gets a
shoulder up at two.

[Dufresne immediately floats into a mount, grabbing Samson by the head
to deliver punch after punch into the area of the eye.]

GM:  Come on, referee!

[Mickey Meekly delivers a swift count, forcing Dufresne to break up his
assault on the face, climbing to his feet with a glare thrown in the
referee's direction...

...and then leaps into the air, throwing his fist down into the eye!]

GM:  Fistdrop by Dufresne!

[The crowd jeers wildly as Dufresne sits up on the mat, a big grin on
his face as he looks down at Samson who has both hands up, shielding his
face from further assault.]

GM:  The Ladykiller back to his feet...

[Dufresne leans over Samson, slapping at his hands.]

BW:  Hehehe.

GM:  Enjoying yourself?

[Dufresne shouts at Samson to "put down your hands and fight like a
man!" before slapping at the hands again.  An angry Dufresne hits the
ropes, bouncing off...

...and DRIVING his knee down onto the skull of Samson!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Samson put his hands down and took that knee right to the
head!

BW:  He had to, Gordo.  If he had left his hands up, that kneedrop might
have broken his hand and we all know how important Samson's hands are to
his offense.  If he gets that right hook taken out of the situation,
Dufresne takes it with ease.

GM:  I don't think so.

[Dufresne is again all smiles as he gets to his feet, mockingly holding
a hand over his eye and staggering around "feeling" the air.]

GM:  Calisto Dufresne is a despicable human being, Bucky.

BW:  Or he's a hero to the masses.  Tough call.

GM:  It's really not.

[He grabs Samson by the hair, dragging him up off the mat again...

...and delivers an overhead elbow smash into the eye area, staggering
Samson.  A second elbow hits the same mark, knocking Samson down to a
knee.]

GM:  This is horrible to watch.  Dufresne isn't doing a thing to better
his chances of ending this match.  He's just punishing the eye of Soup
Bone Samson!

BW:  How can you say that?  You think if Samson's blind in one eye, he
stands a good chance of beating Dufresne?  You really don't know a thing
about this sport, Gordo.

GM:  I know that what he's doing just isn't- oh, come on!

[Gordon's disgust shines through as Dufresne sinks his teeth into the
area near the eye of Soup Bone Samson, drawing equal disgust from the
Houston crowd.]

GM:  Referee, get in there!

[Meekly wedges himself in at the count of four, forcing Dufresne back
and shouting a warning in his direction.]

GM:  Back him off, referee... get him away...

BW:  That is NOT his job, Gordo.  That is not his duty inside that ring!
 He needs to stand there and count - that's it!

GM:  If someone's physical wellbeing is in serious jeopardy, I think the
referee's duty is do whatever he needs to do to stop that from
happening.

BW:  If Samson's physical wellbeing is in jeopardy, then stop the damn
match!

[Dufresne seems to saying the same thing to the referee, pointing a
warning finger at the official as he leans down, pulling Samson off the
mat, hoisting him up into a fireman's carry...]

GM:  He's got Samson up... what in the world is he...?

[The Ladykiller slowly walks towards the corner, Samson slung across his
shoulders...

...and DROPS to his knees, smashing Samson's face into the buckles!  He
quickly rolls him to his back, grabbing a leg.]

GM:  A cover for one!  For two!  For th-

[But the veteran again pops a shoulder out before the three count, just
beating the pinfall.]

GM:  Not enough to keep ol' Soup Bone down for a three count.

BW:  If I'm Calisto Dufresne, I think I might change my strategy here. 
I might try a rope-a-dope.  I might let Samson punch himself out.

GM:  Now who's the one who sounds like he doesn't know anything about
the sport?  Samson only needs one punch and he'll punch someone ELSE
out, Bucky!

[Dufresne drags Samson off the mat, balling up his fist and smashing it
into the eye, sending Soup Bone falling back into the corner.  Grabbing
two hands full of hair, Dufresne doubles up Samson and drives his knee
up into the eye once... twice... three times... four times... five
times...

...and then swings him out of the corner by the head, pulling him into a
front facelock!]

GM:  He hooks- ohhh!

[The crowd cheers as Samson grabs Dufresne's legs, yanking them out from
under him...

...and lunges into a mount of his own, throwing fists as fast as he can.
 The crowd roars as Dufresne throws his hands up, trying to defend
himself against the onslaught.]

GM:  He's got him down!  He's just pounding!  Pummeling!  Battering!

BW:  Call it whatever you want but he's beatin' my man DOWN!

GM:  Samson's going to bust up his own hands on Dufresne's skull!

"TEN MINUTES HAVE EXPIRED!  FIVE MINUTES REMAIN!"

[Samson finally backs off, climbing to his feet with a roar to the
crowd.  He leans down, pulling Dufrense up by the hair...

...and slaps away Dufresne's hand as the Ladykiller tries for another
desperation eyegouge.]

GM:  Ohh!  He knew it was coming that time, Bucky!

BW:  Dufresne went to the well once too often!

[Still holding Dufresne by the hair, Samson delivers a crushing headbutt
to the skull.  Dufresne stumbles, falling to a knee but Samson keeps his
hand twisted in the Ladykiller's hair, yanking him right back and
delivering another headbutt.]

GM:  Samson's got some of the hardest headbutts in wrestling!

[With Dufresne dazed, Samson hurls him to the ropes, catching him on the
rebound with a boot to the gut.  He reaches forward, lacing his arms
around the midsection of the Ladykiller...]

GM:  What's he-

[Samson exerts great effort, gutwrenching Dufresne up into the air,
spinning him around horizontal to the canvas...

...and sends the Ladykiller thundering down to the mat with a layout
powerbomb!]

GM:  POWERBOMB!!  POWERBOMB BY SAMSON!!

[An exhausted Samson crawls the couple feet towards Dufresne, throwing
an arm across his chest.]

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

[The crowd roars with disappointment as Dufresne fires a shoulder off
the mat just before three.]

GM:  Dufresne's out!  He's out at two!

BW:  We've got just over four minutes to go in this one, Gordo.  Both of
these guys are gonna need to turn up the heat in this one if they want
to finish their opponent off.

[A tired Samson does a push-up off the mat up to his knees.  He's
breathing heavily as he holds up three fingers to the official who
shakes his head, informing him it was only a two count as Dufresne lies
chestfirst down on the mat.]

GM:  Both of these men are hurting and you've gotta wonder how this will
affect Calisto Dufresne in the Rumble later tonight, Bucky.

BW:  Don't worry about it.

GM:  Samson stays down on all fours and-

[The crowd roars as Samson throws himself forward, crashing his head
into the also on all-fours Dufresne.  Dufresne falls flat on his back,
allowing Samson to throw himself into a cover again.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!!  THRE- NO!  NO!  HE GOT OUT AGAIN!

[An exhausted Samson pushes up, popping Dufresne with a left hand to the
jaw on the mat.  He throws a few more punches before laying down in a
lateral press again.]

GM:  Another cover!  ONE!  TWO!  THR- can you believe this?

BW:  I can believe Soup Bone Samson is absolutely desperate to try and
finish this match off, Gordo.  Look at him just throwing himself into
pin after pin attempt.  Samson knows he doesn't have enough left to get
up and finish the man off.

GM:  Are you sure about that?  Because THAT man is getting up!

[The aged veteran slowly climbs to his feet, slapping himself across the
chest a couple of times and dropping into a boxing stance, swinging his
fists back and forth as he waits for Dufresne to rise.]

GM:  Samson's got the punch wound up!  He's ready to throw!

BW:  Stay down, Calisto!  Stay down!

[But the dazed Dufresne has no idea what's coming, slowly pushing up off
the mat...]

GM:  Samson's ready!  

BW:  No, no, no, no, no!

[Dufresne gets to his feet, slowly turning as Samson uncorks his picture
perfect right hook...

...that Dufresne ducks under, dropping to his knees.  The punch ALMOST
catches Michael Meekly, causing him to spin away in an instinctive
reaction which gives Dufresne the slightest window of time.]


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


GM:  LOW BLOW!!  LOW BLOW BY DUFRESNE!!

[The referee knows something happened as he spins back around, spotting
a doubled-up Samson...

...but he doesn't know what as Dufresne hooks a front facelock, hoisting
Samson up off the mat, and DRIVING him down in a thunderous DDT!]

BW:  WHAM, BAM, THANK YOU MA'AM!

[Dufresne urgently throws himself into a lateral press, reaching back to
hook a leg.]

BW:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREEEEEE!!!

GM:  Unbelievable!

[The Ladykiller promptly rolls of Samson, rolling right under the ropes
to the wood floor.  He drops down to a knee, lifting both arms high up
into the air.]

MC:  Here is your winner...

THE LADYKILLER...

CAAAAALISTO DUFRESNNNNNE!

[The Southern Syndicate member gets up off the floor, a twisted smirk on
his face as he backs away, slowly moving back up the aisle as he mocks
the still-downed Samson.]

GM:  Calisto Dufresne, by hook or by crook, is your winner... and the
Southern Syndicate notches their first victory of the night.  Will it be
their last?  We'll find out later tonight.  Fans, we're going to take a
quick break and we'll be right back with more of Memorial Day Mayhem!

[Fade to black.

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then back up to the backstage area where Jason Dane is standing
by with the Rhodes Brothers, Simon and Raphael.  Both men are dressed in
matching gear, with white leg-length wrestling tights, red kneepads, and
red wrestling boots.  Raphael's hair is freshly sporting a mohawk, and
Simon's hair is tremendously shaggy, to the point where it's dropping
into his eyes.  Raphael glares into the camera, but Simon looks
tremendously relaxed, his arm resting on Dane's shoulder.]

JD: We are just minutes away from the elimination tag team contest,
which AWA officials are hoping will put an end to the six months of
hostility brewing between these two teams.

SR: And it's unneeded hostility, mate!  All this started because me
brother asked Jason Keening for advice, because he knew Keening didn't
have no killer instinct.  He knew the whole bleedin' Keening family
ain't got the guts to be successful.  So whatever Jason Keening told
him, he needed to do the exact opposite, because doin' the opposite of
what a Keening does means you're successful.

JD: I hardly think that's fair analysis...

SR: Good thing I didn't ask you, right mate?  Look, you're paid to be a
breathin' microphone stand.  Do your job.  Now, Keenings, you two
dinnermashers have been chasin' us for months, and it ends tonight.  And
let me make one thing clear...

[Simon pats his brother on the shoulder.]

SR: You ain't seen a monster like this in a long time.

RR: I've heard all the rumors.  I've heard all the talk about how I've
been sidetracked.  I've had ignorant colonists come up to me and say
that they think I've lost my touch.  Do you know, Jason Keening, just
what these people did, one year ago?  They _ran_ from me.  They were
terrified of me.  They knew that when Raphael Rhodes got in the ring, he
was goin' to hurt someone bad.  And you and your poser brother... just
bein' near you's made me soft.  Softer than Juan Vasquez.  Softer than
Sweet Daddy Williams.  Softer than you two.

[Raphael runs his hands through his mohawk.]

RR: Tonight, me brother and I will end you both.  We will destroy
everything you stand for, and we will squash any dreams and hopes you've
got about doin' anything in this business.  When we're done with you...
people _will_ remember that the name Rhodes is a name to fear.  You want
to help Juan Vasquez in the Rumble?

[Raphael drives a forearm into his own chest, a sickening thud echoing
through the hallway corridor and redness immediately forming from the
blow.]

RR: You're runnin' head first into the wall that's goin' to stop you. 
Don't worry about the Rumble... don't worry about Waterson... 

SR [barely audible]: ... wherever _he_ is, anyway... 

RR: ... worry about us.  Because tonight, we're your living, breathing
nightmare.

[With that, the Rhodes Brothers walk out of the frame.]

JD:  The Rhodes Brothers are all business right now as they get ready to
head out to the ring.  Gordon, Bucky, back to- hey!

[Suddenly, "Agent To The Stars" Ben Waterson bursts into view.]

ATTSBW:  Where are they?

JD:  Who?

ATTSBW:  Where's Raphael?

JD:  He and Simon just left.  They've got a match out there!  Right now!

ATTSBW:  Now?  Damn.  That idiot Williams messed up our limo so badly,
we had to get a rental.  I was late getting to the building!

JD:  You already missed Calisto Dufresne's match!

ATTSBW:  WHAT?!  That was supposed to go on later!  

[Waterson curses under his breath.]

ATTSBW:  What's important is that I'm here for Stevie.  I'm here for the
National Title match.  I'm here for the match that all those idiots in
the crowd and those morons at home are here to see.  Forget the Rumble. 
That's a foregone conclusion.  

But when "Hotshot" Stevie Scott puts down Sweet Daddy Williams once and
for all? 

That's cause for celebration.  Good thing today's a holiday.

[Waterson starts to leave.]

JD:  Don't you even want to know if he won?

ATTSBW:  Who?

JD:  Dufresne.

[Waterson curses under his breath again.]

ATTSBW:  He won, right?

JD:  Yes.

ATTSBW:  I didn't even have to ask.  I knew.

[Waterson starts to walk off again and pauses...]

ATTSBW:  Oh, and Snyder... don't even think for a second I've forgotten
about you...

Consider Yourself Warned.

[And with that, Waterson does walk out of view, leaving Jason behind.]

JD:  A single-minded Ben Waterson has arrived here in Houston.  Gordon,
Bucky - back to you!

[We fade from the locker room area to the ring where Melissa Cannon is
standing.]

MC:  The following contest is an ELIMINATION MATCH!  To win the match,
you must eliminate both members of the other team.

Introducing first... from the United Kingdom... they are accompanied to
the ring by Ben Waterson...

Simon and Raphael...

THE RHODES BROTHERS!

["The Riverbed" by Gallows begins to play, as Raphael Rhodes immediately
bursts through the entrance, clearly looking ready to fight.  Simon
Rhodes trails behind him, with Ben Waterson following close behind,
issuing orders to Simon.  Simon keeps nodding his head, occasionally
trying to relay information to Raphael, but Raphael's eyes remain fixed
upon the ring.  Raphael hops in, immediately taking a corner, as Simon
follows in closely and Waterson stays on the floor.  The camera picks up
Waterson saying "are you even listening to me?" as he slaps Raphael's
boot, causing Raphael to glare down at his manager.  Simon pat his
brother on the back, the camera barely picking up Simon saying "don't
worry about him" as the music fades.]

GM:  Already some signs of problems in the team of the Rhodes Brothers.

BW:  You stop that right now, Gordon Myers!  There is NO trouble in that
team or in the Southern Syndicate and I'm not gonna tolerate you trying
to stir things up!

GM:  I'm just calling them like I see 'em, Bucky.

BW:  Then you need to get some new glasses, Gordo.

[Melissa continues.]

MC:  And their opponents...

["Indestructible" by Disturbed starts up to a big reaction.]

MC:  From Los Angeles, California... they are Michael and Jason
Keening... 

THE GHOST DANCERS!

[Michael and Jason Keening walk through the curtain to a big roaring
cheer.]

GM:  Look out!

[The crowd roars to life as an uncaged Raphael Rhodes charges down the
aisle, his brother trailing behind him.  Rhodes collides with Jason
Keening as soon as he comes into view, throwing a fist to the jaw of the
larger Keening.  It's not long before Michael Keening is on the scene,
trying to help his brother but Simon Rhodes is there as well, the two
family duos brawling in the aisle with the crowd roaring.]

GM:  This one is breaking down before it even gets going!  All four men
are fighting in the aisle!  

BW:  The bad blood between these two teams goes back for months, Gordo! 
Tonight, we may see some of that blood spilled right here in the middle
of the ring!

[Jason Keening batters Raphael Rhodes with heavy forearm smashes across
the back as Rhodes tries to push him back against the rope that creates
a makeshift barricade.  Nearby, Michael Keening has managed to slap on a
side headlock and is throwing fists to the face of Simon.]

GM:  They weren't even introduced!  There's no time for introductions
here tonight in Houston!

[Michael hooks a front facelock, absorbing blows to the stomach from
Simon to pull him around towards the ring, pushing him against the small
wooden platform and throwing knees to the torso.  Nearby, Raphael Rhodes
has managed to turn the tide on a staggered Jason Keening and is
pursuing him towards the ring.]

GM:  This is getting out of control.  The match isn't officially
underway yet, Bucky.

[The camera cuts to a split-screen - showing Jason Keening being choked
over the ringside rope on the left side.  On the right, Michael Keening
hooks Simon around the head and neck, throwing him backfirst into the
platform!]

"OHHHHH!"

GM:  He threw him into the wooden platform!  You could hear that one
outside the building, fans!

[With Simon wincing against the wooden stage, Keening throws kick after
kick after kick to the body of his opponent.  Michael grabs Simon around
the head, dragging him back to his feet...

...and catching a rake of the eyes across the face.  Simon promptly
grabs a handful of hair, slamming him facefirst into the wooden stage!]

GM:  OH!!  

BW:  That'll turn things around on the Boy Scout, Gordo!

GM:  Michael Keening's down after that... wait a second... look out
here...

[Raphael Rhodes pushes Jason Keening into a now-vacated chair from Bucky
Wilde, seating him there as he delivers a hard right hand to the side of
the head.]

GM:  Ohh!  What a shot!

[Raphael continues to tee off, throwing haymaker after haymaker into the
skull of a stunned Jason Keening.

On the other side of the screen, Michael Keening slaps away the grip of
Simon Rhodes, rocking him with a chop across the chest.]

GM:  Simon Rhodes gets drilled with a chop - he's backpedaling out of
there now...

[Soon, our two screens collide as Simon staggers past his brawling
brother, stepping over the rope into the crowd...

...and Michael Keening arrives, smashing Raphael with a forearm across
the upper back, breaking up the assault on his brother.  We change back
to one shot as Jason Keening battles out of his chair, throwing a
forearm into the jaw of Raphael Rhodes!]

GM:  Can we get some control out here?  We need to get these four men
inside the ring!  

[Spinning away from Raphael, Jason grabs Simon in the front row,
violently pulling him back into ringside with a hoisting snap mare over
the ropes onto the wooden platform!]

GM:  Oh!  That'll send a jolt up your spine!

[A few feet away, Michael Keening has Simon Rhodes backed into the ring
apron and throws a big chop across the chest.  He splashes a couple more
chops across the chest as we see Jason drag Raphael off the wooden floor
in the background, firing him under the ropes into the ring.  A moment
later, Michael Keening rolls under the ropes to join him as the referee
calls for the bell.]

GM:  Finally, we get this match underway... and Bucky, welcome back.

BW:  Did you see that?  I'm gonna sue the AWA for hazard pay if this
kinda stuff keeps up!

GM:  Jason Keening's getting in there too!  I know this is an
Elimination Match but is it also a Tornado Tag?

BW:  Not that I know of but Jim Watkins may have "hooked 'em up" without
telling us.

[Michael Keening throws a forearm to the jaw of a dazed Raphael Rhodes
before Jason pulls Raph up and blasts him with a chop across the chest,
knocking Rhodes back into the ropes.  Michael grabs the wrist, firing
him into the ropes, and taking him down to the mat with a drop toehold
as Jason hits the ropes, bouncing off...

...and dropping a leg across the back of Raphael's neck!]

GM:  Ohh!  Nice doubleteam by the Keenings!

[Jason rolls into the mount, grabbing Raphael by the back of the head,
raining down forearm shots to the side of the face...

...when a lunging Simon Rhodes tackles Jason down to the mat, breaking
up the attack.  Simon gets a few clenched fists shots to the face in
before Michael Keening rushes in, catching Simon with a forearm smash
across the back to break it up.]

GM:  All four men are in the ring again!  The referee has GOT to get
some control in this one!

[Jason drags himself off the mat as Simon and Michael trade shots near
the ropes...

...and a rushing clothesline from Jason takes Simon over the ropes and
down on top of the wooden platform!]

GM:  Ohhh!  And those aren't cushioned mats he's falling on there, fans.
 That was a solid piece of wood he just slammed down on top of.

[Staggering up to his feet, Raphael Rhodes takes a wild swing at Jason
Keening who ducks underneath, grabbing Rhodes in a side waistlock before
hoisting him up...

...and dropping him tailbone first down on his bent knee, sending Rhodes
toppling over the ropes to join his brother on the floor.]

GM:  BIIIIIIIIG ATOMIC DROP BY JASON KEENING!

[The crowd is roaring as Keening pumps a fist in triumph.  Out on the
floor, Ben Waterson rushes to the Rhodes Brothers' sides, trying to give
some words of encouragement...

...but inside the ring, trouble awaits.]

GM:  OH MY!  OH MY!  OHHHHH MYYYY STARS!!

[HUUUUUUUGE roar from the crowd as Jason Keening gorilla presses his
brother overhead, hurling him over the ropes and down onto both Simon
and Raphael Rhodes!]

GM:  THE KEENINGS WIPE THEM BOTH OUT!!  GOOD GRIEF!!

[Ben Waterson stands, looking down at the two brothers, arms spread in
shock as he shouts at them both.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!  GET UP!"

Inside the ring, Jason Keening mounts the midbuckle, saluting the
roaring fans as his brother slowly climbs off the floor, rolling back
into the ring to join him.]

GM:  The Keenings are standing tall!

BW:  This referee is useless, Gordo!  He should be keeping this thing
under control but instead, we've got the Keenings doing whatever they
want!  This isn't right at all.  Ben Waterson should file a protest on
this match!

GM:  A protest?  For what?

BW:  Illegal doubleteams up the wazoo!

[Waterson helps Raphael Rhodes up to his feet out on the floor... but
gets brushed aside as Raph helps Simon up.  Waterson shouts words to
both men, gesturing wildly at the ring.  Michael Keening points a finger
at Waterson, inviting him into the ring as well but Waterson's having
none of that idea, ordering Simon into the fray instead...

...but Raphael ignores his manager, charging in instead.]

GM:  In comes Raphael Rhodes... whoa!

[The crowd roars as Rhodes pops up to his feet, right into a forearm
smash from Jason Keening as Michael settles outside onto the ring apron.
 A second forearm lands as well, sending Raphael down to a knee. 
Grabbing Rhodes by the arm, Keening hauls him to his feet, firing him
into the ropes...]

GM:  Off the ropes...

[Keening races forward, arm outstretched...

...and knocks Rhodes flat with a running clothesline to another big
cheer!]

GM:  The Keenings are completely dominating this match at this point,
Bucky.

BW:  It's not over yet, daddy.

GM:  Rhodes back up...

[And runs right into a powerful scoop slam by Keening, thundering
throughout the Arena Theatre as he smashes into the canvas.]

GM:  Big slam... 

[Rhodes rolls up to a knee, holding back as Keening stands in front of
him, indicating he's ready to continue the fight with a roar.]

GM:  Remember, this is how this whole thing got started - right here
between these two men.  It was way back at SuperClash where Rhodes asked
Keening for some advice and then proceeded to ignore it completely. 
That didn't sit well with the veteran and the fight was on.

[Raphael slowly gets to his feet, eyeing Jason Keening warily as the
powerhouse waves him forward, inviting him to tie up.]

GM:  Collar and elbow tieup... and Rhodes immediately goes to the eyes!

[A blinded Jason Keening staggers backwards but Rhodes grabs two hands
full of hair, dragging him back towards the Rhodes family corner to
avoid a tag.  A pair of fierce right hands to the kidneys stumbles
Keening, taking some of the fight out of him as Rhodes pushes him back
to the corner, backed into the buckles.]

GM:  Keening's trapped in the corner...

[The crowd jeers as Simon hooks a forearm under Keening's throat,
holding him in place with a choke as Raphael tees off with rights and
lefts to the body of the powerhouse.  Michael Keening protests from the
corner as the referee starts a count.]

GM:  Two... three... four... and Raphael backs off, glaring at the
official.

[The referee gives Raph a few pointed words while Simon Rhodes smashes
Keening with a standing clothesline to the back of the neck, knocking
him gutfirst down to the canvas.  A smirking Raphael Rhodes comes back
in, leaping up with a kneedrop down across the kidneys of Jason Keening.
 He stays kneeling on the lower back, grabbing the hair of Keening as he
pulls back on it.]

GM:  Oh, come on!

BW:  That's one way to wrench a back.

GM:  An illegal way!

BW:  Semantics.  It's working, isn't it?

GM:  It certainly is.  It's a modified version of a surfboard.  The
referee again counts to three... four... and he breaks it just before
five.

[Outside the ring, Waterson is applauding his charge's efforts as
Michael Keening slaps the buckles, trying to get his brother fired up.]

GM:  Rhodes back to his feet... look at him, Bucky... pure arrogance...

[Rhodes hauls Keening up to a seated position by the hair before
delivering a spine-rattling kick to the back.]

GM:  Ohh!  What a kick!

[A few more kicks follow, again putting Keening down on the canvas
before Raph reaches over and slaps the hand of his brother.]

GM:  There's the tag and in comes Simon Rhodes - who has seemed the more
controlled member of this team in recent weeks.  Raphael Rhodes has been
emotional, has been out of control... Simon Rhodes has been holding it
all together.

BW:  Simon knows he needs to impress Ben Waterson here tonight to stand
a chance of getting that "associate" tag removed.  He doesn't want
Raphael's fiery side blowing it for him.

[Simon steps through the ropes, immediately hitting the ropes to drop a
big leaping knee to the lower back of Keening.]

GM:  And it quickly has become obvious that the Rhodes brothers are
targeting the lower back of Jason Keening.  Maybe they know something
that we don't.

BW:  What they know is that Ben Waterson is a genius and has delivered
them a gameplan that will win this match and make the Southern Syndicate
2-0 on the night.

GM:  Simon drags him up off the mat...

[With Keening still doubled up, Rhodes smashes an elbow down on the
lower back.  He spins Keening around, shoving him chestfirst back into
the Rhodes brothers' corner.  Leaning over, Simon grabs the middle
rope...

...and lunges forward, smashing his shoulder into the lower back!]

GM:  Keening's back is taking a tremendous amount of punishment. 
Another shoulder driven into the back!

[Grabbing the back of Keening's neck, he drags the head and braces it
against his shoulder...

...and drops down to the mat, smashing Keening's neck with a reverse
neckbreaker!]

GM:  Ohh!  Nice execution on the neckbreaker...

[Simon reaches up, slapping the hand of Raphael who lunges into the
fray, stomping and kicking the heck out of Keening, knocking him under
the ropes to the wooden floor.]

GM:  More of that fury from Rhodes... wait a second...

[Despite the referee's cries, Simon Rhodes leaps off the apron, grabbing
Keening...

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

GM:  Oh, come on!  Referee, control these men!

[Rhodes backs off at the referee's orders, backing around the ringpost
as he's berated...

...which gives Ben Waterson a chance to strike, slamming Keening's face
into the apron as well!]

GM:  Now Waterson's in on it!  This is terrible.

[Waterson quickly backs off as well, drawing a few angry shouts from
Michael Keening as he smirks at the downed Jason who is kneeling on the
wooden floor, clinging to the apron...

...where he catches a baseball slide kick, catching Jason squarely on
the chin, sending him sprawling!]

GM:  Down goes Jason Keening again!

[Raphael rolls under the ropes to the floor, throwing some kicks into
the lower back of Jason Keening to the jeers of the crowd.  Reaching
down, he drags Keening off the floor, wrapping his arms loosely around
the waist from the front...

...and DRIVES Keening's spine into the ring apron!]

GM:  Good grief!

BW:  Keening may not make it to the Rumble at this point, Gordo.  He may
need a trip to the hospital when the Rhodes brothers get through with
him.

[Raphael shoves Jason under the ropes into the ring before rolling back
in himself.  A quick tag to Simon brings him back in with a pair of
elbow smashes across the back of Keening, leaving him down chestfirst on
the mat where he starts to crawl.]

GM:  Jason Keening is trying to get across the ring to his brother,
Michael, but he's got a long way to go to get there, Bucky.

BW:  The Rhodes brothers are doing an excellent job of cutting the ring
in half - all thanks to the expert strategy put in place by Ben
Waterson, I'm sure.

GM:  I don't know about that.  The Rhodes brothers are a fine tag team
and they deserve a lot of the credit for their success.

[Simon shouts at the downed Keening, taunting him before delivering a
stomp to the kidneys.  He positions himself between Jason and Michael,
glaring at Michael from inside the ring...]

GM:  Now he's taunting Michael Keening!  These Rhodes boys are out of
control.  

[Sitting down on the small of Jason's back, Simon slips his fingers into
the mouth of Keening, yanking backwards in a fish hook.]

GM:  Get in there, referee!

[The referee quickly counts to four - forcing a break as Simon gets off
the mat, pointing at Michael Keening...

...and drops a knee down in the lower back.  He kneels on the back,
grinding his knee back and forth on the kidneys as he glares up at
Michael Keening.]

GM:  Michael wants the tag... Michael needs the tag!

BW:  Shoot, Jason NEEDS the tag!  The Rhodes brothers are sizing him up
for a wheelchair right now, daddy!

GM:  Simon back up off the mat...

[He allows Jason to crawl a few more feet towards the corner, getting in
the Keenings' side of the ring...

...but another leaping kneedrop to the back causes Keening to cry out in
pain and cuts off his path.  Simon gets up off the mat, grabbing Keening
by the foot, dragging him back across the ring.]

GM:  Simon drags him to the other side and there's the tag to Raphael!

[Raphael immediately pulls Jason off the mat, hooking a front facelock
on the larger Keening.  Raph slams a few knees up into the body as Jason
struggles against him, trying to get back to the corner... pushing him
towards the middle of the ring...

...and Rhodes spins away from Jason, drilling Michael with a forearm
smash to the face, knocking him off the apron to the floor to the jeers
of the crowd!]

GM:  Oh, come on!

[Raphael seizes the moment to drive boot after boot to the head of Jason
Keening.  He drags him up in a front facelock...

...but a shout from Michael Keening provides a momentary distraction,
allowing Jason to use his power to hoist Raphael up and over, sending
him crashing down to the mat with a backdrop!]

GM:  OHHH!  HE TOSSES HIM DOWN TO THE MAT AND-

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  TAG!  THERE'S THE TAG!!

[Michael Keening, formerly known as the Banshee, quickly scales the
ropes off the tag...

...and hurls himself off the top, catching Raphael Rhodes squarely on
the chest with both feet!]

GM:  Dropkick off the top by Michael Keening!

[Keening pops back to his feet, dashing across the ring, and connecting
with a cross body block that knocks Raphael Rhodes down off the mat,
reaching back to hook the legs.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!!  

[Rhodes slips out of it at two.  Keening pops back up to his feet,
pumping a fist to the crowd.  Rhodes scampers back to his feet, catching
a dropkick under the chin that knocks him back to the corner.  Keening
rushes in, running up the chest of Rhodes...

...and backflipping out, landing on his feet.  As Rhodes rushes forward,
Keening deadleaps into the air, snaring a hurricanrana that takes Rhodes
down to the mat.  Keening reaches back, hooking one leg as the referee
drops down to count.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR- OHHH!

[Keening looks surprised, asking the referee if it was three as Rhodes
rolls away, trying to get to his corner...

...but Keening rushes forward, leaping up with a split-legged dropkick,
one foot catching Simon in the face, knocking him off the apron.  The
other catches Raph in the back of the head, knocking him into the
buckles where Michael pulls him down in a schoolboy!]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE-

[The crowd deflates as Raphael fires a shoulder off the mat.]

GM:  So close!  The Keenings almost took the first elimination of this
match right there...

[A series of chops knocks Raphael Rhodes back into the ropes where
Keening fires him off, leaving his feet to take down Rhodes with a
spinning leg lariat!]

GM:  OHHHH!  What a shot by Michael Keening!

[With Rhodes down, Keening goes to the corner.  He slaps the hand of
Jason Keening who is still a bit dazed as he comes in.  Together, they
fire Raphael off to the ropes.]

GM:  Raph off the far side...

[Together, they hoist him up by a leg each...

...and drop him facefirst down on the mat with a Flapjack!]

GM:  FLAPJACK!!  THAT MIGHT BE IT!!

[Jason Keening throws his massive body across Rhodes, reaching back to
hook a leg with his powerful arms.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR- ohh!  Simon makes the save!

[Simon rains down a few blows to the head and neck of Jason Keening...

...but Michael Keening's having none of that, charging across with a
leaping dropkick that sends Simon falling through the ropes and out to
the floor.  Jason climbs to his feet, shaking out the cobwebs as Michael
steps out to the apron, calling for the tag.]

GM:  There's the tag!  Michael's the legal man once again...

[The former Banshee quickly scales the ropes, nodding to his brother who
takes a spot in the corner, reaching up to grab Michael, hurling him off
the top...

...where Michael crashes down on the mat when Raphael rolls aside!]


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


GM:  Michael missed!  They missed the Rocket Launcher!

[With Michael dazed, Raphael yanks him up into a waistlock, taking him
up and over with a bridging German suplex!]

GM:  OHHH!  

[The referee dives down to count.]

GM:  ONE!  TWO!!  THREE!!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Ladies and gentlemen... Michael Keening has been ELIMINATED from
the match!  We are down to Jason Keening vs Simon and Raphael Rhodes!

[The crowd buzzes with concern as Michael Keening rolls from the ring,
clutching the back of his head and neck as he kneels on the floor. 
Jason Keening drops down to the floor, moving to check on his brother as
Raphael Rhodes taunts Jason from inside the ring.]

GM:  We're just over ten minutes into this match and we've seen our
first elimination.  Michael Keening missed the Rocket Launcher and ate a
vicious suplex throw from Raphael Rhodes.  Rhodes showed off some power
there, Bucky.

BW:  Raphael's got a lot of power when he's in there with someone close
to his size.  It's something he doesn't get a lot of credit for but
Michael Keening can testify to it now after taking that German Suplex.

GM:  Jason's out there on the floor checking on his brother and- wait a
second...

[Raphael reaches through the ropes, taking a swing at Jason Keening who
erupts in anger, lunging under the ropes where Rhodes greets with him a
barrage of stomps...

...but Keening keeps on coming, climbing to his feet.  Rhodes throws a
right hand...]

GM:  Look at Keening!

[The crowd roars as Keening shakes his head, glaring at his rival.]

GM:  Another right hand!

[But Keening keeps on coming, Rhodes backpedaling...]

GM:  Jason Keening will not be slowed down!

[Keening winds up backing Rhodes into the corner where he throws a wild
haymaker...

...but Keening blocks it, retaliating with a forearm smash to the side
of the face!  Big cheer!]

GM:  He drills him!

[With Rhodes backed down, Keening throws forearm after forearm after
forearm into the side of the face.  Grabbing Raph by the wrist, he fires
him from corner to corner.  The impact of the whip sends Raph stumbling
out of the corner where Keening promptly hoists him up, slinging him
over his right shoulder.]

GM:  He's got him up!  He's got Rhodes up!

[Backing to the corner, Keening charges out of the buckles, smashing
Rhodes into the canvas with a thunderous running powerslam!]

GM:  HE DRIVES HIM DOWN!!  

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

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  TH-

[Rhodes fires a shoulder off the mat at two, Keening pushing up with a
roar to the fans.  Outside the ring, a dazed Michael Keening rallies the
crowd, starting a steady rhythmic clap for his brother who drags Rhodes
off the canvas.]

GM:  Ohhh!  Knee to the upper torso from Keening!  That'll knock some
wind out of Raphael Rhodes!

BW:  If he has any wind left after that powerslam anyways.

[Pulling Rhodes into a front facelock, Keening easily powers him up,
slamming him down to the mat in a vertical suplex, floating into another
pin attempt.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  TH- no!  Shoulder up!

BW:  Keening is desperately trying to even the odds here.  He's
desperately trying to get one of the Rhodes brothers out of this match
to even things up.

GM:  Of course he is.  He knows that he can't outlast a two-on-one
attack for long so he needs to get it down to a one on one showdown,
Bucky.

[Pulling Rhodes up again, Keening hooks another front facelock...

...but this time, Raphael lunges forward, smashing him back into a
neutral corner.  Rhodes throws a few quick forearms before blasting
Keening with a European uppercut!  Leaning over, he wraps his arms
around the waist of Keening, lifting him up and setting him down in a
seated position on the top turnbuckle.]

GM:  He sets him up top!  

BW:  And you know what that means!

GM:  He's going for the superplex!  He's thinking Nothing Fancy and a
win in this grudge tag team showdown!

[With Keening seated up top, Rhodes steps up to the middle rope,
slinging Keening's arm over his neck...

...but the powerful Keening fights back, throwing short punches into the
ribcage of Rhodes!]

GM:  Keening's battling!  He knows what Rhodes has in mind here!

[A few more punches land, freeing Keening from Rhodes' grip...

...and a hard double arm clap smacks the ears of Rhodes, stunning him! 
With a mighty shove, Keening sends Rhodes sailing off the ropes and down
to the mat to a big cheer!]

GM:  Keening got out of it!  He battled his way free!

[And as Rhodes staggers back to his feet, clutching his ear, Keening
hurls himself off the middle rope, taking the Brit down with a flying
shoulderblock!]

GM:  OHHHHH!  DOWN GOES RHODES!!

[A dazed Keening crawls forward, throwing himself into a lateral press.]

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

BW:  He got the shoulder up, daddy!  Raphael Rhodes will NOT be denied
tonight in Houston, Texas!

GM:  Keening's down... Raphael Rhodes is down... Simon Rhodes is
screaming for his brother to make the tag!  Waterson's screaming at
Raphael Rhodes as well!

[Outside the ring, we catch a glimpse of Waterson slamming his fists
into the apron, shouting at his man.  The camera catches a glimpse of
Simon Rhodes glaring at Waterson before turning his attention back to
his brother who is still down on the mat.  A weary Jason Keening pushes
up to his knees, shaking his head back and forth before climbing the
rest of the way up to his feet.  He reaches down, dragging Rhodes back
to his feet.  Keening delivers a big boot to the gut, doubling up
Rhodes.]

GM:  He's setting up for a powerbomb!

[Stepping forward, he hooks a standing headscissors, reaching down to
hook Rhodes around the torso...

...which is Simon Rhodes' cue to rush into the ring, blasting Keening in
the back of the head with a double axehandle blow.  The crowd jeers the
illegal save as the referee tears into Simon Rhodes, ordering him out of
the ring.  Michael Keening hops up on the apron, shouting at Rhodes.]

GM:  Uh oh.  Come on, ref.  Get some control in there.

[Next, it's Waterson who is up on the apron, shouting at the official as
he gestures to the former Banshee.]

"HE'S DONE!  GET HIM OUT OF HERE!"

[The referee turns to address Waterson, allowing Simon Rhodes to drag
his brother up.  Raphael grabs a double arm hold on Jason, keeping his
arms behind him as Simon hits the ropes...]

GM:  Look out now!

[As Simon rebounds back, he throws himself down to the mat, looking for
a soccer style slide tackle to the leg, his foot aimed right at the
kneecap of Jason Keening...

...who powers out of Rhodes' grip, causing Simon's kick to drill his own
brother in the knee!]

GM:  He missed!  He missed!

[Raphael Rhodes immediately falls to the mat, clutching his own knee as
he rolls back and forth in pain.  Simon Rhodes gets to his feet, looking
on in shock at his brother's anguish.  Waterson verbally tears into
Simon from the apron, screaming at him.]

GM:  Waterson's all over Simon Rhodes!

BW:  Well, he did screw up pretty badly right there, Gordo.

GM:  He's also a human being - a grown man - and I can't believe he's
taking this kind of abuse from Waterson.

[With Jason Keening leaning in the corner trying to recover, Simon grabs
his brother by the arm, dragging him to their corner where Simon steps
out, slaps the hand of his brother to tag himself in, and charges in
towards a dazed Keening.]

GM:  Simon Rhodes brings himself into the match.  He keeps looking over
at Raphael though.  Look at how terrible he's feeling, Bucky.

BW:  How can you see how he's feeling?

GM:  Just look at the expression on his face!

[Simon throws a few punches in the corner before turning to look at
Raphael who rolls under the ropes to the floor, Ben Waterson racing to
be by his side.]

GM:  Waterson looks very concerned, Bucky.

BW:  Of course, that's his meal ticket.

GM:  Excuse me?

BW:  I mean, they have a strong bond.  A family-type relationship.

[Simon grabs Jason by the arm, whipping him from one corner to the
other.  With a head of steam, Simon charges across...

...and DRILLS Keening with a running clothesline!]

GM:  Ohh!  Big clothesline by Keening!

[And as the big man stumbles out of the corner, Simon scales the ropes,
facing away from the ring...]

GM:  What in the world is he thinking here, Bucky?

BW:  I'm not sure but Waterson doesn't look happy about it.

[Without taking a look back, Rhodes throws himself in an ugly, lopsided
twisting body block...

...that Keening snatches out of the sky, powering Rhodes down in a
powerslam!]

GM:  POWERSLAM!!  POWERSLAM OUT OF NOWHERE!!

[Dropping back down on Rhodes, Keening reaches back for a leg.]

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

"DING!  DING!  DING!"

MC:  Simon Rhodes has been ELIMINATED from the match!  

[Big cheer!]

GM:  We're down to two!  And fittingly, it's the two men that started
this whole thing back in November.  Raphael Rhodes versus Jason Keening
for all the marbles, Bucky!

BW:  I suppose it's only fitting that it's these two but look at
Raphael!  He can't even stand, Gordo.

GM:  He certainly does appear to be in bad shape.  That knee got hit
very hard by his brother, Simon, and he looks to be having a hard time
even putting weight on it.

BW:  That'll make Waterson even more concerned because as much as he
wants to win this tag match, he wants the Southern Syndicate at full
strength in the Rumble even more.  I talked to him earlier tonight and
he made it clear - tonight's main goal is to walk out of Houston with
the National Title and with a Southern Syndicate member winning the
Rumble.

GM:  And these fans are hoping we don't see EITHER of those things
happen tonight.

BW:  Who cares what these idiots want to see?

[Jason Keening gets to his feet, leaning against the ropes to suck some
wind into his body as Ben Waterson and Simon Rhodes stand on the floor,
trying to steady Raphael.]

GM:  Jason Keening isn't looking like someone who'll be able to go a
long distance in the Rumble tonight either.  We're over seventeen
minutes into this match and Keening looks a little worn down.

BW:  When's the last time we've seen Jason Keening go this deep into the
match?  We're talking about someone who was retired until December,
Gordo.

GM:  It's a valid point.  The Southern Syndicate may be taking out one
of the only men who will stand by Juan Vasquez' side later tonight.

BW:  An added bonus for sure.

[With the help of his manager and his brother, a visibly-injured Raphael
Rhodes rolls under the ropes into the ring.  He drags himself up using
the ropes, standing across the ring from Jason Keening.]

GM:  And would you look at this?  We've got a stand-off, fans!

[The crowd roars for the moment as Keening and Rhodes stare one another
down from across the ring.  Referee Marty Meekly moves over to Rhodes,
asking him if he's sure he can continue...

...and gets shoved three steps back for his efforts!]

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

BW:  Raph needs to be careful, Gordo.  That could easily draw a DQ from
the ref.

GM:  Certainly could.

[Rhodes edges out from the corner, locking up in the center of the ring
in a collar and elbow...

...but Jason Keening shows off his power edge, shoving Rhodes back into
the corner.]

GM:  He's got Rhodes cornered...

[But the fan favorite won't take advantage of it, simply backing away
with his arms raised.]

GM:  Clean break by Keening.

BW:  Friggin' Boy Scout.

[Raphael Rhodes sneers at Keening for the clean break, hobbling out of
the corner a few steps towards him...]


"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


GM:  HE SLAPPED HIM!  HE SLAPS KEENING!!

[Jason Keening stumbles back a step, a hand shooting up to the ear that
just got ROCKED with an open-handed slap.  He slowly turns around,
glaring a hole through Raphael Rhodes who is shouting at Keening,
begging him to bring the fight...

...and bring the fight he does, taking Rhodes clean off his feet with a
double leg takedown, both men crashing down to the mat.]

GM:  HE TAKES HIM DOWN!!  KEENING IS HOT!

[Grabbing Rhodes by the back of the head, Keening delivers forearm after
forearm after forearm to the side of the jaw.  After several blows,
Keening climbs to his feet, dragging Rhodes up by the hair.  He grabs
the arm, going for an Irish whip...

...but Rhodes only gets a few feet away before stumbling and falling
down to the mat.]

BW:  Oh jeez.  That knee may be worse than we thought.

GM:  He fell down on an Irish whip!  The referee may need to stop this
match.

BW:  And this is just typical Keening Boy Scout behavior.  He won't even
go after the injured knee.  A figure four, a spinning toehold, an STF -
something!  He's not even trying to go after the leg.  

GM:  That's just good sportsmanship, Bucky.

BW:  It's idiocy run amok, Gordo.  If Rhodes comes back to win this
match, I want you to remember this moment - this "good sportsmanship"
moment and tell me if it was worth it.

GM:  Jason Keening is asking the ref if he's going to stop the match.

BW:  Rhodes'll kill this ref if he does that.

GM:  I think the ref needs to at least look into it.

[But the ref shakes him off, forcing Keening to pull Rhodes up off the
mat.  The powerhouse hooks a front facelock, slinging Rhodes' arm over
his neck.]

GM:  Another suplex perhaps coming up- get him down from there!

[The referee spins away from the action, chasing down Ben Waterson who
has climbed up on the apron again and is shouting at the official.]

GM:  The referee is tied up with Waterson and- wait a second!

[The crowd jeers as Jason Keening walks away from Rhodes as well, moving
over to argue with Waterson...]

GM:  Jason Keening is distracted as well now!

[The argument gives Simon Rhodes an opening as he dips into his tights,
pulling out a taped-up pair of brass knuckles.  A whistle gets the
attention of Raphael Rhodes as Simon sends them flying through the
air...

...right into the hands of Jason Keening who turned around just in
time!]

GM:  KEENING'S GOT THE KNUCKS!

BW:  Don't worry.  He'd never use 'em.

[The crowd roars as Keening slips the knuckles onto his own hand, waving
Rhodes off the mat...]

GM:  He's waiting for Rhodes to get up... waiting for him to rise...

[As Rhodes gets up, Keening rears back...

...and pulls the knucks off his fist, showing them to Rhodes before
throwing them aside to the floor.  An angry Rhodes rushes forward, right
into a drop toehold that Keening quickly turns into an STF!]

GM:  STF!!  STF BY JASON KEENING!!

BW:  On the injured knee!

[Rhodes screams out in pain, clawing at the canvas with his hands
against the pressure being put on his injured knee...]

GM:  Rhodes is trapped!  There's no way out of this!

[Simon Rhodes climbs up on the apron again, looking to intervene to help
his brother...

...but Michael Keening has other ideas, climbing up on the adjacent
apron.  Grabbing the top rope, Keening deadleaps to the top rope,
leaping off to catch Rhodes with a dropkick that sends Rhodes flying off
the apron, smashing down to the wooden platform!  Keening takes up a
defensive pose, blocking Ben Waterson from getting into the ring...]

GM:  He's all alone!  Raphael Rhodes and that injured knee are all
alone!

[Rhodes screams out in pain as Keening pulls a little harder on the
hold, shouting "GIVE UP!  GIIIIIVE UP!"  Rhodes refuses to quit, shaking
his head as the referee asks him...]

GM:  I can't believe he's hanging on this long!  I can't believe-


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM:  HE QUIT!  HE QUIT!!  

[The crowd ERUPTS in cheers as Jason Keening immediately releases the
hold, springing to his feet with both fists pumped in triumph.  Michael
Keening races over to his brother, the duo falling into a victorious
embrace as they celebrate.]

MC:  Here are your winners... THE GHOST DANNNNCERRRS!

[The Keenings raise their arms in triumph once more, Jason taking one
last look at the defeated Raphael Rhodes as Rhodes crawls away from the
man who forced a submission out of him, trying to drag himself off the
mat using the ropes.]

GM:  What a match we just saw from these two fantastic teams and both of
these squads did their families proud here tonight, Bucky.

BW:  I can't believe he quit.

GM:  He didn't have a choice.  That knee was being torn apart by the STF
and- 

[As the Keenings exit the ring, still celebrating with the ringside
fans, Simon Rhodes rolls back in, clutching the back of his head where
it smacked the wooden floor.  Rhodes moves towards his brother, helping
him up to his feet in the corner as Waterson climbs into the ring as
well...

...and spins Simon Rhodes around, shoving an accusatory finger in his
face!]

GM:  Wait a second here.

BW:  Uh oh.  Waterson's hot!

[He certainly is.  The Agent To The Stars is just screaming at the
Southern Syndicate associate, tearing into him verbally.]

"WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU DURING THAT?!"

[Simon Rhodes tries to ignore the questioning, turning back to his
brother...

...but Waterson spins him around again, jabbing a finger into his
chest.]

"You threw Keening the damn knucks!  How incompetent are you?!  Can you
do NOTHING right?!"

[Simon drops his head, taking the verbal lashing like a man hopeful to
keep his job...

...but Raphael Rhodes has a different reaction, hobbling in front of his
brother and grabbing Waterson's accusing finger, slightly bending it.]

GM:  Whoa!

BW:  Raphael, think about what you're doing!

GM:  I think he is!

[Raphael Rhodes backs Waterson a few feet away from his brother,
returning the shouting.]

"NO ONE TREATS MY BROTHER LIKE THAT, YA HEAR ME?!  NO ONE!"

[Waterson is begging forgiveness as Rhodes holds the finger in his
vise-iike grip when suddenly a voice comes from outside the ring... the
voice of Jason Keening on the house mic.]

JK:  Rhodes!

[Raphael Rhodes turns his head slightly out of the ring towards the
voice.]

JK:  Rhodes, you faked interest in my advice back at SuperClash... but
here's some more advice whether you want it or not.

[The crowd buzzes a bit at this turn of events.]

JK:  Knocking heads with you for the past six months has demonstrated
that you've got talent.  But you use things like these...

[Keening holds up the discarded brass knuckles.]

JK:  ...and guys like him...

[A fierce finger pointed at Waterson.]

JK:  ...as crutches.  You don't need these.  You don't need him.  And
you don't need the rest of them either.  You don't need any of that and
you never did.

[Rhodes locks eyes with Keening who now is up on the apron, delivering
his heart-felt words.]

JK:  You want your career to take off like you told me in November?

Ditch the crutches and stand on your own two feet.

[Big cheer!  Jason shrugs his shoulders, dropping the mic...

...and tossing the brass knuckles into the ring where Raphael Rhodes
lets go of Waterson, snatching the knucks out of the sky.  He clutches
the knucks in his hand, slowly turning to face Waterson who is edging
backwards to the corner.  The crowd roars with anticipation, almost
cheering on Rhodes as he holds the knucks high in the air...]

GM:  What's he gonna do?  Is he going to take Keening's advice?  Is he
going to-

[...and then puts the knucks right back in his tights, continuing to
glare at Waterson as the crowd boos.]

GM:  I thought he might convince him, Bucky.  I thought he might have
done it.

BW:  It's gonna take a lot more than the Boy Scout oath to get Rhodes to
abandon the high life he lives as a member of the Southern Syndicate,
Gordo.

GM:  Jason Keening tried to convince him but came up short... but he
didn't come up short in the match.  The Keenings have won the tag team
elimination match, fans, and we'll be right back after this quick break!

[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:  You know, Mark... the AWA Access iPhone app has been so popular
over the past year, I hear we're making a sequel!

MS:  Jason, that kind of news is so hot, it should be on the app!

[The two men laugh very awkwardly as a giant iPhone appears.]

JD:  Hello, Mr. iPhone.

[The iPhone speaks.  Yes.  Yes it does.]

iPhone:  Hello, Jason Dane.  Did you know that former AWA National
Champion Kolya Sudakov was a former Mixed Martial Artist?

JD:  Well, actually I did.

iPhone:  Mark Stegglet, did you know that Calisto Dufresne was the first
and only champion in Pro Wrestling Revolution?

MS(in his best Johnny Carson impression):  I did not know that!

[Thankfully, a voiceover starts.]

VO:  Starting today, you can download AWA Access Version 2.0!  This new
app contains a brand new TRIVIA mode where you can get all the details
on your favorite AWA superstars!  Plus, be the first to see our brand
new BEFORE THE AWA section where you can find matches from the best of
the AWA - before they were AWA!

AWA Access Version 2.0 - coming to an iPhone near you!

[Fade back to black...

...as we come back up, we are in the locker room area where Jason Dane
is standing in front of a door marked "SLATER/TAYLOR."]

JD:  Welcome back, fans, to Memorial Day Mayhem.  Right now, I'm
obviously in front of the locker room for Kevin Slater and Shane Taylor
hoping to get some words with those two men before their tag team
showdown later tonight with Bobby Taylor and Brent Maverick.  I have
been unsuccessful so far in getting them to open this door.  However,
I'm going to make one more attempt LIVE right now...

[Dane turns to the door, knocking it.]

JD:  Mr. Slater, Mr. Taylor - a word please?

[No answer.  Another knock.]

JD:  Gentlemen, would you like to address our live television audience?

[Still no reply.  And yet one more knock.]

JD:  Sirs, I would like to get a chance to-

[The door swings open and Jason Dane's face lights up...

...until he sees "The Outlaw" Bobby Taylor, already dressed for a fight,
walking out.  Taylor pauses, eyes Dane for a moment, and then simply
walks away without a word.]

JD:  I... uhh... wow.  Gordon, Bucky - back to you!

[We fade back to ringside where Gordon and Bucky are seated.]

GM:  Thanks, Jason... some interesting stuff going on backstage tonight.
 Over the last several months we've seen the tag team division _explode_
here in the AWA, Bucky. And the next match serves to showcase to the
world exactly how far tag wrestling as come in the AWA as two of it's
finest.. and newest.. tag teams take the stage in a last minute addition
to Memorial Day Mayhem.. as The Rockstar Express look to shut the mouth
of "Hollywood" Larry Doyle and The Blonde Bombers.. once and for all. 

BW: Ha! The only thing the Express will be shutting is their mouths once
Baldwin and Nova get done with them. Storm and Morgan won't even see it
coming. Break up a perfectly good buffet.. they'll show you!

GM: It started with Storm and Morgan ruining the Bombers celebration..
and has quickly escalated into one of the most anticipated rivalries in
AWA.. for several weeks now the Rockstars have gotten the upper hand
with The Blonde Bombers. 

BW: Until tonight at least.. Bombers gonna smash 'em up!

GM: The time for talk is over folks.. let's go down to the ring for
introductions.

[Cut to the ring where Melissa is standing.]

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

[Rock And Roll All Nite" by Kiss kicks in to a loud cheer from the
audience. Scotty Storm and Marty Morgan emerge from the entrance and
soak in the cheers.]

MC: .. From the heart of Rock and Roll, Cleveland, Ohio.. at a total
combined weight of 479 pounds.. Scotty Storm.. Marty Morgan.. 

THE ROCKSTAR EXPR--

[Two figures blur into the frame, rushing Storm and Morgan from behind.
They drive several forearms into the back of their skulls.. sending The
Rockstars crashing to the cement beneath them. The figures look up and
survey the arena.]

GM: THE BLONDE BOMBERS! NOVA! BALDWIN! THEY CAME OUT OF NOWHERE! THEY
AMBUSHED THE ROCKSTAR EXPRESS!

BW: And laid Morgan and Storm to waste! Just like I told ya they would,
Gordo! Sweet sweet vindication, baby!

[Baldwin and Nova stand there like platnium adonis'. Each member reaches
down and grabs a clump of hair, yanking Storm and Morgan back up to
their feet and marching them down towards the ring. Another figure
emerges from the back. His attire consists of a neon yellow suit, a
yellow loaf, and a yellow boot. He emerges and adjusts his neon yellow
bow tie before charging down towards ringside in pursuit.]

GM: And here comes Larry Doyle to direct the action. He's barking out
orders at Baldwin and Nova!

BW: Doyle's just making sure they don't get cheated again, Gordo!

GM: As if they've ever.. 

[Baldwin cranks back and nails Scotty Storm with a stiff lariat at
ringside. Meanwhile, Nova has rolled Marty Morgan into the ring and
rolled in in pursuit. Baldwin hops up onto the apron and steps in the
ring himself. They yank Morgan off the mat..]

GM: .. they're just laying into the Rockstar Express. These thugs are
showing no shame.. this match hasn't even started yet for crying out
loud. 

"Ding! Ding! Ding!"

BW: What the--?! This has been a perfectly good match thus far! 

"Ding! Ding! Ding!"

GM: This was a planned ambush, and you _know it_, Bucky! The Bombers
never had any intentions of meeting Storm and Morgan mano-y-mano.. they
just wanted an avenue by which to ambush them!

[Baldwin hooks Morgan around the waist and lifts him for a belly to back
suplex, Nova grabs Morgan around the head and torques him down towards
the mat.]

"Ding! Ding! Ding!"

[But that bell isn't stopping 'Da Bombers.]

BW: BLONDE BOMBSHELL!

[MASSIVE HEEL HEAT! The Bombers stand over a fallen Morgan, their faces
contorted into a look of disgust as they peruse their damage. Their
momentary gaze is interrupted when Larry Doyle taps both men on the
shoulders and motions towards Morgan.]

GM: Just when it looks like the deplorable actions of the Blonde Bombers
are finally over.. Larry Doyle.. that _sicko_.. won't let it be. He's
calling for Baldwin and Nova to hold Marty Morgan up! Come on, Scotty
Storm.. get up and help your partner!

BW: Baldwin sent Storm to la-la land, he ain't helping with a _thing_,
Gordster!

GM: That's not 100% true, Gordon! Storm is a fighter and he's trying to
crawl his way back up to his feet.. he's trying to shake off the cobwebs
from that ambush at the hands of Doyle and his _henchmen_. 

[Sure enough.. Scotty Storm is fighting his way to his feet and Baldwin
and Nova hold up a devastated Marty Morgan. As for Doyle.. well, Larry's
grabbing at his boot.]

BW: Better hurry up there, Larry! Storms a brewin'.. haha.. get it,
Gordon!

GM: Now's not the time for _jokes_, Bucky!

BW: Doyle's trying to get at that boot, Gordo.. if he gets it off and
nails Morgan with it then it might not be a time for jokes.. might be a
time for _dreams_. 

[HUGE POP!]

GM: STORM IS UP! SCOTTY STORM SLIDES INTO THE RING BEHIND DOY-- WHO THE
HECK IS THAT!?

[A big figure in a black t-shirt and jeans rolls into the ring as Storm
charges an unsuspecting Doyle.. the figure leaps and lays Storm out with
a huge spear. Doyle's boot comes free at the same time and he hops.. he
skips.. he jumps..


"TTTHHHWWWAACCCKKK!"


.. he drives the boot into Marty Morgan's skull. Collapsing him
immediately.]

BW: Morgan's gonna have a big yellow boot print on his face after that,
Gordon!

GM: Larry Doyle and the Blonde Bombers.. _mugged_ The Rockstar Express
and I can assure you this will _not_ be the last we see of all these men
in an AWA ring. That man who speared Scotty Storm is the same man we've
seen show up with Larry Doyle on several occasions. And Doyle is patting
his boys on the shoulder as they're just leaving Morgan and Storm
unconcious in the ring.

BW: He warned 'em, Gordo! Doyle told The Rockstars this day was coming! 

[Doyle, the Bombers.. and the massive figure stroll confidently over
towards Gordon and Bucky. A flustered Gordon immediately blurts out.]

GM: What in the world do you think you goons are doing? And who _is_
that ma--

[Doyle rips the mic out of Meyers hand. Grin from ear to ear.]

LD: I'll save ya the fraction of a _second_, El Gordo. 

[The big figure steps forward, his platnium blonde hair matching that of
his counterparts.]

LD:  His name is Crusher Glenn. 

[Doyle pats Crusher on his massive chest. Each pat.. beating with a
word.]

LD:  Bombers. Security. Bay-bee. 

[Doyle disinterestly drops the mic back on the table and storms off. The
Bombers and Glenn right behind.. obviously _very_ happy with their
handywork. Scotty Storm clushes his stomach and rolls to his hands and
knees.. a menacing stare on his face as he sees his unconcious partner
_and_ the smug Bombers sauntering away in the background as we fade to
the backstage area...

Jason Dane is standing by with Louis Matsui and his charge, MAMMOTH
Mizusawa. The bespectacled Matsui has on his familiar dark suit, with
a Buddy Poppy pinned on the lapel of his jacket. Mizusawa is dressed
in what appears to be his usual competitive attire of a black singlet,
knee pads and boots. Upon closer inspection, however, there have been
minor additions to the singlet in the form of a Japanese flag, red
circle on white, emblazoned on the outside of the right thigh and the
flag of the state of Texas, white lone star on blue and red and white
bars, on the outside of the left thigh. His face, as usual, is grim,
while Matsui breaks out his characteristic smirk.]

JD: Louis Matsui, I don't see how you can still be smiling after Juan
Vasquez clocked you with the ring bell from the top rope last
Saturday.

[Matsui looks at Dane, whose comments have wiped the smirk off
Matsui's face, but only for a split second.]

LM: You know, Jay Dee, what Vasquez did to me was heinous. But that's
just the kind of person that Juan Vasquez is. Once again, the AWA fans
have seen Vasquez's true colors. But the loyal viewers of American
Wrestling Alliance have also seen the kind of man that I really am. I
am a man who protects his investment one hundred percent. I am a man
who when he says he'll look out for the well-being of his client, he
does exactly what he says. For every young man and woman I take under
my wing, I make a promise, I make a commitment. When I sign their
contracts, I make it my responsibility to do everything in my power,
whatever it may take, financially, mentally, yes, even physically, to
enhance their prospects in this great sport of ours. I am a man of my
word and, last Saturday, I put my health and well-being on the line
and I did it all for this young man [Pointing to Mizusawa.] right
here, because this man is worth it, because this man is the future of
the AWA, because, Jay Dee, this man is the future of wrestling. This
man is the future, not scum like Juan Vasquez.

Vasquez, as far as I am concerned, we are done with you. MAMMOTh
Mizusawa brought your world crashing down around you and stood tall at
the end of Saturday Night Wrestling, and that, in my book, proves his
dominance beyond any shadow of a doubt. The only reason why we did not
destroy you, as we said we would, is because we know the Syndicate had
no intention of paying out the bounty on your head. But that's
alright, because now you're walking wounded. If, and when, and we know
you are just that stupid and just that stuborn, you decide to hobble
out to the ring for the Rumble, we will leave you to be torn apart by
the hyenas. You're their problem now, not ours. You know, Vasquez, I
did consider taking legal action against you, and I know I have a
pretty strong case, but I know you'll just use your fortune to pay
your way out of it because that's just the kind of person you are. We
want nothing more to do with you, but make no mistake about it, if you
ever lay a finger on me again, if even look at me the wrong way or
threaten me again, if you even come anywhere near me, I will not
hesitate to let loose Matsui Corporation's cabal of lawyers and have
them put the pressure on Jim Watkins and the AWA suits to make sure
they keep you in check, because what you are is a menace and a
liability to this company.

JD: Speaking of the future, Louis, what have you got to say on behalf
of MAMMOTH Mizusawa, as he heads into Memorial Day Mayhem and the
thirty-man Rumble, with the winner guaranteed a shot at the National
champion?

LM: Because dominating the number one contender is apparently not
enough to show the suits who the true number one contender should be,
it looks like MAMMOTH Mizusawa will have to win his shot the
old-fashioned way, by beating the rest of the competition. Bring on
the All-American, bring on Stars and Stripes, bring on Jason Keening,
bring on Vernon Riley, bring on Lawson and Fitzgerald; my client has
already proven his physical dominance over all those men. Bring on the
Samoans, bring on James Monosso, that psycho... Hell, bring on
Devastation; MAMMOTH Mizusawa is not afraid of monsters. Bring on Rob
Magnum, bring on Michelle Bailey; these are names that belong in the
past. Like I said, my client is the future. Bring on the Rhodes
brothers, bring on Brian Von Braun, bring on Freeman and Dufresne, and
if Stevie Scott is still the champ after Memorial Day, let Ben
Waterson bring on his offer for MAMMOTH Mizusawa not to exercise his
shot against the Hotshot, because that is how confident I am in not
only his chances, not only the odds, but also in his strength,
fortitude and ability. I know now the level of competition that this
organisation has to offer and I know it will not be easy, but I trust
in MAMMOTH Mizusawa and I want all the AWA fans to trust in him, too,
because he trusts in all of you, and as we head into Memorial Day
Mayhem, it is our pride and privilege to dedicate our efforts in
memory of our honored dead...

[At this point, MAMMOTH Mizusawa turns around to reveal the flag of
the United States of America emblazoned on the massive back of his
singlet.]

LM: At Memorial Day Mayhem, we, MAMMOTH Mizusawa, myself and everyone
at the Matsui Corporation, pay tribute to the sacrifices made by all
those brave, honorable men and women of our nation's military
throughout history, in order to make this country as great as it is
today. God bless all of you and God bless America.

[MAMMOTH Mizusawa turns around and grabs hold of Dane's hand, stooping
slightly to reach the mic.]

MM: U-S-A!

U-S-A!

U-S-A!!!

[MAMMOTH Mizusawa releases Jason Dane's hand and throws his own arms
up in the air, while Louis Matsui cuts a salute in the direction of
the camera before walking off, followed by his client, leaving Jason
Dane looking bewildered as we fade to black.

And then quickly back up on a shot of the AWA logo.  A voiceover
begins.]

"Fans, it's that time of year again!  As the AWA hits the summer months,
we're going on the road!  No longer staying in the Lone Star State, the
months of June, July, August, and September are your chances to see
the AWA all over the Southern states!

That's right!  You heard me right!

[A scrolling list of dates and cities appears as the voiceover reads
along with it.]

June 12th - Oklahoma City, Oklahoma
June 26th - Little Rock, Arkansas
July 5th - Memphis, Tennessee
July 17th - Charlotte, North Carolina
July 31st - Charleston, South Carolina
August 14th - Atlanta, Georgia
August 28th - Mobile, Alabama
September 6th - New Orleans, Louisiana

Get your tickets now by calling your local ticket outlet or by visiting
AWAShop.com!"

[And with that, we fade back up to footage marked "EARLIER TODAY."  Open
up to the AWA Interview Center. A banner for the third annual Memorial
Day Mayhem hangs on the back wall as Jason Dane holds a microphone,
dressed in khaki pants and blue pullover with the AWA logo on the
sleeves. Sponsored by Under Armor, naturally.]

JD: Fans, we are just _hours_ away from the AWA's third annual Memorial
Day Mayhem. From top to bottom the card is stocked with great matches
that _you_ demanded, and my guest at this time will be competing in one
of them. It might be the most unpredictable match we've ever seen
against one of the most unpredictable wrestlers we've ever seen, and
it's a tall order for any man. Eric Preston, how are you feeling?

[Preston walks into the picture, in casual dress attire of blue jeans
and a white button down shirt with a black sport jacket over top.]

EP: Jason, I'd be lying if I didn't tell you that I haven't got some
nerves right now. But the nerves aren't about you, Monosso, no no. I've
got nerves because in a match like this, the possibilities are endless,
Jason, the sky's the limit. When the falls count anywhere, the only
limits are the ones you put on yourself. 

JD: So you're not nervous about the nature of this match?

EP: Not even a little bit, my man. I asked for this match for a reason,
Jason, because Monosso keeps skipping out everytime we're about to go
eye to eye. He keeps running away anytime there's a chance he might get
his medicine from Dr. Preston, you know what I mean? If the guy is so
fond of running away, then I'm willing to chase him down. This isn't my
kind of match, and I know that, but when you're dealing with someone
like Monosso, all logic goes out the window. 

With that guy, you gotta bring the fight to him. And when you get bashed
in the ribs with a dumbbell, when your family and your country and your
profession is degraded and insulted on live television, there's no lack
of motivation. It becomes a lot easier to find it in yourself to hunt
down another human being like an animal and believe me, Jason Dane,
that's what I'm going to do. 

JD: What about all those videos Monosso showed in the parking lot and
places like that, showing you how dangerous this match is going to be.

[Eric nods his head, a little indignant at the question.]

EP: You know, I'm glad he showed the fans at home how dangerous this
match can be, because make no mistake this is not for everyone. Jim
Watkins has to put a parental advisory warning on this match for a
reason, Jason. But what I'm a little sick and tired of, what I've had
about all I can take of is this condescending way James Monosso has of
squeaking out every bit of information he has. 

I'm glad he put out a PSA on how dangerous this match is for mannequins,
but he better understand one thing: the chaos goes both ways. Oh it's
dangerous, baby, no question about it, but Monosso seems to think that
it's all one sided. He doesn't seem to realize that in Houston, Texas,
he's the one being hunted. He's the one with the bullseye on his back.
And I've said it once, and I'll say it again... in front of a camera,
with no one watching him, he's a world class tough guy. But the last
time he and I were face to face, he set the world record for fastest
time in the 100 meters. He couldn't run fast enough, brother. He loves
to tell people how tough he is and how all the battles from the past
ruined his life and hardened him for the years to come... but every time
he sees me, the man runs away. From a rookie. From a guy who just
started earning paychecks in this business! His words, not mine.

[Preston looks at the ground, stewing with anger and frustration.]

EP: You've got a lot of nerve talking down to me, you've got some gall
telling me to save myself and run away. The truth is you'd rather go
headfirst into a wood chipper than fight me one on one. You're not doing
me any favors, you're not warning me, you're trying to weasel your way
out of a beating that you've got coming to you. You're just trying to
save yourself.

But know this, James Monosso, you can run and hide all over the greater
Houston area. You can go to the parking lot or the production truck or
the men's room or the damn hot dog stand for all I care, but there's
nothing on this Earth that can stop me from tracking you down and
introducing your ugly face into every metal surface in the building. 

For the first time in your life, you're _right_ to want to call this
match off, you're _right_ to want me to not go through with it, because
as God is my witness, I'm gonna tear your ass APART at Memorial Day
Mayhem! 

[Enraged, Preston tears off his jacket and lifts up his shirt, showing a
black and blue mark the size of a dinner plate.]

EP: Look at my ribs, James, look at them! Every day I have a reminder of
_your_ handiwork. When I don't feel like working out, when I don't feel
like training, you made sure that I'll have motivation. It's _your_
fault, James. And I know you don't believe in taking responsibility, I
know you're not big on taking the blame, and when your face is black and
blue and your mouth is missing teeth, when you've got plugs up your nose
and stitches in your face, I'll be happy to take the blame for that. 

But it'll be your fault it had to happen. You pushed me and you pushed
me, because you don't think I have it in me to fire back. But you're
gonna find out exactly what I'm made of, and I promise you that after
Memorial Day Mayhem you'll be BEGGING to go back to the nut house.
Padded walls and white jackets will have NEVER looked so good. 

You've managed to slide through the AWA without anyone taking you to
task for the lowdown scumbag lunatic you are. You insulted this great
country and this great sport, and yet no one has made you pay the piper.

That's done with. That's over. Memorial Day Mayhem, you and me, I'm
hunting you down and I'm taking you out. 

[With that, Preston tosses the microphone back to Jason Dane and
leaves.]

JD: Wow. Eric Preston is all business, in a manner that we've never seen
before. Memorial Day Mayhem is going to be one for the ages, and we're
only hours away! We'll see you in Houston for the official kickoff to
summer!

[We fade from the pre-tape to the ring where Melissa Cannon is
standing.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a thirty
minute time limit and FALLS!  COUNT!  ANYWHERE!

[BIG CHEER!]

MC:  Introducing first...

[The Theme from Halloween starts up to big negative reaction from the
crowd.]

MC:  Standing 6'7 and weighing in at 288 pounds... 

JAAAAAAAMES MONOSSOOOOOOO!

[Monosso emerges from the locker room with a wide-eyed expression,
carrying himself with purpose as he strides all the way down the aisle
to the ring.  He rolls under the ropes, stomping around the ring,
screaming "PRESSSSTON!" at top volume.]

MC:  And his opponent... from Greenville, South Carolina… weighing 248
pounds…
 
ERIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIC PRESTOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNN!!!
 
[The Houston crowd erupts with cheers as “Show Me How To Live” by
Audioslave thunders over the public address system, and Eric Preston
walks out from the back. Preston is dressed in dark blue tights with a
black and white diamond pattern around the waistband, white boots with
his initials written in a black cursive script on the outside corners.
His ribs are heavily wrapped in white athletic tape.]
 
GM: A big, big night for Eric Preston, and he looks as focused as we’ve
ever seen him.
 
BW: Well I tell you one thing, baby, this match is not for the weak at
heart. We just might see everything, including the kitchen sink, in this
match.

[Eric Preston takes a few steps down the aisle only to find James
Monosso has exited the ring and is stalking down the aisle towards him,
the referee in hot pursuit.]

GM:  These two aren't even going to GET to the ring!

[Preston strikes up a defensive pose as Monosso stomps down the aisle, a
finger pointed right at him...

...and they collide, briefly going into a collar and elbow tieup before
Monosso just starts throwing punches.]

GM:  There's the bell!  Here we go!

[It's not long before Preston begins to return the favor, throwing
haymakers of his own.  The crowd roars for the slugfest out in the aisle
as the two men batter one another.  Monosso's fists carry a little more
weight though and soon, he has established an advantage.]

GM:  Monosso busting out the heavy blows to start this one...

[But Preston slips a knee up into the gut, grabbing Monosso by the hair
and dragging him a few feet towards the ring.  He reaches up under the
arm of Monosso, trying to hiptoss him onto the solid concrete floor...

...but Monosso easily blocks it, turning it around, trying for one of
his own.  The two men grapple over the hiptoss attempt for a moment,
each struggling against the other.]

GM:  Preston-

[The crowd roars as Preston throws a big standing clothesline, knocking
Monosso down to a knee.  The youthful Preston quickly pulls Monosso up
by his wild hair, dragging him towards the ring, stepping up onto the
wooden platform...

...but Monosso fights back, throwing a heavy blow into the throat area.]

GM:  Good grief!

[Gasping for air, Preston backs away, clutching his own throat.  A
wild-eyed Monosso uses that space to charge his prey...

...but Preston drops his head, hoisting Monosso up into the air and
sending him CRASHING down on the wooden stage!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHHHHHH!

BW:  Is that legal?!

GM:  In this one, just about ANYTHING is legal, Bucky!

[Preston nods his head at the cheering crowd, pointing a finger at the
downed Monosso who is crawling across the wooden floor, trying to get
away from the Combat Corner graduate who is in hot pursuit.]

GM:  Monosso's up to a knee... what the-

[The crowd gasps as Preston rushes forward, leaping into the air as he
grabs a handful of Monosso's hair...

...and SMASHES his face down onto the wooden stage again!]

GM:  GOOD GRAVY!

[With Monosso flat on his back on the wooden stage, Preston drops down
into a straddle.  He grabs a handful of hair and drives a right hand
into the side of Monosso's skull.  Preston throws fist after fist to the
head, driving the crowd into a frenzy.]

GM:  Preston's all over him!

BW:  I had no idea that Preston would come out of the chute this out,
Gordo.  I honestly thought Monosso would just beat the hell out of him
all night along before he decides to put him out of his misery.

[Grabbing two hands full of hair, Preston SLAMS the back of Monosso's
skull into the wooden platform before applying a lateral press, reaching
back to hook a leg.]

GM:  We've got one!  We've got two!  But that's all - Monosso out at
two!

[Climbing to his feet and perhaps sensing a moment to seize, Preston
uses the ropes to haul himself up on the apron.  He shouts a "YEAAAAH!"
to the fans to whip them into a roar as he backs all the way down the
apron, pointing at the rising Monosso...]

GM:  Wait a second!  Look out!

[The Combat Corner graduate charges down the length of the apron,
throwing his body into the air in a makeshift crossbody...

...that hits nothing but wooden platform as Monosso flattens out,
causing Preston to miss him entirely!]

GM:  OHHHHHH!

BW:  Haha!  I told you, Gordo!  I knew that flurry was short-lived,
daddy!

[The former mental patient has a sadistic grin on his face as he gets up
off the floor.  He hauls Preston off the mat by the hair, drilling him
with a haymaker that would've taken the rookie down if Monosso hadn't
held him up.]

GM:  Monosso's dragging Preston back over towards the ring...

[Still with a handful of hair, Monosso SLAMS Preston facefirst into the
ring apron and then HURLS him backwards and down onto the wooden
platform again.  Turning away from Preston, Monosso climbs up on the
ring apron, looking down at Preston...

...and then charges down the apron, feeding the rising Preston a
mouthful of running boot to the face!]

GM:  Good grief!

BW:  I hope Preston insured his dental work for this one, Gordo.

GM:  Monosso drops down off the apron...

[Grabbing Preston off the wooden platform, Monosso scoops him up into
the air...

...and slams him down on the wood!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

[The referee suggests a pin attempt...

...and nearly eats a backhand from Monosso, a swing that sends the
referee scampering away.]

GM:  Michael Meekly almost got knocked flat right there, fans!

BW:  And although we said almost everything is legal here tonight, I
sure don't think that would be.

GM:  No, it's not.  But I'm not sure if they could have called for a DQ
on it.

[Monosso pulls Preston up by the hair again.  He ducks down, scooping
Preston up once more...

...but this time, he walks over to the edge of the wooden platform,
looking down at the exposed concrete floor!]

GM:  NO!  NO!!

[A wriggling Preston gets free from Monosso's grip, dropping down behind
him.  Preston deadleaps straight up, lashing out with both feet in a
standing dropkick to the middle of the back that sends Monosso sailing
off the wooden platform, sprawling out on the concrete floor!]

GM:  OHHHHH!  DOWN GOES MONOSSO!!

[Preston slowly gets back to his feet, having just had his entire body
smash down on the wooden platform.  He looks out over the cheering
crowd, nodding his head as he drops down off the platform, leaning over
to drag Monosso off the concrete.]

GM:  Preston pulls him up...

[The crowd roars as Preston hooks a bearhug, looking to pop his hips and
hurl Monosso up and over...

...but Monosso responds by sinking his teeth into the nose of Preston!]

GM:  AHHHH!

BW:  He's trying to bite his face off!

GM:  Ordinarily, I'd say you're just exaggerating but-

[Preston staggers away as Monosso stumbles towards him, grabbing him by
the arm...

...and WHIPS him spine-first into the wooden platform!]

GM:  OHHH!  The wooden platform here in the Arena Theatre, this unique
theatre in the round setup, has caused a lot of pain for both of these
men here tonight.  Preston and Monosso are taking turns driving
seemingly every part of each other's bodies into that wooden platform.

[Grabbing Preston by the arm again, Monosso wheels him away from the
platform...

...and sends him backfirst right back into it!]

GM:  AGAIN TO THE WOOD!

[This time, Preston staggers away from Monosso, falling back onto the
thick rope the AWA set up as a ringside barricade.  With a howl, Monosso
charges forward...

...and Preston drops his head, sending Monosso sailing over the rope and
into the front row!]

GM:  OHHHH!  THEY'RE IN THE CROWD!!

BW:  Preston ducked down and threw James Monosso into the front row,
right down on that concrete floor!  A backdrop over the rope onto solid
concrete and right now, the AWA may be regretting signing this match,
Gordo.

GM:  I'm sure they are.  You parents at home may want to consider
exercising some parental discretion here right now.  This fight is
already out of control and it'll probably only get worse. 

[A hurting Preston, clutching the small of his back, climbs over the
rope barricade, moving in on Monosso who is crawling away from his
opponent.]

GM:  They're in the crowd here in the Arena Theatre and who knows what
we're going to see now, fans.

[Preston quickly catches up, hauling Monosso off the floor by the hair. 
He slings Monosso's arm over his neck, looking for a suplex...

...but Monosso throws short right hands into the heavily taped ribs,
breaking up Preston's suplex attempt.]

GM:  Ohh!  Right into those ribs!  Those heavily taped ribs!

BW:  Monosso may be crazy but he's not stupid.  Those ribs are like a
target - like a bullseye painted all over Eric Preston.  James Monosso
knows exactly where to strike.

GM:  Handful of hair and-

[The crowd ROARS in surprise as Monosso SLAMS Preston's face into the
seat of an abandoned nearby steel chair.  AWA and arena security is on
the scene, holding the fans at bay as the two men continue to brawl
amongst the sold-out crowd.]

GM:  Preston took a faceful of steel right there, Bucky.

[Preston crawls away from the assault of Monosso, actually crawling
across the steel chairs to get some distance.  From the end of the
aisle, the wild-eyed mental patient raises his head to the sky,
screaming...]


"COOOOOWAAAARD!"


[Monosso shoves aside a security guard but several more step in,
refusing to let him wade into the crowd nearby.]

GM:  They're keeping Monosso out of the crowd and I can't say I blame
'em.  That's a lawsuit waiting to happen, Bucky...

[Pushing up to his feet, Preston runs down the length of the aisle, and
hurls himself OVER the security guards, completely wiping out Monosso
with a dive!]

GM:  OHHHHHHH!

[The crowd roars for the dive and then continues to scream their hearts
out as Preston delivers punch after punch after punch to the skull of
the man hailing from the State Of Confusion.]

GM:  PRESTON'S ALL OVER HIM!!  HE'S ALL OVER HIM!!

[Preston finally gets off the downed Monosso, letting loose a whoop of
triumph as he reaches down, dragging the big man off the floor by the
hair.  The young man gets right in the face of his rival, shouting right
in the face of Monosso!]

"SHOW ME YOU'RE RIGHT!"

[Preston SLAPS Monosso across the face!]

"SHOW ME, YOU SON OF A-"

[But Monosso cuts off the shouting with a hand wrapped around the throat
of Preston.  The second hand quickly joins the first, pushing Preston
back over a chair with a chokehold.  Monosso screams like a maniac, a
blood-curling cry as his fingers dig into Preston's windpipe!]

GM:  This is out of control!  The referee is out there but he can't do a
thing about what he's seeing.  Has anyone even TRIED a pinfall yet?

BW:  I don't think so.

[Dragging Preston off the chairs, Monosso hauls him closer to the
ringside rope and switches his grip, HURLING Preston up and over the
rope, sending him crashing down in a heap on the concrete once again. 
The big man stalks towards the ropes, stepping over it to where Preston
is curled up on the ground.]

GM:  Both men are back inside the ringside barrier now...

[Monosso drags Preston back to the rope, putting him down in a seated
position...

...and loops the heavy rope around the throat of Preston, pulling back
on it to strangle the air out of his opponent!]

GM:  He's choking him!  He's choking the life out of him!

[Preston struggles against the rope, trying to get his fingers
underneath the rope to take some of the pressure off his throat. 
Failing, he reaches up, grabbing Monosso around the head and neck...

...and takes him over in a snap mare, breaking the grip!]

GM:  Preston gets loose!  He's free!

[Grabbing Monosso off the floor, Preston drags him over to the ring and
hurls him under the ropes.]

GM:  Wait a second - is this actually going INSIDE the ring?

BW:  It certainly looks that way!

GM:  Preston rolls in after him... we've got both men inside the ring!

[The fans let loose a sarcastic cheer for the two men finally being in
the ring as Preston pulls Monosso up off the mat.  Grabbing him by the
hair, he fires him off to the ropes.]

GM:  BACKDR- no!  Boot to the chest from Monosso!

[A pair of heavy right hands sends Preston falling back into the ropes,
trying to keep his hands up to defend himself.  Monosso slides behind
Preston, pulling at the corners of his mouth as he drags him to the
corner.]

GM:  Back to the corner now...

[A whip sends Preston hard across the ring, giving Monosso the chance to
sprint across...

...and SLAM his knee into Preston's bandaged ribs!]

GM:  OHHHH!  HARD TO THE RIBS!!

BW:  Heheh... I love it!  Again!  Do it again!

GM:  How can you cheer for this maniac, Bucky?

BW:  I'm afraid what he'll do for me if I don't.

[Preston stumbles out of the corner, clutching his injured ribs as
Monosso leans over the ropes, grinning sadistically.]

GM:  Monosso grabs him, hoists him up in the fireman's carry...

BW:  Happy Valley Driver coming up!

[It appears Bucky is very correct as he holds Preston across his wide
shoulders, turning towards the corner...

...but as he dashes forward, Preston slips loose, pulling Monosso down
in a schoolboy!]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR- 

[The crowd groans as Monosso fires a shoulder up at two.]

GM:  Whoa!  That was close!

BW:  I think Monosso forgot he could be pinned, Gordo.  I think he
thought this had just turned into a big fight.  He forgot this was an
actual match.

GM:  Preston staggers up... I think that took a lot out of- WHOOOOOA!

[The crowd ERUPTS as Monosso storms forward with a running clothesline,
tangling the two men up as they topple over the ropes, Monosso's back
smashing into the edge of the ring apron as Preston smacks down on the
wooden floor!]

GM:  THEY'RE BOTH DOWN!!  WHAT A MOVE BY MONOSSO!  He put his own body
on the line to get a chance to take out Eric Preston as well!  Both of
these men are laid out on the floor and that didn't last long inside the
ring, Bucky.

BW:  Why should it?  Especially for Monosso.  You know how badly he
wants to destroy Eric Preston and you know he stands a much better
chance of doing that OUTSIDE the ring!

[Monosso is visibly wincing as he regains his feet, looking for Preston
who is down facefirst on the wooden floor, attempting to crawl away from
the maniac who wobbles over towards the timekeeper's table...

...and shoves the timekeeper out of his chair, snatching the now-empty
chair up in his massive hands.]

GM:  Uh oh.

BW:  You knew at some point, Monosso would look for a weapon.  Now he's
got one.

GM:  A steel chair in hand, Monosso is heading over after Preston.

[The injured fan favorite grabs the bottom rope, pulling himself off the
floor, clinging to the ropes to stay on his feet...

...where Monosso SLAMS the edge of the steel chair back into his injured
ribcage!]

GM:  OHHH!  Right into the ribs!

[Preston slumps down to a knee where Monosso simply repositions the
chair and DRIVES it into the ribcage again, knocking Preston flat on the
wooden floor.]

GM:  Two shots to the ribs from that chair...

[A wide-eyed Monosso sets the chair down, opening it up as if to have a
seat but instead he drags a prone Preston off the mat by the hair,
pulling him into a front facelock.  He slings Preston's arm over his
neck, hoisting him up in the air...

...and DROPPING him gutfirst across the steel chair seat!]

GM:  OHHHHHHH!

BW:  Stop the match, ref.  This is over.

GM:  Eric Preston has taken a brutal series of attacks to those injured
ribs he suffered at the hands of Monosso all those weeks ago.  These two
have been at each other's throats ever since that big brawl that raged
all over the WKIK Studios but-

[Monosso delivers a hard boot to the face of the stretched out Preston.]

GM:  Preston's in some serious trouble here - and again, you have to
note that both of these men are scheduled to compete in the Rumble later
tonight.  I don't know if Eric Preston will even be able to stand later
tonight - much like Raphael Rhodes.

[The former mental patient drags Preston off the chair by the hair,
pushing him up against the steel ringpost.  Turning away, Monosso folds
the chair up once more, grabbing it by the legs.]

GM:  Here comes Monosso... he's got the chair...

[The big man winds up waaaaay back overhead...

...but his swing finds nothing as Preston dives to the side, forcing him
to smash his chair into the ringpost!]

GM:  HE MISSED!  HE MISSED!

[Preston keeps moving, trying to stay away from Monosso to regroup but
the big man's having none of that, pursuing Preston around the ring,
grabbing him from behind by the hair...

...but Preston blindly wraps his arms around the waist of Monosso,
hoisting him into the air, and dropping him down on the back of his head
and neck on the wooden platform!]

GM:  OHHHHHHH!

[A weary Preston crawls a couple feet towards Monosso, throwing himself
into a lateral press.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR-

[The big man fires a shoulder off the floor at two...

...which again causes Preston to take the mount, throwing right hand
after right hand to the skull.  With a roar, Preston retakes his feet,
grabbing the discarded steel chair.  He stands over Monosso, a leg on
each side of him as he turns the chair with the edge facing down.]

GM:  Oh no.

BW:  He's going for the throat!

GM:  I'm not sure what he's going for but-

[Preston quickly brings the chair down, aimed for the windpipe of
Monosso but the big man's massive hands come up, blocking the chairshot.
 His power struggles against Preston's attempt to push the chair down,
the two men grappling in a stalemate.]

GM:  Monosso somehow managed to block it!  He managed to prevent that
steel chair from striking him in the throat...

[A hard boot to the gut from Preston breaks the struggle.  He again
raises the chair up - just a little higher this time...

...but before he can swing it down, Monosso swings his foot up.]


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


GM:  LOW BLOW!!  Monosso caught him low with that boot!

BW:  And the best thing about it?  It's perfectly legal, daddy!

[The hurting madman climbs to his feet, grabbing the doubled-up Preston
in a front facelock...

...but Preston lunges forward desperately, smashing Monosso's spine into
the ringpost!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Into the steel!

[Preston straightens up, immediately grabbing his ribs in pain as he
leans forward, grabbing Monosso by the face...

...and SMASHING his skull backwards into the steel!  Preston leans
against Monosso, sucking wind into his body as Monosso rests against the
ringpost.]

GM:  Both men showing the wear and tear from this one at this point.

[Grabbing a loose side headlock, Preston drags Monosso out into the
aisle.  He throws a few short punches to the skull of the big man before
throwing him down to the concrete floor.  Spinning away from the madman,
Preston leans over the ropes, grabbing a steel chair off the floor.  He
quickly folds it up, holding it high overhead...

...and SMASHES it down across the back of Monosso!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHH!

[Monosso is down on the concrete for a moment, grimacing from the brutal
shot to the back...

...and slowly pushes back up to his feet, still doubled-up...]

GM:  Are you kidding me?

BW:  That was a full force swing!  He hit him with everything he had
left across the back with that steel chair and Monosso is getting up,
Gordo!

GM:  Preston looks shocked!  Preston can't believe it!

[Shaking his head, Preston winds up...]


"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


GM:  AGAIN!!  AGAIN WITH THE STEEL CHAIR!!

[Monosso flattens out from the impact, lying motionless on the concrete
floor for a moment...

...and then slowly starts to rise.]

GM:  I don't... can you believe this, fans?  James Monosso just took two
absolute full force shots with that steel chair across the back but this
man continues to get back up!

BW:  He can NOT put James Monosso down!

[Preston looks on in absolute shock, standing in front of a rising
Monosso with the steel chair still in his hands...

...and Monosso lashes out with a right hand to the injured ribs, forcing
Preston to drop the chair!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Monosso was about to get hit a third time and he knew it!

[With Preston clutching the ribs, Monosso leans over and yanks his legs
out from under him, hanging onto them as Preston lands backfirst on the
concrete.]

GM:  What is he...?

[Monosso violently shakes his head back and forth, trying to clear the
cobwebs as he starts spinning, managing to hoist Preston off the floor
as he does so...]

GM:  GIANT SWING!!

BW:  Oh my god!

GM:  He's got him up in the Giant Swing!

[The crowd is roaring as Monosso spins around and round with Preston
trapped in the Giant Swing...

Once...

Twice...

Three times...

Four times...

Five times...]

GM:  HE'S OUT OF CONTROL!!

[Making himself dizzy by the sixth spin, Monosso actually starts to
wander while still doing the Giant Swing...

Seven...

Eight...

Nine...

Ten...]


"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

[The crowd ERUPTS in shock as the dazed Monosso stumbled a little too
close to the wooden platform and Giant Swung Preston's skull RIGHT into
the solid wood stage!]

GM:  GIANT SWING INTO THE STAGE!!!

[Preston immediately hits the floor motionless from the impact.  A dizzy
Monosso stands over him for a bit and then slumps down, falling into an
accidental lateral press.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!!  THRE


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Here is your winner... JAAAAAMES MONOSSOOOOO!

[Monosso gives no reaction to the announcement, still laid out on the
floor next to Preston.  Preston doesn't move either, stunned from the
impact of the Giant Swing into the stage.]

GM:  Both of these men are down.  Both of these men are hurt.  We need
to get some help out here for both of them.  We need to get medical
attention out here for both of these men.

BW:  Gordo, I don't know if Monosso's going to be happy with a win like
this.  He wanted Preston laid out once and for all.  He wanted to FINISH
this kid.

GM:  It didn't happen though.  Eric Preston will live to fight another
day...

BW:  Another hour, Gordo.  He'll be out here later tonight in the
Rumble!

GM:  Let's hope he will.  Let's hope he can get back out here to
continue in that.  Fans, we need to take a quick break to get these guys
some help but we'll be right back with more of Memorial Day Mayhem!

[Fade to black...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And now, it can be yours!"

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

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

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

...and then we come back to live action where we see Jason Dane standing
by with Juan Vasquez. The former National champion looks worse for wear
after going through the WKIK studio wall yet again. His face is covered
in bandages and bruises and his hands...the only parts of his body not
concealed by his tracksuit, are covered in gauze. However, he appears to
be in high spirits, regardless.]

JD: Juan, after the controversial ending to last week's brutal encounter
with MAMMOTH Mizusawa, what are your thoughts going into the Rumble?

[Juan raises an eyebrow.]

JV: Controversial? Ain't a damn thing controversial about what happened
at the end of that match.

[He shakes his head.]

JV: When that match was called to an end, there was one man left
standing...and it sure as hell wasn't MAMMOTH Mizusawa.

JD: The matter of whether or not you actually beat the ten count is
still a hotly debated subject.

[Juan smiles and shrugs.]

JV: As far as I'm concerned, Jason, they still owe me that third fall.
If Louis Matsui's boy ever wants to finish what we started, he knows
where to find me.

JD: After what happened last week, why would you want to even tempt fate
again? Mizusawa put you _through_ the WKIK studio wall.

[Juan laughs and pats Dane on the back.]

JV: Hell, Jason...you think that's supposed to scare me? That wasn't
even the first time I went through that wall!

[He folds his arms and lowers his head, becoming a bit more serious.]

JV: People say I'm stubborn as hell...that sometimes I'm too damn proud
for my own good.

And they'd be right.

[He scratches the bandage on his chin.]

JV: That's why I'm the crazed fool running after a seven-foot tall giant
with a ringball and damn near killing his manager 'cause he got in my
way. That's why I fought Raphael Rhodes for nine straight months and
never quit until I was the one walking out of that steel cage covered in
blood. And that's why I won't let that feud with The Southern Syndicate
die.

[A sigh, almost as if he understands he couldn't stop himself if he
wanted to.]

JV: 'Cause I'm too damn stubborn to give up. Too foolish to quit. Too
damn proud to ever admit defeat.

[He pauses, getting a bit more somber.]

JV: But tonight...just might very well be Juan Vasquez's last stand.

[Another pause, a slight hint of hesitation in his voice.]

JV: If I don't win the rumble, if I don't get that title shot...

[He pauses again, looking doubtful for a second, before shaking his head
and laughing.]

JV: ...well, even I ain't had to courage to think about what would
happen if that happens.

[He looks back up with a serious expression on his face.]

JV: But make no mistake about it, this _is_ my _last chance._

There's no loopholes, no tricks, no amount of begging or pleading that's
gonna' get me that title shot. The only way I'm going to be facing
Stevie Scott for the National title again is by doing it the old
fashioned way.

_Earning it._

JD: That's a lot of pressure you're putting on yourself. Even with Jason
Keening saying he's in the rumble to watch your back, the odds are still
stacked tremendously against you.

JV: I know the odds I'm facing, Dane. I've spoken to Jason and I
appreciate his help, but I still realize that it's damn near impossible
to win...

[A sly grin suddenly appears on his face.]

JV: ...but that's never stopped me before, has it?

[He stares at Jason Dane, waiting for an answer, which quickly comes as
Dane shakes his head.]

JV: I realize I gotta' go through twenty-nine men...The Southern
Syndicate, MAMMOTH Mizusawa, Devastation, Shane Destiny, The Bishops,
The Samoans...just about the entire damn AWA!...to get that title shot.

[Juan looks up and takes a deep breath, the full realization of just how
far and how hard he has to go hitting him fully.]

JV: But what those twenty-nine men need to realize...is that in order to
get that title shot?

[He stares directly into the camera just then, making sure each and
every participant in that rumble knows he's speaking right at them.]

JV: They have to go through _me._

[With that, Juan nods his head at Jason Dane and pats him on the
shoulder, before walking off camera. And with that, we fade back to
ringside where Gordon and Bucky are standing.]

GM:  Whew boy.  Never doubt that Juan Vasquez is one of the most focused
and determined men in our business, Bucky.

BW:  All the focus and determination in the world won't mean jack when
the Southern Syndicate is working him over five on one all over the damn
ring, Gordo.

GM:  If that happens...

BW:  When it happens.

GM:  If and when it happens, Juan Vasquez might be in big, big trouble. 


BW:  And speaking of someone in big, big trouble...

[The cameras sweep the excited crowd, before going back to the ringside
area with Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde.  Just stepping into view now is
the solidly-built form of Brent Maverick.  Maverick, whose short dark
brown hair and mustache look like they haven't seen a comb or trim in a
while, is wearing his ring attire: rust-red knee length trunks with a
small Arizona Sun logo along the left side waistband, red leather
laceless 'Western' style boots, taped wrists and fists, and a leather
vest.  He's got the game face on as Myers prepares to ask him a
question.]

GM: Brent Maverick, we are mere moments away from the big tag team
match.  I'm frankly a little surprised that you're not with your tag
team partner.

BM: This match ain't gonna be brain surgery, Myers.  It's simple.  I'm
doin' a turn fer someone who's goin' through what I gone through before.
 That's it.  We don't need ta practice no teamwork, or come up with some
involved game plan.  That ain't what this match is about.  We talked
about it once some time ago, an' that was all that was needed.  Bobby
Taylor knows what he's doin', an' so do I.

BW: You know what you're doing?  Or what Taylor's doing?  I don't think
those're the same things, Mavvy.  We saw him comin' outta Shane's locker
room not long ago!

BM: Ain't no surprise.  

BW: An' that can only mea... wait, what?  "Ain't no surprise?"

BM: Blood spills easy, Wilde... but it don't split easy.  A brother is
gonna try all means ta reconcile before it comes ta blows.  What was
said there ain't my business.  This whole thing ain't my business... I
put my nose in because years ago, I wish someone had done with me.

GM: You know, Brent... you've mentioned that several times.  But I don't
recall anything like this happening to you in wrestling.

BM: It wasn't nothin' ta do with wrestlin', Myers.  

GM: Isn't it true that the reason your business venture failed is
because your brother...

BM: I SAID IT AIN'T TA DO WITH WRASSLIN'.

BW: Ooooh.  Sounds like a sore spot.

BM: My... problem... is over with.  Done.  I already got double-teamed
outta business.  Excuse me if I don't wanna see it happen ta nobody
else.  Bring it up again, Wilde, an' yer gonna have a sore spot of yer
own.  
As far as tonight goes, it's like this... Kevin Slater's a coward an'
Shane Taylor's a jackass.  Any questions?

GM: Well, yes.  Questions for... this man.

[The crowd cheers as "The Outlaw" Bobby Taylor walks into view, wearing
the same clothes we saw him in earlier tonight.]

GM:  Bobby Taylor, I think you have some explaining to do to your tag
team partner tonight, Brent Maverick.

[Taylor glares at Gordon... and then to Maverick.]

BT:  Is that a fact?  You got something on your mind?

[Maverick shakes his head.]

BT:  He seems alright with what I'm doin'.  How 'bout you, Gordon?  You
got a problem with me trying to convince my brother he's being played
like a damn fiddle by Slater before I have to kick his teeth down his
throat?

[Gordon shakes his head.]

GM:  Not when you put it that way.

[Taylor nods.]

BT:  Good.  Then if that's settled, let's do this...

[Taylor throws down his Stetson hat and duster, rolling under the ropes
into the ring.  Brent Maverick quickly joins him.]

MC:  Ladies and gentlemen, the following-

[Taylor snatches the mic away.]

BT:  Skip it, sister.  Slater... Shane... get your tails out here!

[Taylor spikes the mic.  Melissa shrugs and exits the ring.  After a
moment, Pat Benatar's "Outlaw Blues" starts up to a big negative
reaction.]

GM:  Here they come, Bucky.

[Kevin Slater, ridiculously clad in a black cowboy hat and a t-shirt
that says, "OUTLAW" mocks riding a horse as he walks down the aisle. 
Shane Taylor and Kandi Kane walk right by him, looking all business as
they head down the aisle.]

GM:  Shane Taylor and Kandi Kane looking a lot more focused then their
partner in crime, Bucky.

BW:  They certainly are.  But I have a feeling Slater's more concerned
with trying to get under Bobby Taylor's skin right now than being all
serious, Gordo.

[The trio arrives in the ring, Slater and Shane taking their spots
inside the ring as Kandi settles in the corner.  The referee steps
between both teams with some last minute instructions and then calls for
the bell!]

GM:  Here we go!

[No sooner does the bell ring than does Shane Taylor dart out of his
corner, with right hands and left hands for all!]

GM: Whoa now, Shane Taylor isn't wasting any time! He was off like a
shot just as the bell rung!

BW: He thinks this is his big chance, daddy, Shane Taylor is tryin' to
make hay while the sun is shining.

["Scorchin'" Shane rifles a right hand off the dome of Brent Maverick
and makes a bee line for his brother, rights and lefts a-flarin'. The
stronger Bobby shoves Shane off and then ducks out of the ring, looking
for Kevin Slater.]

GM: Kevin Slater isn't even in the ring, Bucky!

BW: Slater's a master of ring positioning and coordination, he knows
every trick in the book. Bobby Taylor is dying to get a piece of him, so
Slater's betting that the longer he waits the more mistakes he'll make!

[Or not. The Outlaw displays impressive closing speed and decks Slater
with a right hand. Slater throws an elbow that barely grazes Taylor, but
gives him enough room to move. Bobby goes on the chase again, as Brent
Maverick sends Shane Taylor sprawling in the ring.]

GM: Good gravy, a headbutt to Shane Taylor staggers the younger Taylor.
He's got to know that brawling with Brent Maverick is a bad idea.

BW: He's all jacked up on Mountain Dew today, Gordo, Shane Taylor is
gonna take the fight to everybody, smart or not. 

GM: He might want to consider a decaffeinated beverage, because they
don't come much tougher than Brent Maverick. Elbow smash from the former
Outlaw drops Taylor once again.

[On the outside, Kevin Slater circles the ring and slides in just as his
partner hits the mat. Slater slides in just behind Maverick and bashes
him in the back of the head with a clubbing forearm, just as Bobby
Taylor enters the ring. Slater plays to the crowd as Taylor measures him
and...

"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"

GM: Oh my! Oh my! Taylor just popped Kevin Slater with a huge hand, and
we've got a donnybrook in the center of the ring! Slater and Bobby
Taylor trading right hands, and Brent Maverick is wearing out Shane
Taylor in the corner!

[The crowd erupts as all four men swing for the fences, missing as many
wild haymakers as they connect on. In the corner, Maverick drubs Shane
with sharp right hands, while Bobby and Kevin Slater bounce on the ropes
and in corners, trading bombs.]

BW: It's breakin' down in Houston, daddy, oh Lordy! 

GM: It didn't take long for this one to come unglued, and the referee is
having no luck stopping it! Jim Watkins assigned this match to a new
referee, and he's having trouble even getting this thing to stay in the
ring!

[Shane Taylor ducks a looping right hand and jabs his thumb into
Maverick's throat, then goes right for his brother, pulling him off of
Slater and punching him directly in the kidneys. That will stop even the
toughest of men and Bobby stops his attack, and then gets drilled with a
European uppercut. Bobby tries to shove Shane away again, but turns
around and gets blasted with a right hand from Kevin Slater!]

GM: It is clear, Bucky, it is clear as day that Bobby Taylor wants no
part of fighting his brother, and Shane Taylor is going to keep going at
him until he does!

BW: If that's the case then Brent Maverick is fightin' an uphill battle,
baby, because he can't fight two guys at once if Bobby is refusing to.

[Slater yucks it up to the crowd, proud of how he's handled the
situation, but gets blasted with a Brent Maverick elbow smash,
propelling him into the corner, bringing the crowd alive. Maverick grabs
Shane Taylor by the wrist and whirls him around, then lunges with a
clothesline that knocks Shane to the outside!]

GM: Brent Maverick cleaning house, and he seems to have helped establish
some order here! Bobby Taylor goes to the apron, and we've actually got
ourselves a tag match going on!

[Referee Billy Lane instructs both outside partners to grab the tag
ropes, and a real live tag team match starts to take place.]

GM: Kevin Slater is trapped in that corner, still smarting from the back
elbow, and here comes Maverick back again!


"WHAAAAAACK!"
"WHAAAAAACK!"
"WHAAAAAACK!"
"WHAAAAAACK!"


GM: Those chops might take the skin right off Bucky, there's nothing
finesse about 'em.

BW: It's bad for Slater, daddy, already his skin is red and he got welts
formin'. Brent Maverick knows nothin' but knockin' your jock off. He's
only got one speed.

[A hard right hand snaps the former Wild Thing's head back, and Brent
pulls him out by his greasy hair, and then quickly grabs him for a
suplex...]

GM: A belly to back suplex from Brent Maverick, done with verve. That's
dangerous to the neck and back, Bucky.

BW: That's an old time move, Gordo, but when you do it right it's nasty.
Obviously he knows how to do it right.

[A stomp to the face leaves Slater cowering on the mat, and Maverick
makes the tag to Bobby Taylor, as the crowd stirs up. Taylor walks in
slowly, body tense, hands curled into fists... seeing Bobby's reaction,
the crowd ratchets up even louder.]

GW: Look at Bobby Taylor, Bucky, look at the way he's approaching
Slater. He might explode! You can see every vein in his face!

[Slater gets to a knee and Taylor springs into action, growling with
ferocity. He roars as he drives a boot into Slater's face and throws him
so hard into the corner he nearly flies out of the ring. A clothesline
rattles Slater's jaw, and Taylor whips him so hard into the ropes that
he doesn't have time to react...]

GM: Off the ropes... BIIIIG back body drop! Oh Lord, he almost hit the
lights on that one and Taylor won't let up! There's not an inch of mercy
in the Outlaw!

[Indeed, Bobby dives onto Slater and ruthlessly drives fist after fist
into his mug until the referee tres to drag him off. While referee Lane
doesn't exactly succeed, he gives Slater enough breathing room to
slither away. Seeing this, Taylor stops fighting, gets the referee to
move and then blasts Slater with a boot to the gut!]

GM: Another hard boot to the gut, and that sends Slater staggering off
into the corner, clutching his midsection. Taylor is methodically
stalking him, measuring him up... oh, another stiff kick, that one right
in the abdomen. Taylor now, opening up...

[With a barrage of kicks that is, grabbing the top rope for support and
burying boot after boot after boot into the body of Slater, then taking
one step for power and plastering him with a right hand that throws him
back, causing Kevin to latch his arms around the ropes just to stand.
Another hard right has the former "Wild Thing" walking on his knees,
trying to get away, but Taylor will have none of it...]

GM: Bobby Taylor now, whip to the far buckle-

"CLAAAAAACK!"

BW: Slater hits chest first and bounces out, he's on dream street,
daddy!

"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"

GM: And it looks like he just got run over by the street cleaner!
Massive clothesline by the irate Bobby Taylor, and Kevin Slater is flat
as a pancake.

[Taylor drops into a cover, for a one... two... count, then picks up
Slater and walks him to the corner, where an eager Brent Maverick tags
in.]

GM: Maverick into the match for the first time legally, he's to the
second rope... and he connects with an elbow to the face. Kevin Slater
has taken a brutal beating so far, and I've got to think he deserves
every bit of it! Brent Maverick getting right to work, burying a double
axehandle to the back of Slater- what was that?

[The crowd boos heavily as Kandi, manager extraordinare, grabs the boot
of Maverick, unsuccessfully tripping him up.]

BW: Attagirl, way to help the cause!

GM: Help the cause?!

BW: She's Shane Taylor's main squeeze, baby, she's gotta prove her salt!

GM: Well she didn't trip up Brent Maverick, but she distracted him long
enough for Slater to sucker punch him in the back of the head. 

"SLAAAP!"

GM: Here's the tag to Shane Taylor, and he can barely contain himself.
Into the ring... big standing dropkick staggers Maverick! He needs to
follow up- wait, check that, he decides to strut it out, and the fans
don't care for it one bit.

[He doesn't realize, of course, that Maverick staggered to the ropes,
but bounced off and is motoring toward him...]

BW: RUN!

GM: He saw him, Shane Taylor caught Brent Maverick out of the corner of
his eye, and he runs to the corner, sticking his head between the ropes
to force a break! Are you kidding me, will you give me a break! Fight
the darn match Shane, this is what you wanted! 

BW: Whoa Gordo, let's take it easy there, brother. You blow a gasket and
I'll call the rest of this thing myself, and you won't never get your
job back!

GM: Well after all of the emotional torment that these two men caused
Bobby Taylor, I'd expect something more from this man.

["Scorchin'" Shane plays referee Billy Lane like a fiddle, instructing
him to get in between he and Maverick. Lane does as he's told, shielding
Shane as he re-enters legal competition... and promptly gets decked by a
right hand over the shoulder of the ref, courtesy of Brent Maverick! The
crowd cheers as Taylor runs for cover.]

GM: But not for long, Maverick has him by the hair, big wind up... BAM,
right in the chops, and that puts Shane on the ground. Maverick pulls
him right back up, clubbing forearm to the neck, another big right hand,
and he's got Taylor by the arm... Irish whip to the far side, and Taylor
hits hard in the corner!

[Maverick follows in quickly, getting ready to deliver a big
clothesline, but that damned Kandi Kane works her magic again and pulls
her man out off harm's way, causing Brent to go headfirst to the buckle
and knock himself silly! The crowd boos vociferously as Taylor gets back
to his feet on the apron as Maverick holds his head...]

GM: Maverick's woozy, he might be seeing stars! Shane grabs him by the
head and... drops off the apron, bringing him down throatfirst on the
top rope!

BW: That's a savvy move, Gordo, using the ring to his advantage and
doing damage without a whole lot inflicted on himself. 

GM: I guess. Taylor slithers into the ring on his belly, like a snake,
grabs Mav and flips him over with a snapmare. Shane Taylor off the far
ropes now... a rolling neck snap, impressively done I must say, but look
where he landed! Right in the opposing corner!

[Shane spreads his arms wide and gets right in Bobby's face, asking him
when he's going to take his dress off and fight. Bobby just turns his
head and walks down the apron, seemingly away from his lil' bruh.]

GM: He's trying to not let Shane get into his head, but whether that's
working is debatable. Shane now turns around... right into a big
powerslam from Maverick!

[POP!]

GM: Cover by Brent! ONE! TWO! BROKEN UP BY KEVIN SLATER! Get him out of
the ring, ref!

[Referee Lane does just that, ushering Kevin Slater back to his corner
just enough that a rising Shane Taylor can poke Brent Maverick right in
the eye.]

GM: Cheap little move by Taylor, who follows it up with a single leg
take down. Shane now, bending those knees and garnering all the power
those legs have... jumps up and crashes down with a knee drop to the
forehead. 

BW: There was some height there, come on Gordo, give the kid some
credit.

GM: There's some ability there, no question. Here comes the tag, a legal
one I'll admit, and Slater's in... he grabs Maverick for a belly to
belly suplex... and Shane Taylor grabs on with a neckbreaker on the way
down! That's some fine teamwork, that I'll freely admit.

[The veteran Slater brings Maverick to his feet and sends him for the
ride, then gathers him up on the rebound and slams him across his knee
with a side backbreaker. He pushes Brent off and leans into a cover...]

GM: ONE! TWO! No sir, Brent Maverick has plenty left in his tank.

BW: But he ain't no diesel engine, daddy, he's a broken down Tercel
that's seen better days. Even if he's got chrome rims and tinted
winduhs, a Tercel is a Tercel by God!

[Slater quickly gets up and tags Shane Taylor in, then sends Maverick
for the ride once more. Slater catches him and sets him up for a side
backbreaker again, but he carries him toward his team's corner... Kevin
slams Mav with the side backbreaker just as Shane comes flying off the
second rope with a fist right between the eyes.]

GM: Another fine double team move, and it's obvious to me that Slater
and Shane Taylor have put some moves together in advance. They are a lot
more smooth and organized than Bobby Taylor and Brent Maverick.

[Before leaving the ring, Slater slides over to the opposite corner and
slaps Bobby right in the face, then scampers away as the referee holds
him back. Big heel heat as Shane and Slater go to work on Mav behind the
ref's back!]

GM: Now this is uncalled for, this is not needed! The referee is tied up
with Bobby Taylor, on account of Kevin Slater, and these jackals are
nearly mugging Brent Maverick! Repeated stomps, and now Shane Taylor
throws Maverick in the corner! 

BW: It's called playing the game, Gordo, get with it. We both know this
ain't your first rodeo, this is all about how you play the people in the
ring with you, and Kevin Slater is playing all sides to perfection.
Here's something to think about too... we've seen Brent Mav take a
pounding these last few minutes, and Bobby Taylor not helping the
situation... do you think that's got anything to do with his little
meeting with Shane before the match?

GM: Oh no, no Bucky, that's not likely. Bobby Taylor has too much
integrity as a man and as a competitor to do something like that, and
he's got too much animosity toward Kevin Slater. That's- no, no Bucky,
that's not what's going on here.

BW: Blood's thicker than water, Gordo, remember that. I'm just sayin'.

[Shane Taylor lays in the punishment, ramming Mav's head into one
corner, and then leading him to the opposite corner and repeating the
action. One more corner, one more head bash and Mav's stumbling enough
for Taylor to knock him over with a right hand, and then grab him right
back up by the hair...]

GM: Whip to the far ropes, no- reversed! Shane off the ropes, but
Maverick put his head down... Shane leaps over and tries for the sunset
flip! Maverick's fighting it, he's waving those arms, fighting for
balance...

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

GM: AND GETS CREAMED WITH A LUNGING CLOTHESLINE BY KEVIN SLATER! WILL
SOMEONE PLEASE DO SOMETHING ABOUT HIM?!

[And that man is Bobby Taylor, who thunders in and clocks Slater in
return, and tries to follow up. Referee Billy Lane doesn't do a good job
holding him back, but slows him down enough for Slater to get out of the
corner and get behind Maverick, grabbing his arms in a double arm bar as
Shane winds up...]

"WHAAAAAAAAACK!"

GM: He ducked! He ducked! Maverick moved out of the way and Shane Taylor
waffled his partner with a double axehandle, Slater is stunned and
Taylor is shocked! Maverick now rolls to his corner and- oh no, Bobby
Taylor isn't there! He's still tied up with that referee!

BW: I told you! When're you gonna start listenin' to ol' Big Bucks,
Gordo, I've got my people, and my people told me that somethin' ain't
right with the Taylor boys! Maverick's getting set up! 

GM: Oh I hope you're not right, Bucky, but that looks awfully
suspicious.

[Seeing that he's left his partner in the lurch, Taylor sprints back
around the ring and hops onto the apron, missing the tag by inches as
Slater drags Maverick away.]

GM: So close to a tag, put Maverick is back in harm's way! Elbow to the
back of the neck by Slater, and now he hooks him... up and over for the
suplex. Expertly done by Kevin Slater, and Brent Maverick is in a bad,
bad way. 

BW: He's been in there for six, seven minutes, maybe more, and it's been
nothin' but a drubbing for the guy. 

GM: Slater now, tagging in Shane Taylor, and Taylor goes right back up
to the top rope...

[The crowd buzzes as Shane gets his footing just as Slater lifts
Maverick up on his shoulders... the old "Wild Thing" gains his balance,
and then makes his way to the corner, just as Shane throws his hands
out...]

BW: He's been waiting for his moment, daddy, this is it!

[...and leaps with a crossbody block... that Brent Maverick catches in
midair and then turns over his left shoulder, falling down into a
powerslam that takes out all three! THE CROWD ERUPTS!]

GM: OH MY GOD! OH MY GOODNESS! BRENT MAVERICK WITH A POWERSLAM IN
MIDAIR, AND HE TAKES OUT ALL THREE OF 'EM!

BW: I ain't never seen _anything_ like that before, baby, and I've seen
it all! 

[The crowd cheers even further as Maverick belly crawls out of the
ruckus, and finally makes his way to his corner...]

GM: He's there, he's almost there--


"SLAAAP!"


GM: TAYLOR TAGGED IN! BOBBY TAYLOR'S IN, AND HE'S LOOKING AT A FIVE CAR
COLLISION! 

[Taylor goes right for Kevin Slater, and yanks him up by the hair,
kicking his younger brother out of the ring in the process...]

GM: He sends Kevin Slater for the ride, here we go....


"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!!!!"


GM: HUGE spinebuster! He nearly drove him through the ring, but he's not
going for the cover! Left, right, left, right, he's going to beat the
devil out of Kevin Slater right here, one fist at a time!

[Taylor is driving his fists into the face of his former friend,
relentless, until he's stopped by a dropkick to the back of the head by
his younger brother.]

BW: OH! That's gotta sting baby, in more ways than one!

GM: Shane Taylor now _screaming_ at his brother, yelling for him to
stand up and fight like a man-



"OOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHH!!"



GM: Oh no, and spitting right in the face of his older brother.

[And that done did it.]

GM:  UH OH!!

[Bobby Taylor slowly looks up at his younger brother, shaking his head
back and forth...

...and reaches out and pops him with a haymaker, knocking him flat!]

GM:  GOOD GRIEF, WHAT A RIGHT HAND!!

[Bobby pulls Shane off the mat, popping him with another haymaker. 
Dragging him off the mat by the wrist, he fires Shane into the closest
set of ropes, leaping into the air as he strikes with a big flying
lariat across the throat!]

GM:  DOWN GOES SHANE FROM A LARIAT!!

[Shaking his head again, Bobby climbs on top of Shane and delivers a
right hand... and another... and another... and another... and
another... and another.  The barrage of right hands has Shane Taylor's
head bouncing off the mat over and over again.]

GM:  This is a world-class sibling beating!

BW:  I can't believe he's doing this to his own blood!

GM:  Are you serious?  After everything Shane's done to him?

[Kevin Slater connects with a lunging double axehandle to the back of
Bobby's head, knocking him flat.  He drags Taylor up off the mat,
grabbing him in a front facelock...]

GM:  Cattle Buster!  Slater's going for-

[But Taylor stands tall, backdropping Slater down to the mat...

...and mowing him up and over the ropes with a running big boot!]

GM:  DOWN GOES SLATER TO THE FLOOR!!

[That momentary distraction gives Shane Taylor enough time to dip into
his trunks, slipping on the studded black leather glove known as Black
Beauty.  Shane stays on his knees, waiting for his brother to pick him
up so he can crack him with it...

...but instead, Bobby Taylor hits the ropes, rebounding back and kicking
Shane SQUARE in the face!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

[Bobby reaches down, solemnly pulling Shane Taylor off the mat.  He
spots the leather glove, yanking it off of his younger brother and
throwing it down to the mat.]

GM:  Bobby takes Black Beauty out of the equation...

[And yanks Shane into a front facelock.]

GM:  He's got him hooked!  He's going for the Cattle Buster!

[Taylor nods his head to the cheering fans, grabbing a handful of trunks
to get a little extra lift...

...but pauses.]

GM:  Go for it, Bobby!

[Outside the ring, a recovering Slater grabs Black Beauty off the mat,
slipping it onto his own hand.]

GM:  Taylor's got Shane hooked... he's got him set...

[Bobby looks ready to hoist him up...

...but pauses again, looking down.]

GM:  He can't do it!  Bobby Taylor can't deliver the Cattle Buster on
his own brother!

BW:  Oh, what a sissy boy!

[Slater rolls into the ring, sneaking up behind Bobby Taylor...

...who finally relents, shoving Shane harmlessly to the mat and slowly
turning around.]

GM:  BLACK BEAUTY!!

[The black leather glove DRILLS Taylor upside the jaw, knocking him flat
to the canvas.  Slater quickly removes the glove, throwing it out to
Kandi Kane...

...and shoves Shane Taylor aside as he dives into a lateral press.]

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

"DING!  DING!  DING!"

MC:  Here are your winners... SHANE TAYLOR AND KEEEEEVVVIN SLAAAAATER!

[The crowd jeers wildly as Slater leaps to his feet, jumping up and down
in triumph, celebrating his team's victory.  Outside the ring, a weary
Brent Maverick shakes his head in disappointment as Bobby Taylor stares
up at the lights.]

GM:  Slater and Shane Taylor win this - but only because Bobby Taylor
just couldn't bring himself to hurt his younger brother.  When it came
down to it, he just couldn't deliver that Cattle Buster and that cost
him the whole thing, Bucky.

BW:  Well, I said blood is thicker than water and I was proven right...
just not exactly how I thought I would be.  Bobby Taylor couldn't man up
and do what he had to do.  That's why he's staring at the lights while
Kevin Slater's doin' the Dance of Joy, daddy.

GM:  Fans, we'll be right back with more of Memorial Day Mayhem!

[And 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 fade back up to backstage.  An AWA banner hangs in the
background.  And in front of the banner stands one man who usually is
not alone.  But tonight, for the moment, he is.

His blonde hair hangs just above his shoulders, his eyes hidden behind
sunglasses.  He sports a tight-fitting polo and, instead of his usual
arrogant look, a much more reserved, somber and serious look.

He is the AWA National Champion, "Hotshot" Stevie Scott.]

HSS: I knew this day was coming.

[The champ pauses, looking away from the camera momentarily, and is he
actually getting a little...emotional?]

HSS: Nearly one year ago, when I made my choice to become the number one
wrestler in the AWA, to join forces with Ben Waterson and form the
greatest wrestling stable in the business today...I knew that sooner or
later, somewhere down the line, I'd have to step into the ring with you,
Sweet Daddy Williams.

That day is finally here.

[Another pause, another deep breath.  Stevie shakes his head.]

HSS: People always want to know, even now, if Sweet Heat was all a ruse.
 The answer to that hasn't changed.

It wasn't.

Sweet Heat was the real deal.  And yes, Sweet Daddy, I _did_ consider
you to be a friend.  But as I have detailed before, I saw the _real_ you
when you ditched me to get your title shot...no, _our_ title shot...with
Soup Bone Samson instead of the man who got us there.  You obviously did
what you had to do.

So I did what _I_ had to do.

[Stevie raises a finger.]

HSS: But here's the difference between you and me, Williams.

For me?  It was all business.  It's a cutthroat sport, professional
wrestling is, and you've got to take that to heart.  So when you tried
to cut _my_ throat and win the tag team titles without me?  I decided to
cut _yours_.  Tit for tat, as they say.  But it was still business.

For you, though, it's been personal.  Always has been from the moment I
accepted Ben's offer and became the AWA National Champion.

Not just because you felt a little slighted, though, Sweet Daddy.  It
was also personal for you...

...because you were jealous.

[The champ pauses, smirking.]

HSS: Think I didn't figure that out, too, Williams?

You were jealous that _I_ was the one who got hot.  Jealous that _I_ was
the one who won the Memorial Day Rumble one year ago.  Jealous that _I_
was the one to defeat the unstoppable Kolya Sudakov and that _I_ was the
one to win the AWA National Title.

Put those two things together, and it makes perfect sense that you want
to beat me tonight, probably more than you've ever wanted anything in
your entire career.

[Pause.  Probably a dramatic one, too.]

HSS: So now?  You got what you wanted, Sweet Daddy.  You got me in the
ring with my National Title on the line.  You got your chance to do what
_you_ think is take away the one thing that drives me, that inspires me,
that makes me who I am.

Yes, you _could_..._maybe_ if everything goes your way and the gods of
wrestling and all-you-can-eat buffets are smiling down upon you...you
could be the man to do what Juan Vasquez couldn't do.  What Marcus
Broussard, what Kolya Sudakov, what Adam Rogers couldn't do.

But there's also the chance that you won't.

And that _you_ will lose something in the process.

[Stevie nods.]

HSS: All this stuff between you and me, it reminds of the whole theory
of a cornered dog who decides to come out fighting.  And it's a great
story, the guy who stands up for himself and for others against all
odds.  But here's the thing, Williams.

Those stories don't always have a feel-good ending to them.

And I can _guarantee_ you that tonight?  Your story isn't going to have
a feel-good ending.

But remember one thing for me, Williams, in a few hours when you're
laying on the mat counting the lights in the ceiling and wishing you'd
left well enough alone.  Remember one thing for me when you're being
loaded into the back of an ambulance to be taken to the hospital.

[And there it is...the STEVIEGRIN~!]

HSS: It's not personal.  Never has been, never will be, no matter how
much you want to make it that way.

No matter what I do to you tonight...no matter how badly I end up
hurting you...it's not personal.

It's simply doing what I have to do.

[We fade back to ringside.]

GM:  Well, fans, the moment is here.  The National Title match is at
hand.  Two men - fifty thousand dollars and the National Title on the
line - two former best friends going to war.  It just doesn't get any
better than this.  Let's go up to the ring to Melissa Cannon!

[Cut to the ring where Melissa is standing.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall and it pits fifty
thousand dollars versus the AWA National Title.  Introducing first...

["Simple Man" by Lynyrd Skynyrd kicks in to a buzz from the crowd.]

MC:  From Atlanta, Georgia... he is the challenger... 

SWEET!  DAAAADDY!  WILLLLLLIAMS!

[The music kicks up another notch as the fans erupt into cheers.  After
a moment, SDW emerges from the locker room in a windbreaker style jacket
with a hood.  The back of the jacket reads "Sweet Daddy" and this man is
all business as he heads down the aisle, slapping the hands of his
cheering loyal fans.]

GM:  No self-made music.  No jiggin' and dancin'.  This is a different
Sweet Daddy Williams on his way to the ring tonight.  He refused to even
speak to our cameras tonight.  He's been in the building for hours, in
the zone, ready for this match.

BW:  Eating pancakes, chugging syrup.

GM:  Not this time.

[SDW climbs up the ringsteps, moving through the ropes to even more
cheers.  He does a simple one handed salute to the fans before removing
his jacket, tossing it over the ropes to an attendant as he paces back
and forth across the squared circle.  The music fades out and is
replaced by "We Are The Champions" by Queen.]

MC:  And his opponent...

["Agent To The Stars" Ben Waterson emerges from the locker room first,
standing tall with his trademark steel briefcase gripped in his hand. 
He looks more than a bit nervous as he waits for the announcements to
continue.]

MC:  He is accompanied to the ring by his manager, Ben Waterson, and is
the current AWA National Champion...

He is the Hotshot...

STEEEEEEVIE SCOTT!

[The jeers intensify as the National Champion walks into view.  He's
wearing an elaborate white and silver glittery robe covered with
feathers all over it.  He takes three steps through the curtain, soaking
up the boos of the fans as he opens up the robe, revealing the National
Title belt secured around his waist.]

GM:  There it is, Bucky.  The reason we're all here tonight.

[The Hotshot does a slow spin, showing off the title belt to everyone
with their eyes on him.  With a grin, he pauses, patting Ben Waterson on
the shoulder before the duo makes their way down the aisle together.]

GM:  The National Champion, as always, is not lacking any confidence as
he makes his way to the ring, Bucky.

BW:  Would you really expect any less from Stevie Scott?

GM:  I certainly would not.

[The manager takes his place in the corner as the Hotshot makes his way
up the steps, climbing into the ring.  He removes his robe first,
handing it off to Waterson before removing his title belt, kissing it
once before giving it to the official who holds it high in the air.]

GM:  Could we be seeing the last time that Stevie Scott gets to hold
that title belt?

[The title belt is handed out to the timekeeper just before referee
Michael Meekly calls for the bell to start the match.  Sweet Daddy
Williams and Stevie Scott both promptly walk out of their respective
corners to the middle of the ring, squaring off eye to eye.]

GM:  And we've got ourselves a staredown, fans.

BW:  The last time tonight you're going to see Sweet Daddy Williams
standing straight up... so enjoy it, all you idiots out there in TV
land.

GM:  You're not giving Sweet Daddy Williams any chance at all tonight to
walk out of here as the National Champion?

BW:  I'll give him this much - we've seen a whole new Sweet Daddy
Williams in the past several weeks.  I can't laugh him off as a complete
joke anymore and that angers me, Gordo.

GM:  I'm sure he's very disappointed to hear that.

[The two former best friends stand toe to toe in the middle of the ring,
glaring one another down.  Stevie Scott starts talking trash to
Williams, unheard by the mic but enough to know that something's up...

Especially when Scott punctuates it by slapping Williams across the
face.]

GM:  OHHHHH!  What's that all about, Bucky?

BW:  It's about Stevie Scott letting Sweet Daddy Williams know his
place.

[Williams turns away from the impact of the slap, looking out a the
crowd for a long moment...

...and then slowly turning back towards the Hotshot with the most
serious stare we've ever seen out of Sweet Daddy Williams.]

GM:  Uh oh.

[The Hotlanta native suddenly lunges forward, yanking both of Scott's
legs out from under him with a double leg takedown, taking him down to
the mat.  The crowd roars to life as Williams throws punch after punch
after punch to the skull of the Hotshot.]

GM:  HE'S ALL OVER HIM, BUCKY!  THE CHALLENGER IS ALL OVER HIM!

[After a few more blows, Williams gets up off of the Hotshot, dragging
him to his feet by the arm.  The challenger fires him off into the
ropes, knocking him flat with a running clothesline!]

GM:  Down goes the champ!

BW:  But he gets right back up...

GM:  AND GOES RIGHT BACK DOWN!!

[A second running clothesline knocks the Hotshot off his feet.  Williams
pumps a fist to the roar of the crowd...

...and when Ben Waterson hops up on the apron to complain, the
challenger uncorks a right hand in his direction, just narrowly missing
knocking his head off his shoulders.]

GM:  Ohhh!  He almost got him!

[Williams spins around just as Scott gets back to his feet.  Scott
rushes forward, pushing Williams back to the corner where he promptly
grabs the middle rope and slams his shoulder into the midsection.  He
repeats the shoulder drive, smashing the ample gut of Williams.]

GM:  The ref's trying to get him out of there... trying to get Scott out
of the corner...

[The National Champ straightens up, throwing a chop across the chest of
Williams...

...who replies with a snapping jab to the jaw!  Big cheer!]

GM:  Williams is fighting back!

[A second jab catches Scott on the jaw, knocking him a step back. 
Williams circles out of the corner, throwing another jab... and another
jab... and another jab.]

GM:  Williams is heating up!  The challenger's all over him!

[Williams keeps on circling, throwing jab after jab after jab to the jaw
of the champion.  With Scott dazed, Williams does a full 360 and uncorks
a discus punch to the jaw, knocking the National Champion down to the
canvas!]

GM:  Oh yeah!  The challenger is showing the world exactly what he's
capable of - he's showing that the National Title is in jeopardy right
here tonight!

BW:  The champion needs to recover... he needs to get outside the ring
and recover...

GM:  Scott's back up...

[Williams does another 360, ready to let another discus punch fly...

...but the champion bails out backwards, falling back into a seated
position in the corner.  He's looking up at a fired-up Williams who is
standing over him, making the "I want the belt!" gesture.  Ben Waterson
rushes next to Scott, frantically giving him ideas.]

GM:  The Agent To The Stars is desperately trying to give Scott some
gameplan tips.  You know this isn't going like they expected it to. 
They thought the Hotshot was going to walk all over him tonight and so
far, the challenger is handin' it to him.

BW:  Don't worry about it, Gordo.  Waterson's got something in store for
Williams.  It'll happen soon enough.

[Scott nods to Waterson, slowly getting to his feet.  Williams stands in
the middle, waving the Hotshot out of the corner.]

GM:  Williams just wants to get right back to it.  He just wants to get
this fight going in the worst possible way.  He wants to take it to
Stevie Scott for himself... for the fans... for everyone who ever
believed in Stevie Scott!  For everyone that Stevie betrayed!

BW:  Oh, waaaaah.  Cry me a river, Gordo.  Stevie Scott, at the end of
the day, did what was best for Stevie Scott and you can't fault a man
for that.

GM:  He stabbed a man in the back - a man who was supposed to be his
friend, Bucky!  Not to mention all the fans.

BW:  You're a sentimental sap, Gordo.  The fact is that Stevie Scott
made the right decision for his career and for himself.  No one's going
to make him feel bad for that.

[The two men tie up in the middle of the ring, Scott promptly going to
the eyes with a rake.  The blinded Williams staggers back as Scott pops
him across the chest with a chop.  A second chop sends Williams back
into the corner.  Grabbing him by the wrist, Scott attempts an Irish
whip...

...but Williams hangs on, reversing the whip to send Scott rapidly
towards the corner where he goes sailing over the top and out to the
floor to the roar of the crowd!]

GM:  OHHHHH!  Down to the floor goes the champion!

[Waterson rushes to the side of the National Champion as he tries to sit
up out on the floor.  The crowd is roaring as Williams struts around the
ring, riling them up.]

GM:  Sweet Daddy Williams has this Houston crowd rockin' as they sense
the National Title may be within his grasp right here tonight at
Memorial Day Mayhem, fans.

[The camera cuts to the floor where Waterson is kneeling next to Stevie
Scott, speaking to the champion who is nodding all the while.  With some
help from his manager, the National Champion climbs to his feet.  He
grabs the middle rope, pulling himself up on the apron...

...where Williams rushes forward, yanking on the top rope to catapult
Scott over the ropes and into the ring again!]

GM:  He brings the champion in the hard way!

[Scott rolls to his knees, hands raised, begging for mercy from the
challenger.]

GM:  Oh, now he wants mercy?  Now he wants pity?

BW:  Maybe he feels remorse for what he did.  Maybe you guys were right
all along.

GM:  I highly doubt Stevie Scott is capable of feeling remorse, Bucky.

[Williams shakes his head, pointing a threatening finger at Scott.  He
approaches slowly as Scott backs to the corner, shaking his head, still
pleading with his former friend...

...and eats a boot to the chest!  Williams yanks him up by the hair,
firing him off to the far corner.]

GM:  Here he comes!

[Williams storms the corner, ready to strike...

...but Scott sidesteps, allowing Williams to smash backfirst into the
corner with a back elbow.]

GM:  Ohh!  The champ avoids the big elbow and now he's going to work...

[The champion hooks a side headlock on Williams, turning him away from
the referee to jab his thumb up into the windpipe of the challenger,
sending the gasping Williams back to the buckles.  Scott winds up,
smacking Williams across the chest with a backhand chop.  He quickly
hooks the challenger around the head and neck, taking him down to the
mat with a snap mare.]

GM:  The big man hits the mat and here comes the champ!

[The crowd jeers for the Hotshot's big kneedrop that crashes down on the
skull of Williams.  Scott promptly attempts a lateral press, reaching
back to hook a leg.]

GM:  We've got one!  We've got two!  But Williams is out at two!  The
champion is going to need more than that to put his challenger down for
a three count, Bucky.

BW:  Don't you worry about it.  He's got the Heatseeker.  He's got the
piledriver.  

GM:  He wouldn't dare use that piledriver on Williams!

BW:  Are you serious?  He'd LOVE to get that chance.

[Reaching down, Scott hauls Williams up off the mat, popping him with a
chop across the chest, sending him falling back into the turnbuckles. 
Scott throws a few haymakers, keeping the challenger in place.]

GM:  Scott with a whip- reversed!

[The National Champion slams into the buckles, staggering back out...

...and gets floored with a running clothesline!]

GM:  Williams takes him down - and there's a cover!

[The referee dives to the mat.]

GM:  ONE!  TWO!  No... not enough.

[Williams hauls Scott up off the mat, firing him into the ropes where
Scott hooks the top rope, preventing the rebound.  A fired-up Williams
rushes forwards with another clothesline...

...but the Hotshot drops down, pulling the top rope with him which sends
Williams sailing over the ropes and crashing down in a heap on the
wooden floor!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

BW:  That's it!  That's exactly the turning point the champion needs,
Gordo!

[The referee reprimands Scott for sending Williams over the ropes which
gives Ben Waterson the chance to rush over, burying a trio of hard kicks
into the ribcage of the downed challenger.]

GM:  Oh, come on!  Michael Meekly needs to focus on Ben Waterson at all
times!  This guy will do absolutely anything to keep the National Title
on Stevie Scott.  He's gone so far as to stack the deck tonight in the
Rumble in hopes that one of his men wins the match so they can bury that
guaranteed title shot.

BW:  It's a good strategy.  Why can't you recognize he's a mastermind in
this industry?

GM:  He's an intelligent man.  I'll give him that.

[Scott steps out to the apron, measuring Williams as he climbs to a
knee, and hops off, burying a double axehandle on the back of the
challenger's head, knocking him down to the floor.]

GM:  Down goes the challenger again...

[The Hotshot buries a few boots into the ribs of the challenger as well,
standing over him.  A ringside fan starts shouting at Scott who responds
with a "Shut your mouth, fat man, or I'll shut it for you!" before he
delivers another boot to the ribs.  Waterson is all grins as the Hotshot
drags Williams up to his feet.]

GM:  He's got the challenger up on his feet - and slams his face into
the apron!

[The blow knocks Williams back down to a knee where Scott hooks a loose
side headlock on before landing blow after blow to the face.  With a big
shove, Scott puts Williams back inside the ring.]

GM:  Both men back inside the ring...

[Waterson shouts out a few instructions to the National Champion who
nods in reply before pulling Williams up, firing him into the ropes. 
Scott winds up a big right hand but the challenger ducks under it,
hitting the far ropes...

...and then takes down the champion with a leaping forearm smash!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Down goes the champ!

[Williams quickly gets up, grabbing the foot of the champion.  The crowd
roars as Williams mimes dropping an elbow in the groin of the Hotshot...

...but when he does it, Scott somehow rolls out of the way, causing
Williams to slam down on the canvas.  Scott promptly takes the mount on
Williams, grabbing a handful of hair and slamming fist after fist after
fist into the skull of the challenger.]

GM:  Scott drags Williams up by the hair, popping him with a chop across
the chest again...

[Grabbing the wrist, the Hotshot fires him into the ropes once more,
burying a boot into the gut on the rebound.  The National Champion
promptly steps forward, hooking his arms around the torso of the
challenger.]

GM:  He's going for the piledriver!  He's going for-

[But Williams wastes no time in standing straight up, flipping Scott
over the top and down to the canvas in a big backdrop to a huge roar
from the  crowd.  Williams drops down to a knee, breathing heavily as he
tries to recover.]

GM:  The challenger's back up...

[And as the Hotshot gets up, Williams snaps off a jab punch to the jaw. 
A few more follow and a big haymaker knocks the champion off his feet,
putting him down on the mat!]

GM:  The challenger is all over him again!  He's- 

[Scott rolls under the ropes to the apron, trying to get away from the
challenger's offense.  Williams approaches the ropes, reaching over the
top to haul Scott up to his feet.  He quickly slings the champion's arm
over his neck, hoisting him into the air...

...and bringing him crashing down on the canvas with a big vertical
suplex!]

GM:  BIIIIIIIIG SUUUUPLEX!

[Williams pops up to his feet, pumping a fist in triumph as he
approaches the downed champion, yanking him off the canvas by the hair. 
Grabbing the wrist of Scott, Williams fires him into the ropes...

...and the challenger leaves his feet, spinning around so that his
backside smashes squarely into the face of the champion!]

GM:  BACKFIELD IN MOTION!!  HE GOT ALL OF THAT!!

[With Scott laid out on the canvas, Williams throws himself across the
champion.]

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

[The crowd roars at the nearfall as Williams pops up to his knees, head
in his hands in disbelief.  He's shaking his head as he gets back to his
feet, reaching down to haul Scott up off the mat.]

GM:  You can feel it in the air!  You can feel the title slipping away!

[Williams fires Scott into the ropes, throwing a big clothesline on the
rebound...

...a clothesline ducked by Scott who slams on the brakes, spinning
around.]

GM:  HEATSEEKER!

[The superkick catches Williams squarely under the chin, knocking him
flat on his back.  The champion throws himself across the downed
challenger.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE-

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  FOOT ON THE ROPES!  FOOT ON THE ROPES!!

[Scott pulls himself off the mat, driving home boot after boot to the
ribcage, knocking the challenger under the ropes and out to the floor. 
The champion steps out on the apron, looking down at Williams.]

"SWEET!"  "SWEET!"  "SWEET!"

[An aggravated Scott looks out at the crowd, shouting "SHUT UP!"]

GM:  These fans are getting under the skin of the champion, Bucky!

BW:  He needs to stop listening to them!  He's got this match in his
hands and he needs to-

"SWEET!"  "SWEET!"  "SWEET!"

"SWEET!"  "SWEET!"  "SWEET!"

"SWEET!"  "SWEET!"  "SWEET!"

[Scott puts his hands over his ears, screaming "STOP!  STOP!" as
Williams slowly gets up off the floor...

...and reaches up, grabbing a handful of trunks and YANKING the National
Champion off the apron, sending him crashing down to the wooden floor in
a heap!]

GM:  OH MY STARS!

[A stunned challenger leans against the apron, breathing heavily as the
crowd continues to roar.]

GM:  Sweet Daddy Williams, the challenger, is out here at ringside
trying to recover...

BW:  He's sucking wind, Gordo.  Look at 'im.

GM:  The man is nearly 300 hundred pounds.  The man is up there in
years.  We're at the ten minute mark in this match and you have got to
wonder just how much wind is left in the sails of the challenger.

[Williams finally pushes off the apron, leaning over to pull Scott off
the floor.  He fires him under the ropes back into the ring, climbing up
on the apron as Scott grabs the referee by the shirt, distracting him...

...while Ben Waterson grabs Sweet Daddy Williams by the leg, preventing
him from immediately getting inside the ring!]

GM:  He's cut him off!  Waterson won't let the challenger back into the
ring!

BW:  Brilliant!  He's slowing down the challenger's momentum!

[But Williams turns around, using his other foot to kick Waterson off,
sending him falling down on the wooden floor.  Williams steps through
the ropes, moving in on the champion who is still down on the mat.  The
challenger pulls him up to his feet, promptly firing him into the ropes
again...]

GM:  BIIIIIIIIIG BACKDROP BY THE CHALLENGER!!

[Scott scampers up quickly, falling back into the corner where Williams
charges forward, hopping up on the middle rope where he raises a fist to
the crowd before raining the same fist down on the skull of the
Hotshot.]

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

[Williams hops down out of the corner, hooking the champion around the
head and neck, hurling him through the air and down to the canvas.  The
crowd roars for the flurry of offense.  A pumped-up Williams drags Scott
up again, pushing him back to the corner where he climbs the buckles
again.]

"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THREE!"
"FOUR!"
"FIVE!"
"SIX!"
"SEV-"

[The crowd jeers as Scott slips out between the legs of Williams,
reaches up, and YANKS him down from his perch, sending the back of his
head crashing off the mat!]

GM:  OHHHH!

[Scott clings to the top rope, breathing heavily as well from the
offense he's soaked up during the match.  Williams lies motionless on
the canvas as Waterson moves to Scott's corner, shouting instructions to
him.]

GM:  Wait a second...

BW:  I'm not sure this is the best idea.

GM:  Stevie's going up!  The National Champion's heading to the top
rope!

[The Hotshot steps up to the middle rope, steadying himself for a moment
before putting one foot on the top rope.  He pauses, then steps up with
the other foot...

...just before he backflips off the top, crashing down across the chest
of a stunned Williams!]

GM:  STEVIESAULT!  STEVIESAULT!!

[The National Champion reaches back, hooking a leg.]

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

[Williams just barely gets the shoulder up off the mat in time to avoid
the three count to the relief of the crowd.  The Hotshot pushes up to
his feet, shaking his head...

...and then drags the stunned Williams into a standing headscissors.]

GM:  What's he- 

[The crowd ERUPTS as Williams yanks Scott's legs out from under him,
somehow managing to flip forward into a double leg cradle.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE- 

[Huge disappointed reaction from the crowd as Williams just barely
misses the three count.  Kneeling on the mat, Williams slams his hand
into the mat in frustration.]

GM:  He was so close, Bucky.  Just a half count away from winning the
National Championship!  How frustrating that must be for Sweet Daddy
Williams!

BW:  It's a whole new feeling for him to actually give a damn if he
doesn't win a match.

GM:  Give me a break, Bucky.  Sweet Daddy Williams has always cared if
he won or lost.

BW:  You keep telling yourself that.

[Back to his feet, Williams hauls up Scott by the arm.  He shouts, "IT'S
OVER!" before firing the champion into the ropes, extending his arm for
a clothesline...but the champion ducks underneath.  Scott hits the
opposite side and fires back off the ropes where Williams plows right
through the Hotshot with a running shoulder tackle!  Huge pop!]

GM: Sweet Daddy using his weight advantage to his, well, advantage right
there!  Once again he's got the champ reeling, Bucky.

BW: I'll give him credit.  I've never seen Williams this sharp in a
match, ever.

[SDW pulls Stevie to his feet via a handful of hair and shoves him hard
into a corner.  Again he climbs up to the middle rope, holding his fist
high in the air to the fans, who pop huge for the big man from Atlanta. 
But before he can deliver the first blow, Scott takes advantage of the
pause and is able to reach up and jab a thumb into Sweet Daddy's eye.]

GM: Cheap shot by the champion!

BW: Hey, it's Williams' own fault, daddy.  He'd rather play up to the
fans than finish off the match.

[Williams stays on his perch, a hand over his gouged eye while Stevie
repositions his arms and gives a huge shove to free himself from the
corner.  SDW leaps backward as a result of the push, landing on his
feet...

...and then crumpling into a heap on the mat as his left knee gives way
underneath him.]

GM: His knee!  I think...he did...Sweet Daddy Williams appears to have
injured his knee on that landing!

BW: I dunno, Gordo.  The champ better be careful.  Williams could be
playing possum here.

[And Waterson appears to share that sentiment as he barks out "BE
CAREFUL!" from the floor.  Stevie remains in the corner, still shaken
from the assault he's endured from the challenger, eyeing his fallen
former partner who is rocking back and forth, clutching his left knee
and yelling in pain.]

GM: I'm not sure...I don't think he is, Bucky.  I'm afraid Sweet Daddy
Williams may have blown out his knee when he hit the mat.

BW: That's what he gets for being so fat and out of shape!

[Finally, a still-cautious Scott comes out of the corner, looking down
on Williams who is now trying to work his way to the ropes.  The
champion pauses...steps back...and delivers a vicious kick right into
the injured knee!  Heel pop!]

GM: That appears to be the opening that Stevie Scott was needing.  Sweet
Daddy Williams has dominated this match from the opening bell and had
the momentum in his favor, but now...

BW: Now we're gonna see the champ go to work on that knee, daddy!

[SDW screams out in pain from the kick to his knee, and sensing the
opening, Stevie grabs him by the legs and drags him back into the center
of the ring.  Holding his left leg down, the champion leaps into the air
and DRIVES a knee right down into Williams' injured knee!]

GM: And the champ now going to work on that injured knee of Sweet Daddy
Williams.  We obviously don't know how badly Williams hurt his knee on
that landing off the ropes, but it's only being made worse now by
Scott's attack.

BW: You know what this does, Gordo?  It takes away Williams' significant
weight advantage.  That was the one thing he had going for him tonight,
and now it's gone.

GM: The Hotshot staying on that knee, continuing to stomp away on
it...Williams trying to inch his way to the ropes, and finally gets
there as Meekly steps in to keep Scott away for the break.

[But Stevie isn't having any of that, shoving Meekly away and going back
to sending boots into his knee.  Heel pop!]

BW: The champ smells blood, daddy!  He's going for the kill.

GM: Meekly's back on his feet and now wedging himself between Williams
and Scott, pushing the champion off of Williams.  And now it's Scott
giving Meekly an earful.

[Indeed, Stevie gets right up in the official's face, giving him the old
what-for and not paying attention to SDW who has pulled himself up to a
knee.  Finally, Stevie shoves Meekly aside again and moves in on
Williams.]

GM: Stevie's said his piece to Meekly and now heading back to Sweet
Daddy...

[POP!]

GM: Hard right hand from the challenger!  He caught Scott right in the
solarplexus...I think it knocked the wind out of him!

BW: No, no, no!  Not a fat man rally!

[Williams draws back again, and catches Stevie in the stomach with
another punch, sending the champion a few steps backward.  Using the
momentum, SDW pulls himself up to his feet, but is still favoring his
left leg.]

GM: Sweet Daddy Williams getting a second wind but still standing
gingerly on that leg.  Stevie still recovering from those shots to the
stomach, but now moving back in...RIGHT INTO A BIG RIGHT HAND FROM
WILLIAMS!

[HUGE POP!  The shot drops Stevie flat on his back, prompting Williams
to let out a yell.  Scott gets back on his feet and catches another
punch in the jaw, though not as squarely as the first, driving him back
into a corner.]

GM: Williams is feeling it!  This crowd is feeling it!  The AWA National
Title could be slipping away from Stevie Scott and the Southern
Syndicate!

[Waterson slaps the mat from the outside, shouting encouragement to the
reeling champion.]

GM: Williams has him trapped in the corner!  He's peppering away with
lefts and rights!

[After several shots, Williams moves away as Scott staggers out of the
corner...and flops face-first down in the middle of the ring!  Huge
pop!]

GM: The champ is reeling!  Sweet Daddy Williams riding emotion,
adrenaline and the cheers of this crowd, and the AWA National Title
could be within his reach right here!

[Still limping, Williams isn't about to give up this opening, and he
goes right after the Hotshot who is struggling to get up.  Stevie rolls
to a seated position, sees Sweet Daddy standing over him with his fists
clenched, and holds up a hand to his ex-partner.]

"NOOOOO!  NOOOOO!"

GM: Listen to the champion, Bucky!  Listen to Stevie Scott begging Sweet
Daddy Williams for mercy!

BW: Mercy?  He's probably asking Sweet Daddy not to eat him!

GM: Scott scooting away from Williams into a corner, but he's got
nowhere to go!  Williams follows him in, and there's a boot to the side
of the head of the champion!  Stevie Scott is stunned!

[He is that, but Williams also nearly falls down as a result of having
to put pressure on his left knee.  But he stays on his feet and moves
into the corner, grabbing a handful of hair and pulling the champion
up.]

GM: The Sweet Daddy in control here, grabs an arm and sends Scott to the
far side...but the champ ducks his head and flips over the turnbuckles
to the canvas!

[Scott then breaks out into a dead sprint to the corner to his left,
quickly climbing to the top rope and flinging his body off, sideways, at
a waiting SDW...

...who catches him in mid-air!  HUUUUGE POP!]

GM: HE CAUGHT HIM!  SWEET DADDY WILLIAMS CAUGHT STEVIE SCOTT'S FLYING
CROSS-BODY ATTEMPT!

BW: Oh man...this is not good, Gordo.  Do something about this, Ben!

[But there's nothing Waterson can do, other than yell and place his hand
over his forehead, worried.  Williams lets out a primal scream and
hoists Scott up and over his shoulder...

...and immediately collapses to the mat, leaving the champion on top in
a pinning position.  DISAPPOINTED POP!}

GM: NO!  NO, HE COULDN'T HOLD HIM UP!  THE INJURED KNEE JUST COLLAPSED
UNDER THE WEIGHT, AND NOW SCOTT HAS HIM IN A PINFALL!

[Meekly drops down to count 1...2...but doesn't hit the match a third
and decisive time as Williams darts a shoulder up JUST in time, drawing
an ENORMOUS pop from the fans!]

GM: SHOULDER UP!  HE GOT THE SHOULDER UP!  WHAT RESILIENCY SHOWN ON THE
PART OF SWEET DADDY WILLIAMS!

BW: Sweet Daddy?  What about Stevie?  He's been resilient enough to take
the best Sweet Daddy Williams had to offer and he's still the one on
top.

GM: Only because Williams' knee buckled there after that freak accident
earlier in the match.

BW: Keep on making those excuses, Gordo.

[Stevie rolls off the pin, slowly getting to his feet while SDW?  Not so
much.  He again clutches his left knee in pain as the camera cuts to a
close-up of his face, eyes closed and teeth clinched.]

GM: There we see a good indication of how much pain Williams is in.  He
was able to fight back through the pain but just couldn't hold up after
catching the Hotshot on that cross-body off the top.

BW: Gordo, there's more to winning matches than what you see in the
ring.  Conditioning and taking care of yourself also plays a big part,
and you can whine about the quote-unquote fluke accident that caused
this knee injury.  But had Williams taken care of himself outside the
ring, he may never have messed up his knee on a simple fall to the mat.

GM: Be that as it may, Scott is now up and on the attack, stomping away
at the left knee of Williams.

[Indeed he is, and SDW does his best to reach down and cover the knee
up.  Scott, in turn, grabs his former partner and drags him up while
keeping a hand on his ankle, folding up his leg and hoisting him into
the air.]

GM: KNEEBREAKER BY THE CHAMP!

BW: Now that's what I'm talking about, daddy!

GM: Stevie doesn't bother letting go of the leg, instead dragging him
over to the ropes...drapes that injured leg over the middle rope...leaps
into the air, and DRIVES all his weight down onto the knee!

[Williams lets out a scream of pain as Stevie steps away before throwing
the leg off the ropes and to the canvas.  After another stomp to the
knee, Stevie grabs SDW by the legs and drags him into the middle of the
ring.]

GM: The champ's got Williams in trouble here, picking up the leg and
grapevining...he's going for the figure four!

[But he takes a bit too long as Williams reaches up, grabs him by the
head, and pulls him down into an inside cradle!  POP!]

GM: WILLIAMS COUNTERS!  INSIDE CRADLE!  ONE!  TWO!  THR- OH SO CLOSE! 
STEVIE SCOTT GETS THE SHOULDER UP JUST IN TIME!

[Disappointed pop!]

GM: Sweet Daddy Williams just came within inches, within milliseconds of
winning the AWA National Title!

BW: Close ain't good enough, Gordo.  Not against Stevie Scott.

GM: Scott quickly back on his feet as Williams is still struggling with
that injured knee.  The champ standing back, waiting for Sweet Daddy to
get up...

[HEEL POP!]

GM: ...and KICKS him right in that knee as Williams gets on his feet!

[Sweet Daddy's leg buckles underneath him and he falls back down to the
mat.  Acting quickly, Stevie grabs a handful of hair and pulls Williams
back up...and then hurls him through the ropes and down to the floor!]

GM: OHHHHH!  Williams thrown to the floor by the champ, and the Sweet
Daddy hits hard on the outside!

BW: The longer this match goes, the more it favors the Hotshot for a
variety of reasons.  Williams isn't in good shape to begin with, and now
with his knee hurting and taking continued punishment, it's just making
matter worse.  And you know that the champ's going to make Williams pay
for running his mouth over the last few weeks.

GM: Williams still down on the floor...and look out, here comes Ben
Waterson sneaking over.

[Seeing his agent on the move, Stevie immediately gets up in Meekly's
face and gets his back turned to Williams and Waterson.]

GM: Scott's got the referee distracted, and Waterson's grabbed a chair
from ringside!

[Before Williams can react, Waterson takes the edge of the chair and
SLAMS it into the side of his knee!  HUUUUGE HEEL POP!]

GM: Oh come on!  Williams is in enough trouble as it is, and the
champion doesn't need any more help!  That's uncalled for!

BW: Call it payback, daddy!  It wasn't called for when Williams
destroyed the Southern Syndicate's limo, either!  He destroys Ben's
property...Ben destroys his knee.  All's fair.

[Waterson drops the chair, then grabs Williams and shoves him back into
the ring where Stevie is now waiting after breaking away from Meekly. 
He grabs SDW again by the leg and drags him to the center of the ring,
where he proceeds to drop an elbow right into the rapidly-deteriorating
knee.]

GM: Waterson's cheap shot did its damage, and honestly, Bucky...I don't
know how much more punishment Sweet Daddy can take.

BW: Me either.  Let's hope we can keep finding out!

GM: You're a sick man, Buckthorn.

BW: The most sickest!

[Stevie pops back up to his feet, still hanging onto the leg, standing
over the downed Williams.  The champ points down at his former partner
and yells, "I TOLD YOU TO WALK AWAY, OLD MAN!"]

GM: The champion now taunting Williams when he should be counting his
blessings that Sweet Daddy had that fluke injury.

BW: Sweet Daddy should be counting his blessings that Stevie hasn't torn
every CL in his knee by this point.

GM: Stevie going for another figure four...NO!  WILLIAMS SHOVES HIM OFF
WITH HIS OTHER FOOT!

[Scott hits the ropes, but SDW is unable to get up in time to catch
Stevie on the rebound.  Seeing the challenger down, the Hotshot leaps
into the air with an elbowdrop...

...and catches nothing but canvas after Williams rolls out of the way! 
POP!]

GM: HE MOVES!  WILLIAMS MOVES OUT OF THE WAY!  Sweet Daddy pulling
himself to his feet by the ropes...waiting for Stevie...

[HUUUUUUUGE POP!]

GM: BIIIIIIIIG RIGHT HAND FROM WILLIAMS!  HE JUST DROPPED STEVIE SCOTT
LIKE A SACK OF GARBAGE!

BW: BUT HE CAN'T STAY UP!  HE JUST COLLAPSED BACK DOWN TO THE MAT!  HE
CAN'T CAPITALIZE!

GM: Williams is fighting with everything he's got...fighting for his
pride, fighting for the fans, fighting for Juan Vasquez's 50 thousand
dollars...he's got to reach down!

[Stevie lays flat on his back on the mat, while Williams - still
grimacing in pain - slaps the mat hard to rally himself and the crowd,
who responds in kind.]

"SWEET DAD-DY!  SWEET DAD-DY!  SWEET DAD-DY!"

[Williams again crawls over to the still-fallen champion, each movement
forward an obvious strain, before finally falling across his shoulders
in a lateral press.]

GM: WILLIAMS WITH THE COVER!  ONE!  TWO!  THRE-

[HUGE DISAPPOINTED POP!]

BW: FOOT ON THE ROPES!  FOOT ON THE ROPES, DADDY!

GM: Only because Ben Waterson put it there!

[Indeed he did.  Williams looks at Meekly, who points at the foot on the
ropes.  Sweet Daddy then diverts his attention to Waterson, who is still
standing nearby.]

GM: And Williams knows it!  Williams knows that Ben Waterson just cost
him the AWA National Title!

[SDW pulls himself up, pointing and yelling at Waterson who holds up his
hands to say, "What did I do?"]

GM: Sweet Daddy needs to forget about Waterson and pay attention to
Stevie!

[Because the champ is now up, behind Williams.  Stevie grabs him by the
shoulder and spins him around, letting fly a big right-handed haymaker.]

GM: BLOCKED!  WILLIAMS BLOCKS IT...AND FIRES BACK WITH A RIGHT OF HIS
OWN!  ANOTHER!  ANOTHER!  STEVIE SCOTT IS ON DREAM STREET!

[The crowd is going nuts as Stevie stands on wobbly legs.  SDW pauses,
kisses his right fist, and uncorks another HUGE cross!  ENORMOUS POP!]

GM: OH YEAH!  DOWN GOES THE CHAMP!  DOWN GOES THE CHAMP!  THIS IS IT!

[HUUUUUGE HEEL POP!]

GM: NO!  COME ON, MEEKLY!  DO SOMETHING ABOUT THAT!

["That" is the fact that Waterson reached up and grabbed Williams' left
leg as he started to move toward the downed champ.  The result was
Williams dropping in a heap thanks to the added pressure placed on his
knee when Waterson grabbed it.]

BW: About what?

GM: About Ben Waterson's inteference!  That's the third time he's stuck
his nose into this match and quite possibly cost Sweet Daddy Williams
the title!

BW: Quit making assumptions, there's no way Sweet Daddy Williams can
beat Stevie Scott.

GM: He's been very close several times, and if it weren't for Waterson,
he might very well already be the AWA National Champion.

BW: But he's not.  Thank God.

[Williams again clutches at his knee, while Waterson yells "FINISH IT!"
to a stirring Stevie Scott.  The champion shakes his head to free the
cobwebs, and stalks the downed challenger.]

GM: The champ back on the attack, pulls Williams up...front
chancery...lifts him up and BRAINBUSTER!  OH MY STARS, WILLIAMS' BACK
AND NECK FOLDED UP LIKE AN ACCORDION!

BW: Setting him up for the piledriver, daddy!  Kiss your lackluster
career goodbye, Williams!

GM: Williams is down...he's not even moving, and Stevie hasn't gone for
the piledriver here yet.  Instead, he's...going up top?

[Indeed he is, as Waterson points and nods.  Stevie gets his balance on
the top, sizing up Williams, and finally...after a pause that seems like
an eterity...leaps off...]

GM: OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

[...and DRIVES a knee right down into the injured left knee of the Sweet
Daddy!]

BW: That's gotta be all he can take!  Just give up now, Williams!

GM: The amount of punishment Sweet Daddy's knee has taken in this match
has been unbelievable, and then that flying kneedrop off the top by
Stevie...Bucky, the outcome of this match aside, I just hope Williams is
able to walk again soon.

[Waterson yells out "DO IT NOW!" to which Stevie nods...grabs Williams
by the leg, wraps it around his...]

GM: FIGURE-FOUR!  HE'S GOT IT LOCKED ON!  HE'S GOT IT LOCKED ON IN THE
CENTER OF THE RING!

[Williams screams out in pain, thrashing back and forth on the canvas,
trying to get out of the hold but the Hotshot has the hold applied deep,
fighting any of the challenger's attempts to get out of the figure
four.]

GM:  Can the challenger escape?  There are a couple of ways to escape
the figure four leglock, Bucky.

BW:  Yeah, there are.  But right now, Sweet Daddy Williams is in the
middle of the ring.  He's too far away from the ropes to grab them to
force a break.  He'd have to drag himself several feet - dragging Stevie
Scott along with him to get a rope break.

GM:  He could also turn the hold over.

BW:  That's his best option at this stage.  He'd need to get momentum on
his side to roll that figure four over so that both men are on their
stomachs.  That counter will reverse the pressure and actually do damage
to the knee of the champion instead.

[Williams rocks back and forth, smashing his arms into the mat as he
tries to find an escape.  Raising a hand in the air, he turns to his
left, trying to flip the hold over.]

GM:  That's what he's trying to do right now, Bucky.  He's trying to
turn over the figure four and reverse the pressure!

BW:  He's fighting it!  These fans are trying to drive him to do it!

GM:  Come on, Sweet Daddy!

[With the roaring crowd behind him, Sweet Daddy Williams seems to be
getting closer and closer to doing it...

...but a violent rocking back and forth on the hold by Stevie Scott
flattens him back out, causing him to scream out in pain.]

GM:  The Hotshot turns up the pressure.  This is one of the most painful
holds in all of professional wrestling and from my judgment, I'd say
that the National Champion has it excellently executed right now.

BW:  He does, Gordo.  He has it perfectly applied.  When this hold is on
right, it affects five different points of pressure on the legs of the
victim.  You can bet that Sweet Daddy Williams is feeling all of those
right now.

[Williams tries to fight the hold again, again pumping his fist in the
air, drawing more cheers from the fans.  Stevie Scott barks a "Check
him!" to the ref who gets closer to Williams...

...which allows the Hotshot to lean back, grabbing the hands of his
manager to force the shoulders of Williams back down to the canvas.]

GM:  Oh, come on!

[The referee spins around but it's already too late, the Hotshot is back
applying pressure on his own.  Sweet Daddy Williams' fist is up in the
air again...

...but it's moving slower and slower.]

GM:  I think... it looks like Sweet Daddy Williams may be about to pass
out from the pain!

BW:  Stevie's got that hold cinched in tight!  He's cranking back hard
on it!

GM:  Sweet Daddy Williams is fading, Bucky!

[The fiery challenger pumps a fist in the air once more, pushing hard...
pushing hard... trying to turn the hold over...

...but slumps back, arms dropped down to the mat.  The referee takes one
long look, leaning in to check the challenger.]

GM:  Is he out?

[And the referee straightens up, calling for the bell.]


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM:  That's it!

[Stevie Scott rolls out of the figure four, holding his hands high in
the air as Ben Waterson climbs into the ring, steel briefcase in hand. 
The referee kneels down to talk to the announcer.]

MC:  Ladies and gentlemen... the referee has ruled Sweet Daddy Williams
unable to continue!  Therefore, the winner of this match via referee
stoppage...

...and STILL AWA NATIONAL CHAMPION...

[The crowd jeers wildly.]

MC:  "HOTSHOT" STEEEEEEVIE SCOTT!

[Waterson gets the belt back, handing it over to the champion who slings
the belt over his shoulder.  Stevie Scott shakes the hand of Waterson
who asks the champion a question...

...and with a nod, Waterson turns back towards the downed Williams,
shoving Michael Meekly down to the mat.]

GM:  Wait a second!

[Scott steps on the ankle of Williams, screaming at Waterson who lifts
the metal briefcase high overhead...

...and SLAMS it down onto the leg of Williams!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

[Waterson smashes the briefcase down onto the knee a couple more times
before shouting to Stevie Scott who quickly exits the ring.  Inside the
ring, Waterson puts the briefcase UNDER the knee of Williams as the
Hotshot scales the ropes...]

GM:  Here comes the cavalry!

[But before anyone can reach the ring, Stevie Scott takes flight,
dropping a flying knee down on the leg, smashing it down into the steel
briefcase!]

GM:  OHHHHHHH!

[Retrieving his briefcase as the champion grabs the title belt, Waterson
and Scott dive out of the ring before Soup Bone Samson, Vernon Riley,
and Juan Vasquez are able to get there.  The crowd violently jeers the
National Champion and his manager as they retreat back up the aisle.

The camera zooms in on Sweet Daddy Williams, his teeth clenched as he
grabs at his injured leg.  The mic very clearly picks up a, "It's
broken!  It's broke, damn it!  I know it is!" before the cameraman is
moved back by a medical team.

The ring fills with AWA officials and medical team members as we fade to
black.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And now, it can be yours!"

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

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

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

...and then back up to live action where our announcers are at
ringside.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans.  We are just moments away from the Rumble right
now but our medical team is still trying to get Sweet Daddy Williams out
of there after that brutal attack by Stevie Scott and Ben Waterson.  But
in the meantime, fans, the last time we came on the air, Marcus
Broussard left Todd Michaelson high and draw for their match with
Dufresne and Freeman.

BW: Well naturally, baby, I coulda told you that! The Shark is nobody’s
fool, daddy, we all know that to be true, and that was a no win
situation. Teamin’ with Toddy Mike against Freeman and Dufresne is a
great way to end up eating your meals through a straw, no matter how
hard Todd trains with the babies.

GM: Whatever his reasons are, we’ve sent Jason Dane to his HOUSE to get
comments. We haven’t heard from the first National Champion in months,
almost a year Bucky, surely he owes the fans an explanation.

BW: He doesn’t owe nothin’ to nobody. He never signed for the match, he
never contacted nobody. You know I’m close to the Shark, so believe me
when I tell ya that he ain’t said a word to nobody in a while, and
definitely didn’t say nothin’ about being in a tag match. We all know
what kind of guy he is, Marcus Broussard doesn’t do well when he’s given
orders. He moves on his own schedule, brother, you can believe that.

GM: You’re right about that Bucky, unfortunately for Todd.  Jason Dane
was dispatched earlier this week to California to try and get some
comments from Broussard on why he decided not to show up in Dallas last
week and... well, let's say he had less than stellar results.  Let's
take a look at Jason Dane's Shark Hunt!

[We cut to footage taped earlier in the week.  Jason Dane is wearing a
black suit with an AWA patch over the left breast pocket, and he’s
standing on a set of steps, in front of a door with a stained glass
window.]

JD:  Okay, fans... I'm here in California at the residence of Marcus
Broussard. After Saturday Night Wrestling went off the air, the AWA was
literally flooded with angry calls and emails about Marcus Broussard’s
no show and Jim Watkins himself sent me here to interview the former
champion regarding his actions.

[Dane rings the doorbell as he talks.]

JD: Let’s see if we can get Marcus to give us a few comments, and maybe
we can get to the bottom of this.

[Jason rings the doorbell again, getting impatient, and then a third
time. Slightly irritated, Dane turns around to say something to a
producer, and then turns around right as a woman opens the door. She is
moderately tall for a woman, with an athletic build, and has chestnut
brown hair tied back in a messy ponytail. Her UC-Santa Barbara t-shirt
and yoga pants give the impression that perhaps she wasn’t expecting
company.]

??: What do you want?

[Dane looks at her quizzically.]

JD: Hey- are you, are you Amy?

??: You know who I am, Dane. Of course I’m Amy. And Marcus has nothing
to say to you.

JD: But he owes-

AB: He owes you nothing, Jason. Now please leave the property.

[With that, the door is closed.]

JD: That was Amy Broussard, Marcus’ wife and she… she did not seem too
open to conversation.

[The camera swings to the right, away from Jason, and peers into the
window in a bit of voyeurism. From the window, the Broussards' large
flat screen TV can be seen clearly.  On the right of the screen a
glimpse of a man in an easy chair is seen, back angled away from the
camera, sitting with his feet up and watching the TV. His head of dirty
blonde hair popping up over the back of the chair gives away who it is.]

JD: Well, that’s a wrap from here.  Broussard’s not talking, neither is
his wife and the AWA fans are left with no answers at all.

[The camera swings back to Dane.]
 
JD: Let’s go back to Houston!

[And we do indeed cut back to Houston where Gordon and Bucky are
standing.  Gordon is shaking his head.]

BW:  What?

GM:  To be honest, Bucky, I expected more from Marcus Broussard.

BW:  Now what are you going on about?

GM:  I expected more of him as a wrestler... and as a human being.  He
owes the AWA fans an answer.  He owes his friend Todd Michaelson an
answer.  And quite frankly, I would like an answer as well.  A "no
comment" is not good enough for me.

BW:  Leave the man alone, Gordo.  He's got nothing more to say to any
of-

GM:  Hey... wait a second...

BW:  What's it now Gordo?  What else could possibly happen here tonight?

[And Myers doesn't even give an answer this time.  Instead the camera
shot switches from the general arena, to the commentary table where
Gordon Myers is getting up, cordless microphone in hand.  He seems to be
peering curiously into the crowd.]

BW:  I have no idea where this guy is going, leaving me here all alone
at the table.  Am I supposed to call this show on my own?

[Stepping through the barriers, Gordo continues into the crowd,
beckoning someone?  He moves half way down, stepping right in front of
fans and...

...right near someone who instantly seems quite familiar.  He is a bit
thicker, sporting stubble on a once clean shaven face with boyish looks.
 His hair is scragglier, darker even.  The eyes give it away.  Deep
silver eyes looking up at Meekly, wishing he hadn't been seen.]

GM:  Ladies and gentlemen, on a night full of stars in that very ring,
we have one right in this crowd with us!

["He" tries to wave off Gordo, to no avail of course.  The crowd turns
towards him, many also recognizing this man.]

GM:  He is the former EMWC Junior Heavyweight Champion, a HUGE star in
his own rights when he did wrestle... 

...NOVEMBER IS HERE AT MEMORIAL DAY MAYHEM!

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  November... I have to ask you, what are you doing here in the AWA,
at Memorial Day Mayhem?

[The Reign Man peers his head up, craning to the mic as Meekly lowers it
to him.]

N:  I don't go by that name anymore.

[The crowd is still buzzing at the appearance of the former junior star,
crowding around him.  Fans behind him pat him on his back, yet all the
attention of this very popular athlete seems to bother the loner more
then anything.]

GM:  Well... then... um...

["November" interrupts immediately.]

"N":  I am just here to watch a wrestling show, Gordo.  I was in the
area, knew this show was on and came to meet some friends I haven't seen
for a long time.  That's all.  I am just here, like all these people, to
watch the best wrestling company going today, put on the best show I
have seen in some time.  I am sure the fans want to-

[And HE gets interrupted!]

GM:  Does this mean we will see YOU in a ring... perhaps THAT one,
soon?!

[OH YEAH!]

"N":  I am _just_ here to watch the show, like all these fans.

GM:  But November, the fans here in the AWA...

"N":  _Not_ my name anymore.  Now please, as much as I would like to
chat, I would rather watch.  Like these fans.

[Myers backs away, almost insulted, as the fans stream in to fill his
void and surely annoy the Man-Formerly-Known-As-November.]

GM:  A big surprise in a night of big surprises!  Let's take this one
back up to the ring!

[Cut to the ring where Melissa is standing.]

MC:  It is now time for the annual thirty man Rumble!

[Big cheer!]

MC:  Earlier tonight, all thirty men drew a number at random.  That
number will determine their order of entry into the match.  Every two
minutes a new competitor will enter the ring until all thirty men have
entered.  To be eliminated from the match, a wrestler must go over the
top rope and have BOTH feet touch the floor.

The last man standing will be your winner and will earn a future shot at
the National Championship.

[More cheers.]

MC:  And now... the man who drew #1...

[An intense Samoan drum beat begins to blast out over the PA.  After a
bit, a horrifying scream rings out as Scola and Mafu step out onto the
stage with their manager, Col. James J. Dallas, leading the way. Dressed
in knee length black tights with the word "Samoa" written down the side
of each leg, Scola slaps his partner across the chest with both hands. 
Mafu returns the favor before he turns back towards the ring, stalking
down the aisle behind Col. James J. Dallas.]

GM:  And it looks like one of the Samoan Hit Squad, Mafu, has drawn
Number One here tonight - a most unenviable position.

BW:  It's not the number you want to draw for sure but if anyone has the
toughness to go bell to bell, you've gotta think it's Mafu, Gordo.

GM:  It certainly could be.  The luck of the draw is so very important
in a match like this though.  For Mafu to win the Rumble, he'd be in the
ring for over sixty minutes.  Last year, when Stevie Scott won the
Rumble, he came in at number 20.  Two years ago, when Ron Houston won
the Rumble, he came in at number 28.  So, in the past, it's been VERY
important to get a lucky draw, Bucky.

[Mafu climbs into the ring to some jeers from the crowd, slapping his
own chest and shouting in something unintelligible to the ringside fans.
 Dallas takes his spot in the corner, beaming at his man's actions...

...but that smile quickly goes away as Ron Houston approaches him
outside the ring.]

GM:  And speak of the devil, there's Ron Houston now!  Fans, remember
that Houston's been assigned the task of Special Enforcer for this
Rumble - his job is to make sure nothing fishy goes down... and it looks
like he's ordering James J. Dallas out of here!

[The crowd roars as Houston points back up the aisle.]

BW:  What right does he have to do that?  The Colonel is a licensed
manager!

GM:  Ron Houston is laying down the law right now - he wants Dallas out
of here and what Houston wants as an official, he's gonna get!  Houston
has ejected James J. Dallas- wait one moment...

[Gordon pauses as Melissa Cannon's voice is heard again.]

MC:  Special Enforcer Ron Houston has declared that ALL participants in
this match must come to the ring alone.  There will be NO managers
allowed at ringside in this match!

[Big cheer!  Houston nods at his decision, absorbing some abuse from
Mafu as Melissa lifts the mic again.]

MC:  And the man who drew #2...

[Rebel Meets Rebel's "Nothing To Lose" kicks in to a BIG reaction!]

GM:  Oh yeah!  

BW:  It's one-half of the National Tag Team Champions but which one?

[That question is answered when Duane Henry Bishop walks through the
curtain to some cheers.  He holds his title belt high overhead before
handing it off to Cousin Bo who pats him on the back before disappearing
back through the curtain.]

BW:  Ah, it's the runt of the litter.

GM:  I'm telling him you said that.

[Bishop quickly makes his way down the aisle, rolling under the bottom
rope...

...and the bell rings to start the match as Mafu leaps into action,
throwing a kick into the chest of the rising Duane Henry, knocking him
back into the ropes.  With Duane Henry up against the ropes, Mafu throws
a big chop into the chest of Duane Henry.]

GM:  Mafu's all over him right away!  And this has gotta be big for the
Samoan.  Not only is he in a fight for a shot at the National Title but
he gets his chance to physically go at it with one of the National Tag
Team Champions as well.  A good showing here could result in the Samoans
earning a shot at those titles considering what we heard from Big Jim
Watkins earlier tonight, Bucky.

BW:  No more point system!  Anything goes!  Whoever the Championship
Committee wants to give a title shot to, gets one.  And that's going to
make that tag team division even hotter than it already is if that's
possible.

[A few more chops brighten up the chest of Duane Henry, leaving red
welts behind before Mafu grabs him by the wrist, firing him across the
ring...

...but stopping him short as he pulls him back into a short-arm
roundhouse kick!]

GM:  OHHH!  What a kick that was!

BW:  Mafu hasn't gotten a lot of credit from the AWA fans yet for his
kicking power.  And he throws 'em from all over the place!  Standing,
jumping, running, top rope - you just never know when Mafu's gonna throw
a boot upside yer noggin, daddy!

GM:  You certainly don't.

[The wild Samoan drops down to his knees, wrapping his hands around the
throat of Duane Henry.  He lets loose a wild growl as he strangles the
air out of the smaller Bishop Boy.]

GM:  A blatant choke right now but there are no disqualifications in a
match like this, Bucky.

BW:  No DQs, no countouts, no pinfalls, no submissions.  You gotta go
over the top and down onto that hard wooden platform, daddy.

[Mafu gets up after a few seconds of choking, throwing an axe-kick style
stomp down into the chest of Duane Henry.  With a shower of Samoan
gibberish, Mafu buries a double-handed chop down into the chest of Duane
Henry.  He grabs Duane Henry by the back of the tights, dragging him up
to his feet.]

GM:  He grabs Duane Henry 'round the waist...

[But instead of a belly to back suplex, we get Duane Henry throwing
rapid-fire punches to the skull, somehow managing to break his grip.  He
slaps on a headlock, charging a few steps before leaping into the air...

...and DRIVING Mafu's face into the canvas with a bulldog!]

GM:  OHHH!  Duane Henry fought out of that suplex attempt and drove him
down with a bulldog headlock!  That oughta turn the tide a bit.

[An angry Duane Henry rolls Mafu onto his back, grabbing him by his wild
hair and driving a fist into the skull.  He delivers punch after punch
after punch to the temple with a gutteral roar before getting back up to
his feet.]

GM:  Duane Henry's all over him now!  Trying to batter Mafu on the mat
and we're drawing close to finding out just who the third person in this
match will be.  We'll be seeing that countdown clock on the screen very
soon and that'll lead us up to Number Three.

[Yanking the hair, Duane Henry hauls Mafu off the mat, delivering a kick
to the gut that doubles him up.  The tag team champion grabs Mafu by the
back of the trunks with one hand and the hair with the other, charging
towards the ropes...

...but Mafu cuts him off with a back elbow to the gut, breaking up the
attempt to throw him over the top.  The momentary pause in the action
gives Mafu a chance to grab a handful of Duane Henry's hair, smashing
his skull into Bishop's, putting him down on the mat.]

GM:  What a headbutt!  Mafu's got one of the hardest heads I've ever
seen in this business and-

[The countdown clock appears on the screen as the fans start to count
down on their own.]

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

"BZZZZZZZZ!"

[The crowd BURSTS into cheers as Bailey Fitzgerald comes charging
through the curtain with a pump of his fist.  The fiery fan favorite
dashes down the aisle, making it to the ring in no time flat.]

GM:  Bailey Fitzgerald!  We've got three members of tag teams in there
now!

[Fitzgerald slingshots over the top rope, charging Mafu's exposed back
and delivering a running dropkick that sends Mafu flailing towards the
ropes.  Fitzgerald races forward, trying to get underneath Mafu to send
him over the ropes to the floor.]

GM:  HE'S TRYING TO TOSS HIM!  HE'S GOT HIM OFF-BALANCE!!

[The crowd roars as Fitzgerald tries to get his shoulder under Mafu's
legs, trying to upend him over the ropes.]

GM:  Fitzgerald's trying to score the first elimination of the Rumble! 
He's trying to-

[But a hard back kick to the gut doubles up Fitzgerald, knocking him
away from Mafu.  The Samoan spins around, grabbing Fitzgerald by the
hair and sinking his teeth into the forehead of the fan favorite to the
jeers of the crowd.]

GM:  He's biting him!  He's biting him, Bucky!

BW:  No disqualifications.  Everything's legal!  I love it!  Chew his
head off, Mafu!

[Mafu grabs Fitzgerald by the back of the hair, wrapping his leg around
the young man's...

...and SMASHING his face into the mat with a Reverse Russian Legsweep! 
The crowd jeers the move and then gets even louder as Mafu rubs
Fitzgerald's face back and forth across the canvas.]

GM:  Look at that!  Just a vile, vile move from Mafu.  And wherever he
is in the back, you know that the Colonel, James J. Dallas is enjoying
the heck out of this.

BW:  Of course he is.  His man is in there manhandling a top contender
to the National Tag Team Titles AND one-half of the National Tag Team
Champions themselves.  You think that doesn't put the Samoans high on
the list of contenders to those belts?

GM:  It certainly may do exactly that.

[Leaving Fitzgerald down on the mat, Mafu moves back to the corner where
Duane Henry is recovering from the headbutt.  The big Samoan blasts
Duane Henry across the chest with a chop...

...but Duane Henry fires back with a right hand of his own!]

GM:  The champion is fighting back!

[Another chop from Mafu lands...

...but Duane Henry responds with a haymaker!]

GM:  Another chop... 

[Cheer!]

GM:  And another right hand!  We've got a slugfest!

[An angry Mafu grabs Duane Henry by the head, pulling him out of the
corner with his left hand while throwing punches with his right.  Duane
Henry does the same with his off hand, both men throwing blows like
something out of a hockey fight.]

GM:  Look at this!  And listen to this crowd!

[The throwdown draws huge cheers from the roaring crowd as the two rough
and tumble tag team members batter one another relentlessly in the
middle of the ring while Fitzgerald slowly starts to rise on the other
side of the ring.]

GM:  They're beatin' the heck out of each other live here in Houston!

[With both men having their backs turned to him, Bailey Fitzgerald
staggers out of the corner...

...and leaps on the back of Mafu, tying him up in a sleeperhold as Duane
Henry continues to tee off with punches to the skull!]

GM:  We've got a two on one with the Samoan and did you ever think you'd
see one of the Bishops working WITH Bailey Fitzgerald?

BW:  Not a chance.

GM:  And we're about to be joined by a fourth man!

[The countdown clock starts up once more.]

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

"BZZZZZZZZ!"

GM:  Who's it gonna be?

[The fans explode in jeers as the big man of the Samoan Hit Squad,
Scola, comes jogging down the aisle towards the ring.  The powerhouse
quickly makes his way up on the apron, stepping through the ropes...

...where he promptly BLASTS Fitzgerald in the back of the head with a
double axehandle, knocking him off of his partner's back.  He promptly
spins Fitzgerald around, grabbing him with one arm around the head and
neck.  He grabs that right arm with the left, powering the fan favorite
up off the mat...]

"THUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
"OHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

GM:  WHAT A SLAM!!  WHAT A THUNDEROUS SLAM FROM SCOLA!!

[The Samoan powerhouse stands over the downed Fitzgerald who just got
ROCKED with a uranage slam...

...and then OBLITERATES a charging Duane Henry Bishop with a big boot
kick to the jaw!]

GM:  GOOD GOD!!

[The crowd jeers Scola as he stands over the two downed competitors,
lifting his muscled arms in the air with a roar.  Getting up from a
knee, Mafu joins his partner, gesturing at the downed Fitzgerald.  Scola
nods, leaning over to drag Fitzgerald over towards the corner.]

GM:  Wait a second here...

BW:  Oh yeah, Gordo!  You know what's coming up here!

[The big man climbs the buckles, facing the ring as his partner delivers
a pair of stomps to the chest of Bailey Fitzgerald before climbing the
ropes as well.]

GM:  Are they doing this?  Are they really doing this in the Rumble?

BW:  You'd better believe it, Gordo!  This kid picked on the wrong team!

GM:  He what?!  The Samoans started this thing with Fitzgerald and Corey
Lawson!

[Scola grabs his partner around the neck, slinging his arm over his
muscular neck.  He stands up, using his power to hoist Mafu up into a
suplex...

...and then throws him out in a front-layout, sending Mafu crashing down
across the chest of Fitzgerald!]

GM:  OHHH!  SAMOAN SUPER SPLASH!!

[Mafu stays on top of the downed Fitzgerald, barking loudly in the
direction of the camera that is zoomed in on his face.  Scola stays up
on the buckles, shouting at the ringside fans.]

GM:  Fitzgerald isn't moving.  He isn't moving at all, fans.  And- now,
wait a second!

[The jeers intensify as Mafu springs to his feet, climbing the ropes
again where Scola awaits...]

GM:  No!  Not again!

BW:  They're gonna put this little puppy down right here tonight!  We're
watching Old Yeller unfold in that ring right now and Bailey Fitzgerald
is that mangy little dog!

GM:  Mafu's on the middle rope - Scola's got him!

[The big man powers his partner up once more...

...and sends him CRASHING down on Fitzgerald's prone form again!]

GM:  OHHHHH!  ANOTHER ONE!!  TWO SAMOAN SUPER SPLASHES ON BAILEY
FITZGERALD!

[The crowd is out of control as Mafu slowly gets off of Fitzgerald,
looking down at the fan favorite who now has a trickle of blood coming
from his mouth.]

GM:  He's bleeding from the mouth, Bucky!

BW:  The kid could have internal bleeding, broken ribs, a broken sternum
- who knows, Gordo?

GM:  We need to get-

[A big cheer erupts as Corey Lawson emerges from the locker room,
charging towards the ring.]

GM:  Corey Lawson - Bailey's partner is out here to try and get-

[But Ron Houston, doing his job no matter how popular it is, steps in
front of Lawson, denying him entry to the ring.  Lawson pleads with
Houston at ringside but the Athens, Georgia Madman refuses.  After a
moment of a stand-off at ringside, security arrives to stop Lawson.]

GM:  Corey Lawson wanted to help his partner but Ron Houston wouldn't
allow it.  You've gotta give him credit for stopping Lawson from
interfering in the match.  Fans, we've got to take a quick break.  We'll
be right back.

[Fade to black.

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then back up to live action where Bailey Fitzgerald is being
removed from the ring on a stretcher.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans.  As you can see, during the break, the AWA
medical team made their way out here to remove Bailey Fitzgerald from
the ring.  He's been seriously injured by the Samoans.

[Corey Lawson is still at ringside, helping his partner be stretchered
from the ring.  An angry-looking Ron Houston has inserted himself into
the ring, holding the action in the ring until Fitzgerald is cleared
out.]

GM:  Ron Houston, the Special Enforcer, has called a temporary halt to
this match while the medical team gets Bailey Fitzgerald out of the
ring.

BW:  And again, this idiot Houston is overstepping his authority.  Have
you EVER seen a Rumble stopped because of an injury?

GM:  I'm not sure I can remember an injury this serious in a Rumble. 
This was the only way to safely get Fitzgerald out of the ring.  He
paused the clock, he stopped the action by physically getting in there
to hold everyone at bay.  I think this was an excellent call by Ron
Houston.

BW:  Of course you do.

[As Fitzgerald gets cleared out to some respectful applause from the
crowd, Houston steps from the ring...

...and signals for the bell to re-start the match!]

GM:  And off we go!

[The countdown clock starts up as the bell rings.  Duane Henry
immediately gets enveloped by both Samoans, taking a world-class beating
from the arms, hands, legs, and feet of Scola and Mafu.]

"SEVEN!"
"SIX!"
"FIVE!"
"FOUR!"
"THREE!"
"TWO!"
"ONE!"

"BZZZZZZZZ!"

[As the buzzer sounds, a decent reaction goes up for "Dying Breed" Jack
Snyder.]

GM:  Jack Snyder is Number Five!  We are one-sixth of the way through
the lineup from this match and here comes Snyder.

BW:  Looking over his shoulder the whole time as he walks out here,
Gordo.

GM:  He most certainly is not.  We know that Ben Waterson has promised
Jack Snyder that on this night, he will introduce Snyder to his worst
nightmare... his greatest fear if you will... but we do not know when or
how that will happen.  Is it someone already in the Rumble? 

BW:  With Ben Waterson, you just never know.  He may have someone
waiting in the locker room... in the parking lot... but the Southern
Syndicate is riding high tonight so you can bet if Waterson promised it,
he's gonna deliver it.

GM:  The Southern Syndicate is 2-1 on the night.  Calisto Dufresne was
victorious, Stevie Scott was victorious, the Rhodes lost their match
though preventing a perfect night so far.

BW:  And they're gonna win this Rumble for sure, Gordo.

GM:  For sure?

BW:  The numbers are in their favor.  Five men all representing the
Southern Syndicate here tonight.  All aimed at winning the Rumble and
winning that future title shot so they can bury it and protect the
National Title.

GM:  Absolutely ridiculous by the way.

[Snyder rolls into the ring, making a bee-line towards the corner where
the Samoans are working over Duane Henry Bishop.  Snyder throws a big
punch at Mafu, knocking him a few steps back.  A barrage of punches
seems to stagger Scola as well, putting him back against the ropes.]

GM:  Snyder with an offensive flurry at the start of this and-

[Grabbing Mafu by the arm, he whips the Samoan into Scola, causing them
to collide, falling down to the mat in a heap to the cheers of the
crowd.  Snyder pumps a fist as he dives atop Mafu, throwing fist after
fist after fist to the skull of the wild Samoan.]

GM:  He's beating Mafu down with those heavy right hands!

BW:  Where's the surprise, Gordo?  I can't wait for it!

GM:  I have no idea where it's at or when we'll see it but I think as
tough as Jack Snyder is, he's GOT to have a little bit of trepidation
being inside that ring and not knowing what Ben Waterson has in store
for him.

[Snyder climbs to his feet, meeting the rising Scola with a right hand
as well.  With Scola leaning against the ropes, Snyder snaps off a
series of short jabs to the chin, further dazing the big man of the
Samoan Hit Squad.  Recovering, Duane Henry Bishop moves to help Snyder,
each man grabbing for a leg on the big man...

...but a big clubbing forearm to the back of the necks of both men break
up their attempt, sending both men staggering away.]

GM:  Snyder and Bishop tried to get the big man out but- OHHHH!

[A HUGE running double clothesline by Scola takes both Bishop and Snyder
down to the mat!  Scola follows it up by smacking his own chest and
letting loose a wild roar.]

GM:  Man, this guy has all sorts of power.

BW:  Power, toughness, brutality, a killer instinct - Scola is a force
of nature in there.

[Mafu quickly gets up as well, hopping up to the middle rope.  He stands
tall, letting loose a shout before leaping from his perch, smashing his
skull down into Snyder's head!]

GM:  OHHH!  Mafu making sure we don't forget how tough he is as well,
Bucky!

BW:  Absolutely not.  The Samoans are a force to be reckoned with for
sure.

[With time drawing near, the countdown clock appears on screen.]

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

"BZZZZZZZZ!"

[The crowd EXPLODES for the man who drew Number Six.]

GM:  JASON KEENING!

[The popular fan favorite comes charging towards the ring, wincing a
little bit as he does so.  His ribs and back are taped up as he heads to
the ring, diving under the bottom rope...

...and popping up to his feet where he drills the approaching Mafu with
a right hand.  He spins around and smashes another blow into the head of
Scola.  With the Samoans dazed, Keening dips down, scooping up Mafu.]

GM:  HE'S GOT MAFU UP!! 

[Keening staggers towards the ropes, noticeably struggling with the
weight of the Samoan.]

GM:  Jason Keening's having some trouble in there.  His back took quite
a beating from the Rhodes Brothers earlier tonight in that Elimination
Tag Team Match.  The Keenings won that match but right now, Jason
Keening is showing the effects of that one.

[The big man pushes Mafu up against the ropes, his body just about even
with the top rope as Keening tries to shove him over the top.]

GM:  Jason Keening's trying to muscle Mafu over the ropes!  He's trying
to get him out of here and-

[A clubbing forearm across the back of Keening breaks up the elimination
attempt.  Scola spins him around into a front facelock, lifting his big
forearm high and driving it down into the kidneys again.]

GM:  Scola's going for the back!  He's showing he's more than just pure
power in there!  He's showing that he's got a brain as well, working
over the injured back of Jason Keening.

[The crowd begins to buzz in confusion.]

GM:  Scola knocks Keening down to a- wait a second!

[A long shot of the ring catches a shot of a man in a hooded sweatshirt
hurdling the ringside rope barrier, pushing through the announce table
area.]

GM:  Wait a second!

[The hooded man dives under the bottom rope, just narrowly avoiding Ron
Houston who tries to block his path.  He stands in the middle of the
ring, looking over the entire crowd...

...and whips off the hood to a HUGE reaction!]

GM:  WHAT THE-?!

BW:  SURRRRRPRIIIIISE!

[The sweatshirt comes off as well, thrown down to the mat to reveal a
very familiar man to AWA fans.

A man known as one of the most vicious and evil men in the business.

A man known for doing anything for a buck.

A man known for being a stone cold killer inside and outside the ring.]

GM:  IT'S GRANT STONE!

[Grant Stone immediately charges forward, leveling a rising Duane Henry
Bishop with a clothesline.  Spinning around, he catches Mafu with a big
boot under the chin, knocking him flat.]

GM:  STONE LAYS OUT BISHOP!  HE LAYS OUT MAFU!!

[Scola rushes to meet the big powerhouse, the two big men trading blows
in the center of the Rumble ring.  Scola throws big forearms, knocking
Stone back to the ropes.  Grabbing the wrist, he goes for a whip but
Stone easily reverses it...

...only letting Scola get an arm's distance away before powerfully
pulling him right back into a short-armed clothesline that levels the
big Samoan!  Big reaction!]

GM:  He just man-handled Scola!  Did you see that?!

BW:  Ben Waterson has delivered!  He promised a surprise and boy, has he
EVER delivered!

[A stunned Jason Keening staggers to his feet in front of Stone...

...who promptly wraps his hand around the htroat of Keening, hoisting
him up into the air, and sending him SMASHING down to the canvas with a
thunderous chokeslam!]

GM:  CHOKESLAM!!  CHOKESLAM ON KEENING!!

[And with bodies strewn all over the ring, that leaves Jack Snyder on
his feet, glaring across the ring at his longtime rival.  Snyder races
across the ring, leaping into the air to topple Stone down to the mat. 
Snyder immediately starts throwing big blows to the downed Stone.]

"BZZZZZZZZ!"

GM:  Whoa!  I don't think anyone even noticed the clock counting down! 
And that's because Jack Snyder is beating the tar out of Grant Stone! 
He's throwing fists of fury, battering Stone down to the mat and-

BW:  They're stunned because Grant Stone just laid out everyone in the
ring!

[Almost unnoticed, Vladimir Velikov comes slowly walking to the ring,
the heavy metal chain slung around his neck.  The big Russian sure is
taking his time to get there.]

GM:  Snyder pulls Stone off the mat - he doesn't look too afraid of him
now!

[Grabbing Stone by the wrist, Snyder fires him across the ring with a
shout of "JACKBREAKER!"]

GM:  Off the ropes comes Stone...

[But the attempt at Snyder's signature spinebuster comes up short when
Stone buries a foot in the throat of Snyder, the toe of his boot
catching him right in the windpipe and spinning him around...

...which allows Stone to rush forward, swiftly hoisting Snyder up into a
torture rack position!]

GM:  NOOOOO!

[Stone bellows before dropping violently down to his side, DRIVING
Snyder's skull into the canvas and bending his neck in a sickening
angle.  Stone pops up to his feet, soaking up the shocked jeers from the
crowd.]

BW:  ETCHED!  IN!  STONE!

[Stone stands in the middle of the ring, looking out over the chaos he's
created inside the ring.  He lifts his hand, rubbing his fingers
together in a universal "money" gesture...

...and then yanks Snyder off the mat by the trunks, easily hurling his
dead weight over the ropes to the floor.]

BW:  Snyder's gone!  Jack Snyder is eliminated!

GM:  I suppose you're right but Grant Stone is NOT in this match, Bucky!
 This should not be happening but... well, Ron Houston doesn't exactly
look eager to get in there with Grant Stone either, fans.

BW:  Houston's stack of dimes neck will get busted up just like Snyder's
did.  Grant Stone is a heartless monster - an animal with no remorse -
and he's back!  He's back in the AWA, Gordo!

GM:  Unbelievable.

[Stone looks around the ring once more, nodding his head at the work
he's done before stepping through the ropes, leaving the ring.]

GM:  We've got to take another quick break!  We'll be right back!

[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:  You know, Mark... the AWA Access iPhone app has been so popular
over the past year, I hear we're making a sequel!

MS:  Jason, that kind of news is so hot, it should be on the app!

[The two men laugh very awkwardly as a giant iPhone appears.]

JD:  Hello, Mr. iPhone.

[The iPhone speaks.  Yes.  Yes it does.]

iPhone:  Hello, Jason Dane.  Did you know that former AWA National
Champion Kolya Sudakov was a former Mixed Martial Artist?

JD:  Well, actually I did.

iPhone:  Mark Stegglet, did you know that Calisto Dufresne was the first
and only champion in Pro Wrestling Revolution?

MS(in his best Johnny Carson impression):  I did not know that!

[Thankfully, a voiceover starts.]

VO:  Starting today, you can download AWA Access Version 2.0!  This new
app contains a brand new TRIVIA mode where you can get all the details
on your favorite AWA superstars!  Plus, be the first to see our brand
new BEFORE THE AWA section where you can find matches from the best of
the AWA - before they were AWA!

AWA Access Version 2.0 - coming to an iPhone near you!

[Fade back to black...

And as we come back to live action where Vladimir Velikov has entered
the ring, stomping Jason Keening into the mat.  As we come back, the
countdown clock has started as well.]

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

"BZZZZZZZZ!"

GM:  Welcome back, fans, and we've got-

[The crowd roars a negative reaction as Raphael Rhodes emerges from the
entrance curtain.  His knee is heavily taped and he's very slow in
making his way down the aisle towards the ring.]

GM:  Look at this, fans.  We've got the first member of the Southern
Syndicate for the night - Raphael Rhodes - who we saw in that
Elimination Tag Team Match earlier tonight is entering the Rumble.  

BW:  Can you believe he's coming out here after the abuse we saw his
knee take in that match?  That savage Keening even put an STF on it!  

GM:  Raphael Rhodes was forced to submit in that tag match, perhaps
trying to save himself for this Rumble.  He's the first member of the
Southern Syndicate in the fray - the first of five - and it's time to
get busy for the Southern Syndicate.

[Inside the ring, we catch a glimpse of Velikov working over Jason
Keening as Duane Henry Bishop strangles Mafu in the corner.  Scola is
leaning against the ropes, trying to recover from some offense taken
during the break as Rhodes rolls under the ropes.]

GM:  Six men in the ring right now and where does Raphael Rhodes focus
the attack of the Southern Syndicate in there right now?

BW:  I would think you'd go for the big guns - the ones who pose the
most threat to Stevie Scott and the National Title.

GM:  Jason Keening?

BW:  Keening's always a dangerous threat to any title.  Like him or not,
the man has a resume the length of Grant Stone's victim list.  On any
given night, Jason Keening can beat anyone in the business.  But what
about someone like Scola?

GM:  Scola would obviously pose a big threat to Stevie Scott as well. 
Raphael Rhodes is leaning in the corner, apparently trying to figure out
where to focus his attack first.

[The Brit slowly makes his way out of the corner towards the dazed
Scola.  He turns Scola towards the ropes, pushing his throat down onto
the top rope.  He reaches up under the ropes, pulling down on the head
and neck to increase the pressure on the throat.]

GM:  Rhodes is choking Scola on the rope!  You may be right, Bucky!  The
Southern Syndicate may have targeted Scola as one of the men they need
to get out of this match as soon as possible.

[The camera zooms in on Rhodes, gritting his teeth as he tries to pull
the air out of Scola's big body.  A quick cut shows Velikov with his
boot firmly against the throat of Jason Keening, tugging on the ropes to
apply more pressure to the boot choke.]

GM:  Chokes all around in there.

BW:  In a match like this, a choke is a good way to wear down the other
men in the match.  Take some of the air out of their lungs and they have
to work harder to keep their bodies going. 

GM:  Excellent analysis, Bucky.

BW:  I'm not the two-time Announcer Of The Year for nothin', daddy.

[Duane Henry Bishop pulls Mafu off the mat by his wild hair.  He wraps
his arms around the waist of Mafu, hoisting him into the air in a side
back suplex, dropping him down on the back of his head on the mat. 
Duane Henry quickly rolls into the mount, throwing heavy fists to the
skull of the Samoan as the countdown begins again.]

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

"BZZZZZZZZ!"

[The crowd ROARS as Vernon Riley comes dashing through the curtain,
quickly making his way down the aisle where he pulls himself up on the
apron, stepping into the ring...

...and immediately scoring with an overhead elbow smash to the big
forehead of Vladimir Velikov, knocking him back to the corner.  Riley
immediately reaches down, helping Jason Keening off the mat to even more
cheers from the crowd.]

GM:  Vernon Riley is number nine in this thirty-man Rumble and Riley's
right there alongside Jason Keening.  And you know the fans like to see
those two working together.  Two of the most popular men in the entire
AWA right now working together.

[Riley grabs the wrist of Keening and together, they bowl over an
approaching Duane Henry Bishop.]

GM:  Down goes one-half of the National Tag Team Champions!

[Riley breaks away from the double-team, grabbing a downed Mafu by the
hair.  He yanks him up, peppering him with jabs to the chin...

...then side-steps and allows Keening to knock Mafu back down to the mat
with a rushing clothesline!  Big cheer!]

GM:  Vernon Riley and Jason Keening look like a well-polished tag team
in there, fans!

["The Working Man" drills Raphael Rhodes with a boot to the ribs,
breaking up his choke on Scola.]

GM:  Riley nails Rhodes as well!

BW:  What an idiot this guy is!  Scola's probably the biggest threat
inside the ring right now to all of these guys and Riley beats up the
guy who had the big Samoan neutralized!

GM:  Vernon Riley just wants to get in there and fight with everybody!

BW:  I can't wait for Anton Layton to show up.

GM:  That's right, fans.  Just like Jack Snyder had someone hanging over
his head when he hit the ring, in the back of Vernon Riley's mind, he
must know that Anton Layton will hit this ring at some point tonight and
no doubt go straight for him.

BW:  If he's still there.

GM:  Another good point.  Anyone can get tossed out of this ring at any
time.  This match is just so unpredictable.  We've already seen things
in this one that I wouldn't have expected.

[In the corner, Riley mounts the midbuckle and starts raining down
punches on Raphael Rhodes to the cheers of the crowd.  Across the ring,
Jason Keening is delivering a series of forearm smashes to the side of
Vladimir Velikov's skull.  Staggering up and rubbing his throat, Scola
turns his attention to Raphael Rhodes, walking towards the corner...

...where Riley blindly turns and throws himself into a sloppy crossbody!
 HUGE cheer!]

GM:  OH YEAH!

BW:  Fly, fat man, fly!

GM:  Riley wiped out Scola with a middle rope cross body!  It wasn't the
prettiest thing you'll ever seen but it sure was effective.  Riley's got
Scola down, battering him with right hands...

[Across the ring, Duane Henry Bishop drives a knee up into Jason
Keening's injured lower back, dragging his arms behind him which allows
Vladimir Velikov to drive boot after boot into the gut of Keening.  A
whip from Bishop sends Keening into the ropes where Velikov levels him
with a running Russian Sickle!]

GM:  OHHHH!  The Sickle from Velikov!  

BW:  Keening's done!  Dump him to the floor!

[Velikov celebrates his big move...

...and turns right around into a flying forearm from Duane Henry Bishop
to another cheer!]

GM:  Duane Henry floors the Russian!  This Rumble has broken down and it
truly is becoming every man for himself in there.

BW:  The only one with a true ally is the Samoans!

GM:  And I bet even that falls apart if it comes down to the end.

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

"BZZZZZZZZ!"

[More cheers from the Houston crowd as a very-determined looking Corey
Lawson charges down the aisle, diving headfirst under the ropes, and
tackling Mafu right off his feet!]

GM:  LAWSON'S GOING FOR THE SAMOANS!!

[The crowd roars as Lawson throws right hand after right hand into the
skull of Mafu!]

GM:  Corey Lawson's looking for a little payback after what these
Samoans did to Bailey Fitzgerald at the start of the Rumble tonight! 
They put that young man on a stretcher - he was bleeding from the mouth
- and I just don't know what condition Fitzgerald is in at this point,
Bucky.

BW:  He looked pretty broken up inside and his boy Lawson's going to
join him if he continues to come after the Samoans like this.  He should
have learned his lesson from Fitzgerald's failure.  And Gordo, I don't
know if you noticed but Lawson is number ten in this match.  We're a
third of the way through!

GM:  We certainly are.  Eight men inside the ring right now.  Only two
have been eliminated so far.  We've got the Samoans, Duane Henry Bishop,
Jason Keening, Vladimir Velikov, Raphael Rhodes, Vernon Riley, and now
Corey Lawson all inside the ring.

[Springing up off the downed Mafu, Lawson catches an incoming Scola with
a dropkick to the chin.  Vernon Riley comes over to provide the assist
as Lawson and Riley whip Scola across the ring together, catching him on
the rebound with a double boot to the gut.  Each grabs a handful of
tights, charging the ropes...

...but Scola pulls up short, using his power to stop the two men in
their paths.  He reaches out with his powerful arms, grabbing a head in
each hand...

...and SMASHING the skulls together!]

GM:  OHHHH!

[As they stagger backwards, Scola hits the ropes right behind him.]

GM:  Double clothesli- ducked!

[Lawson and Riley work together, throwing a double haymaker to the
skull.  A second one causes Scola to stumble backwards a couple of
steps.  A third puts him back against the ropes...

...and together, they throw a messy double dropkick that takes Scola
over the ropes and down to the floor!]

GM:  SCOLA'S GONE!  SCOLA IS ELIMINATED!

BW:  Wow!  What an upset!  He got eliminated by Corey Lawson and Vernon
Riley throwing an ugly double dropkick to take him over the top.  I'm in
shock, Gordo.

GM:  That certainly wasn't who I expected to get Scola over the top rope
- that's for sure.  But they pulled it off!

[An angry Scola seems ready to get back in the ring but Ron Houston is
right there with AWA security to prevent it, forcing him back up the
aisle towards the locker room.]

GM:  Scola's gone!  We're down to seven inside the ring and we'll be
right back, fans!

[And just like that, we fade to commercial.

And then quickly back up on a shot of the AWA logo.  A voiceover
begins.]

"Fans, it's that time of year again!  As the AWA hits the summer months,
we're going on the road!  No longer staying in the Lone Star State, the
months of June, July, August, and September are your chances to see
the AWA all over the Southern states!

That's right!  You heard me right!

[A scrolling list of dates and cities appears as the voiceover reads
along with it.]

June 12th - Oklahoma City, Oklahoma
June 26th - Little Rock, Arkansas
July 5th - Memphis, Tennessee
July 17th - Charlotte, North Carolina
July 31st - Charleston, South Carolina
August 14th - Atlanta, Georgia
August 28th - Mobile, Alabama
September 6th - New Orleans, Louisiana

Get your tickets now by calling your local ticket outlet or by visiting
AWAShop.com!"

[And with that, we fade back up to live action where we see Kendrick
Lane has joined the action inside the ring.]

GM:  Welcome back to Memorial Day Mayhem and as you can see, Kendrick
Lane was the man who drew number eleven.  Lane, of course, had some
controversial statements earlier tonight where he said he had joined the
Rumble only to come after Calisto Dufresne.

BW:  And why is he after Dufresne?

GM:  Because Lane felt he was the one who should've gotten to take out
City Jack.  Disgusting.

BW:  Heheh.  I kinda like this guy.

GM:  I'm sure you would.

[Kendrick Lane throws a few funky looking kung fu kicks into the ribcage
of Duane Henry Bishop in the corner before applying a very
scientific-looking chokehold.]

GM:  Kendrick Lane choking Bishop in the corner.  

[On the other side of the ring, Corey Lawson is teeing off on a tired
Mafu.  Mafu's near twenty minutes in the ring seem to be wearing him
down as Lawson is working him over without much in terms of defense.]

GM:  Look at Corey Lawson making Mafu pay for what he did to Bailey
Fitzgerald earlier tonight!

[Slinking up behind Lawson, Raphael Rhodes dips down, upending Lawson
over the ropes and down to the floor!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Corey Lawson is gone!  Raphael Rhodes just eliminated Corey
Lawson!

BW:  Haha!  I love it!  And that takes us back down to seven men in the
ring.

GM:  Including the first two men in the match, Mafu and Duane Henry
Bishop, who have both got to be running low on steam.

[The crowd cheers Jason Keening as he peppers Vladimir Velikov with
punches from the middle rope before dropping down and whipping him into
an overhead elbow smash from Vernon Riley!]

GM:  Vernon Riley is working very well inside that ring with others.  We
saw him work to great effect with Jason Keening right there and he
eliminated Scola alongside Corey Lawson.

BW:  One of the keys to victory in the Rumble can be your ability to
make allies.  But just as important is to know when and how to break
those alliances.  Riley should stab Keening in the back right here and
chuck him to the floor.

GM:  I really don't think we're going to see that happen, Bucky.

BW:  I don't either and that's why Vernon Riley won't win the Rumble,
Gordo.

GM:  We'll see about that.

[Jason Keening drags Kendrick Lane off of Duane Henry Bishop, popping
him with a right hand that takes him down to the mat.]

GM:  Ohh!  Big right hand by Keening!  

BW:  He doesn't stand a chance either.  This kind of match really
doesn't fit Jason Keening's personality, Gordo.  He won't cheat.  He
won't betray people.  He won't jump someone from behind.  He's just too
clean to win a fight like this.

GM:  Again, I say we'll see about that.  Vernon Riley and Jason Keening
both stand great chances of winning this whole thing if you ask me.

BW:  I didn't.  And no one cares about your opinion, daddy.  They pay
good money to hear mine though!

GM:  You realize this is a free broadcast, right?

[Silence.]

GM:  I thought so.

[And the count starts up.]

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

"BZZZZZZZZ!"

[A big shower of jeers pours down on the next man through the curtain -
who seems to be taking his sweet time in getting down the aisle.]

GM:  Shane Destiny!  Shane Destiny draws number twelve!

[Destiny is in no hurry to join the fray, pausing several times down the
aisle to verbally abuse a fan along the aisle.]

GM:  Oh, come on.  Get him in there.

BW:  The man is smart, Gordo.  No one wants to rush into a fight with
seven other guys unless you're a friggin' idiot like Vernon Riley or
Jason Keening.  Take your time.  Get to the ring at your own pace.  And
maybe you buy yourself enough time to let some more bodies get thrown to
the floor.

GM:  He's a coward, Bucky!  Just admit it!  Shane Destiny's got a yellow
streak running down his back that's as bright as the sun!

BW:  I'm telling him you said that.

[Destiny finally reaches the ring, looking up at the action inside...

...and then slowly walks around the ringpost to the other side of the
ring, drawing even more boos from the crowd.]

GM:  Are you kidding me?  

BW:  This is great.  This is the perfect strategy for a match like this.

GM:  Ron Houston is demanding that Destiny get into the ring!

[The camera cuts to ringside where Destiny jabs a finger near the face
of Ron Houston.]

"You can't tell me what to do!  You've got no right to order me around!"

[Houston argues back with something unheard.  Destiny shakes his head.]

"You want me in the ring so badly?  Put me in there!"

[An irate Houston screams back at Destiny who simply walks away, moving
to the other side of the ring now.]

BW:  Shane Destiny is smarter than I thought!  He knows Houston can't
touch him to put him in the ring.  If Houston touches a participant in
this match without being physically provoked, he's going to be fired! 
That's the rule!  

GM:  Destiny's taking advantage of those handcuffs that have been placed
on Ron Houston.  Houston can't do anything but try to assert his
authority on Destiny but-

[Inside the ring, Jason Keening leans over the ropes, shouting at
Destiny to "get your tail in here!" to the cheers of the crowd.  Destiny
shakes his head, waving off Keening...

...who gets clubbed from behind by Mafu!]

GM:  Ohh!  Mafu drills Keening from behind!

[Seizing the moment, Destiny moves forward and grabs the leg of Keening,
preventing him from moving as Mafu rains down punches and forearms and
chops onto the big man.  A huge headbutt stuns Keening, knocking him to
a knee.  Mafu spins him around, pushing his throat down on the middle
rope and choking him to the jeers of the crowd...

...which also allows Destiny to rear back and drill Mafu with a forearm
to the jaw!]

GM:  OHHH!  Destiny with a cheap shot from the floor!  He won't even get
inside the ring and he's still throwing punches and-

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  KEENING GRABS HIM!  KEENING GRABS HIM BY THE HAIR!!

[The fan favorite hauls Destiny through the ropes by the hair, dragging
him into the ring.]

GM:  Keening brings in Destiny!

[But Mafu drills Keening with a kick to the ribcage, breaking up his
attack on Destiny.  Destiny quickly gets up to his feet, kicking the
ribs from the other side as he and the Samoan work in unison on the
powerful fan favorite.]

GM:  Jason Keening is being worked over by Shane Destiny and Mafu!

[With Keening down on the mat getting doubleteamed, the countdown
starts.]

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

"BZZZZZZZZ!"

[The crowd boos as "The Prince Of Darkness" Anton Layton comes through
the curtain.  Clad in a black hooded robe with a crescent moon on the
back of it, Layton howls loudly as he approaches the squared circle.]

GM:  Anton Layton, perhaps fittingly, is unlucky number thirteen!

[Layton shrugs off his robe, rolling under the ropes.  He climbs to his
feet and immediately attacks Vernon Riley with a running double
axehandle to the back of the head and neck, breaking up Riley's brawl
with Kendrick Lane.]

GM:  And not at all a surprise here as Layton goes straight for Vernon
Riley!

[A few haymakers land from Layton before he backs away, charging
forward.]

GM:  Clothesl- OHHHHHHH!

[The crowd ERUPTS as Riley ducks the clothesline, backdropping Layton
clean over the ropes and down to the wooden platform!]

GM:  LAYTON'S GONE!!  He's gone just as quickly as he arrives!

BW:  What the... what just happened?!

GM:  Anton Layton may have made the ultimate mistake going after Vernon
Riley in this match!  That's two eliminations for Riley!  He's leading
the pack!

BW:  It doesn't matter how many eliminations you get, Gordo.  You have
to have your hand raised at the end to be the winner.

GM:  You are correct right there although I think you can take a certain
measure of pride if you are successful in this match without winning. 
If you last a long time, if you get a lot of eliminations...

BW:  Those are lovely parting gifts but a REAL winner wants to stand
above thirty others and say they're the best in the entire AWA... and
they want that shot at Stevie Scott and the National Title.

[Duane Henry Bishop seizes the momentary distraction to catch Kendrick
Lane under the chin with a superkick, sending Lane sailing over the
ropes...

...but the wily veteran grabs the top rope, clinging to it to stay in
the match.]

GM:  Lane hit the floor but... I think it was only one foot.  

BW:  You're right, Gordo.  One foot hit but the ref's waving it off.  It
wasn't an elimination!

GM:  A close call there for one of the men enjoying the AWA's Open Door
policy here tonight.  Kendrick Lane is the first of those men in the
match but we've got a handful of others coming later including Rob
Magnum in his final wrestling match!  What a way to go out, Bucky.

BW:  If you win, it's the ultimate triumph.  If you lose, it's just
another bad night at the office.  Either way, he's got an excuse to go
drinking.

GM:  Give me a break, Bucky... that's horrible.

[With Kendrick Lane out on the apron, Duane Henry stands right next to
the ropes, hammering away on Lane in an attempt to knock him off the
apron and down to the floor.

On the other side of the ring, Mafu and Destiny fire Jason Keening into
the ropes, taking him down with a double back elbow just before Mafu
leaps into the air, driving his skull down into the prone Keening.]

GM:  Good grief!  Jason Keening's taking a beating in here tonight.

BW:  Serves him right for trying to be Juan Vasquez' white knight.  The
great thing about this is that Keening could be eliminated before
Vasquez even gets to the ring!

GM:  That certainly could happen.  Juan Vasquez, as we all know, is
facing tonight as his final opportunity to earn a shot at the National
Title held by Stevie Scott.  He's been banned from ever seeking another
shot at the title so a win here tonight is the only way he'll get it.

BW:  No chance.  We haven't seen Vasquez in the ring yet but we also
haven't seen four other Southern Syndicate representatives, Gordo. 
Raphael Rhodes is the only one in there.

GM:  Rhodes is having a hard time in there as well with the injured
knee.  His own brother hurt that knee accidentally earlier tonight and
Raphael continued to battle on it, making it even worse.  Now he's in
this Rumble, trying to help his Syndicate brethren by fighting on a bad
wheel.  

BW:  You think Waterson gave him a choice?  

[And the countdown starts...]

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

"BZZZZZZZZ!"

[The curtain parts...

...and the collective gasp heard in the Arena Theatre might just start a
tornado.]

GM:  THE GIANT!  MAMMOTH MIZUSAWA IS NUMBER FOURTEEN!

[Louis Matsui has a few final words of advice for the big man as he
slowly lumbers down the aisle towards the ring where the action has
absolutely stopped, all eyes now turned towards the seven footer on his
way to join the fray.]

BW:  And as much as I like Mizusawa, this is a very bad number for him
to draw.  This means he'll have to be in that ring for over thirty
minutes to win this thing and for a man of his size, that just might not
be possible, Gordo.

GM:  We're about to find out for sure!

[The giant steps up onto the apron, swinging a leg over the ropes to
officially join the match...

...and it's Duane Henry Bishop, all 240 pounds of him who rushes the
giant first, throwing fists as fast as his body can manage.]

GM:  Look at the guts of Duane Henry Bishop!

BW:  Keep on looking.  I have a feeling you'll get a better look at his
guts when the giant's through with him.

[The big man easily absorbs the offense of the weary Bishop, responding
with a brutal knife edge chop that knocks Duane Henry down to the mat. 
Mizusawa steps into the middle of the ring, looking around in a
challenge to see who is next...

...and it's Vernon Riley who rushes him, fists a-flyin' as he tries to
chink the armor of the giant!]

GM:  Riley's all over him!  Rights and lefts!

[With the giant slightly dazed, Riley swings his hands around and throws
a big haymaker that knocks the giant back a step.  Riley promptly climbs
up to the middle rope, leaping off with an overhead elbow smash that
knocks the giant for a loop.]

GM:  MIZUSAWA IS STUNNED!  MIZUSAWA IS DAZED!!

[Vernon Riley waves a hand around in the air as he applies a side
headlock on the big man on the ropes...]

GM:  Are you kidding me?!

BW:  He's going for that bulldog - the Riley Roundup!

GM:  Can he hit this on the giant?

[Riley rushes from the ropes, dragging the big man with him, leaping
into the air...

...and staying right there as the giant holds him off the mat, walking
forward...]

GM:  Oh no!  NOOOO!

[And releases Riley, dropping him with a thunderous crash down on the
wooden platform.]

GM:  Riley's gone!  The giant eliminates Vernon Riley!

BW:  We're back down to eight men - well, twenty if you count Mizusawa!

GM:  Eight men inside that ring.  Is anyone else brave enough to come
after the giant?

[The remaining seven men spread out, all eyeing the giant warily...

...except for Duane Henry Bishop who immediately upon getting up to his
feet charges right back in, throwing fists like wild.  A few fists catch
the giant on the chin, dizzying him a bit.]

GM:  Look at this!  Duane Henry's going for him again!

BW:  This guy's dumber than I thought, Gordo.

[With Mizusawa dazed, Duane Henry leaps into the air, spinning around to
catch Mizusawa in the chest with a spinning back kick that knocks the
giant into the ropes.]

GM:  Ohh!  He caught him with-

[The crowd jeers as Mafu, Shane Destiny, Vladimir Velikov, and Kendrick
Lane race to take advantage of the situation, pushing Duane Henry Bishop
out of the picture as the countdown starts.]

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

"BZZZZZZZZ!"

[DEAFENING ROAR!]

GM:  JUAN VASQUEZ!  VASQUEZ IS THE HALFWAY POINT IN THE RUMBLE!!

[The Number One contender sprints the distance of the aisle, still
wearing his tracksuit as he dives under the bottom rope into the ring. 
As he gets up, both eyes come to rest on the giant being overwhelmed by
the masses...

...and Vasquez immediately wades into the pile, trying to get at the
giant!]

GM:  He's going for the giant!  Vasquez and Mizusawa obviously have
unfinished business to settle from last weekend!

[Vasquez is throwing people aside...

...but Vladimir Velikov throws a forearm to the back of the head,
knocking Vasquez to a knee.  The big Russian pulls Vasquez off the mat,
throwing him across the ring with a whip.]

GM:  RUSSIAN SICK-

[But Vasquez THROWS himself into a massive spear tackle!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHHHHH!

[He pushes up off the mat, wincing as he grabs at his shoulder.  The
Number One contender settles down into the mount, pulling Velikov up off
the mat and battering him with right hand after right hand.  He drags
the Russian up off the mat...]

GM:  Velikov took a cheap shot at Vasquez and he's paying for it
NOOOOOOW!

[The crowd ERUPTS alongside Gordon as Vasquez hurls Velikov over the
ropes to the floor!]

GM:  VELIKOV'S GONE!  THE RUSSIAN IS ELIMINATED!

[Vasquez pumps a fist in celebration, then charges back into the pile,
throwing aside Kendrick Lane.  He shoves past Shane Destiny long enough
to land two big right hands on the giant...

...but Mafu drills him with a Mongoilan chop from behind, knocking
Vasquez down to a knee.]

GM:  Ohh!  He nails Vasquez from behind!

[Spinning around Vasquez, Mafu raises both hands high above his head...

...and swings both hands down, smashing them into the neck of Vasquez
with another Mongoiian chop!]

GM:  Ohh!  Down goes Vasquez!

[Mafu howls as he moves to the closest corner, hopping up to the middle
rope for another headbutt...

...when Jason Keening emerges out of nowhere, drilling Mafu with a right
hand that sends him over the ropes to the floor!]

GM:  MAFU'S GONE!  AND JUST LIKE KEENING PROMISED, HE'S THERE FOR
VASQUEZ!

BW:  That makes me sick.

GM:  Jason Keening just saved Juan Vasquez from Mafu - helping him up
now...

[Kendrick Lane sees a chance...

...and takes it.]

GM:  LANE!!

[The opportunistic veteran attempts to double clothesline both Keening
and Vasquez over the top...

...but a double hiptoss from Keening and Vasquez sends Lane over the
ropes to the floor!]

GM:  KENDRICK LANE IS GONE AS WELL!!

[A high-five between Keening and Vasquez sends a roar through the crowd
as they turn back to the ring, sizing up who is left.  MAMMOTH Mizusawa
is leaning against the ropes, trying to recover from the group attack. 
Shane Destiny is standing a few feet away, looking for a safe place to
stand.  Duane Henry Bishop is on a knee being hammered by Raphael
Rhodes.  Vasquez whispers something to Keening.]

GM:  It looks like- 

[Suddenly, the duo springs into action, Keening going for Destiny while
Vasquez charges at the giant.]

GM:  Here we go again!

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

"BZZZZZZZZ!"

[The crowd goes... mild... at the sight of the masked luchador known as
El Super Gecko running through the curtain.  He slaps some hands on his
way down the aisle shouting "Ole!" a few times as the camera draws
near.]

GM:  El Super Gecko is number sixteen in there.  And to be honest, I
don't know a lot about him, Bucky.

BW:  There's not a lot to know.  He was a member of the IIWF rostere for
a while as... well, let's just say he didn't win very often.

GM:  Very often?

BW:  My mama always says if you don't have something nice to say, don't
say nothin' at all.

GM:  Really?  She must not watch you on Saturday Nights.

[The luchador rolls into the ring, immediately grabbing Raphael Rhodes
by the shoulder, swinging him around...

...and nearly getting taken out of his boots with a European uppercut to
sends him flying backwards, flipping over when he hits the mat.]

GM:  Goodness!

BW:  I hope that guy's got his dental insurance in order, Gordo.

GM:  Me too.  Raphael Rhodes nearly broke his jaw with that!

[Rhodes simply shakes his head, turning back to Duane Henry Bishop who
yanks his legs out from under him, getting him down on the mat where he
just pounds away at him.

Across the ring, Jason Keening and Shane Destiny are backed into a
corner where Destiny is throwing huge chops across the pectorals of the
Screaming Drillbit.]

GM:  Look at Vasquez trying to topple the giant!

[With Mizusawa leaning on the ropes, Vasquez just hammers away on him. 
Punches, kicks, chops, forearms, elbows - anything he can throw to try
and take the giant down...

...but suddenly the giant lunges forward, grabbing Vasquez by the throat
with both hands.  He hoists Vasquez high up in the air, choking the life
out of him.]

GM:  He's got Vasquez up!  It's a flashback to the Two Out Of Three
Falls match about a week ago! 

BW:  Good thing there's no walls around here.

GM:  I've got a feeling they might FIND a wall to go through, Bucky!

[Vasquez struggles against the choke, trying to free himself...

...but Mizusawa simply throws him down to the mat, slamming hard to the
canvas.  The giant lets loose a roar as he slowly moves towards Vasquez
who is crawling back towards the corner.]

GM:  Vasquez is trying to get away - trying to back off...

[But the giant reaches down, pulling Vasquez up by the throat...

...and shoves him back to the corner.  He reaches up with his two mighty
hands, ripping the tracksuit off to reveal a set of heavily taped ribs
and a shoulder matching the tapejob.]

GM:  Oh my.

BW:  The aftermath of that match with the giant, Gordo!

GM:  I'd imagine so.

[The giant leans over, grabbing the middle rope...

...and DRIVES his huge shoulder into the injured ribcage of Vasquez who
cries out in pain!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Mizusawa's gonna break him in half in there!

[Rearing back, the giant pauses for a moment to let Vasquez breathe...

...and then drives that breath right out of him with another massive
shoulder drive to the torso!]

GM:  Good grief!

[Spotting Vasquez in trouble, Jason Keening peels away from Shane
Destiny, moving across the ring...

...and smashing a double axehandle down across the back of the giant,
breaking up his attack.]

GM:  Ohh!  Keening breaks up- ohhh!

[The crowd roars for a huge chop by Mizusawa that takes Keening down to
the mat.]

BW:  One on one, two on one - it just don't matter to the big man,
Gordo.

GM:  You may be right about that.  He's got Vasquez in the corner
working him over and he just laid out Jason Keening with one giant
chop...

[The giant turns around in the corner, his rear facing Vasquez' injured
ribs...

...and drives backwards into the body of the Number One contender just
as the countdown starts once more.]

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

"BZZZZZZZZ!"

[A decent reaction goes up for Combat Corner graduate Aaron Anderson as
he jogs down the aisle to the ring, deadleaping up onto the ring apron. 
He climbs through the ropes with a "WOOOO!" as he grabs a recovering El
Super Gecko, firing him into the ropes...]

GM:  The luchador off the ropes... ducks a clothesline... off the far
side...

[And Anderson connects with a standing clothesline with his off-arm that
flips El Super Gecko upside down and over, sending him crashing down to
the mat in a heap!]

GM:  Good grief!  

BW:  I think we're seeing why he didn't win any matches in the Double
Eye, Gordo.

GM:  Absolutely.

[Aaron Anderson quickly moves across the ring, trying to wrap his arms
around the giant's waist into a waistlock...]

GM:  Are you kidding me?

BW:  No way.  The kid's arms aren't long enough, are they?

[But sure enough, Anderson gets his arms around him, slowly dragging him
away from the corner...

...which allows both Keening and Vasquez to throw a boot into the
massive gut of the giant.]

GM:  We've got a triple team on the giant!

[With Vasquez directing traffic, Anderson and Keening each grab an arm
on the giant...

...and with a loud yell from Vasquez, he throws a mammoth (pun intended)
right cross that connects solidly with the jaw of Mizusawa, taking him
down to a knee where Vasquez' allies continue to hold the arms.]

GM:  Aaron Anderson is working well alongside Vasquez and Keening.  Juan
Vasquez and Aaron Anderson worked out together in the Combat Corner,
Bucky, so they're very familiar with one another.

BW:  Just makes it all the more easier to bury a blade in someone's
back.  This kid Anderson hasn't had the easiest time in the AWA so far
but if he wants to make a big impression?  Stab Vasquez in the back and
throw him over the top.  THAT gets you noticed.  THAT gets your name in
the press, daddy.

GM:  It certainly would and it's something that Juan Vasquez needs to be
wary of.

[Vasquez races to the ropes, charging back off, and SLAMMING his knee
into the face of the giant whose arms are still being held.]

GM:  Oh yeah!  A lot of impact on that one and-

[Vasquez holds up a finger shouting "ONE MORE TIME?" to which he gets a
loud roar.  He nods his head to his allies, racing off to the ropes...

...where a sneaky Raphael Rhodes has pulled them down, sending Vasquez
sailing over the ropes!]

GM:  OHHHHHH!

BW:  HE'S GONE!!  VASQUEZ IS GONE!!

[But the crowd roars as they realize that Juan Vasquez just BARELY
managed to hook the top rope with one hand, just narrowly saving himself
from elimination.  He scrambles to stay on the apron as Rhodes rushes
him, throwing fists and forearms to the head of Vasquez, trying to knock
him down...

...but the assault is short-lived as Aaron Anderson grabs Rhodes around
the waist, taking him down to the mat with a king-sized amateur-style
waistlock takedown!]

GM:  Whoa!  What a takedown by Anderson!

[Vasquez shakes his head at his own failure to recognize the threat of
Rhodes as he comes back through the ropes.  Keening continues to slam
forearms into the jaw of Mizusawa as Vasquez gets back inside the ring.

Across the ring, Duane Henry Bishop staggers back into action, pulling
El Super Gecko up off the mat, firing him over the ropes...

...but the luchador hangs on, landing on the apron.  The National Tag
Team Champion stands over him, battering him with punches and forearms
as the former Double Eye competitor struggles to hang on.]

GM:  We've got El Super Gecko dangerously close to elimination on the
other side of the ring and-

[And the countdown starts...]

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

"BZZZZZZZZ!"

[The crowd jeers as one-half of the former National Tag Team Champions,
Adrian Freeman, comes jogging down the aisle towards the ring.]

BW:  The Southern Syndicate's in the house!

GM:  The second member of the Southern Syndicate of the five entered
into this thing.

BW:  And with only two men in at number 18, that means the Southern
Syndicate was VERY lucky here tonight, Gordo.  They could have three men
in the final ten entries!  How does that not stack the odds in their
favor?

GM:  It certainly does exactly that but it also leaves a very big list
of men inside that ring who are threats to the National Title - men like
Vasquez, Keening, Destiny, the giant Mizusawa, and all those other guys
we've yet to see in this ring tonight.

[Freeman slides into the ring and immediately drops a knee on the back
of Aaron Anderson's neck, breaking up his attack on Raphael Rhodes.]

GM:  Freeman immediately goes to the aid of Raphael Rhodes - not wasting
any time at all to help out his Southern Syndicate partner.

[Duane Henry Bishop immediately breaks away from the luchador, throwing
fists as Adrian Freeman as fast as he can manage, bullying him back into
the corner.]

GM:  Nine men inside the ring - Freeman's being hammered by Duane Henry
Bishop!  There's a lot of bad blood right there and-

[And Raphael Rhodes strikes again, locking his hands between the legs of
Bishop, trying to upend him.  Freeman spins around, dropping down to a
knee to assist...

...and down to the floor goes Duane Henry Bishop!]

GM:  DUANE HENRY'S GONE!!  DUANE HENRY BISHOP IS ELIMINATED!!

BW:  A good showing from Duane Henry.  He was in there for a long, long
while but the Southern Syndicate working in tandem was too much for him,
sending him out to the floor.  

GM:  One-half of the National Tag Team Champions is gone but we've yet
to see Cletus Lee which has to be a frightning thought for the men still
inside this ring.  We're down to eight men in the ring.

[The camera pulls back to show the entire ring to reveal the location of
everyone - Keening hammering Mizusawa in the corner with forearm smashes
to the jaw, Shane Destiny kneeling on the canvas in an attempt to avoid
everyone, Aaron Anderson staggering back to his feet, El Super Gecko out
on the apron trying to stay unnoticed, and finally, Raphael Rhodes and
Adrian Freeman who have cornered Juan Vasquez and are going to town on
him.]

GM:  There it is, Bucky - Public Enemy #1 for the Southern Syndicate. 
If nothing else, I'm sure their marching orders on this night is to make
sure that Juan Vasquez does not win this match.  There are other men
that Ben Waterson would not like to see get a title shot at Stevie Scott
but above all others, he does not want Juan Vasquez, the man who beat
the Hotshot for the National Title back in March, to get another
opportunity.  Would you agree?

BW:  Absolutely.  The Southern Syndicate's been given a very clear goal.
 Eliminate.  All.  Competition.  And yes, Juan Vasquez is probably the
guy with the biggest bullseye on his back but there are a lot of guys
they want to get out of there.  Keening we talked about.  The giant
would be another.  Shane Destiny as well who holds a victory over the
champion.  Plus we still haven't seen Monosso or Preston or several
others that the Hotshot would prefer to avoid, Gordo.

GM:  It's going to be a long night for the Southern Syndicate and if
they get their way, it may be a long night for the fans of the AWA as
well.

[With Vasquez being pummeled in the corner, the countdown starts up once
more.]

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

"BZZZZZZZZ!"

[The jeers of the AWA faithful intensify as Simon Rhodes comes charging
down the aisle towards the ring.]

GM:  You've gotta be kidding me.

BW:  That's three, daddy!  Number nineteen is Southern Syndicate
associate Simon Rhodes and he can go a long way to redeeming himself for
that screwup in the elimination tag if he can win the Rumble here
tonight, Gordo.

[That seems to be the same thought going through a very focused Simon
Rhodes' mind as he makes a bee-line for the ring, diving into the fray,
and immediately joining his brother and Adrian Freeman in their assault
on Juan Vasquez.]

GM:  Now we've got a three on one on Juan Vasquez and- perhaps not for
long!

[Seeing Vasquez in trouble again, Jason Keening breaks off his assault
on the giant and wades across the ring, delivering a hard right hand to
El Super Gecko who sails backwards into the corner before he reaches the
other side, yanking Adrian Freeman off of Vasquez and pasting him with a
right hand to a big cheer!]

GM:  Jason Keening's trying to save Juan Vasquez again!

[Keening is battering Freeman with right hands but the Rhodes brothers
continue to work over Juan Vasquez in the buckles, hitting him with
forearms and knees.]

GM:  Look out!

[The giant comes staggering across the ring, looking to get at
Vasquez...

...and a HUGE overhead chop to the top of Adrian Freeman's head knocks
him back down to the mat.  Jason Keening throws a right hand but
Mizusawa simply slaps it away, smashing Keening with a headbutt that
takes him down to the canvas.]

GM:  The giant's clearing a path for himself!

[Reaching the corner, he grabs both Rhodes' brothers by the hair,
dragging them out of the corner...

...and smashing their heads together, leaving them in a heap on the mat.
 But as the giant turns around...]

GM:  OH YEAH!

[The crowd roars as Vasquez leaps off the middle rope with a flying
clothesline, taking Mizusawa all the way down to the mat!]

GM:  HE FLOORED THE GIANT!!

[Vasquez takes the mount, throwing big haymakers to the side of the
giant's skull...

...which exposes him to Shane Destiny who grabs Vasquez by the hair,
dragging him off the giant, and HURLING him over the ropes but Vasquez
again lands on the apron, hanging onto the ropes.]

GM:  Vasquez hangs on!  He's holding on to the top rope and- ohhh!  Big
chop by Destiny!

[The crowd buzzes with concern as Destiny throws chop after chop across
the chest of Vasquez, trying to knock him down off the apron and down to
the floor below.]

GM:  Destiny's just teeing off on Vasquez - he smells an elimination
right there...

[With Destiny continuing to batter Vasquez, the countdown begins.]

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

"BZZZZZZZZ!"

[The crowd bursts into a mixed reaction as Michelle Bailey comes
charging down the aisle towards the ring.]

GM:  Another person taking advantage of the Open Door policy, Michelle
Bailey is the twentieth person in this match!

[Bailey dives headfirst into the ring, popping up to look for a first
victim.]

GM:  Bailey's up.  Who is first on-

[Without warning, Bailey charges towards a cornered El Super Gecko,
scoring with a running dropkick to the jaw that sends the luchador
sprawling out on the mat.  Bailey pops right back up, tossing the hair
as the crowd roars...]

GM:  Running clothesline on Aaron Anderson takes him down as well!

[Bailey seems to be super-excited at this point, slapping the mat with
both hands...

...and then grabbing Shane Destiny from behind, yanking him away from
Juan Vasquez, shoving an accusing finger into Destiny's face.]

GM:  Uh oh!

[Destiny at first looks shocked... then annoyed... then just mad.]

"SLAAAAAAAAAAP!"
"OHHHHHHHHHHH!"

[The slap snaps Bailey's head to the side.  Michelle grabs at the
reddening-face, looking stunned at Destiny's action...

...and then gets shoved hard in the chest, knocking back to the ropes
where she rebounds off...

...and FOLDS Destiny in half with a breathtaking spear tackle!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHH!

BW:  I'm not sure if it's still true but that move used to be called the
Britney Spear!

GM:  The Britney Spe... hey!  I get that!

[Bailey stands over the physically-wrecked Destiny, throwing her arms
apart to a huge roar from the crowd...

...and then flashes a big grin at Juan Vasquez who has stepped back into
the ring.]

GM:  The moment of truth for these two who have had an... unusual...
relationship in the past.

[Vasquez looks wary...

...and then surprised at an offered hand.]

GM:  Oh yeah!

[Vasquez accepts the handshake and then takes it a step further, pulling
Bailey into an embrace.  The crowd cheers for the reunion...

...and then grows louder when Vasquez and Bailey catch a rising Mizusawa
with a double dropkick square in the chest, knocking him a few feet back
into the ropes!]

GM:  Look at this, Bucky!

BW:  The AWA stacked the deck with old friends of Vasquez!  Where's Luke
Kinsey at?!

[El Super Gecko quickly moves over to help Bailey and Vasquez, the three
men smashing Mizusawa with punches and forearms and kicks.  Bailey says
something to Vasquez who nods.]

GM:  What in the world...?

[Bailey grabs El Super Gecko, whipping the luchador into the ropes, and
as he rapidly charges back...

...the duo double backdrops ESG, throwing him like a cannonball at a
stunned giant!]

GM:  OHHHH!  What a doubleteam by Vasquez and Bailey!  Fans, we've gotta
take a quick break!

[Fade to black...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And now, it can be yours!"

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

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

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

...and then back up to live action where the countdown is already in
progress.]

"SIX!"
"FIVE!"
"FOUR!"
"THREE!"
"TWO!"
"ONE!"

"BZZZZZZZZ!"

[The crowd buzzes with excitement as the big man known as Devastation
comes jogging out from the locker room.]

GM:  Devastation, that big war machine, is number twenty-one!

BW:  Gordo, there's eleven men in that ring now!  It's getting a little
crowded in there, I think.  This might be a good time for Devastation to
show up and clean a little house.

GM:  The big man steps up on the apron... now into the- ohh!

[The crowd roars as the rookie, Aaron Anderson, catches the incoming
Devastation with a hard forearm to the jaw.  He throws a couple more
before attempting a double leg takedown...]

GM:  Anderson going back to that amateur base...

BW:  In a battle royal?  This kid's crazy.

GM:  Maybe not!  Look at this!

[The crowd buzzes as Anderson muscles Devastation up onto his shoulder,
turning slightly and falling back in a thunderous slam with him!  Big
cheer!]

GM:  Amateur style slam by Anderson!  What a move!

[Anderson pops up to his feet, celebrating his big throw.  He pulls
Devastation up off the mat, locking in a gutwrench...

...but a forearm to the back of the head by Adrian Freeman cuts off his
move, allowing Devastation to simply stand up, backdropping Anderson
down to the mat.]

GM:  Ohh!

BW:  And the Southern Syndicate continues to haunt these Combat Corner
kids.  Wait til Preston gets out here as banged up as he is.  The Syndis
might finish him off right here tonight.

GM:  Devastation pulls Anderson off the mat...

[And uncorks a standing lariat up against the ropes, knocking Anderson
all the way over the ropes and down to the floor!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Aaron Anderson is eliminated!

[With one victim down, Devastation "dusts off" his shoulders as he
strides across the ring towards the giant who is choking El Super Gecko,
ragdolling him back and forth across the ring...

...and throws him violently aside at the sight of the big man.]

GM:  Uh oh!

BW:  Yes!  I was hoping we'd get to see this!

[After a moment of the two men staring one another down from several
feet away, the rest of the action inside the ring has stopped - all
eight other men pausing to watch what is about to unfold.]

GM:  We've got a showdown!

[Devastation is the first to act, throwing a massive forearm into the
wide chest of Mizusawa.]

GM:  Good grief!

BW:  It sounded like a big slab of meat hitting the kitchen floor,
daddy!

[The powerhouse unloads another one, smashing across the chest.  Two
more quick ones follow and the big man grabs the giant's arm, attempting
an Irish whip...

...but the giant is going nowhere, dragging Devastation into a huge
belly-to-belly suplex!]

GM:  OHHHHH!  HE CRUSHES DEVASTATION!!

[Mizusawa climbs up, letting loose a loud roar...

...which causes Simon Rhodes to rush forward, throwing a forearm at the
side of his head.  The giant brushes him off, shoving him down to the
mat, and pointing a finger right at Vasquez who barrels across the ring,
tangling up with him again.]

GM:  This war is gonna tear this Rumble apart!

BW:  These two men will do ANYTHING to get at one another here tonight. 
That inconclusive result to their last match has really gotten under the
skin of one another.  And Jim Watkins declaring the match a no contest
earlier tonight, ripping the Lady Luck Challenge out from under Mizusawa
has the giant in a rage!

[With Mizusawa and Vasquez tangled up throwing bombs at one another, the
countdown starts.]

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

"BZZZZZZZZ!"

[The crowd respectfully cheers as Rob Magnum makes his entry into the
Arena Theatre.  At ringside, Ron Houston applauds his friend's
entrance.]

GM:  Rob Magnum in his final match is on his way to the ring at number
twenty-two.

BW:  Good draw for the old man.  If he was gonna stand a chance of
winning this thing - and he's not - but if he was, he'd need a good draw
and he got one, Gordo.

GM:  Ron Houston's very excited for his friend, applauding as he reaches
the ring, climbing the steps...

[Magnum slings a leg over the top rope, joining the action...

...and Shane Destiny charges him, leaning over to pick the oft-injured
left knee of Magnum but getting caught with a boot to the throat.]

GM:  Ohh!  He caught Destiny coming in!

[Magnum promptly pulls Destiny into a standing headscissors, hoisting
him up into the air...]

BW:  You've gotta be kidding me!

[And DRIVING the tired Destiny down to the mat with a Southern Comfort
crucifix powerbomb!]

GM:  OH YEAH!!

[Outside the ring, Houston pumps a fist in triumph as his friend pulls
Destiny off the mat, looking to eliminate him...

...but Adrian Freeman kicks the knee of Magnum from behind, breaking off
his attempt to eliminate Destiny, knocking him down to a knee on the
mat.  Freeman buries an overhead elbowsmash into the skull of the
kneeling Magnum.  But a kneeling Magnum is still tall enough to reach
out and deck Freeman, knocking him down to the mat.]

GM:  Magnum's fighting back!  Adrian Freeman tried to get an edge on Rob
Magnum but Magnum's fighting back!

[The big man climbs to his feet, grabbing Freeman by the back of the
head...

...but Freeman jabs a thumb into his eye, stumbling away.]

GM:  Ohh!  Cheap shot by Freeman!

[With a blinded Magnum staggered, El Super Gecko tries to steal the
moment, moving to push Magnum back to the ropes...

...but a giant kneelift to the jaw sends him backflipping backwards
across the mat!]

GM:  Good grief!

BW:  That luchador is getting knocked around the ring like a pinball!

GM:  Wait a second!  Look at that!

[With Shane Destiny down on the mat, trying to pull himself up using the
ropes after the Southern Comfort, Mark Langseth has leapt out of the
front row of the crowd.]

GM:  Mark Langseth, the Hall of Famer is at ringside!

BW:  What's HE doing here?!  Houston, get 'im out of here!

[But the Special Enforcer is a bit distracted trying to shout
encouragement to his good friend, Rob Magnum.  That leaves Langseth all
alone to shout at Destiny.]

"I'VE GOT NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS MATCH?!  I'M NOT RELEVANT?!"

[The verbal assault seems to wake up Shane Destiny who drags himself to
his feet, pointing a finger at Langseth.]

"Get out of here!  Someone get him out of here!"

[AWA officials seem to swarm Mark Langseth, trying to get him away from
the ring...

...but the momentary distraction is all that is needed as MAMMOTH
Mizusawa simply grabs the back of Destiny's tights, throwing him over
the ropes to the floor!  Big cheer!]

GM:  DESTINY'S GONE!!  The giant tosses Shane Destiny over the top!

[An irate Destiny, having landed on a bunch of AWA officials, is right
up shouting at Langseth who returns the favor as the countdown starts.]

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

"BZZZZZZZZ!"

[The crowd ERUPTS in jeers as Brian Von Braun, Southern Syndicate
associate, comes trotting down the aisle, pointing his cane towards the
jam-packed ring.]

GM:  Brian Von Braun is number twenty-three!

BW:  That gives us four of the five Southern Syndicate members!  We're
only missing Calisto Dufresne!

GM:  Dufresne might not even show up after the beating he took from Soup
Bone Samson earlier tonight.

BW:  Who won that one again?  Oh, that's right.  The Southern Syndicate.

GM:  Thanks to Ben Waterson.

[Von Braun promptly rolls under the bottom rope, popping up to his feet,
and DRILLING Jason Keening in the back of the head with his cane.  He
tosses the cane aside, cracking a big grin as he turns around...

...where he immediately spews some foul words in the direction of Ron
Houston.]

GM:  Leave him out of this!  The Special Enforcer has-

BW:  The Special Enforcer has done nothing but overstep his authority
over and over again and the one time they needed him, he was off playing
head cheerleader to Magnum's quarterback!

GM:  Give me a break, Bucky.  The man has been-

BW:  Look at this!

[Peeling a downed Jason Keening off the mat, Von Braun hoists him up
onto his shoulders...

...and points a finger right at Ron Houston.]

GM:  You've gotta be kidding me.

[Von Braun sloppily shoves Keening up off his shoulders, swinging him
around into a faceplant.]

BW:  FADE TO BLACK!!  HE HITS THE FADE TO BLACK ON KEENING!!

[The crowd jeers the associate's move...

...and then jeers even more as he drags Keening off the mat, throwing
him over the ropes to the floor.]

GM:  Ohhh!  Von Braun eliminates Jason Keening!

BW:  Keening had been in there since number six - a long, long time. 
But the really important part of that is that Brian Von Braun just
eliminated a Juan Vasquez ally!  The Southern Syndicate continues to get
closer to getting rid of Juan Vasquez in this match!

GM:  We've got ten men inside that ring - four of which are somehow
linked to the Southern Syndicate.  And who know who else Waterson might
have as hired guns in there?  Mizusawa?  Devastation?  

BW:  El Super Gecko?

GM:  Anything is possible, I suppose.

[An arrogant Von Braun slowly approaches the corner where Rob Magnum has
pinned Adrian Freeman, battering him with back elbows to the side of the
face.  He puts a finger to his lips in a "I'm hunting wabbits"
gesture...

...and DRILLS Magnum in the back of the head with a double axehandle. 
The camera cuts to the floor where Houston was unable to warn his friend
in time and is now watching Freeman and Von Braun put the boots to
Magnum in the corner.]

GM:  Rob Magnum's being worked over by Freeman and Von Braun and that's
only about payback on Ron Houston, Bucky.  They don't care one lick
about Rob Magnum other than to get at Houston.

BW:  Magnum may be an old drunk at this point but he's still dangerous. 
I'm sure he's on their list of guys to take out of this match.  He says
this is his last match but if he wins the Rumble, you know he'll take
the shot at the champ.  He's too much of a gloryhog not to.

[With Von Braun choking Magnum in the corner, the countdown starts.]

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

"BZZZZZZZZ!"

[The crowd ROARS as a bandaged and limping Eric Preston starts walking
down the aisle.]

GM:  Oh wow.

BW:  This kid shouldn't even be out here!  He should NOT try to
participate in this match.

GM:  Eric Preston is showing the effects from that showdown with James
Monosso earlier tonight.

[As Preston reaches the ring, he rolls under the ropes with great
difficulty...

...and catches a leaping kneedrop to the ribcage by Simon Rhodes!]

GM:  Ohh!  Simon Rhodes going right after the ribs!  Those ribs are
still taped up and- ohh!  Kick to the ribcage!

[Simon waves his brother over and the dastardly duo goes to work on the
torso of Eric Preston, stomping and kicking the body as he lies down on
the canvas.]

GM:  The Rhodes Brothers are taking Eric Preston to Pain Street!

[Brian Von Braun catches that beating out of the corner of his eye,
backing off the choke while leaving Freeman to kick at Magnum's left
knee.  He slowly backs away all together, pausing to drill El Super
Gecko with a right hand...

...and then as he turns, he rushes forward, grabbing Simon Rhodes by the
back of the tights and HURLING him over the ropes to the wooden stage!]

BW:  WHAT THE-?!

BW:  VON BRAUN ELIMINATES SIMON RHODES!!

BW:  That's not the plan, Brian!

[An arrogant Von Braun mockingly applauds for himself as he backs
away...

...and Raphael Rhodes rushes towards him, tackling him down to the mat
where he batters him with rights and lefts!]

GM:  RAPHAEL RHODES IS ALL OVER VON BRAUN!!

BW:  THIS ISN'T THE PLAN!!

GM:  I think Brian Von Braun may have just caused that plan to get
thrown out the window, Bucky!

[A desperate Adrian Freeman throws himself between the two brawling
Southern Syndicate allies, trying to tear them apart from one another.]

GM:  Freeman's trying to settle them down!  He's trying to regain
control!  Fans, we'll be right back!

[And 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 fade back up to the ring just as Calisto Dufresne is joining
the fray, helping his former National Tag Team Title partner keep Rhodes
and Von Braun apart!]

GM:  Welcome back, fans!  Calisto Dufresne was number twenty-five and
the first thing he does is try to get the Southern Syndicate back on the
same page!  

[With the four Southern Syndicate members occupied in the middle of the
ring, Juan Vasquez grabs Von Braun by the arm, swinging him around into
a big right hand!]

GM:  Those two have unsettled business as well!

[The other three Syndicate members look to intervene but Michelle Bailey
and Rob Magnum cut them off, throwing big haymakers to anyone in sight.]

GM:  Eric Preston's back to his feet... and he's in there as well,
throwing bombs on Dufresne in the corner!

[All four corners get quickly taken up by the Southern Syndicate getting
pummeled:  Preston with Dufresne, Magnum with Freeman, Bailey with
Rhodes, and Vasquez with Von Braun.

With the corners tied up, El Super Gecko races across the ring at
Devastation, throwing himself at him with a series of weak-looking chops
and kicks...

...and getting turned inside out with a clothesline.  Devastation slaps
himself across the chest, celebrating his big power strike...]

GM:  GIANT!!

[But as he turns around, he catches a big boot to the jaw from Mizusawa
that sends Devastation toppling over the ropes, crashing down onto the
wooden stage!]

GM:  DEVASATION IS GONE!!

BW:  He's one of the favorites, Gordo!

GM:  He was certainly one of the men that many thought could possibly
win this whole thing.  We're down to ten men inside that ring with only
five more to come out of the chute before we find out who will win the
2010 Rumble and who will move on to face Stevie Scott for the National
Title!

[Preston and Bailey whip their respective men towards each other,
causing Rhodes and Dufresne to collide in the center of the ring!]

GM:  Down goes Raphael Rhodes!  Down goes Calisto Dufresne!

[Magnum shouts across the ring to Vasquez who tosses Von Braun in his
direction where a big boot catches BVB in the gut.  Magnum steps
forward, hooking a standing headscissors.]

GM:  Yes!  Yes!  Do it!

[The big man powers Von Braun up into the crucifix...]

GM:  Southern Comfort!  Southern Comfort is coming!

[But the Rocket City Badboy wriggles free, landing on his feet behind
Magnum where he dips down...

...and slams his arm up into the groin of Magnum!]

GM:  OHHH!  LOW BLOW!!

[An irate Houston shouts a mouthful of expletives in Von Braun's
direction.]

GM:  I apologize for that, fans.  This is getting heated out here.

[With Houston and Von Braun trading "heated" words, the countdown
starts.]

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

"BZZZZZZZZ!"

[The crowd begins to buzz with concern as a wide-eyed James Monosso
stumbles from the back.  He walks almost zombie-like towards the ring,
shoving aside the cameraman who gets a little too close.]

GM:  Whoa!  Look out!  James Monosso is number twenty-six and I don't
think he even knows what city he's in, fans!  All he wants to do is get
in there and I'm guessing he wants to finish off Eric Preston!

[Spotting Monosso, Preston spins away from the Southern Syndicate,
charging across the ring...

...and DRILLING Monosso with both feet squarely in the face with a
dropkick through the ropes!]

GM:  OHHHH!  PRESTON CAUGHT HIM!!

[The fan favorite rolls out to the floor, throwing right hands at the
wild former mental patients.  Grabbing Monosso by the hair, Preston
slams his head into the ring apron, shoving him under the ropes into the
ring.]

GM:  Monosso's in - where the heck is Preston going?

[Preston ducks down, digging under the ring apron.]

GM:  He's got a chair!  Eric Preston's got a steel chair!

BW:  HE CAN'T DO THAT... can he?

GM:  I don't think he can!  Ron Houston is reprimanding him!  Houston's
telling him he can't take the chair into the ring!

[But Preston shoves Houston aside, climbing up on the apron with the
chair.  Inside the ring, wrestlers quickly scurry, some even sliding out
to the floor to avoid Preston's wrath...

...but a rampaging James Monosso charges right into him, connecting with
a running boot to the injured ribs, forcing him to drop the chair on the
ring apron!]

GM:  Ohhh!  He caught him in the ribs!  Right in those injured ribs!

[Monosso grabs Preston under the arm, hiptossing him over the ropes into
the ring.  The madman pulls at his own hair, yelping loudly as he drags
Preston up, shoving him back into the corner where he delivers knee
after knee after knee into the ribs...]

GM:  Good grief!

[Suddenly, Monosso backs off, drilling El Super Gecko with a right hand
to the skull as he passes him and then staggers to the opposite corner
from Preston.]

GM:  Oh no.

[With a loud bellow, Monosso stampedes across the ring...

...but Preston dives aside, forcing Monosso to crash chestfirst into the
buckles.  Dipping down, Preston scoops the legs and dumps the former
mental patient over the ropes to the floor!]

GM:  HE'S GONE!  MONOSSO IS ELIMINATED!!

BW:  Whoa!  That's HUGE, Gordo!

GM:  It certainly is!  James Monosso is another man that many considered
a favorite going into this match and with a late draw, he could have
been a major factor in the outcome of- wait a second!

[The crowd begins to roar as Eric Preston angrily starts climbing the
ropes.]

GM:  Don't do it, Eric!  You'll be eliminated!

BW:  I don't think he gives a damn, Gordo!

GM:  Preston to the middle rope... to the top!

[And as Monosso stumbles to his feet on the wooden platform, Preston
HURLS himself into the air, floating through the sky...

...and WIPING OUT James Monosso with a breath-taking bodypress!]

GM:  OH MY STARS!!

[The crowd ROARS for the daredevil move, chanting "PRES-TON!  PRES-TON!"
at a deafening volume!]

GM:  Preston's gone as well!

BW:  Maybe for good after that!

GM:  It was a career-shortening, death-defying dive off the top rope
onto that wooden platform!

BW:  Forget the wooden platform.  His momentum carried him all the way
out on the concrete!  Preston's lost his mind!  He's as crazy as Monosso
is!

[Ron Houston rushes to check on the two fallen competitors as the fans
continues to chant Eric Preston's name.]

GM:  I can't believe it, fans.  Both James Monosso and Eric Preston are
eliminated from the Rumble - two of the favorites to win the whole
thing!

[With the chaos that has ensued, everyone misses the countdown until...]

"BZZZZZZZZ!"

[And the crowd ROARS once more!]

GM:  CLETUS LEE BISHOP!!

[The bigger half of the National Tag Team Champions comes walking
quickly down the aisle, heading straight for the ring.  He steps up on
the apron, swinging a leg over the ropes...

...and immediately gets attacked by Dufresne and Freeman who swarm him
like bees!]

GM:  The Rumble continues with ten men inside the ring - three more to
go.  One of thirteen men will be the 2010 Rumble winner and receive the
shot at the National Title and-

[With Houston still checking on Monosso and Preston out on the floor,
Brian Von Braun slides under the ropes to the floor...

...grabbing Eric Preston's discarded steel chair.]

GM:  Wait a second!  Where is Von Braun going?

[Winding up with the chair, Von Braun approaches the distracted Ron
Houston from behind...]

"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

GM:  THE ARM!!  VON BRAUN HIT HOUSTON'S INJURED ARM!!

[The East Coast Terror immediately drops down to a knee on the floor,
clutching his arm.  A cackling Von Braun taunts Houston before raising
the chair up again...

...for a blow that never comes as a concerned Rob Magnum steps over the
ropes, dropping down to the floor to help his friend as Von Braun throws
the chair aside, rolling back into the ring.]

GM:  Von Braun gets back in and-

[The Rocket City Badboy starts pointing to his head, telling the world
how smart he is.]

GM:  What's gotten into him now?  What is-

BW:  Rob Magnum is eliminated!  Look at the ref!

GM:  What?!  How?!

[The referee is waving off Magnum, refusing to let him go back into the
ring.]

BW:  That idiot stepped over the top rope!  He was so worried about
Houston, he stepped over the top rope and got himself eliminated from
the Rumble!  What a way to go out, Gordo!  What a way!

GM:  Von Braun lured him into it!  That sneaky, weasely little-

[Rob Magnum is despondent, head dropped down as the fans give him a
respectful cheer.  Nearby, Ron Houston is fuming, clutching his arm and
screaming at Von Braun.  The Special Enforcer actually makes a move for
the ring...]

GM:  HOUSTON'S COMING FOR HIM!!

BW:  I don't think so, daddy!

[A swarm of AWA security and officials hit the scene, restraining
Houston and preventing him from getting into the ring.  Inside the ring,
Von Braun is mocking Houston and Magnum...

...and not paying attention to anyone else.]

GM:  RHODES!!

BW:  NO!!

[With Von Braun distracted, Raphael Rhodes seizes the moment to grab him
by the hair and HURL him over the ropes to the floor!]

GM:  VON BRAUN IS ELIMINATED!!  

BW:  THAT'S NOT THE PLAN!!

GM:  Von Braun eliminated Simon Rhodes from the Rumble and now Raphael,
the man who has lasted the longest in this match so far, has eliminated
him right back, fans!  We're down to eight men in the ring and-

BW:  Better make that nine.

[The countdown begins as AWA officials and security wedge themselves
between Ron Houston, Rob Magnum, and Brian Von Braun, trying to get all
three men back down the aisle to the locker room.]

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

"BZZZZZZZZ!"

GM:  Number twenty-eight is...

[The crowd gives a respectful cheer.]

GM:  Takeharu Watanabe!  Yet another man taking advantage of the AWA's
Open Door policy!

BW:  Welcome to the party, pal.

GM:  And fans, I want to take a quick moment to thank WKIK for letting
us go overtime once more!  We're past our allotted three hours but WKIK
wants you to see the end of this Rumble as much as we do so much thanks
to them once again!

[Watanabe jogs down the ramp, 5'9", 220 pounds of him.  He rolls into
the ring in his black vinyl pants that are loose-cut like a karate gi. 
Upon rising to his feet, he immediately leaps up and scores with an
enzugiri on a surprised El Super Gecko, sending him into a front flip
across the ring into the ropes.  Watanabe pops right back up, ready to
continue the fight...

...and sprints across the ring, catching a cornered Mizusawa with a
running dropkick right to the chin!]

GM:  Ohh!  Watanabe's not messing around in there, Bucky.

BW:  That's one of the things I love about these Rumbles, Gordo.  Every
two minutes you get fresh blood ready to throw down.  And this guy? 
Entering at number twenty-eight?  I've never heard of him and he's got a
chance to win the whole thing!

GM:  I know you've heard of this man, Bucky, and you pay him disrespect
acting like you don't.

BW:  Gee, don't let me disrespect some guy we'll never see again.

[Watanabe decides to stick with the biggest dog in the yard, working
over the giant in the corner.  He backs off, throwing a standing
sidekick to the stomach that doubles over the giant, and then charges
across the ring, bouncing off the far side...

...and DRILLING Mizusawa in the temple with a low running kick!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

BW:  Who IS this guy, Gordo?

GM:  He's Takeharu Watan- OHHHHHH!

[The crowd groans along with Gordon as Watanabe leaps up to the middle
rope, springing up, and lashing out with another kick to the back of the
head!]

GM:  Good grief!  The giant may be on Dream Street!

[Breaking away from the Southern Syndicate assault, Cletus Lee Bishop
sprints across the ring...

...and DRILLS MAMMOTH Mizusawa with the Charging Big Boot, sending him
toppling over onto the ropes, much of his upper half hanging out of the
ring!]

GM:  WHOA!  WHOA!!

[Seizing the moment, Juan Vasquez, Michelle Bailey, Cletus Lee Bishop,
Takeharu Watanabe, and Raphael Rhodes all rush forward, each trying to
get underneath the lower half of Mizusawa's body, pushing up... up...
up...

...and sending the exhausted giant toppling down to the floor!]

GM:  OHHHHH!!  HE'S GONE!!  THE GIANT'S GONE!!

[The crowd ERUPTS in cheers as almost everyone in the ring begins
celebrating the big elimination!]

GM:  MAMMOTH Mizusawa has been eliminated from the 2010 Rumble and that
just completely opens up the entire field, Bucky!  There are ten men
left and in my opinion, ANY of them could win this thing now that the
giant's gone!

BW:  I knew it.  I knew he'd have a hard time coming in that early. 
Look how tired he is, Gordo.  The man had nothing left in the gas tank. 
He's just been fighting on defense for several minutes now.

GM:  The giant is gone... wow.

[A weary Mizusawa leans on several AWA officials as he slowly makes his
way back up the aisle towards the locker room and the countdown starts
once more.]

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

"BZZZZZZZZ!"

[The crowd cheers as Brent Maverick comes jogging out from the locker
room.]

GM:  Brent Maverick draws #29!  And for someone who was in a grueling
tag team match earlier tonight, that's perfect!

BW:  It sure is.  Maverick may have just lucked himself into the biggest
win of his career!

[Maverick runs up the steps, joining the match.  He immediately catches
Takeharu Watanabe with a running clothesline.  Spinning around, he does
the same thing to Adrian Freeman.]

GM:  Maverick's on fire and-

[El Super Gecko leaps off the ropes right into Maverick's waiting
arms...

...so Maverick simply throws him backwards over his head and down to the
mat!]

GM:  Fallaway slam by Maverick!  

[Maverick pops right back up, ready to continue the fight.  Michelle
Bailey looks happy to oblige, throwing a dropkick that catches him in
the chest.  A few chops follow up, knocking Maverick back against the
ropes.  Bailey lets loose a whoop before racing to the ropes...]

GM:  Bailey to the ropes...

[But as Bailey hits the ropes, she goes toppling over the ropes,
crashing down in a heap on the floor.]

GM:  Whoa!  Bailey got lowbridged by... I don't believe it... El Super
Gecko?

[The masked man slowly gets up, looks out at Bailey, then shrugs his
shoulders.  He turns back to the ring where suddenly, there are seven
other guys looking at him.]

GM:  Uh oh.

BW:  Something's going on here, Gordo.

GM:  I think you're right.

[It's Brent Maverick who takes it upon himself to find out, charging El
Super Gecko who goes into a front roll, avoiding Maverick's charge.  He
pops back to his feet, catching an incoming Adrian Freeman with a chop
across the chest before crawling between his legs...

...and comes right up into a double-handed choke from Cletus Lee Bishop
who hoists him into the air!]

GM:  Cletus Lee has got him!  He's choking the luchador!

[The masked man wriggles like crazy, trying to get out of Cletus Lee's
grip.]

GM:  He's trying to get out of there!  Trying to get free and-

[Suddenly, the masked man drops down to the mat...

...without his mask which still rests in the hands of Cletus Lee
Bishop.]

GM:  The mask came off!  I can't get a good look at this guy but I think
it's-

[The formerly-masked man stands straight up, a big unapologetic grin on
his face.

A face that is instantly recognizable to AWA fans.

A face that is instantly recognizable to ALL wrestling fans around the
world.

A face that belongs to one of the most infamous men to ever lace the
boots.

A face that houses an expression that is just a little bit...

...sychotic.]

GM:  JOE PETROW?!

[The crowd ERUPTS in a shocked reaction - a reaction echoed by the other
men standing inside the ring with him.  He looks around at the other
seven men in the ring, almost waiting for something...

...and then tears into action on his own!]

GM:  PETROW STRIKES!

[A thrust kick catches Calisto Dufresne under the chin, knocking him
back to the corner.]

GM:  Ohh!

[Adrian Freeman rushes forward with a clothesline aimed at the back of
Petrow's head - a blow that he somehow knows is coming, ducking under it
to hook Freeman around the waist.  He hoists him up into the air,
spinning around towards the middle of the ring...

...and drops Freeman tailbone first in the middle of the ring!]

GM:  OHHHH!

BW:  I don't think WKIK would like us to call that move but that's
vintage Joe Petrow!

[Raphael Rhodes rushes in, pushing Petrow back to the ropes and
launching into him with forearms to the side of the jaw.  Grabbing the
wrist, he fires Petrow off the ropes towards Takeharu Watanabe who ducks
down for a backdrop, allowing Petrow to spin around, backflipping over
him.  When Watanabe turns around, Petrow catches him with a boot to the
gut.]

GM:  I can't believe we're seeing this!

BW:  I can't believe we're about to say this!

[Petrow hooks a front facelock, reaching back to hook the back leg. 
With a quick lift, he hoists Watanabe off the mat...

...and DRIVES him down to the canvas with a brainbuster!]

GM/BW:  BULLET TRAIN TO HELL!

[Petrow bounces back to his feet, actually getting some cheers from the
AWA faithful as he pulls Watanabe off the mat, firing him over the ropes
for an elimination.  He pumps a fist, turning around...

...and gets WIPED OUT COMPLETELY with a Cletus Lee Bishop Charging Big
Boot!]

GM:  GOOD GOD!!

[The ever-opportunistic Calisto Dufresne swoops him, pulling Petrow up
off the floor, and DUMPING him over the top rope to the floor!]

GM:  Ohhhh!  Dufresne eliminates Petrow!


"BZZZZZZZZZZ!"

[The crowd gives a mild reaction to the young man jogging to the ring.]

GM:  Colt Daniels draws #30!  He's the final man in!

BW:  Gordo, we're down to seven men.  One of these seven men will win
the Rumble and get a shot at the champ.

GM:  Maybe.  We've still got three Southern Syndicate members in there
who have direct orders to eliminate the competition and not let anyone
not a member of that group win the Rumble.  They're trying to prevent
Stevie Scott from having someone with a guaranteed title shot staring
him down.

[As Daniels steps into the ring, the seven men all break apart, staring
one another down and giving the crowd a long look at the final seven -
Raphael Rhodes, Juan Vasquez, Adrian Freeman, Calisto Dufresne, Cletus
Lee Bishop, Brent Maverick, and young Colt Daniels.]

GM:  Seven men.  A one in seven chance to cement your name in the AWA
history books alongside Ron Houston and Stevie Scott.  One of these
seven men have a date with destiny!

[Slowly, Raphael Rhodes moves to stand beside Dufresne and Freeman.  The
Southern Syndicate members huddle up, discussing their strategy as the
other four men stand alone.]

GM:  And here's the problem - a numbers game.  Rhodes, Dufresne, and
Freeman working as one unit against four individuals.  I don't think you
can expect to see Juan Vasquez working with Cletus Lee Bishop.  I don't
think you can expect anyone to trust either Brent Maverick or Colt
Daniels enough to work aside them.

BW:  Vasquez and Maverick have a history - they MAY be able to work
together but the rest?  No chance.

[Dufresne and Freeman suddenly break away from the back, going after
nearby Colt Daniels.]

GM:  What the-?

BW:  Divide and conquer - go after the kid no one knows first.

[And that's exactly what the former National Tag Team Champions are
doing, overwhelming the young man with punches and kicks in the
corner...

...but suddenly the young and fresh kid starts fighting back - a right
hand to Freeman, a right hand to Dufresne, creating just enough space to
get the heck out of the corner.]

GM:  Daniels escapes!  And the former tag champs are livid.

[They huddle up again with Rhodes, some heated words being exchanged in
the huddle this time.]

GM:  Another strategy session?

[This time, Rhodes steps out of the huddle, ordering his two allies to
back off to the corners...

...and points squarely at Juan Vasquez which sends a roar through the
crowd!]

GM:  Oh yeah!  Rhodes wants Vasquez!

BW:  Some things never change, Gordo.

GM:  Apparently not.  It was one year ago at Memorial Day Mayhem that
Vasquez and Rhodes had a brutal one-on-one showdown that some AWA fans
still call of our most exciting matches ever.  Tonight, it's only
fitting that they collide yet again.

[Walking to the middle of the ring, Vasquez waits for Rhodes to come
just a little closer.  Tugging at the tape on his knee, Rhodes slaps
himself across the chest, edging out to the middle of the ring... 

...and slowly raising his hand.]

GM:  A test of strength?  In a Rumble?

BW:  This just gets weirder and weirder.

[Vasquez nods his head, slowly raising up his hand to meet Rhodes in the
knucklelock.  One set of hands gets locked together as Rhodes slowly
raises the second.]

GM:  Here we go!

[With the knucklelock engaged, Rhodes promptly slips his leg behind
Vasquez, pushing him down to the mat so that the back of his head and
neck are bridging him up...

...which is apparently some kind of signal as Freeman and Dufresne rush
from the corner, assaulting Brent Maverick against the ropes.  They're
burying boots into his body as Rhodes leaps up, putting all his weight
on top of the bridging Vasquez!]

GM:  The former champs are all over Maverick...

[Colt Daniels rushes in to help, pulling Freeman off of Maverick and
peppering him with a jab to the jaw.  A few more jabs follow before
Daniels leaves his feet with a standing dropkick that knocks Freeman
down.  Freeman scampers up...

...right into the runaway path of Cletus Lee Bishop!]

GM:  RUNNING CLOTHESLI- OHHHH!

[At the last moment, the Australian powders out, causing Bishop to mow
over Daniels, taking him over the ropes and down to the floor.]

GM:  Colt Daniels is gone!

BW:  And then there were six!

[Rhodes half-pulls out of the knucklelock, leaping up and stomping down
on the injured ribs of Vasquez.  Still holding one hand in the
knucklelock, it makes it easy for Rhodes to stomp and kick at one side
of the injured ribcage without Vasquez able to defend himself.]

GM:  Rhodes drags Vasquez off the mat, whip to the corner...

[A charging Rhodes rampages in as fast as his hobbled knee will carry...

...but Vasquez sidesteps, throwing Rhodes shoulderfirst into the
ringpost!]

GM:  OHHHH!

[An angry Cletus Lee Bishop is on a seek and destroy mission now,
chasing Adrian Freeman all around the ring, trying to find an opening to
grab him but the smaller Freeman is quick, avoiding Bishop at every
opportunity...

...but not Vasquez who floors him with a right hand!]

GM:  Wait a second!

[Vasquez pulls Freeman off the mat, signalling to Cletus Lee Bishop. 
The big man smirks, nodding his head as Vasquez hoists Freeman off the
mat into a torture rack...]

GM:  Is this a Juan Vasquez version of Doc Allan's Miracle Headache
Elixir?!

BW:  I think it is!

[Cletus Lee dashes to the ropes, ready to put the big boot to Adrian
Freeman's skull...]

GM:  Off the ropes...

[Cletus Lee DRILLS Freeman in the side of the head with the big boot,
allowing Vasquez to spin Freeman out into a sitout powerbomb!  Vasquez
pops up to his feet, pumping a fist in triumph...

...and EATS a second Charging Big Boot to the jaw!]

GM:  OHHHH!  CLETUS LEE DRILLED HIM!!

BW:  It's every man for himself, daddy!

GM:  Cletus Lee just drilled Juan Vasquez out of nowhere with that big
boot!  Could Cletus Lee Bishop be on the verge of winning the Rumble? 
And what in the world would Stevie Scott think about facing this monster
for the National Title?

[Pulling a limp Vasquez off the mat, Cletus Lee charges the ropes and
HURLS him over the top...

...but Vasquez hooks the top rope with both hands, pulling himself up
and back and into the ring as Cletus Lee celebrates what he thinks is a
successful elimination!]

GM:  VASQUEZ IS BACK IN!!

[And as soon as Cletus Lee realizes that, he rushes forward again...

...and Vasquez drops down, pulling the top rope with him, and collapsing
on the mat from exhaustion, clutching his injured and heavily taped
ribs!]

GM:  CLETUS LEE IS GONE!  HE'S ELIMINATED!

BW:  We're down to five, Gordo!

GM:  Down to five and not a single member of the Southern Syndicate
that's still in there has been taken out.  We lost Bishop and Daniels
but we've still got Dufresne, Freeman, AND Rhodes all inside that ring! 
Juan Vasquez is still in there, fighting for his life... fighting for
that last chance to become the National Champion.  And then there's
Brent Maverick, a relative newcomer to the AWA who got the lucky draw to
end up here late in the match.  Could it be the luckiest night of his
life?  We're down to five men!  One of these five win the Rumble and the
shot at the National Title!

[Dufresne slips a knee into the gut of Maverick, dragging him out to the
middle of the ring where he hooks a front facelock.]

GM:  Oh no!

BW:  He's got Maverick set for the Wham Bam, Thank You Ma'am!

GM:  If he hits this, Maverick will be dead weight to toss to the floor!

[The Ladykiller pauses, shouting to his partner to get up.  A weary
Adrian Freeman drags himself up, trying to shake the cobwebs.  He nods
to Dufresne.]

BW:  Oh yeah, it's the assisted version of it!  Even better!

[Freeman grabs Maverick's legs from behind, hoisting them off the mat.]

GM:  They've got him up!  They've got him trapped!

[And both men drop down in unison, spiking Maverick's skull into the
canvas.]

GM:  OHHHHHH!

[An arrogant Dufresne rolls to the side, posing in front of a ringside
camera for a moment as Freeman gets to his feet, holding his arms up in
triumph.]

GM:  Maverick is down... Maverick is out...

[Freeman leans down, pulling Maverick up by the hair, dragging him to
the ropes.]

GM:  Freeman's trying to muscle Maverick over the top.  Adrian Freeman
is not a large man... not a large man at all and I just don't think he's
going to be able to do it.

BW:  He needs some help.  Calisto, Raph!  Go help Adrian!

GM:  If they get Maverick over the top, we're down to four - three of
which are Southern Syndicate members!

BW:  And it just seems appropriate to say that I love it when a plan
comes together, daddy!

[Clutching his now-injured shoulder, Raphael Rhodes staggers across the
ring where Freeman is trying to toss Maverick, leaning over...

...and somehow sends BOTH men tumbling over the ropes to the floor!]

GM:  WHOA!

BW:  WHAT THE-?!  RHODES, YOU IDIOT!

GM:  I think that was a mistake, Bucky!  I think it was a mistake!  He
meant to toss out Maverick but somehow he sent Adrian Freeman over the
top as well!

BW:  Mistake, my tail!  Raphael Rhodes already tossed Brian Von Braun
out of here earlier tonight.  That was intentional and you know it!

GM:  I know no such thing, Bucky.  It looked like an honest mistake to
me!  Whatever it was, we're down to three men!  Raphael Rhodes, Juan
Vasquez, and Calisto Dufresne!  One of these three men will be the 2010
Rumble winner and will earn a shot at the National Champion, "Hotshot"
Stevie Scott!

[Calisto Dufresne finally comes up to his feet having heard the cheers
of the crowd.  He looks around for Adrian Freeman, his partner in crime,
and spots him on the floor.  He looks questioningly at Freeman who
points at Rhodes.  The Ladykiller wastes no time in walking right up to
Raphael Rhodes, jabbing a finger in the chest of Rhodes.]

GM:  That's a threat!  Dufresne's reading Raphael Rhodes the riot act!

[Dufresne jabs his finger into the chest again, really letting Rhodes
have it.  The words "idiot", "moron," "jackass," and several others not
fit for print are heard...]


"SLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!"


GM:  DUFRESNE SLAPS RAPHAEL RHODES!!

[Rhodes recoils from the slap, grabbing the side of his face...

...and returns fire!]


"SLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!"
"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


[The reply sends Dufresne spinning away, clutching the ear that just got
tagged with an open-handed slap.  A furious Rhodes grabs Dufresne by the
hair, throwing him back to the corner.  He marches into the corner,
squaring up to BLAST Dufresne with a chop across the chest!]

GM:  Big chop!

[Grabbing Dufresne by the back of his head, he tucks the Ladykiller's
head down...

...and EXPLODES upwards with a European uppercut that nearly takes
Dufresne out of his boots!]

GM:  Good grief!

[Rhodes snatches Dufresne by the wrist, firing him from corner to
corner, sending Dufresne crashing into the buckles.  The irate Brit
shouts at Dufresne, pointing a warning finger at him...]

GM:  Here he comes!

[Hobbling out of the corner, Rhodes tries to charge him...

...and runs right into Juan Vasquez who scoops his long-time rival up
over his left shoulder.  Reaching back with his right arm, he cradles
Rhodes' head.  With the crowd roaring, Vasquez walks across the ring to
the far corner, turning around to charge out...]

GM:  CITY OF AAAAAAANNNNGELLLL-


"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!"


GM:  SUPERKICK!  SUPERKICK FROM DUFRESNE!!

[The thrust kick by the Ladykiller catches Vasquez under the chin,
knocking him flat.  Dufresne throws his arms out to his sides,
celebrating to the jeers of the crowd.  He reaches down, grabbing
Vasquez by the hair to haul him back to his feet...

...and tugs him into the front facelock.]

GM:  He's calling for it!  We've seen it once already but...

[A dazed Rhodes crawls to the corner, falling back into the buckles.]

BW:  WHAM BAM, THANK YOU- WHA?!

[A desperate Vasquez yanks Dufresne's legs out from under him, knocking
him down to the mat.  Still holding both legs, Vasquez falls back,
leveraging Dufresne up into the air, sailing across the ring...

...and SMASHING his head into Raphael Rhodes who lunges forward at the
last moment with a headbutt!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHH!

[Dufresne falls backwards from the headbutt, completely dazed.  Shaking
the cobwebs, Rhodes grabs Dufresne just as a rising Vasquez does...

...and in unison, they send Dufresne sailing over the ropes to the
floor!]

GM:  DUFRESNE'S GONE!!  CALISTO DUFRESNE IS ELIMINATED!!

[The crowd ERUPTS in celebration at Dufresne being eliminated.  Rhodes
and Vasquez both lean over the ropes, clinging to the top rope to stay
on their feet.]

GM:  WE'RE DOWN TO TWO!!  AND WHAT A TWO IT IS!!

[Vasquez stumbles backwards, falling back to the corner.]

GM:  Rhodes came in at number eight - he's been in the ring over
forty-five minutes.  Juan Vasquez came in at 15 - he's been there over
thirty minutes.

BW:  But neither of those statements does it justice, Gordo.  Rhodes was
in an elimination tag team match earlier tonight on this show.  He
suffered a knee injury during that match and fought this entire Rumble
with that injured knee!  Juan Vasquez was in that brutal Two Out Of
Three Falls match with MAMMOTH Mizusawa a week ago that saw him put
THROUGH a wall at the end of the night.  These two men have NO business
being the final two in this Rumble, Gordo.

GM:  But it's only fitting.  We talked about Memorial Day Mayhem last
year but what about No Escape and the first AWA steel cage match?  What
about SuperClash when Rhodes cost Vasquez the National Title by joining
the Southern Syndicate?  Some of the biggest moments in AWA history
involve these two men right here and to me, it's only fitting that
they're the final two men here tonight.

[Vasquez pushes up out of the corner, walking out to the middle of the
ring where Rhodes is now waiting.  Rhodes is visibly wincing with every
step but does not hesistate to stand in the middle of the ring with his
old rival.]

GM:  And here it is... two men... with oh-so-much at stake...

[Rhodes leans forward, his skull now pressed against Vasquez'.  The
words start flying between the two rivals, unheard by everyone but
themselves, but the feeling behind them loud and clear to everyone...

...especially when Rhodes punctuates his with a headbutt!]

GM:  Ohh!  Headbutt!

[The legendary hard headbutt of Raphael Rhodes sends Vasquez stumbling a
couple steps back.  Rhodes tries to take advantage of it, lashing out
with a chop across the chest.  A second chop sends Vasquez stumbling
backwards.]

GM:  Rhodes is one of the hardest hitters in the business...

[A third chop splashes across the chest of Vasquez, knocking him back
into the corner.  Grabbing his rival by the head, Rhodes pops him with a
forearm smash to the jaw.  A second forearm sprawls Vasquez back in the
buckles, his arms stretched out over the ropes.]

GM:  A brutal physical assault to- ohh!

[The crowd reacts to Rhodes smashing his shoulder into the ribcage of
Vasquez.  A second shoulder lands as well.  Grabbing the tape on the
ribs, Rhodes tears it away, exposing the injured ribcage...

...and drives home his shoulder again, this time causing a cry of pain
from Vasquez!]

GM:  Good grief!

BW:  Rhodes isn't messing around here, Gordo.  He's gonna bust someone
up here and win this damn Rumble.

[A hard boot to the gut follows up as Rhodes drags him out of the
corner.]

GM:  Gutwrench...

[Rhodes lifts Vasquez straight up...

...and brings him hard straight down on the bent knee!]

GM:  OHHHHH!  Right after those ribs again!

[Shoving Vasquez off to the mat, Rhodes delivers a soccer style kick to
the ribcage.  A second one rolls Vasquez over onto his back.  With a
wince, Rhodes throws himself up off the mat, smashing down backfirst
across the ribcage!]

BW:  King-sized senton by Rhodes!

GM:  He didn't get as much elevation of that as you would usually
expect.  That knee took a little bit of height off of it.  It did have
an effect on those ribs though.  Juan Vasquez' ribs are absolutely
wrecked at this point in the Rumble.

[Wincing as he rises, Rhodes drags Vasquez up by the hair, pushing him
back to the corner again.  A couple of knees buried into the ribs leaves
Vasquez gasping for air.  Ducking down, Rhodes hoists Vasquez up off the
mat, depositing him on the top rope.]

GM:  Uh oh.

BW:  Nothing Fancy - coming up!

GM:  Rhodes has got Vasquez perched up top... and now he's going up
there with him!

[Rhodes steps up to the middle rope, landing a few short punches to the
jaw before stepping the rest of the way up top...]

GM:  Rhodes is up top!  Rhodes is going for-

[Knowing what's about to happen, Vasquez reponds by SLAMMING his fist
into Rhodes' injured knee, a blow that sends Rhodes falling backwards
off the top rope, crashing down to the mat with the back of his head
SMASHING into the canvas!]

GM:  VASQUEZ COUNTERS!  VASQUEZ KNOCKS HIM FLAT!!

[Breathing heavily, Vasquez looks down at his fallen rival...

...and pushes up to his feet, stepping up to the top rope.]

GM:  You've gotta be kidding me!  What in the world is he- what could he
possibly be thinking?!

BW:  I have no idea!

GM:  Juan Vasquez is standing up top!  Juan Vasquez is going to fly!

[And with Rhodes motionless on the mat, Vasquez rolls the dice, hurling
his body off the top rope...

...and CRASHING DOWN onto a prone Rhodes!]

GM:  SPLASH!!  BIG SPLASH OFF THE TOP!!!  MY GOD IN HEAVEN!!

[Vasquez immediately rolls off the downed Rhodes, clutching his own
ribcage.  He rolls around in pain on the mat, screaming out as Rhodes
continues to lie motionless on the mat.  The crowd is roaring for
Vasquez, trying to inspire him to get off the mat.]

GM:  Vasquez is trying to get up... these fans are roaring for him...
begging him to get off the mat...

[An exhausted and hurting Vasquez rolls up to his knees, still clutching
his ribs.  Visibly in agony, the former National Champion uses the ropes
to drag himself off the mat, falling back into them.  He slowly inches
away from the ropes, staggering forward.]

GM:  Vasquez can barely move... he can barely walk... but he could be
moments away from getting one more shot at the National Title!  

BW:  He's gotta get Rhodes out first!

[Crying out, Vasquez forces him to lean over, grabbing his rival by the
hair and dragging him back to his feet.  Nodding his head and inhaling
deeply, Vasquez pushes himself towards the ropes, HURLING Rhodes over
the top...

...but with not enough force, allowing Rhodes to fall harmlessly to the
ring apron!]

GM:  Oh, come on!

BW:  He couldn't get him to the floor!  Both feet have to touch the
floor!

GM:  It's the ribs!  It's those injured ribs!

[Vasquez shakes his head in frustration, leaning over the ropes to grab
his rival again, pulling him to a knee on the apron...

...where Rhodes lashes out with a short right hand to the ribcage!]

GM:  OHHH!  What a shot!  What a precision perfect shot to the ribs!

[Vasquez starts to fall backwards but Rhodes reaches over the ropes,
grabbing the Number One contender by the hair, holding him up against
the ropes...

...where he SMASHES his head into Vasquez!]

GM:  HEADBUTT!!

[Rhodes falls back, clutching the rope with his free hand and using the
other hand to keep Vasquez on his feet.  He shakes his head back and
forth, pulling himself forward again...]

GM:  OHHH!  ANOTHER HEADBUTT!!

[The second headbutt has the same effect, nearly toppling both men but
Rhodes' iron grip on the top rope as well as Vasquez' hair keeping them
both on their feet.  Rhodes pulls Vasquez closer, releasing his grip on
the rope to grab Vasquez' head with both hands...

...and SMASHING his skull into the forehead of Vasquez once... twice...
three times.  Rhodes grabs the rope again, trying to stay on his feet. 
Vasquez leans against him, a trickle of blood now escaping from his
skull.]

GM:  He split Juan Vasquez open!  It's that same spot where Vasquez got
busted open in that Texas Bullrope match with Mizusawa!  The blood is
starting to flow now!

[Rhodes grabs the bloodied Vasquez in a front facelock, slinging
Vasquez' arm over his neck.]

GM:  Oh no!

[With a pain-filled scream, Rhodes hoists Vasquez up into a suplex...

...but Vasquez lashes out with a knee to the skull in the middle of the
suplex, forcing Rhodes to put him down on the apron!  The crowd ERUPTS!]

GM:  Both men on the apron!  Both men on the apron!

[An exhausted Vasquez lashes out with an elbow strike to the jaw,
stunning Rhodes.  Grabbing two hands full of Rhodes' hair, Vasquez SLAMS
his knee into Rhodes' face once... twice... three times.  He pauses for
a moment, sucking wind...

...and delivers one more knee strike, knocking Rhodes to a kneeling
position on the apron!]

GM:  Rhodes is down!  Rhodes is on a knee on the apron!

[Vasquez quickly backs off, slaps his knee, and charges towards Rhodes,
determined to deliver a running knee to the face...]

GM:  RUNNING KNEEEEEEEE!

[But Rhodes slaps it aside, pushing up to his feet, and delivering one
more headbutt, this one squarely to the temple off an off-balance
Vasquez...

...who topples off the apron to the floor!]


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Ladies and gentlemen... here is your winner of the Memorial DAy
Rumble...

RAPHAEL RHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODES!!

[Rhodes falls back through the ropes, crawling to the center of the ring
on his hands and knees.  He takes one knee, kneeling on the non-injured
limb in the middle of the ring, head bowed with exhaustion.]

GM:  Raphael Rhodes has done it!  Raphael Rhodes has etched his name
next to Marcus Broussard and Ron Houston in the AWA history books! 
Raphael Rhodes has won the Memorial Day Rumble!

BW:  The Southern Syndicate has won it!  The Southern Syndicate has won
the Rumble as well!

[At the top of the aisle, a small group of men led by Ben Waterson
emerges from the locker room - an angry-looking Brian Von Braun, an
elated Simon Rhodes, Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman who look a
little envious, and an overjoyed Stevie Scott who pats the title belt
resting on his shoulder.  In the front of it all stands Waterson,
applauding his charge's victory in the Rumble.]

GM:  And look at the victory celebration going on there.  The Southern
Syndicate is standing on top of the wrestling world once more.  They
once again have proven that they are the elite unit in the world of
professional wrestling.

BW:  What about Juan Vasquez?  Oh-so-close but oh-so-far and now he'll
never... NEVER... have the chance to get another shot at Stevie Scott. 
This was it, Gordo!  His last chance!

GM:  That's right.  Raphael Rhodes wins the match, eliminating Juan
Vasquez to do it... and what does Juan Vasquez do from here?  The
American Wrestling Alliance may very well be at a major crossroads here
tonight.  Fans, we're out of time.  We've gotta go!  For Jason Dane,
Mark Stegglet, Bucky Wilde, and myself - so long from Houston where it
has indeed been Memorial Day Mayhem!  We'll see you in Oklahoma!

GM:  THIS was the plan!

[And with a weary Raphael Rhodes kneeling in the middle of the ring all
alone, soaking up the grueling victory...

...we fade to black.]