Saturday Night Wrestling

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                           American Wrestling Alliance
                                 Proudly Presents
                         AWA Saturday Night Wrestling

                         Live from the WKIK Studios
                                   Dallas, Texas
                                January 30, 2010
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[As we fade in, we hear the closing theme to the Fishing With Orlando
Wilson show as the shot starts to fade.  It is replaced with footage
marked "THE STAMPEDE CUP!" where we see the Finals of the tournament
just as Cletus Lee steps forward, grabbing the Australian by the legs.]

GM:  What the- wait a second!

[Cletus Lee starts spinning with Freeman, powering the Australian up
into a Giant Swing!]

GM:  GIANT SWING!!

BW:  COUNT 'EM OFF!!

[The crowd counts along with the rotations.]

"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THREE!"
"FOUR!"
"FIVE!"
"SIX!"
"SEVEN!"
"EIGHT!"
"NINE!"
"TE- OHHHHHHH!"

[On the tenth revolution, Duane Henry takes flight with a sloppy
dropkick to the head of the spinning Adrian Freeman!]

GM:  HE GOT HIM!!  

BW:  Cletus Lee can't cover!  He's dizzy from the Giant Swing!

[Duane Henry crawls out to the apron, screaming at his brother along
with Cousin Bo who is still on the apron...

...until Calisto Dufresne decides otherwise!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHHH!

[A solid superkick to the jaw of Cousin Bo sends the Bishops manager
sailing off the apron, crashing down in a heap on the concrete floor!]

GM:  What in the- why did he take out Cousin Bo?!

BW:  I'm not sure!  I don't see the point of-

[Dufresne grabs the dizzy Cletus Lee, pulling him into a standing front
facelock.]

BW:  Here it comes!  WHAM BAM-

GM:  NO!

[The crowd roars as Cletus Lee straightens up, backdropping Dufresne up
and over the top rope to the concrete floor!]

GM:  OHHHHHHH!  OH MY GOD!!!

BW:  Dufresne's dead!  He went over the top to the floor!  How in the
world can anyone get up from that?

GM:  Cletus Lee's in the corner... he's ready... he's waiting...

[And as soon as Adrian Freeman gets off the mat, Cletus Lee rampages
across the ring...

...and OBLITERATES Freeman with a Charging Big Boot!]

GM:  OHHHHHHH!

BW:  That's it!  Cover him, Cletus!

[Cletus Lee leans on the ropes, roaring with triumph at having delivered
the big boot.  He turns to look at the downed Freeman...

...when suddenly another voice rings out.]

GM:  What the-  what's HE doing out here?!

BW:  Where did he come from?!

[Suddenly, Ben Waterson, steel briefcase in hand is up on the apron,
shouting instructions to both Bishop Boys!]

GM:  He... I think he came out from under the ring!  Has he been out
here the whole time?

BW:  That fracas out here during the lumberjack match!  I think he
crawled under the ring and never came out!  I never saw him again after
that, did you?

GM:  I don't... I'm not sure.  But what in the world is this?

[Cletus Lee nods at the new instructions being given to him, dragging a
limp Freeman off the mat.  The referee is shouting at Waterson, trying
to get him down off the apron but the Agent To The Stars is having none
of it as he argues with the referee.]

GM:  Cletus Lee's got... he's got Freeman up on his shoulders!

[Cletus Lee walks across the ring, approaching the corner where a gimpy
Duane Henry is climbing the ropes.]

GM:  Duane Henry is going up top!  Cletus Lee's got Freeman up on his
shoulders and Duane Henry's going up top!

[The referee is still arguing with Waterson when an out-of-control
Cletus Lee makes a quick turn, accidentally bumping the referee in the
head with Freeman's legs!]

GM:  Ohh!  He caught Meekly!

BW:  I don't think he meant to... and he just barely grazed him but...

[As soon as Duane Henry Bishop reaches the top rope, he points to his
big brother, ready to fly...

...and fly he does, just not as he expected.]


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


GM:  WHAT THE HELL?!

[The crowd ERUPTS in a shocked reaction as Ben Waterson, freed from
arguing with a dazed official, charges down the apron and DRILLS Duane
Henry Bishop in the knee with the briefcase!  The blow sends Duane Henry
sailing sideways off the top rope, hurtling through the air before he
SLAMS down onto the concrete floor!]

GM:  WHAT DID WATERSON JUST DO?!

[Cletus Lee Bishop is absolutely stunned, looking on in shock at Ben
Waterson...

...his lack of focus allowing Adrian Freeman to slip free, dropping down
behind Bishop and SLAMMING him in the groin with a low blow!]

GM:  LOW BLOW!  LOW BLOW BY FREEMAN!

[With the crowd jeering, Cletus Lee Bishop stands in the middle of the
ring clutching his groin.  Slowly, Adrian Freeman straightens up,
smirking at Ben Waterson who tosses him the steel briefcase which
Freeman grips, raises...

...and SLAMS down over the skull of Cletus Lee Bishop!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHHH!

[But the same blow that felled Kolya Sudakov and snatched the National
Title from his grip...

...only knocks Cletus Lee Bishop to a knee!]

GM:  Oh my god!  Cletus Lee Bishop... that briefcase is dented over his
skull and he's-

[Desperate, Ben Waterson leaps off the apron, grabbing Calisto Dufresne
off the floor and shoving him under the ropes into the ring.]

GM:  Dufresne's in... Freeman's trying to get him up...

[A nodding Dufresne applies the front facelock on the kneeling Cletus
Lee as Freeman positions the briefcase on the mat.  Freeman kneels under
Cletus Lee, pushing up with all his strength to get Cletus Lee
horizontal to the mat...

...and then clears out, allowing Dufresne to SPIKE him facefirst on the
steel briefcase!]

GM:  DOWN!  DOWN TO THE STEEL!

[Freeman tosses the briefcase out of the ring as he drags the referee
over...

...and applies a lateral press.]

GM:  ONE!! 

[The dazed referee takes an eternity to lift his arm again.]

GM:  TWO!!

[Freeman and Waterson look on eagerly, screaming for the referee to
count as Michael Meekly raises his arm once more...

...and hits the canvas.]

GM:  THREE!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM:  I don't believe it!

[As the bell rings, Freeman springs to his feet, pumping his fists in
the air.  Ben Waterson climbs into the ring, rushing into an embrace
with Freeman.  A dazed Dufresne slowly gets up, all grins as he joins
his partner in celebrating.]

MC:  Ladies and gentlemen... your winner of the Stampede Cup...

CALISTO DUFRESNE AND ADRIAN FREEEEMAN!

[The jeers intensify as Waterson raises both men's arms in triumph.]

GM:  Dufresne and Freeman have won the damned Cup, Bucky.

BW:  I love it!  The National Tag Team Champions have proven they're the
best team in wrestling!  They've proven they are the team to beat here
in the AWA!

GM:  They have not!  They've proven they know how to cheat... how to
steal... how to lie... how to manipulate... and now, how to make a deal
with the devil!  Ben Waterson has helped Calisto Dufresne and Adrian
Freeman win the Stampede Cup here in Laredo, Texas!  Unbelievable!

[With a big grin on the face of Waterson, the shot freezes before slowly
fading to the sounds of "One More Saturday Night" by the Grateful Dead.

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

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

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

After a moment, we fade away from the cheaply done intro to the interior
of the WKIK Studios in Dallas, Texas.  The back wall is covered with
various flags from around the world.  The bleachers on three sides of
the ring stand a little taller, helping to fit a few more people into
the building.  The ring is sporting red, white, and blue ropes with
matching buckles and is lookin' good, yo.

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

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

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

GM:  Good evening, fans, and welcome to another edition of AWA Saturday
Night Wrestling featuring all the stars of the American Wrestling
Alliance, _the_ major league of professional wrestling.  Bucky Wilde, it
has been a while!

BW:  It certainly has - the suits up at WKIK decided they wanted to show
those namby pamby football players instead of us.  Go figure.

GM:  We have been pre-empted for the past month so that WKIK could
fulfill their NFL football obligations but tonight, we are back and we
are ready to go!  In fact, let's go right up to the ring where Melissa's
ready for our opening match!

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

MC:  Tonight's opening contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten
minute time limit.  Introducing first... already in the ring at this
time... from Parts Unknown... Dr. X!

[A bulky masked man throws two black-ensuited arms into the air to the
jeers of the crowd.]

MC:  And his opponent...

"WHO WAN' SIT ON SWEET DADDY'S LAP TANIIIIGHT?!"

[The crowd ERUPTS at the self-styled sounds of "I'm Gonna Be Your Sweet
Daddy" written and performed by Sweet Daddy Williams - who BURSTS
through the curtain to soak up all the cheers, wiggling and a waggling
his arms and legs to the roar of the crowd.]

MC:  From HOTLANTA, GEORGIA... weighing in at 302 pounds... making his
return to Saturday Night Wrestling...

SWEET!  DAAADDY!  WILLLLLIAMS!

[Everyone's Sweet Daddy keeps on keepin' on towards the ring, leaning
over to hug and high-five anyone who looks like they want to.... and a
handful who seem like they don't.]

GM:  That's right, fans.  In case you missed the Stampede Cup, Sweet
Daddy Williams is back!

BW:  The worst Christmas gift I ever got, Gordo.

GM:  Hahaha!  I love it!

[Climbing up the ringsteps, Williams grabs the ringpost with one hand,
leaning way back to shake his groove thang and then point a threatening
finger at the approaching masked man, stopping him in his tracks.]

GM:  Sweet Daddy Williams has electrified the WKIK Studio audience and
we're just getting started, Bucky.

BW:  Of all the gin joints in all the world, this fat hog had to squirm
his way back into mine.  I thought we were rid of him, Gordo.

GM:  You know who else thought we were rid of him?  The Southern
Syndicate!  And Sweet Daddy says he's here tonight to confront his
former friend, "Hotshot" Stevie Scott.

BW:  You mean, the National Champion.

GM:  He is that as well.  

[Williams steps into the ring as the referee calls for the bell and the
masked man barrels across, his arms stretched out over his head...

...which allows the surprisingly agile Sweet Daddy to sidestep, throwing
Dr. X chestfirst into the buckles.]

GM:  He gets out of the way of that one...

[Spinning the masked man around, Williams catches him with a looping
right hand that knocks the masked man back to the buckles.  A few more
right hands follow before a big leaping headbutt that floors the masked
man.]

GM:  Dr. X goes down and what a heabutt there from Sweet Daddy Williams,
Bucky.

BW:  Oh, real impressive.  I'd like to see him try that against Raphael
Rhodes.  The Southern Syndicate doesn't like getting called out, Gordo -
not by anyone.  The Sweet Daddy's comeback may be over real quick.

GM:  He pulls Dr. X off the mat, big whip...

[And a big back elbow floors the masked man, allowing Williams to hit
the ropes, high stepping back across the ring...

...and leaving his feet, crushing the chest of Dr. X with a leaping
elbowdrop!]

GM:  Ohhh my!  That might do it.  We've got one... we've got two.. no,
just the two count there.

BW:  Gotta give Dr. X credit there.  It takes a lot to kick out from
under a metric ton of flab.

GM:  Would you stop?

[Climbing back to his feet, Williams drags X up by the mask, holding the
mask as he peppers him with a right hand.  A second one follows suit -
as does a quick butt waggle - before a big haymaker puts the masked man
down once more where he rolls out to the floor.]

GM:  Dr. X may need to regroup a little bit after that.

BW:  He may need to vomit a bit after that.  Did you see him jiggling
that... thing?!

GM:  His rear end?  His derriere, if you will?

GM:  Ugh.  Makes me sick.

[Out on the floor, Dr. X is pacing back and forth as Sweet Daddy
Williams plays to the fans.  He's walking around the ring, pumping his
arms, screaming to the crowd who cheer him on as the masked man slowly
gets up on the apron...

...and gets brought in the hard way courtesy of a slingshot over the top
by Williams!]

GM:  Ohhh!  He hits the canvas hard off that one!

BW:  The man was trying to get back in the ring and Williams assaulted
him!  And yet these idiots STILL cheer him!

GM:  Dr. X drags himself up in the corner...

[Rushing said corner, Williams connects with a massive avalanche that
squashes Dr. X in the buckles.]

GM:  OHHHHHH!

[Hooking a side headlock, Williams throws a quick right arm in the air
in a circular motion, charging out...

...and DRIVES Dr. X facefirst to the mat with a bulldog headlock!]

GM:  OHHHH, WHATTA BULLDOG!

BW:  Hrmph.

GM:  Oh, come on, Bucky.  Even you have to give him credit for that one.

BW:  The only thing I'd give Sweet Daddy Williams credit for is his
chances of breaking the hot dog eating contest on the 4th of July,
daddy!

[Williams flips the masked man onto his back, attempting a lateral
press.]

GM:  There's a one... there's a two... whoa my, Sweet Daddy Williams is
waving it off!  That's not gonna do it!

BW:  And if anyone... ANYONE... other than this fat goof was doing this,
you'd be totally irate, Gordo.

GM:  You may be right... but the big man from Atlanta is up, dragging
Dr. X up by the wrist...

[Using the wrist, Williams flicks Dr. X across the ring into the ropes
while he charges to the ropes behind him...

...and then leaves his feet, smashing his hind quarters squarely into
the face of the oncoming Dr. X!]

GM:  OHHHH!  THE BUTT BUTT!  

[Williams sits down on the chest of Dr. X, reaching back to grab a leg
with one hand.]

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


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Here is your winner... SWEET!  DADDY!  WILLLLLIAMS!

[The big man from Hotlanta gets up off the masked man, pumping a fist of
triumph to the cheering crowd.]

GM:  We're going to be joined out here in just a moment by Sweet Daddy
Williams - something I know you're looking forward to, Bucky.

BW:  Oh, let me get out of-

GM:  Too late.  Sweet Daddy Williams, welcome back!

[A grinning Sweet Daddy Williams, sweating pretty heavily for a short
match, is on the scene.  He puts a sloppy arm across the shoulders of
Bucky Wilde, holding him tightly.]

SDW:  Oh, I missed you most of all, Scarecrow.

[Leaning over, Sweet Daddy plants a kiss on the cheek of Bucky Wilde who
storms out of view, frantically wiping his face off.  Williams chuckles
as he shakes the hand of Gordon Myers.]

SDW:  GORDON MYERS!

[Myers shrinks back from the shout.]

SDW:  I can not tell you how good it is to be home, baby.

[Big cheer!]

SDW:  All these months I sat at home in Atlanta with my main squeeze,
watchin' WKIK every other Saturday night... checkin' out all the
goings-on... but most of all, you know, Gordo... I was feelin' sorry for
myself.

[Williams nods.]

SDW:  I was feelin' sorry for myself that that no-good, down-and-dirty
snake-in-the-grass Stevie Scott had done stabbed me squarely in the back
and left me lying in the dirt like a dying dog.

And you know what needs to be done when a dog is dyin', Gord.  I know ya
do.

[Williams shakes his head.]

SDW:  But that piece of trash didn't have the guts to do that either. 
He didn't have the guts to take that steel briefcase and cave my skull
in and make me never get up again.

It was the humane thing to do, Hotshot...

...but you couldn't do it.  Ya left me lyin' to soak up my own shame...
my own humiliation at being played like a damn Baby Grand piano by you
for almost a year.

So, yeah... I was feelin' pretty low.  So, I went home.  And I stayed
home.  And I sat home and watched.  My friends tried to get me back...
no luck.  My family tried to get me back... no luck.  My squeeze tried
to get me back... no luck.

[A smirk.]

SDW:  Heck, even Gordon Myers showed up at my house, beggin' me to come
back and put Stevie Scott in his place.  But no luck there either,
right, Gord?

[Myers nods.]

SDW:  But what did happen was time started to heal my wounds, Hotshot. 
The days, the weeks, the months... that wound you left in me scabbed
over.  And it got toughened up.  And _I_ got toughened up.  And when it
was all said and done, I knew it was a matter of _when_ and not _if_ I
came back to put my boot right where your mama shoulda all those years
ago.

Stevie Scott... I know you're back there, son.  I know you're
listenin'... all huddled up with those other flea-ridden dogs... waitin'
to hear it.

So, listen close...

It may not be tonight.  It may not be next week.  It may not be next
month.

[Williams grins.]

SDW:  But it _will_ happen.  You and me will climb in there and make
this happen, baby.  We'll fight, we'll scratch, we'll bite, we'll claw,
we'll rip and tear each other to bloody scraps.

And in the end, when you're layin' at my feet, dyin' like a dog with a
gutshot...

...in the end, I'll know _exactly_ what I need to do.  Bank on it,
Hotshot.

[And with that, Williams walks off the set, leaving Gordon Myers
behind.]

GM:  Fans, Sweet Daddy Williams is focused on the National Champion and
I, for one, can't wait to see that!  Don't you dare go away, we'll be
right back with more AWA Saturday Night Wrestling!

[We fade out on a serious-looking Gordon Myers...

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 Melissa Cannon is standing.]

MC:  The following contest is set for one fall with a ten minute time
limit.  Introducing first... in the ring at this time from Amarillo,
Texas... Terry Moore!

[Young, lanky Moore throws an arm into the air to the cheers of the
crowd.]

MC:  And his opponent...

[Slayer's "Here Comes The Pain" kicks in to a big mixed reaction.]

MC:  Standing 6'10 and weighing in at 320 pounds... he is...

SCOTT PAAAAAAAIN!

[The massive powerhouse walks through the curtain to another mixed
reaction.  He stops just beyond the entrance, looking around the crowd
with a shake of his head.  He promptly walks to the ring, slinging a leg
over the top rope to enter the ring...]

GM:  Big Scott Pain stepping over the top... 

[Pain pauses in the corner, stretching his arm out to wave a gesturing
hand at the young Texan...

...who dashes forward!]

GM:  Here we go!

[The spunky Moore is full of fire, battering Pain back into the buckles.
 He quickly grabs Pain by the arm, attempting a whip...

...but the big man refuses to move, shaking his head at his opponent.]

GM:  Uh oh.

BW:  He can't get him out of the buckles.

[Another whip attempt follows...

...to the same level of success which Pain follows up with a knee to the
gut of Moore.  Throwing him back to the corner, Pain smashes a forearm
down across the chest of the youngster.]

GM:  Ohhh!  What a shot!

[Grabbing Moore by the back of the head, Pain drags him out of the
corner, throwing him through the ropes to the floor.]

GM:  Moore hits the floor hard - and Scott Pain's going out after him.

[Pain steps out on the apron, dropping down to the floor.  An unruly
ringside fan lets him have it and gets a "Shut yer mouth, fat boy!" in
response before he hauls Moore off the floor...

...and catches a right hand to the jaw!]

GM:  Ohh!  Moore caught him!

[A couple quick right hands follow, sending Pain stumbling backwards as
Moore scrambles up on the apron, leaping off with his arms raised above
him.]

GM:  Double axehandl- caught!

[Pain snatches Moore out of the sky in a bearhug...

...and DRIVES his spine into the ring apron to the jeers of the crowd!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Right into the frame of the ring.  There's no give right
there.

[Hooking Moore under the arm, Pain HURLS him through the air in a biel
throw, sending him crashing down to the concrete floor in a heap!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Come on!

BW:  And he intentionally threw Moore just beyond the mats, Gordo.  He
wanted to throw him down on the concrete!  

GM:  Scott Pain is showing a mean streak that I just didn't know he had.

BW:  Are you nuts?  This guy's always been crazy.

[Pain ducks under the ropes to break the count before moving over to the
downed Moore, dragging him off the mat by the hair, hoisting him up in a
gorilla press...

...and simply walking back towards the ring, showing no exertion at all
before tossing him through the ropes back into the squared circle.]

GM:  Moore gets brought back in... and Scott Pain is moving in after
him.

[Pain rolls under the ropes, dragging Moore up, and buries a forearm
smash into the kidneys that knocks Moore chestfirst into the corner.  A
lunging knee smash to the back follows before Pain yanks him backwards
by the hair.]

GM:  Pain's just dragging him around the ring... uh oh...

[Pain throws him by the arm towards the ropes.]

GM:  Whip by Pain... clothesli- ducked by Moore!

[The spunky Texan throws himself into a cross body...

...and gets snatched out of the sky by Pain!]

GM:  Ohh!  Caught!

[The 6'10 beast stands in the middle of the ring, holding Moore across
his body...

...and drops down to a knee, smashing Moore's spine across the bent
leg!]

GM:  Backbreaker!

BW:  He's not done either.  Look at the power!

[The crowd buzzes as Pain straightens up, still holding Moore...

...turning 90 degrees and dropping Moore down in a backbreaker again!]

GM:  Another one!  Pain with an impressive show of strength!

[Pushing back to his feet, Pain nods his head as he turns one more
time...

...and DROPS him down in a backbreaker once more!]

GM:  Scott Pain is physically dominating this youngster at this point in
the matchup, Bucky.  He should just put an end to this.

BW:  He'll end it when he's good and ready to, Gordo.

[Back on his feet with Moore downed before him, Pain tugs Moore into a
standing headscissors...]

GM:  Look out now.

[Pain hoists Moore off the mat, holding him high...

...and DRIVING him down to the canvas with a thunderous force!]

GM:  POWERBOMB!!

[Dropping to a knee next to Moore, Pain plants a hand squarely on the
youngster's chest as the referee drops down to count.]

GM:  We've got one.  We've got two.  And we've got three.


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Here is your winner... SCOTT PAAAAAAIN!

[Pain pushes up off the mat, yanking his arm away from the referee
looking to raise his hand.  He threatens a backhand in his direction
before exiting the ring the same way he entered, swinging his leg over
the top rope.]

GM:  Scott Pain with an impressive win in singles competition, Bucky. 
Of course, Pain is... was... I'm not sure anymore.  Is he still a part
of Unfinished Business with Colt Patterson?

BW:  Uhhh, why don't you ask him yourself, Gordo?

[The camera cuts to the announcers, now joined by the 6'10 monster known
as Scott Pain.]

SP:  Ask me what?

[Myers gulps hard as he looks up.]

GM:  Are... are you still a member of Unfinished Business?

[Pain grins.]

SP:  I'd say that's a better question for Colt, wouldn't you?

GM:  Well, I-

SP:  Because it's Colt who holds all the cards... as usual.  It's Colt
Patterson who everyone looks to for the answers.  So, Colt Patterson...
am I still a member of Unfinished Business?  Come on out here and-

[The crowd cheers as former World Champion Colt Patterson emerges from
the entrance curtain.  Clad in a tight white t-shirt that reveals his
bulging arms and a pair of blue jeans, Patterson shakes his head as he
approaches.]

CP:  Scott... I don't know what's gotten into you, brother.

[Pain smirks at his friend.]

SP:  Myers, ask your question.

[A confused Gordon Myers turns his mic to Colt Patterson.]

GM:  Colt, is Scott Pain still a member of Unfinished Business?

[Patterson looks up at his friend.]

CP:  Hell yes, he is, Gordon.  Scott, you and I have been through a lot
together... we've been up and down these roads together for 16 years! 
We've spent more time together than with our own families.  Of course,
you're still a part of Unfinished Business but we've got to get our
heads on straight.  We missed out on the Stampede Cup... we missed a
chance to-

[Pain raises a hand.]

SP:  My head is on straight, Colt.  Where's yours?

[Patterson looks confused.]

CP:  But you were the one who withdrew us from consideration for the
Cup.  And then you wouldn't return my calls... I still don't even know
why we didn't-

[Pain interrupts.]

SP:  That's the problem, Colt.  You DON'T know why anything happens. 
You don't know why we weren't in the tournament.  You don't know why
we're not the National Tag Team Champions.  You don't know why I don't
answer your calls.

Because the only thing you worry about is the same thing you always have
worried about... yourself.

[The crowd "oooooohs!"]

SP:  Think about it, Colt.  When I came to the AWA, I asked you to come
with me.  "No, I'm retired."  Fine, I let it slide.  And just when I was
getting a foothold here, you showed up... unannounced.  Hell, I had to
find out you were comin' from a damned announcer.

And then you got here... and without asking me, suddenly we were a tag
team.  Suddenly, we had "unfinished business" to take care of... to be
the tag champions.  I let it slide.  Cause you're my friend... and it
would have been an honor to wear the titles with you one more time.

[Pain shakes his head.]

SP:  And then there was that punk kid.  You wanted to add him to the
group.  You said we needed fresh blood.  You said we needed some youth.

[Pain grits his teeth.]

SP:  For sixteen years, the only thing I needed to win were these hands.
 And I'll be damned if I need some punk kid to get by.  

And you used to be the same way.

[Colt Patterson looks on in shock.  He puts a hand on his partner's
shoulder.]

CP:  Scott, let's not do this.  Let's go back and talk this ov-

[Pain slaps the hand away.]

SP:  I'm done talkin', Colt.  From this point on, the only unfinished
business I've got is becoming the AWA National Champion.

[The crowd buzzes.]

SP:  You stay out of my way.  I'll stay out of yours.  Got it?

[And with that, Pain spins away from his friend and partner and walks
out of sight.]

GM:  Colt, I... Colt?

[Patterson shakes his head at Gordon.]

CP:  I don't- I'll figure this out.  Sorry, Gordon.

[And with that, Patterson exits as well, leaving Gordon behind.]

GM:  Well, fans... some definite problems in the mix between Colt
Patterson and Scott Pain.  We'll be right back!

[And we fade to black...

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

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

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

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

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

JD & MS:  NOW WE CAN!

[A voiceover takes over - thank God.]

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

[Fade back to black...

...and then back up to ringside where the bell rings just as Soup Bone
Samson drops his dog collar and chains over the ropes to a ringside
attendant.]

GM:  Alright, we're back, fans, with Soup Bone Samson here in action
with Don Peters!

[Samson swings an arm across his chest, trying to loosen him as he
measures his opponent.]

GM:  Collar and elbow tieup right here...

[Peters immediately goes to the eyes, blinded the big man before burying
an overhead elbowsmash down to the back of Samson's neck.]

GM:  Oh, cheap shot on the #4 contender to the National Title...

BW:  Samson is?  How in the world did that happen?

GM:  I'm not privy to the- ohh my!

[The crowd cheers as Samson scores with a big overhead chop that leaves
a big red handprint on the chest of Peters, staggering him backwards
where a second blow takes him clear off his feet.]

GM:  Ohh!  Two big shots by Samson and that turns this one around in a
hurry.

[Hauling Peters to his feet by the head, Samson hooks in a front
facelock, bullrushing Peters back against the ropes...

...where he breaks the hold, blasting him with yet another overhand
chop!]

GM:  Good grief!  Samson's a bit surly here tonight and-

[The crowd yelps in response as Samson digs his fingernails into the
back of Peters, raking his hands downward across it.]

GM:  Raked the back!

BW:  DQ him, ref!  This guy's out of control!

GM:  Samson hooks him around the chin...

[And pulverizes him with a forearm smash down across the chest, knocking
him down to a knee where a big boot to the face puts him down on the
mat.]

GM:  This kid needs to get his arms up because Soup Bone Samson is
absolutely punishing him right now.  The ol' dog as he likes to call
himself does not seem to be in a good mood tonight.

BW:  He's breathing, ain't he?  Should thank his lucky stars for that.

GM:  Peters to the corner, trying to defend himself...

[But Samson slaps the defensive arms away, crushing Peters with a
headbutt that knocks him down to a knee.  Grabbing his head with one
hand, Samson smashes home a second headbutt that knocks Peters down to
the mat.]

GM:  Two big headbutts by Samson... and we know very few in this
business have a harder head - or hand - than Soup Bone Samson, Bucky.

BW:  This guy is tougher than dirt... older than dirt too... but tougher
for sure.  I'll never forget some of the wars we saw him in back in the
Southern Championship Wrestling days.

GM:  A rear chinlock perhaps now...

[But instead, Samson hooks two fingers in the nose and two from the
other hand in the mouth, ripping and tearing at the face of young Don
Peters who screams in anguish!]

GM:  Ahh... not sure I can watch that.

BW:  This is horrible, Gordo.  Why aren't you screaming for a DQ?

GM:  Well, I- ohh!  Hard slap across the face!  Right to the ear!

[Peters flattens out on the canvas, lying facefirst down on the mat as
Samson stands over him...

...and drops a knee down on the middle of the back!]

GM:  Ahhh!  Big knee down...

[Reaching forward with his knee in place, Samson hooks a handful of
hair, tugging back on it as Peters screams in pain.]

GM:  Good grief!

[Still holding the hair, Samson tugs Peters to his feet, firing him off
to the ropes...

...and sends Peters SAILING through the air in a big back bodydrop!]

GM:  Ohhhh!  And here we go!  The guns are loaded!

[Samson rears up that big right hand, waiting for Peters to rise to his
feet...

...and turns his lights clear out with a right hook!  The impact puts
Peters down to the mat limp as Samson sits down on the chest, raising
his clenched fist for the camera to see.]

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


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Here is your winner... Soup Bone Samson!

[Samson climbs to his feet, glaring at the still-motionless Don Peters
as he slowly walks away, rolling under the ropes to the floor.]

GM:  Soup Bone Samson's on his way over here for some comments.  Soup
Bone, you seem a little... on edge... tonight.

[Samson reaches the podium, placing a big right hand on it.]

SBS:  On edge?  Yeah, yeah, Gordon... I guess you can say I'm feeling a
little on edge.  There's a lot of stuff goin' on 'round these parts
these days, Gordon.  

Lots of guys tryin' to jump on some good men to make a name for
themselves.

[Samson raises his right hand, fingers outstretched.]

SBS:  You got the Russian and his German flunky jumpin' on a good ol'
American boy, Shaw, and a good personal  friend of mine, Vernon Riley. 

[One finger gets lowered with four remaining.]

SBS:  How 'bout that big Japanese sumo giant Mizusawa?  His mouthpiece
says he wants to have some competition... well, you come climb on this
ol' dog.  I'll give ya all ya can handle, big man.

[A second finger lowered.]

SBS:  Shane Taylor... that traitorous punk.  Stabbed his brother in the
back.  The man is family and this kid sold him out for a pile of cash. 
My brother's been dead and gone a long, long while, Shane Taylor, but
I'd pay every damn dollar I'll ever make to get him back one more day. 
Seems like you need to learn something 'bout family the hard way.

[A third finger.]

SBS:  The Southern Syndicate.  Rhodes, Dufresne, Freeman... all of ya
yella dogs jumpin' all over anyone ya can.  The Outlaws... Rough N
Ready... hell, even the damn Bishops.  Yer day is comin', boys, and I
just pray I get the chance 'fore some of the rest of the others do.

[One finger left.]

SBS:  Stevie Scott, don't you think for a second I've forgotten about
you.  I haven't, son.  Not for a second.  I haven't forgotten what you
done to Broussard.  What you done to Rogers.  What you done to my
friend, the Sweet Daddy.  What you done to Vasquez.  This place is
rotting from the inside and sometimes you jus' gotsta cut out the core,
Gordon.  From where I stand, that's Stevie Scott.

And I said it before, Stevie... when we tangle, you may be quicker, you
may be better on the mat, you may be better at a lot of things.  But all
those things that make you better...

[A smirk.]

SBS:  ...mean absolutely nothing when this ol' dog's big right hand is
comin' for ya.  One shot, lights out - new National Champ.  Believe
that.

[A nod to Gordon Myers adds the punctuation as Soup Bone Samson walks
out of view, leaving the AWA's Play By Play man behind.]

GM:  The #4 contender to the National Title has his eyes on the gold. 
Are Stevie Scott's days as the champion numbered?  Fans, let's go back
up to the ring for more action!

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

MC: This contest is set for one fall and a fifteen minute time limit!
Introducing first, in the ring, from Sylvester, Texas... weighing
two-hundred twenty pounds... 

HAL CARWOOD!

[A man just under six feet tall, with a curly black mullet, shaggy
mustache, and nondescript physique raises a fist to the audience.  He
wears a blue-and-white two-tone pair of trunks, and white wrestling
boots.  He seems pretty confident, though the confidence seems to melt a
little bit as a high-pitched piano solo begins to play over the PA.]

BW: Take your pictures now, folks.  Mr. Carwood ain't gonna be with us
much longer.

["The Theme From Halloween's" ominous melody plays over the PA, as a
tall, broad-shouldered man lurches out from the backstage area.  The
wild-eyed man with the stringy black hair and scruffy, ill-shaven face,
patched with grey in spots of his stubble, is James Monosso.  Wearing
the usual "PROPERTY OF STATE MENTAL INSTITUTION" light-green T-Shirt
(which is two sizes too small for him) over his black-and-silver
wrestling singlet, Monosso would almost appear comical to some... his
clothes really don't fit him and he's obviously unkempt.  His nose is
pinkish as it looks like he's battling a cold.  But his eyes give us a
sense of desperate focus as he quickly shuffles to the ring.]

GM: This will be James Monosso's first wrestling match in years, and if
his claims are true, Bucky, he's been homeless for six or seven months
now since his release from a state mental institution.

BW: His 'claims'?  Look at him, Gordo.  His shirt don't fit, his singlet
don't fit, an' he ain't had regular meals.  The man was three hundred
plus in his day; he's down to two-sixty-somethin' and he don't look
healthy.  He's fightin' for his life!  

[Melissa looks a bit off-kilter as she continues.]

MC:  His opponent, heading towards the ring... from The State Of
Confusion... weighing two-hundred sixty-eight pounds...

JAMES MONOSSO!

[Monosso rolls under the bottom rope, lurches to his feet, charges
Carwood, and kicks him square in the sternum with a running boot that
drives the Texan off of his feet and sends him sliding across the
canvas!  The fans boo the prematch cheap shot as the referee calls for
the opening bell.  Monosso removes his shirt, to reveal that his singlet
has the word "MILLENNIUM" across the back for whatever reason.]

GM: He is desperate, we know that much.  But I'm wondering how a
homeless man, even though his career track record is a quietly
impressive one, was able to muster up the kind of legal clout it
apparently took to get him instated into the AWA.

[As Gordon queries the developments that led to Monosso's hiring, said
hiree reaches down, grabs Hal Carwood's bottom lip, and lifts him up off
the mat by it!  Carwood emits a garbled shout of pain and shock at the
tactic, but is abruptly cut off as Monosso rears back and punches down
on his nose!  Carwood's lip is now bleeding slightly as it is knocked
out of Monosso's grasp.]

BW: As you just saw, and as Monosso said, the one thing in life he's
real, real good at is hurtin' people.  REAL good.  I've been around this
man way back in his day, Gordo.  He don't prepare for matches.  He don't
have to prepare for matches.  He just goes an' does his thing, 'cause
his thing works.

[Carwell crawls up as the referee admonishes Monosso.  The two-hundred
twenty-pound Texan rushes Monosso with a double-leg takedown, and gets
him on his back.  Unfortunately, Monosso responds to this by grabbing
his ear in his meaty left fist and twisting.  Then he punches at the
side of Carwell's head repeatedly!  The fans stand and loudly react with
boos and horror to that evil tactic.]

GM: This is disgusting... Monosso is trying to sever the man's ear!

BW: Yup, that's his usual technical counter.

GM: And now biting!  This isn't wrestling at all!

BW: Again, I remind ya, he's fightin' for his life.  Now ain't the time
ta take the high road.  He's gotta win, because after the payments on
the fines he still hasta pay out of each paycheck, he'll need a winner's
cut just ta be able ta eat.

[It is fair to say that the look on Monosso's face as he resumes a
vertical base is 'hungry'.  He hoists up Carwell, whips him off the
ropes, and blasts him with a hard, powerful clothesline to the side of
the head as he runs past!]

GM: An unorthodox clothesline delivery there, hitting the man as he ran
past!  And it was brutal-looking to say the very least.  Hal Carwell is
physically outmatched even in Monosso's weakened state.  Monosso lifting
Carwell again, scooping him up... and an authoritative power slam!  That
should be sufficient right there!  ONE!  TWO!

BW: Okay, Carwell coulda got out of this pretty easy, but the dummy
kicked out.  I mean, what exactly does he think he's gonna be able ta do
to come back?

GM: No one who quits that easily has any place in a wrestling ring,
Bucky.

BW: Yeah, but I didn't say Carwell had any place in a wrasslin' ring
either.

[Monosso punches the prone Carwell several times before leaning on him
with a chokehold.  The referee counts... and James stands up and raises
his hands after the referee counts to three.]

GM: Monosso seems to think the referee was counting a pin on that
chokehold.  The man is totally out of touch with reality!

BW: Always has been.  Always will be.

[The exasperated referee attempts to explain to Monosso that he was
counting for the choke, not for a pin.  Monosso's expression goes from
'relief' to 'bitter rage' in an instant, and he advances upon the
official with a menacing glare.]

GM: OH NO!  This is why he was refused entry into the AWA in the first
place!  No one is safe with this delusional madman in the ring!

BW: An' that's why someone ponied up ta get him inta the AWA.  I wonder
who, an' I wonder who they want him ta take out?

GM: Monosso threatening the official... and CARWOOD FROM BEHIND!

[Hal Carwood, sensing the chance to make history, runs up from behind
Monosso and dropkicks him in the upper back!  This propels James Monosso
chest-first into the nearby turnbuckle!  He bounces back, and Carwood
hooks an arm between his legs and rolls him back into a schoolboy to the
cheers of the crowd!]

GM:  ONE!  TWO!

[The fans grow very loud, as the impossible upset seems to be within
grasp... but Monosso twists his lower body to the side, scissoring
Carwood's arm as his shoulders leave the canvas.  He ends up in a seated
position, with one of Carwood's arms bent back under one of his legs. 
The fans give an 'awwwww' at the pin-that-wasn't.]

GM: Monosso with... is this an armbar counter?

BW: It'd be the first one of his life.

GM: He's... OH GOOD GRIEF!  STOP HIM!

[James, snarling with rage, isn't applying an armbar; he doesn't know
how.  He does, however, know how to grab a finger, twist it, and pull
it.  Carwood screams as Monosso quite deliberatly wrenches his finger
the wrong way... and then bites it for good measure.  The fans boo in
horror at this bitter, vile act.]

GM: HE BROKE HIS FINGER!  FOR WHAT?

BW: I think it makes winning easier when the other guy has broke
fingers.

GM: This is... this is...

BW: A desperate man who'll do ANYTHING.  He told us so himself.  For
weeks.  Why're ya actin' surprised now, Gordo?

[Hal gets up, clutching his hand in pain and shock.  Monosso staks
behind him, towering over his prey by a good eight inches.  He slams a
hard forearm in his lower back, then pounds him across the upper back
with the old classic clubbing forearm.  With Carwood doubled over,
Monosso grabs the seat of his pants and the scruff of his neck, and rams
him through the top and middle turnbuckles into the ringpost!

GM: Carwood into the post, and this is quickly turning into an excellent
case for why James Monosso should not have been allowed into the AWA
after his violent assault of last fall.  Monosso is now going onto the
apron, and I shudder to think of what he may do now!  Carwood is
helpless, leaning on the second turnbuckle!

BW: Oh, this is one of his favorites!  Watch, Gordo!

[Carwood is still up against the ringpost, having hit shoulder-first. 
This means that his head is right next to the post.  Monosso runs all
the way down the apron, and with a wave of boos and a sickening THUD, he
rams his boot into the side of Carwood's head!  His head is crushed
between James's foot and the ringpost, and Hal screams in pain as he
falls backwards, flat on his back in the ring!]

GM: HE KICKED HIS HEAD INTO THE POST!  Absolutely no technique; nothing
but sheer bloody-mindedness!

BW: As I said.  REAL good at hurting people.

GM: Hal Carwood is on dream street!  He's rolling out to what he thinks
is safety, but Monosso is still on the apron!  James Monosso stomps away
on Carwood's body, and Hal Carwood is kicked to the floor!  The referee
has got to get this matchup back into the ring before we see something
terrible!

BW: Terrible being relative.  I mean, any time Monosso is on the floor,
you could have a highlight on your hands.

GM: Highlights aren't worth people's lives, Bucky!

BW: Tell that to the media, daddy.  You obviously don't watch the news,
do ya?

[Groggy and disoriented, Hal Carwood pulls himself to his feet.  He
looks up as he hears something coming... and it proves to be Monosso,
running down the apron to plant a huge boot into his forehead!  Carwood
drops like he's been shot as all two-sixty-eight crashes into his face
with a running stomp, and he lands with a loud, audible SPLAT.  The fans
jeer the brutality.]

GM: The running apron stomp to the head!  That maneuver is far more
lethal than a normal stomp, and most strikes in general, as it lets the
attacker put every ounce of his weight into the boot to the head!  And
there is nowhere for the victim to go but down to the floor!

BW: Classic.  I love that move.

[We can see the referee demanding that Monosso bring the match back into
the ring.  James seems to be mulling it over, and then he remembers that
he has to make sure to win the match, and not get disqualified, so he
can get paid.  He thumps himself in the forehead a couple times to
remind himself, and then goes down off the apron to scoop up Hal
Carwell.  He throws Hal into the ring and slides in after him.]

GM: Whatever ring rust Monosso has, this match clearly designed to give
him lesser competition to work it off, Bucky.  He's forgotten some
rather basic rules.

BW: No, no, that's just him.  He's thirteen eggs short of a dozen.  But
I think that ring rust is gonna vanish real quick when he has to get
desperate to win matches.  He needs to win more than anyone in AWA...
remember that.

GM: Monosso behind Carwood... WHAT A SUPLEX!  BELLY-TO-BACK SUPLEX RIGHT
ONTO HAL CARWOOD'S HEAD!  CARWOOD IS COMPLETELY OUT AFTER THAT!

BW: That's the Descent Into Madness, Gordo.  In Japan they call it a
"backdrop driver", but you can just call it over.

GM:  ONE!  TWO!  THREE!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[Monosso pins Carwood... several times having to slap his own hand away
from reaching for his neck to choke him some more.  He looks up at the
referee and asks if he 'let him win' this time, and the referee just
stares at him with a "THIS guy was a top-level champion?!" expression. 
Melissa Cannon prudently stays out of the ring to give the
announcement.]

MC: THE WINNER OF THE MATCH... JAMES MONOSSO!

[As James rolls off of Hal Carwood's unmoving body, "The Theme From
Halloween" starts back up.  Monosso leers at the booing crowd.]

GM: Let's have a look at the replay.  This is the Descent Into
Madness... and I don't know who would get up from something like that. 
Monosso bring his man head-over-heels onto his head, and that spelled
the end of Mr. Hal Carwood's evening.  Your winner is James Monosso, who
is joining us here at ringside.

[We cut from the replay to see Monosso standing near Bucky and Gordon. 
He has a nasty grin on his face, and Gordon seems uneasy about his close
proximity.]

GM: James Monosso, your first win in a long, long time.

JM: Let me show you something.  Do you see this word?

[Monosso turns around.  The word "MILLENNIUM" is printed on the back of
his singlet in silver lettering.]

GM: Millennium.  I seem to recall from your biographical information
that you were once part of a stable and tag team called the New
Millennium?

JM: Ten years ago.  Nine, actually, when it stopped.  My trunks are nine
years old.  When I got them, the silver was shiny and so was I.  Shiny
with hope.  Do you know what I mean?  Hope.  I actually had hope for my
life.  For the millennium.  For the future.  I had hope, and my friends
and teammates had hope, and then along came life and ruined everything
for everyone!

I spent most of the "new millennium" in a small white padded room with
rats and cockraoches while my so-called 'friends' deserted me one by
one!  Every time, I felt pain... so much pain... I cried, Myers!  I'M A
GROWN MAN AND I CRIED!  But eventually I learned why.  I learned that it
was all because I was stupid enough to hope.  

GM: Hope?!  Hope is the most important thing a person can have!

JM: You idiot.  You're going to suffer and wish you were dead.  That's
what hope gives you!  That's all hope gives you!  And I'm going to do
all the AWA fans a big favor!  I want you all to make sure your kids
watch this show every week.  I already did them the favor of telling
them what happened to Santa Claus; now I'm going to do them the favor of
showing them what happens to people dumb enough to have hope for their
lives!  Evertything ends in futility and death!  EVERYTHING!  And I'm
gonna find everyone in the AWA who holds on to hope, and I'm going to
publicly crush the hope right out of them.  For all the kids out there! 
The kids who are younger than my wrestling trunks, the kids you all lie
to every day, saying 'it'll be alright in the end', or 'the good guys
win in the end'... NO!  IN THE END YOU DIE, AND BEFORE THAT LIFE GRINDS
YOU TO A MISERABLE PILE OF GRISTLE AND BONE!

GM: This is sick!  Get him out of here!

JM: I'm doing them a favor, Myers!  I'm doing all of them a favor!  And
you'd have to be INSANE to think otherwise!

[Monosso exits, still ranting at the booing fans.  Gordon Myers looks
horrified, shaking his head sadly as Bucky Wilde just shrugs.]

BW: James Monosso, what a wacky character.

GM: We cannot let that man have a microphone again.  This is too much! 
Crushing the hope out of children?!

BW: And he's for hire.  Don't forget that.  How much would someone play
to destroy a man's hope?

GM: Don't... that's... I have no words for this!  Fans, we'll be back
after this!

[With a horrified Gordon Myers looking on, we fade to black...

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

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

[He whips open the backpack and produces...

...a JUAN VASQUEZ BOBBLEHEAD!]

"Whoa!"

"Wow!"

"That rocks!"

"I want one... now!"

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

...until a fifth kid walks up.]

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

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

...a CITY JACK BOBBLEHEAD!]

"WHOA!"

"WOWER!"

"THAT ROCKS MORE!"

"I WANT ONE... NOW!"

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

...and then back up to live action where Melissa Cannon has the mic,
ready to announce the next match.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit.  Already in the ring at this time... hailing from Austin,
Texas; and weighing in at 245 pounds... Alex McMichael!

[Slight face pop as young Alex McMichael holds up a clenched fist,
acknowledging the fans.]

MC:  And his opponent...

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

GM: Matsui told us at the Stampede Cup that his client was celebrating
Christmas with family and friends back home, but Mizusawa would make a
surprise appearance on Night 2 to take on "Stars and Stripes" Clayton
Shaw.

BW: I hope Mizusawa still managed to have that vacation this past
month for this McMichael kid's sake; maybe he'd be in a better mood.

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

He is MAMMOTH... MIZUSAWA!

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

BW: Of course, Gordo, Louis Matsui also promised an announcement with
regards to the shot MAMMOTH Mizusawa won in the Steal the Spotlight
match at SuperClash. I wonder who these two have their sights set on.

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

Reaching the ringside area, MAMMOTH Mizusawa grabs the top rope and
pulls himself onto the ring apron, then steps over the ropes and into
the ring. He heads to his corner, where he is joined by Matsui, who
has climbed onto the ring apron but staying on the outside. As the
music starts to fade, he is giving some instructions to Mizusawa,
before climbing back down to the ringside area and leaving his charge
in the ring to await the start of the match.]

GM:  There's the bell and Alex McMichael takes it to the giant with a
flurry of punches and kicks. Mizusawa blocks most of it, but McMichael
does manage to land a couple of punches and...


THWAAACK!!!


GM: A stiff kick to the big man's side!

BW: Not bad, kid, but MAMMOTH Mizusawa's taken much harder beatings
than that and still walked away barely hurting.

GM: Alex McMichael goes to the ropes and bounces back with a kick
to... No! Mizusawa catches McMichael's foot.

THWAAAAAACKKK!!!!!!

[Face pop!]

GM: A _MASSIVE_ leaping head kick that has the giant dazed and stumbling
to one knee.

[Alex McMichael hits the ropes once again, adding to his momentum as
he comes charging towards MAMMOTH Mizusawa, who is on bended knee.
McMichael uses the big man's own knee as a springboard as he...

SMAAAAAAAAACKKKKKK!!!!!!!!

Lands a Shining Wizard!]

BW: I believe this kid has what they call educated feet, Gordo.

GM: Well, those feet have leveled the big man. And a knee to the ribs
does not help, Bucky.

[Having taken out Mizusawa's vertical base, McMichael seems at a loss
as to what to do. He decides to wrap his leg around Mizusawa's and
drops to the mat, applying a step-over toe hold. He reaches with his
arms and tries to link his hands around Mizusawa's chin.]

GM: And now McMichael has the STF locked on, Bucky!

BW: But just barely, Gordo; MAMMOTH Mizusawa is so big, look at how
much the kid's fingers are stretching just to maintain the hold.

[The giant lets out a loud roar, both of pain, but also of effort as
he forces himself free of the hold. The toe hold seems to have taken a
toll as Mizusawa rolls towards the ropes and uses them to pull himself
up. Realizing that the big man is recovering, McMichael comes charging
in with a running knee to Mizusawa's back.]

GM: Mizusawa hanging on to the second rope... And here comes Alex
McMichael with a vertical splash that takes him clean out of the ring.

[McMichael lands on his feet on the outside and holds up his hands in
the air to cheers from the crowd.]

BW: This kid is celebrating as if he's already won the match.

GM: You're right, Bucky. McMichael's inexperience showing through
here, with this premature showboating... And here comes Louis Matsui!

[But referee Mike Meekly scrambles out of the ring to stop Matsui.
Alex McMichael spots the manager and taunts him. The referee has to
physically hold Matsui back.]

BW: Meanwhile, in the ring, MAMMOTH Mizusawa is back on his feet.

GM: The giant shaking off the cobwebs, while out on the floor his
manager and McMichael are still jawjacking.

[Indeed, Louis Matsui is shouting at Alex McMichael, while shaking his
fist at him. McMichael waves him off cockily, and after posing once
more for the fans, turns around...

And walks right into MAMMOTH Mizusawa's hands.]

BW: Mizusawa just leaned over the top rope and wrapped his massive
mittens around Alex McMichael's head. He looks like he could just
squeeze and crack this kid's skull open, Gordo!

GM: The kid is struggling, but Mizusawa is applying pressure and it
doesn't look like he is about to let go anytime soon.

[The referee is back in the ring and administering the ten count.]


ONE!


TWO!


BW: It's McMichael's turn to scream in pain...


THREE!


FOUR!


FIVE


GM: McMichael is starting to fade, Bucky.


SIX!


SEVEN!


EIGHT!


[Holy crap pop!]

GM: MAMMOTH Mizusawa just picked Alex McMichael up by his head and
brought him back into the ring, Bucky!

BW: What a show of strength, but we already know that.

[Mizusawa moves his hands so that he has them wrapped around
McMichael's throat instead. He picks McMichael up and plants him with
a two-handed chokeslam.]

BW: TUSK CRUSHERRR!!!

GM: Cover! No! Mizusawa has another idea as he pulls Alex McMichael
back to his feet...

BW: You know what's coming, don't you?

[MAMMOTH Mizusawa hoists the nearly lifeless McMichael up in a
military press and brings him crashing back down to the canvas.]

BW: MAMMOTH SLAM! MAMMOTH SLAM!

GM: Cover! ONE! TWO!!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM:  THREE!!!

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

[The crowd jeers the announcement as Mizusawa has his arm raised in
victory. Louis Matsui climbs into the ring to celebrate with his
charge. He then walks over to McMichael, looking down on his
barely-moving body.]

GM: Oh, leave him alone, Louis!

BW: What? Maybe he's just checking to see if the kid is alright...

GM: Yeah right! So Mizusawa can make sure he isn't? We've seen what
they do before.

[The smiling Matsui bends down and says something to McMichael. He
then takes McMichael by the arm and starts to pull the young man up.
MAMMOTH Mizusawa comes over and starts to help, taking McMichael's
other arm.]

GM: No! No!! NO!!! Leave the kid alone! Come on!

[Matsui and Mizusawa have Alex McMichael back on his feet, barely...

And they raise his arms. The fans aren't sure whether to cheer. Louis
Matsui lets go of McMichael's arm and gives him a pat on the back,
then exits the ring. After making sure the young man can stand on his
own, Mizusawa gives him a pat on the back of his own and follows his
manager.]

GM: What... What was that?

BW: Beats me, Gordo. Why don't you ask Mr. Matsui yourself?

[Louis Matsui walks over to the announce position, where Gordon Myers
rises, mic in hand.]

GM: Louis, what did we just see happen?

LM: Gordon, Gordon, Gordon, ye of little faith... When my client and I
first arrived here in the American Wrestling Alliance, what did I tell
all of you my client was all about?

GM: Um...

LM: Competition, that's what. Above all else, my client and I value
good competition, and when we get that, we are not afraid to
acknowledge our worthy opponents. The kid showed that he understood
the spirit of competition and so we give him due props.

GM: But it was your dis-

LM: _NOW_ speaking of competition, it is time I announce my client's
decision with regards to the shot he won in the Steal the Spotlight
match at SuperClash. As thin as the competition might be here, there
are a few names that would make for a stellar match, as I am sure the
AWA suits will agree. As third in line to challenge for the National
Title, we _COULD_ challenge Raphael Rhodes...

[BOOOOOO!!!]

LM: And continue to advance MAMMOTH Mizusawa up the rankings. Or how
about the number one contender, Juan Vasquez?

[MASSIVE FACE POP!!!]

LM: We could destroy him, remove the thorn from the Southern Syndicate's
side for good and collect the bounty on his head. Or, maybe, we could
save the effort and go straight for the National Champion himself!

[Mixed pop!]

LM: Yes, the match will be non-title, as per the Steal the Spotlight
stipulation, but a strong showing against Stevie Scott will make for a
strong case for MAMMOTH Mizusawa to become the number one contender
for the title. I mean, Ben Waterson has been looking a little bit
strung-up lately, so maybe I can help him ease off some of that
pressure.

BW: Those are all strong candidates, Louis, but which one will you pick?

LM: Who says anything about picking? The Steal the Spotlight victory
means that my client can request for _ANY_ non-title match against
_ANYONE_ so, maybe, we pick all three in a four-way match? Or maybe a
triangle match for the number one contendership? Or how about Vasquez
face Mizusawa in a handicap match with a partner of our choosing? Or
maybe Mizusawa teams up with Vasquez and takes out the Southern
Syndicate? The question is, what do the fans really want?

[A shot of the fans in the WKIK Studio. Most are cheering Vasquez's
name, but a small group of fans are chanting "Beat Stevie Scott! Beat
Stevie Scott!" Louis Matsui looks on beaming.]

LM: Well, Bucky, I guess the fans have spoken... Juan Vasquez...

[BLOW-THE-RAFTERS FACE POP!]

LM: MAMMOTH Mizusawa will see you in the ring... Or not...

[MASSIVE ROUND OF BOOS!]

LM: But when... And how? All in due time, my friends, all in due time.
We know what match we want, but how about we wait till next time
before I announce the type of match Juan Vasquez will face my client
in? We'll see you next week.

[More jeers as Louis Matsui shakes the hand of Bucky Wilde, then leads
MAMMOTH Mizusawa to the back.]

GM:  Juan Vasquez versus... MAMMOTH Mizusawa?  Good grief.  Fans, let's
go back up to Melissa for more action!

[Cut to the ring where Melissa is standing.]

MC:  The following match is a tag team contest scheduled for one fall
with a twenty minute time limit.  Introducing first... already in the
ring at this time... Steve Sawyer and Allan Coates!

[Sawyer is a thin young man who hops up to the middle rope at the
announcement of his name.  Coates, a surly looking African American man,
stands a few feet away nodding his head.]

MC:  And their opponents...

["Rock Superstar" by Cypress Hill kicks in to a big explosion of jeers
from the crowd.]

MC:  Accompanied to the ring by Kandi Kane... they are the team of
"Superstar" Kevin Slater and "Scorchin" Shane Taylor!

[The jeers pick up as Kandi Kane walks through the curtain first, clad
in a mini-skirt that's just a bit too short.  Her white tank top reveals
her ample assets as well as she clings to a black purse.  Holding her
arms apart, she stands for a moment alone before her team joins her in
the aisle.]

GM:  And here comes that Benedict Arnold now.

[A big grin on his face, Shane Taylor dips down and under the arm of the
lovely Ms. Kane.  He dips her over, nuzzling her neck to the jeers of
the crowd as Kevin Slater struts from the locker room area, a large gold
chain hanging around his neck.]

GM:  The Man With The Money, Bucky.

BW:  Kevin Slater IS The Man With The Money - and he proved it yet again
when he gave Shane Taylor a very nice payoff to betray his older
brother, Bobby Taylor.  And you know what, Gordo?  Everyone's saying
Shane Taylor stabbed his brother in the back but I talked to Bobby
Taylor that night - I looked into his eyes - Shane stabbed him right in
the heart, daddy.

GM:  I have no doubt you're right on that one.  We've heard absolutely
nothing from Bobby Taylor since then but we heard plenty from Shane on
Night Two of the Stampede Cup.

[Reaching the ring, Kandi takes her place at ringside as Shane rolls
under the bottom rope while Kevin Slater slingshots over the ropes into
the ring...

...and charges across, driving a boot into the side of Allan Coates!]

GM:  There's the bell and we're already off and running.

[Slater promptly spins sideways, cracking Coates across the pectorals
with a thunderous chop.]

GM:  Ohh!  Like him or not, Kevin Slater is one of the hardest hitters
in pro wrestling today.  

BW:  Always has been.  All those chops, forearms, and elbows - Kevin
Slater's the master of them all.

GM:  Slater's got him backed down in the corner...

[And a second big chop connects, causing Coates to stumble out of the
corner, falling down to a knee.  Grabbing the veteran by the head,
Slater throws his right forearm into the side of Coates' head once,
twice, three times before throwing him down to the mat...

...and breaking into a strut.]

GM:  And this is where you see the difference in Kevin Slater now and
Kevin Slater years ago.  Slater from the late 90s was an offensive
machine - all business in there but always on the go.  Now?  He puts
someone down and pauses to strut.

BW:  Hey, his body broke down from all those years of being an
"offensive machine."  And the entire world knows all about his demons. 
Maybe this is how he gets the better of him.

[Slater drops a few stomps on Coates before dragging him up into a front
facelock, hauling him back to the corner where he slaps the hand of
Shane Taylor.]

GM:  And in comes Shane Taylor, hopping up to the middle rope...

[And leaps off, smashing his elbow down on the back of Coates, knocking
him down to the mat.]

GM:  Shane Taylor, on the other hand, is enjoying his first stint in the
big leagues of pro wrestling.  He has been a part of the business for a
long while but he has never managed to make it to the big leagues until
now.

BW:  Which explains why he was so willing and eager to take Slater's
money.

GM:  Perhaps.

[A few stomps to the head and neck of Oates causes the veteran to roll
his upper body under the bottom rope where the referee steps in, forcing
Taylor back...

...which allows Kandi Kane to act, wrapping her hands around Coates'
throat and pulling down hard with both arms!]

GM:  Oh, come on!  

BW:  She's not just good looks and charm out there, daddy.

GM:  I can see that.

[After a bit, she lets go, backing away and pleading innocence as the
referee eyes her warily.  Shane Taylor is immediately on the attack
though, delivering a few more kicks to the body, forcing Coates to roll
clear to the floor.]

GM:  Ohh... down to the floor he goes...

[Shane Taylor steps out to the apron, sizing up the downed Coates...

...and drops off with a double axehandle to the back of the head,
knocking Coates down to the barely-covered floor.  Taylor quickly
springs up, arms spread wide as a nearby Kandi Kane claps happily.]

GM:  Allan Coates down on the floor...

[Taylor drags him off the mat by the tights, shoving him under the ropes
as he scampers up on the apron.  He leans over, stepping through the
ropes...

...and gets CAUGHT with an uppercut on the chin!]

GM:  Ohh!  Coates caught him!  He caught him with an uppercut!

[The desperation punch stuns Shane Taylor, giving Allan Coates enough
time to crawl across the ring, and slap the hand of his tag team partner
which brings Steve Sawyer charging in, connecting with a running
dropkick that knocks Taylor through the ropes to the floor!]

GM:  Ohh!  Sawyer caught him there!

[Pumping a fist, Sawyer brings the crowd to their feet before charging
to the perpendicular ropes...

...and backsprings off them, throwing himself over the top with a
crossbody that wipes out Shane Taylor!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

[A fired-up Steve Sawyer fires Taylor off the mats into the ring before
stepping up on the apron, grabbing the top rope with both hands.]

GM:  Look out here...

[Sawyer leaps into the air, springboarding off the top...

...and taking Taylor down with a crossbody!]

GM:  SPRINGBOARD CROSSBODY BLOCK!!!

[Sawyer hooks both legs as the referee dives down to count.]

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

[Kevin Slater stops short, having almost gotten to his partner to break
up the count...

...and gets caught squarely on the chin with a dropkick!]

GM:  Ohhh!  

[Sawyer pops up off the mat, grabbing Slater by the hair...

...and HURLING him over the ropes, sending him crashing down to the
floor!]

GM:  OUT GOES SLATER!!

[Sawyer spins around, yanking Taylor off the mat.]

GM:  Right hand!  Another right!  A third right!

[And with a pump of his fist, Sawyer goes into a 360 spin...

...and FLATTENS Taylor with a discus clothesline!]

GM:  Good grief!  Where did this kid come from?!

[With Taylor down, Sawyer starts to go for a cover...

...but Kandi Kane hops up on the apron, jumping up and down and shouting
at the referee!]

GM:  Oh, come on!  Get her down from there!

[The referee tries to do exactly that, shouting at Ms. Kane while a
surprised Steve Sawyer stands, hands on hips, watching...

...and completely misses Shane Taylor as he slips a familiar studded
black glove over his fist.]

GM:  Look out!  Kid, look out!

[Sawyer turns around, grabbing Taylor by the hair...

...and gets POPPED on the chin with the black leather glove!]

GM:  OHHHH!

BW:  Black Beauty strikes again!

[The KO punch levels Sawyer, allowing Taylor to apply a cover as Kandi
points out the lateral press to the referee who drops down to count.]

GM:  One!  Two!  And three.  Unbelievable.


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Here are your winners... Kevin Slater and Shane Taylor!

[Taylor rolls out of the ring, quickly removing the glove and tucking it
into the cleavage of an approaching Kandi Kane while Kevin Slater struts
down the ring apron to join them.]

GM:  Slater and Taylor with a victory here... their first as a tag
team... and boy, do they look proud of themselves!  

[They certainly do, falling into a group embrace as they stagger towards
the locker room.]

GM:  A big win here for Slater and Taylor... and we've got to take a
break.  We'll be right back, fans!

[Hold on a shot of the triumphant Slater, Taylor, and Kane for a moment
before fading to black...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And now, it can be yours!"

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

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

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

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

GM:  Welcome back, fans.  Well, we've talked a lot about the Stampede
Cup so far tonight but at this time, please welcome the unit that made
the biggest impact on the Stampede Cup tournament weekend in Laredo,
Texas - the Southern Syndicate!

["Gimme Back My Bullets" by Lynyrd Skynyrd kicks in to a huge explosion
of jeers from the AWA faithful.

First, the champ.  "Hotshot" Stevie Scott walks out alongside Waterson,
decked out in a gray Armani suit sans tie and a big, fat STEVIEGRIN~!
The golden belt that belongs to the AWA National Champion rests on his
left shoulder as he confidently makes his way to the table, leading his
newest group of compadres.

Raphael Rhodes walks out next as Waterson hangs back a little to talk to
the brash young Briton.  He doesn't appear too happy based off the scowl
on his face, and he seems a little out of place sporting a black
T-shirt, black leather jacket, and jeans.  Waterson seems to be
whispering something to Rhodes as they walk over to the table.

Next is "Subzero" Adrian Freeman, his half of the tag titles worn
proudly around his waist.  He's decked out in a dress shirt and pants,
somewhat unusual for the Australian.  He greets the assorted insults
from the crowd with a smug grin and a crooked finger pointing at his
belt, then joins his allies at the announce table.

Freeman's partner trails behind, having just finished pocketing a
hand-written note from a young blonde near the entrance portal -
presumably her phone number.  "Ladykiller" Calisto Dufresne is clad in a
pair of black dress slacks and a green dress shirt tucked in at the
waist, both items heavily starched.  His black dress shoes shine under
the studio lights.  His blonde hair hangs past his shoulders and a
confident smirk remains plastered on his face.  His National Tag Team
Title hangs over his left shoulder.  Myers awaits the arrival of each
member of the Southern Syndicate and allows the boos to die down
somewhat before beginning.]

GM:  Welcome, gentlemen.

ATTSBW:  Gordon Myers, the pleasure and honor is all yours.  You talk
about making an impact on the Stampede Cup, Gordon?  Well - THIS - is
impact.  This is the personification of the word impact.  When you look
up impact in the dictionary, you see the greatest wrestler in the world,
Stevie Scott, winning the AWA National Title at Death Or Glory.  You see
Raphael Rhodes caving in Juan Vasquez' skull with a steel chair!  And
you see our newest members, the AWA National Tag Team Champions, putting
City Jack on ice FOREVER before winning the titles... AND the Cup!

THIS... IS... PROFESSIONAL... WRESTLING... AT... ITS.... FINEST!

[Waterson cackles as he backs away, giving the mic to the National
Champion.  He then walks over to Rhodes, and the two have a whispered
discussion as Stevie begins to speak.]

HSS:  You heard the man, Myers.  When we say finest, we MEAN finest.
Whether it's winning championships in the middle of an AWA ring...
whether it's hanging out into all hours of the night with the finest
ladies in Texas and beyond... whether it's hopping into a stretch
limousine stocked with the best champagne money can by, and ride that to
the airport to climb aboard our luxury private jet to fly to whatever
destination we feel like that day...we _always_ do it first class.

We've had to tweak and adjust along the way.  Gary Bright was a nice
person to help us get things off the ground, but when it became clear
that muscle-bound oaf was more concerned with his biceps than his
record, he had to be sent packing.  We had to use the Bishop Boys as
pawns to get us where we needed to be, an alliance that was only planned
as temporary on our end as we waited for the _best_ to join our ranks.

It took time, Gordon Myers.  It took time to find the right fits for
what we want as part of this elite group.  But then opportunity
presented itself with Raphael Rhodes, and we made the most of it. 
Opportunity again presented itself with the National Tag Team champions
and again, we once again made the most of it.

GM:  Mr. Scott, may I ask... the last time you were in the same ring
with Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman, they were abandoning you
because you gave up in the WarGames in the summer of 2008.  How on Earth
did this-

[Waterson interrupts.]

ATTSBW:  It took a lot of discussions, Myers, but in the end, time - and
a lot of money - heals all wounds!

[All the members of the Southern Syndicate laugh heartily.]

ATTSBW:  We said we were looking for people to impress us.  We said we
were looking for people to step up and show us how badly they wanted it.
 A fireball to the eye?  Yeah, that gets you close.  But it was the
weekend of the Cup before we knew for sure.  And when we saw what we
needed to see, Stevie had no problem with letting things go.  Right,
champ?

HSS: Hey, you gotta remember, things happen in this business.  Eighteen
months can make a lot of difference.  Bygones can be bygones when you
have men..._real_ men...uniting around a common goal and a common
purpose.

Before, our alliance had no real purpose.  No true direction.  No
driving force or motivating factor.  So when things went bad?  The
alliance fell apart.

But now?  Now, we're all on the same page.  We have a common goal, a
mutual purpose, Gordon Myers.

[Stevie grins and pats the golden faceplate of his AWA National Title.]

HSS:  And a lot of it has to do with gold.

GM: But given what happened before, how do you know that these two men
can be trusted?

HSS: That's what you want to know, Myers?  Can I put my trust in Calisto
Dufresne and Adrian Freeman after what went down between us nearly two
years ago?

[Stevie pauses, looking first at Freeman and then at Dufresne, holding
his glare at Calisto just a little bit longer, before turning back to
face the camera.]

HSS: First off, Gordon Myers, Stevie Scott has a long memory.  What
happened in that ring many months ago, having my eye nearly put out and
having my teammates abandon me...

[Stevie's voice steadily reached a cresendo as he delivered those
sentences.  But with the pause, he slows himself down and lowers his
voice to continue.]

HSS:  It still drives me today.  It's made me who I am, and trust me
Myers...I will NEVER forget it.  Never.

[Another pause, definitely of the dramatic variety.]

HSS:  However, don't think that we haven't already talked about it. 
Adrian, Calisto, Ben and myself...we've come to an understanding and an
arrangement that suits us each individually and collectively so well,
that any one of us would be crazy to screw it up.

These men, they understand that the Stevie Scott of today...the one who
is the AWA National Champion...is not like the goof-off screw-up they
teamed with 18 months ago.  They know that when they become my
associates _now_, that it's an entirely different ball game.  The
paydays are better, the parties are hotter, the transportation from city
to city is second to none.

So if what you're getting at, Myers, is that the Southern Syndicate as
it stands before you today is nothing more than a house of cards,
waiting for one strong breeze to knock it all over...

[Steviesmirk~!]

HSS:  You'd need to rethink your position.  Because the Southern
Syndicate?  We've NEVER been stronger.

GM:  Adrian Freeman, maybe you can explain how all this happened...

AF: Now, I could stand up here and pretend that losing to those two
nobodies in the first round of the Stampede Cup was all a part of our
master plan, but I am a scrupulously honest person.  We were caught off
guard by Fitzgerald and Lawson, and one fast count later we were out of
the tournament.  We knew that we needed to get back in, or else some
travesty like Rough 'N' Ready winning might happen.  So we approached
the smartest man in the business, a mastermind, Ben Waterson.

And he told us exactly what we needed to know.  See, Callisto and I
don't have time to keep up with all the fossils that drift in and out of
the AWA.  But Ben Waterson's mind is like a steel trap.  He knows
everyone in this business and their weaknesses.  And when there was that
draw, it gave us an opening.  So he told us that all we needed to do was
brain those two idiots, and in their drunken and concussed minds they
would want to get back at us so bad they would beg and plead for us to
be let back in.

Well, it worked out exactly like Ben said.  After we were back in, all
we needed to do was what came naturally to us, and be the best tag team
in the world.  After that we figured hey, why not make this partnership
long-term?  That briefcase upside Cletus Lee's skull was the ink on the
papers.

GM:  But the Bishop Boys--

[Dufresne cuts him off with a laugh of derision.]

CD: Seriously, Gordo?  The Bishop Boys?  You _were_ listening when Ben
said he was looking for the _best,_ right?  There's only one team in the
world that can stake a claim to that, and you're staring at 'em right
here.  We've got the gold that proves it, we've got a million bucks that
proves it and most importantly...

[Dufresne waves a hand around at his fellow Southern Syndicate members.]

CD ...we've got the colleagues that prove it.  The Bishop Boys - much
like my good friend City Jack - were blind.

[A smirk plays across his face as the boos rain down at the mere mention
of the beloved City Jack.]

CD: Blind to the fact that Ben Waterson, Stevie Scott and Raphael Rhodes
would never surround themselves with three inbreds who couldn't see this
coming from a mile away.  Maybe if you boys had been a little less
trustworthy, these men would've accepted you.  If you would've doubted
what Ben had to say and questioned it, maybe they would've seen that you
had the foresight and the killer instinct needed to be part of such an
elite group and to reach the heights of this business.  But, no...

[Dufresne slowly shakes his head.]

CD: Instead, you three hillbillies bought the entire thing, hook, line
and sinker.  And while Adrian and I are out jet-setting all over the
globe, a million dollars richer... you boys can sit in your trailers
drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon knowing that you were too damn _stupid_ to be
a part of this group.

GM:  Mr. Rhodes, your thoughts on all this?

RR: The AWA thought they really got somethin' over on us, when they
threw the Keenings at me brother and I.  They thought they could throw
what you Yanks call a "curveball" at us.  Well, yeah, you may have
gotten Simon and meself out, but you ain't figured out that we had the
bases covered, did you?  Not until it was too late to stop what
happened.

[Rhodes' scowl doesn't leave his face as he glares into the camera
lens.]

RR: But let me make one thing clear to you two has-been poofs.  You
think because you played it on the so-called straight and narrow all
this time, that means anythin'?  Let me ask you, Michael Keening... what
have you ever done worth mentionin' in wrestlin'?  Let me ask you, Jason
Keening... you seen what I did to Juan Vasquez, didn't you?  He ain't
ever been the same since he got into that cage with me.  If you want to
mess with me... my brother... and the Southern Syndicate?  You want to
try and make one last run off the backs of what me and Simon are doin'?

[Rhodes mimes breaking something with his hands.]

RR: You better get real nice and friendly with the nurses at your local
hospital, because you're goin' there for a long time.

[Rhodes turns away from the microphone and turns his back to the
camera.]

GM:  Mr. Waterson, you certainly seem to have the world at your feet.

ATTSBW:  Our feet, Myers.  OUR feet.  The Southern Syndicate is, without
a doubt, the most feared and successful unit in the history of the
business.  You can keep your Redemption, your Pride, your Widow
Makers... even those OTHER Syndicate pretenders because when you think
success, you think Southern Syndicate without a doubt.  And I'll give
you a scoop, Myers...

...it only gets better from here.

[Another group chuckle.]

ATTSBW:  Consider.  Yourselves.  Warned.

[And with that, the entire unit makes their exit in unison.]

GM:  The Southern Syndicate... united in purpose and focus... and is
there anything more frightening to the rest of the AWA.  Bucky, let's go
backstage where I understand Jason Dane has caught up with Eric Preston
who will be competing later tonight...

[Cut to Jason Dane in the backside area, standing next to Eric Preston.]

JD: Hello guys, Jason Dane in the back here with Eric Preston, and Eric,
as of this afternoon you haven't been informed of your opponent, is that
correct?

EP: Yessir, I haven't heard anything all day about it. Maybe it's
something they do with new guys, maybe it's the way things happen around
here, but I'm not going to let it get to me, Jason. I'm gonna worry
about what I do in the ring, and let the rest take care of itself. 

JD: Well, ten minutes ago I was given a sheet of paper that told who you
were going to be across the ring from. Do you mind if I reveal who it is
on the air, Eric?

EP: Not at all. We're in the competition business, my friend, being
surprised is part of the job.

[Jason smiles and nods his head.]

JD: Very well then. Your opponent tonight, Eric Preston, in your second
match in the AWA... is Juan Vasquez.

[The crowd reacts with a huge cheer as Preston's head snaps back and his
eyes get wide.]

EP: WHAT?!

JD: You heard correctly, Eric, you've got Vasquez tonight.

EP: Yeah, I just- jeez, I mean... you know, that's- 

[Preston stops himself from babbling and scratches his head, then
strokes the place where his beard would be.]

EP: Juan Vasquez. Damn.

[Preston walks out of the picture as Dane closes up.]

JD: Sounds like we're going to see someone baptized by fire tonight,
guys.  Melissa, let's go back to you!

[We fade back to the ring where Melissa is ready to go.]

MC: The following tag team contest is set for one fall. Introducing
first, to my left, at a combined weight of 485 pounds, the team of
Jackson Andrews and Jefferson Thomas!

[Two black men, one dressed in white trunks and kneepads, the other
dressed in black tights, raise their arms above their heads.]

GM: And we are about to see the top contenders for the AWA National tag
team titles in action.

BW: All aboard the Geriatric Express!

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

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

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

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

GM: These two men fell short of claiming the Cup, but you can bet they
are still hot on the trail of the reigning tag team champions, Callisto
Dufresne and Adrian Freeman.

BW: If by hot on the trail, you mean trailing behind them but never
going to catch them, you got that right. How can anyone think these two
old timers could possibly beat the more youthful, more energetic
Dufresne and Freeman?

GM: Rough N Ready were close to taking the victory in that semifinal
match for the Cup, Gordon. They are certainly capable of claiming the
tag titles in the future.

BW: Well, you know what they say about close, Gordon... bottom line is
Dufresne and Freeman are the best tag team in wrestling today and these
two are just trying to cling to past glory... or what little glory they
had.

[The bell has sounded and Cooper elects to start for his team.]

GM: We are underway with Dave Cooper starting things off against Jackson
Andrews.

BW: Isn't the referee supposed to check Cooper out?

GM: For what? You think he'd be hiding a foreign object?

BW: Because you better check his pacemaker to make sure it's working.

GM: Stop that, Bucky. Cooper and Andrews locking up and it's a side
headlock being applied by Cooper.

BW: Yeah, slow the pace down... it just proves Cooper can't keep pace
with the younger talent here.

GM: Hardly, Bucky... Cooper and Somers have more than proven themselves
here in AWA... Andrews shoving Cooper into the ropes, but Cooper comes
off and a quick clothesline connects.

BW: He's going after Andrews again...dragging him up.. watch the hair,
ref!

GM: He's not grabbing any hair... Cooper with a scoop slam and now off
the ropes... but an elbowdrop misses.

BW: That's what I'm talking about... can't keep pace with the younger
talent. And look at Andrews stomp away.

GM: Andrews with the upper hand and he brings Cooper up... tries for a
vertical suplex, but it's blocked.

BW: The pacemaker must be weighing Cooper down.

GM: Bucky, stop it... Andrews can't get Cooper up and Cooper is going to
reverse that suplex!

BW: You know, a pacemaker ought to be considered a foreign object...
check him, ref!

GM: Bucky, that's enough! Cooper coming off the ropes and connects with
a kneedrop to the skull! He's now going to the corner...

BW: Already winded, old man?

GM: Tag is made to Eric Matthew Somers...

BW: One old man to another.

GM: [sighing] Somers stepping into the ring... Andrews back pedalling as
Somers advances... and he's not wasting any time!

BW: He's hammering away on him in the corner! Get in there, ref... do
your job!

GM: Maybe you should do his job for him?

BW: I'm needed here! I'm an important part of this broadcast!

GM: Sometimes I wonder about your importance... Somers finally pulls
Andrews out... now presses him overhead and slams him to the canvas with
authority!

BW: Andrews to the corner... tagging in Thomas.

GM: Thomas rushing Somers... he pummels away at Somers' midsection, but
those shots aren't having much effect.

BW: Well, at least he's not targeting the head.

GM: I'm afraid to ask why that's a good thing, Bucky.

BW: Somers is a lunatic, so of course you can't affect him by hitting
his head... he never uses it!

GM: And that's why I was afraid to ask... Somers back up into the ropes
and Thomas trying to whip him... but Somers is grabbing the top strand.

BW: Somers pulls him forward! That's a choke, ref!

GM: Somers has Thomas goozled around the throat... chokeslam with
authority!

BW: Why didn't the referee disqualify him for that choke?

GM: I'll remember that the next time Dufresne and Freeman are choking
somebody.

BW: They don't choke anybody. They give people throat massages.

GM: Uh huh, right... Somers now picking Thomas off the canvas... Andrews
coming into the ring and going after Somers!

BW: That's it... double team him and the big man is in trouble.

GM: Except that big man has a tag team partner and here he comes! Dave
Cooper coming into the ring and going after Andrews... sends him into
the ropes and a roaring elbow takes him down!

BW: Andrews rolls under the ropes... and Somers is cocking his fist back
as he holds Thomas back... heart punch!

GM: The heart punch connects and Thomas is down... Cooper back to the
apron and he gets the legal tag.

BW: To the second rope he goes... hasn't the five count expired?

GM: Not even close... Somers with the slam and Cooper with the kneedrop!
Rough Housing!

[Cooper makes the cover and the three count, as they say, is academic.]

GM: And it's Rough N Ready claiming a victory tonight... I'm sure they
look forward to the day they will get Dufresne and Freeman back in the
ring.

BW: Yeah, well, beating the champs will be a lot tougher than beating
Andrews and Thomas... not that Rough N Ready don't already know that
after the Cup.

[Cooper and Somers exit the ring and they join Sarah Sharpe in heading
over to the broadcast position.]

GM: And we are now joined by the top contenders to the tag team
titles... when can we expect that title match to take place?

SS: Gordon, your guess is as good as mine. Now that Dufresne and Freeman
have Ben Waterson working for them, I'm assuming he's going to use every
piece of red tape he can to make it that much harder for the match to
take place. Just like he wants to stage a protest every time Stephen
Ross decides it's time to lay the law down.

BW: Hey, he manages the National champion, the National tag team
champions and he shares my initials! I say he's got a right to protest
whatever he wants!

SS: And I say it would be a good idea to tape your mouth shut so we
don't have to hear you talk, Bucky, but I'm not going to lose sleep over
that, unlike how Waterson appears to lose sleep over any ruling Ross and
the championship committee make. The fact is, we have earned that title
shot, but more importantly, we're fed up with Waterson and his Southern
Syndicate causing so much trouble here in AWA. It's long overdue for
some of us to respond and put them in check.

BW: And how do you expect to do that? He's got four men on his side...
there's just the two old geezers you represent!

[Somers steps forward, a glare on his face, and that causes Bucky to
back up a step.]

EMS: Bucky... regardless of how many years I've logged, slapping your
mouth shut doesn't take much effort.

[That causes Bucky to back up another step.]

EMS: But... you have a point. Four against two isn't exactly good odds,
is it? Even if those four have made a career out of winning matches by
swinging anything that isn't nailed to the floor. Regardless, we know
what we are up against and we don't plan to go into any battles with the
Southern Syndicate short handed... although I do worry if others may be
trying to do that.

GM: So are you saying you want to form a counter to the Southern
Syndicate? Perhaps with Sarah coordinating things?

SS: Gordon, I wouldn't say I'd be coordinating anything... just that it
will be a good idea for some of us to start looking out for each other.
I'll let Dave explain a little more.

[Cooper then steps forward.]

DC: Gordon, as I've told you before, we haven't always been the most
sociable people in that locker room and have tended to do our own thing.
But circumstances are making it clear that the old philosophy of
strength in numbers should be followed. That's why we feel it's
important we extend an offer to a few people here in the AWA.... people
who have their issues with members of the Southern Syndicate as well.
Such as one man in particular.

GM: And who would that be?

DC: Tin Can Rust. Now, I know he wants revenge for what happened to City
Jack, and certainly I don't blame him one bit for being upset about what
happened. It sickened the three of us as well. But Tin Can Rust, as
great of a wrestler as you are, as great as a fighter as you are,
wanting to take on Dufresne and Freeman by yourself isn't a smart idea,
especially now that they have the backing of Waterson and the Syndicare.
So that's why we want to make the offer to you... to work with us, not
because we want those tag team titles, but because we want to right the
wrongs that have happened here in AWA... wrong that the Syndicate and
its members have been responsible for.

BW: So you two old timers want another old timer on your side. Good luck
with that.

DC: Bucky, if you want to keep believing that youth beats old age, go
ahead. I just go by the belief that the race isn't to the swift, nor the
fight to the strong, but rather to those who aren't going to give in so
easily. But that being said... there can be strength in numbers.

[The members of Rough N Ready depart the broadcast position.]

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

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

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 ringside announce area where Gordon and Bucky
are standing - looking quite excited.]

GM:  Fans, we are back here on Saturday Night Wrestling... and I can't
believe what just happened.  I was just handed a memo from the
Championship Committee and after the words from Raphael Rhodes earlier
tonight, the Keenings DEMANDED a shot at Raphael and Simon... a match
with NO TIME LIMIT... and they want it tonight!

BW:  It's not just a demand, Gordo - it's gonna happen!

GM:  That's right.  Jason and Michael Keening versus Raphael and Simon
Rhodes right here... tonight!  Incredible!  The action here in the AWA
just keeps getting better and better, Bucky.  We're going to bring you
that tag team showdown in just a little bit but before that, let's go
backstage to Jason Dane who is standing by with Juan Vasquez!  Jason?

[We cut to a shot backstage, where we see Jason Dane and Juan Vasquez
standing in front of a black backdrop with an AWA logo on it. There's a
loud chorus of cheers that can be heard from the crowd as they see
Vasquez. Juan is already dressed in his usual tracksuit warm-ups, ready
for his match later in the night. As the cheering dies down, Jason Dane
begins to speak.] 

JD: Thanks, Gordon!  I'm Jason Dane, standing here with the #1 contender
to the AWA National title, Juan Vasquez. [Turns to Vasquez.] Juan, many
people were puzzled by your absence at the Stampede Cup, where Ben
Waterson declared you a "dead issue" and that the Southern Syndicate was
"finished" with you. Can you tell us where you were?

JV: A "dead issue," huh?

[Juan seems a bit offended, but he shakes it off.]

JV: Well, I sure wasn't hiding from anyone trying to collect on that
bounty Waterson put on my head. And as much as I wanted to spend the
holidays with my family or with the fans of the AWA, I was off spending
it in the greatest wrestling training facility in all the world.

JD: You don't mean...

JV: The AWA Combat Corner!

[Juan opens up his tracksuit jacket, revealing an "AWA Combat Corner"
t-shirt underneath.]

JV: Folks, you're lookin' at Todd Michaelson's newest prized graduate!

JD: You're kidding, right?

JV: Nope. Completed training in six weeks. A new Combat Center record!

[He gives a big thumbs up for the camera as a portion of the crowd can
be heard congratulating him.]

JD: Are you trying to tell us that you went through the entire training
process? You're a thirteen year veteran and former world champion! You
already have an AWA contract...why would you even need to do that?

[A serious look appears on Juan's face.]

JV: It's not about needing training, Dane. When I said I was gonna' save
the AWA from the Southern Syndicate, I was gonna' risk life and limb in
the dumbest, most ill-advised, boneheaded act of bravery and
self-sacrifice I've ever made in my career. But...for what? How could I
commit myself to anything if I had nothing invested in it? How could I
put all my heart into battling Ben Waterson's army if I could raise the
white flag any time I wanted and just walk away?

[Juan stares at Dane, waiting for an answer that doesn't come. He smile
and nods, realizing his point's been made and turns back to the camera.]

JV: Todd Michaelson said I was nuts for going through with it, but I
needed to see for myself that the AWA has a future...that all this would
be worth saving...that even if me and the Southern Syndicate destroyed
each other, that at least there'd be a future for the AWA. So, for six
weeks, I put my heart and soul into training at the Combat Center. I
sweated, I bled, I worked myself into exhaustion just like any other
rookie trying to make it to the AWA. Two a days, wind sprints, runnin'
up and down the bleachers...I did it all. 

And when I dragged my body off the floor and went back to my motel room
every night, I knew that _this_ was what I was fighting for. _This_ was
what I wanted to save. 

Not *just* the AWA. 

But everything. 

I wanted to save _everything._

[A confused look appears on Dane's face.]

JD: "Everything?"

JV: Wrestling. I...wanted to save wrestling.

[There's noticeably loud cheering coming from the crowd at that
revelation, which Vasquez acknowledges with a smile.]

JV: I clawed and struggled and put myself through torture that I hadn't
experienced since I did all this stuff back when I was just a teenager
breakin' into the business.

And it was all for the love of this sport.

What does Ben Waterson know about this sport besides how much money he
can make off of it? What does Stevie Scott know about loving this sport
when he makes a mockery out of it every time he steps into a wrestling
ring? What does Raphael Rhodes know...period?

[Some laughs from the crowd, because Juan is implying Rhodes is dumb.
Oh, will those two ever stop hating each other?]

JV: For them, wrestling is just a means to an end. They don't care if
they spit on tradition. They don't give a damn how many lives or careers
they ruin as long as they can line their pockets. It's greed. It's
selfishness. It's this kind of irresponsible stupidity that's gonna'
kill this sport.

[A more serious expression appears on Juan's face as he shakes his head
slowly.]

JV: But, as long as there's people that love this sport like I do, as
long as there's men like those rookies at the Combat Center willing to
work as hard as humanly possible to make it in this sport...there's no
way scumbags like Waterson and the Southern Syndicate are gonna'
succeed. 

[The crowd roars again, causing Juan to pause momentarily to nod in
approval at their reaction.]

JD: Strong words, Juan. Well, then you should be pleased to know that
you'll be facing a fellow Combat Corner graduate in Eric Preston,
tonight...although there's more than a considerable experience gap
between you two.

[A somewhat surprised look appears on Juan's face.]

JV: Did you just say, "Eric Preston?"

JD: Why, is something wrong?

JV: Dane, even though I might be the fastest graduating student in the
history of the Combat Corner, there was one man that Todd Michaelson
told me was his hardest working and _best_ student...

...and that man wasn't me.

[Juan pauses briefly as everyone seems to have the same surprised
reaction to that revelation.]

JV: That was Eric Preston. 

JD: Really? That's some pretty high praise.

JV: Todd never told the kid that, though. Didn't want him to get a big
head, ya' know?

[Juan chuckles. If anyone can tell you about big egos, it's him.]

JV: But, I fought alongside these rookies. I trained with these guys. I
saw exactly what they were capable of with my own eyes. So, don't even
think for a second that this is gonna' be an easy fight for me. 

This kid just might surprise you.

[Juan pats Jason Dane on the back and walks off camera.]

JD: That match between Vasquez and Preston looks to be shaping up to be
quite a good one. Fans- don't miss it!  Gordon, Bucky... back to you!

[Cut back to ringside.]

GM:  Vasquez versus Preston coming up later tonight in the chance of a
lifetime for the young rookie from the Combat Corner - heading into his
second match EVER, Bucky.

BW:  Well, if Michaelson says the kid has the goods... of course, I
don't believe it til I see it.

GM:  Of course.  But fans, before that, up next, what promises to be a
heated confrontation between the Rhodes Brothers and the Ghost
Dancers...

BW:  If by "heated" you mean that the Keenings are "toast", you're
absolutely right!

GM:  This all started back at SuperClash when Raphael Rhodes pretended
to seek advice from Jason Keening as a way of disguising his intentions
to join the Southern Syndicate.

BW:  All Keenings are suckers and dumb patsies.  What's wrong with just
accepting who you are?

GM:  And then at the Stampede Cup, the Ghost Dancers were a surprise
entrant but ended up eliminated from the competition when they fought
the Rhodes Brothers to a time-limit draw.

BW:  They're gonna regret that!  Never get in the way of Raphael Rhodes'
chances of winning a million dollars!  They're gonna pay!

GM:  Tonight, a rematch from the Stampede Cup demanded by both teams but
this time with no time limit!  Let's begin with the introductions.

[And with that, the camera pans over to the ring where Melissa is
standing with a microphone in hand.]

MC:  Ladies and gentlemen... this next contest is scheduled for one fall
with NO TIME LIMIT!  Introducing first...

[The distant wailing of an air raid siren begins to sound over the P.A.
loudspeakers as the crowd surges to its feet and begins to cheer in
recognition.  After a moment, Disturbed's "Indestructible" begins
playing with the deafening fury of crunching guitars.]

# Another mission, the powers have called me away. #
# Another time to carry the colors again. #
# My motivation, an oath I've sworn to defend. #
# To win the honor of coming back home again. #
# No explanation will matter after we begin. #
# Another dark destroyer that's buried within, #
# My true vocation, and now my unfortunate friend, #
# You will discover a war you're unable to win. #

MC:  ...hailing from Los Angeles, California...

[As David Draiman's guttural vocals transition into the chorus,
brilliant fireballs erupt on either side of the entrance curtains as two
figures step into view.  On the left is the familiar squat, powerful
form of Jason Keening while beside him is his older brother, Michael
Keening, slender yet muscular.  Upon sighting the pair, the fans
cheering grows louder.]

# I'll have you know that I've become... #
# Indestructible. #
# Determination that is incorruptible. #
# From the other side. #
# A terror to behold. #
# Annihilation will be unavoidable. #
# Every broken enemy will know, #
# That their opponent had to be invincible. #
# Take a last look around while you're alive, #
# I'm an indestructible master of war. #

MC: ...at a combined weight of 510 pounds, here are...

[Both Keening brothers are wearing buckskin pants with leather fringes
along the outside of the legs along with black-dyed tall moccasins. 
Simple brown leather straps with Paiute beadwork sewn onto them circles
both of their heads as long, straight hair cascades down around their
shoulders.  As the music continues, another duo of fireballs detonates
on either side as the brothers acknowledge the cheering crowd with
matching grins.  The smiles vanish, however, as they look toward the
ring and begin marching down the aisle.]

T H E   G H O S T   D A N C E R S ! ! !

[The music begins to fade out as the Keening brothers roll underneath
the bottom rope into the ring.  Michael quickly mounts one of the
turnbuckles while Jason paces back and forth.  Michael pumps his fist in
the air while the crowd cheers loudly before performing a backflip into
the center of the ring.]

GM:  The Keenings not accompanied to the ring by their brother-in-law
and good friend, Gabriel Whitecross...

BW:  He probably had to go cash in one of his retirement pension checks
to buy another wheelchair or something!

GM:  An interesting moment backstage at the Stampede Cup when Mark
Langseth encountered his old mentor and nemesis.  But I understand
Whitecross' appearance was just for the Stampede Cup as the Ghost
Dancers won't have anyone in their corner tonight.

BW:  Whereas the Rhodes Brothers can always count on the Southern
Syndicate backing them!  Lambs to the slaughter, Gordo!  Lambs to the
slaughter!

MC:  ...and their opponents...

[Another siren sounds over the loudspeakers but this is one noticeably
different from what played at the beginning of the Disturbed song
moments ago.  With more of an older style to the sound of the siren, it
is quickly replaced by distorted guitars as "The Riverbed" by Gallows
begins to play.  The fans begin to boo but at the top of the aisle, the
entrance curtains fly open and two muscular figures bolt down the aisle
toward the ring at a breakneck pace.]

GM:  AND HERE COME THE RHODES BROTHERS!!

BW:  IT'S ON, GORDO!

[Unable to complete her introduction, Melissa squeals in fright and
flees as Raphael and Simon Rhodes race down the aisle and slide into the
ring to charge the Keenings.  Michael Keening is caught off guard by the
sheer pace of their assault as Simon Rhodes pounces on him and begins
punching him with furious abandon.  Jason Keening manages to react in
time, however, for when Raphael Rhodes charges him, the bigger man bowls
him over with an outstretched arm.]

GM:  Clothesline by Jason and Raphael goes down.  But Michael is in
trouble as Simon is mounted on top of him and is raining punches down on
his head and shoulders!

BW:  Subtlety is for sissies!

[Jason marches over and grabs Simon's arm, dragging the older Rhodes
brother off of Michael.  A clubbing forearm to the top of Simon's head
stuns him momentarily but before Jason can do anything more, Raphael
Rhodes intervenes with a punch to the kidneys.  Spinning about so that
his back is to the larger man's, Raphael reaches over his shoulder and
grabs Jason under the chin before dropping to the canvas with a
tremendous impact.]

GM:  Hangman's neck breaker!

BW:  Yeah!

[Jason rolls away clutching the back of his neck in pain but as Raphael
rises to his feet with an angry snarl on his lips, he is quickly knocked
down again as Michael Keening leaps up and slams both feet into the
younger Rhodes' chest.]

GM:  Standing dropkick by Michael Keening and this match still has not
started as the referee has yet to get any of these men under control!

[But just as Simon Rhodes looks to attack Michael Keening once more, the
black-and-white striped official steps in between them and yells angrily
at all four men.]

GM:  Michael Meekly finally intervening as hopefully we can get this
match properly started.

BW:  That was an awesome start!  Did you see the way Raphael Rhodes
dropped Jason Keening like he was yesterday's news?

[All four men point and make threatening gestures but the referee
manages to separate them as he orders both teams into their respective
corners.  The Ghost Dancers confer and Jason nods in agreement before
stepping out onto the ring apron.  In the opposite corner, a brief
argument ensues between the two Rhodes siblings before Simon
begrudgingly ducks between the ropes while Raphael turns toward the
center of the ring.]

*DING!*

GM:  There's the bell and with Raphael starting for his team while
Michael Keening starts for the Ghost Dancers, this match is finally
officially underway.

[Baring his teeth, Raphael rushes forward and catches the taller Michael
Keening by surprise with a straight punch to the jaw.  Michael's head
snaps back and Raphael follows up with a kick to the stomach before
grabbing the side of the taller man's head and driving his forehead into
his victim's face with a sickening *THUD*.]

GM:  Vicious headbutt and I think Raphael got him right on the bridge of
the nose!

BW:  Maybe this will convince that over-the-hill goofball to go back to
wearing a mask.

GM:  Michael Keening is only 38 years old, Bucky.  That's hardly over
the hill.

BW:  Are you kidding me?  In wrestling terms, that's ancient!  He's in
the ring with a 26-year old.  How can he compete with that?

[Michael Keening is definitely in trouble as he blinks furiously to
clear out the cobwebs.  But Raphael doesn't let up the pressure as he
grabs the taller man around the stomach and flips him and over to send
him flying across the ring.]

GM:  Textbook belly-to-belly suplex by Raphael Rhodes and I'll
definitely give him credit for being a talented wrestler no matter what
his morals may be.

BW:  Morals, shmorals.  Professional wrestling is all about winning and
that's what Raphael Rhodes is... a winner!

[Pausing to glare at Jason Keening in the Ghost Dancers corner and yell
something unprintable at him, Raphael turns back to the wincing Michael
Keening and kicks him in the back.  The man formerly known as The
Banshee grimaces in pain as Raphael then grabs him by the hair and pulls
him upright.  Spinning the taller man around, Raphael punches at him but
the strike is blocked.  Michael Keening grabs the arm and turns, using
the momentum to flip the smaller man over and onto his back.]

GM:  Armdrag takedown by Michael Keening as The Banshee fights back!

[Raphael is back on his feet quickly but the older man demonstrates he
still has some agility as he leaps up and spins in mid-air to send his
foot whipping around to catch the smaller man flush on the jaw.]

GM:  KICK TO THE FACE!  What a maneuver by Michael Keening!

[The younger of the Rhodes brothers falls flat on his back as Michael
Keening quickly rolls across the canvas and slaps the outstretched palm
of his brother.]

GM:  There's the tag and Jason Keening is in the ring!

[The heaviest man in the match, Jason moves surprisingly quickly as he
charges across the ring and grabs Raphael Rhodes by the head.  Trapping
the smaller man's head under his arm, Jason pulls him upright and lifts
him upside down before falling backward.]

*THUMP!*

GM:  Vertical suplex by Jason Keening and now the Ghost Dancers are in
control.  An interesting match, Bucky, in that it's a battle between two
teams with family histories in professional wrestling.

BW:  But even there the Rhodes have the edge!  The Keenings are only
second-generation wrestlers while the Rhodes are fourth-generation! 
Simon and Raphael's great-grampa was a wrestler!

[Jason rises and grabs Raphael by the back of the neck to haul the
smaller man up again.  But as the referee moves around to get a better
view, he's out of position long enough to not be able to see as Raphael
drives an arm upward between Jason's legs.]

GM:  LOW BLOW!  And every male member of the audience is wincing in
sympathy as the referee missed that blatant cheating on the part of
Raphael Rhodes!

BW:  It's not blatant if the ref doesn't see it.

[Gasping in pain as he clutches his injured privates, Jason drops to his
knees while Raphael rolls over to his corner and slaps hands with his
brother.]

GM:  Tag is made and now Simon is in the ring.  Raphael remaining in as
well as it looks like we're going to see some double-teaming from the
Rhodes Brothers.

BW:  It's legal up to a five-count!

[Each of the Rhodes brothers grabs one of Jason Keening's arm as the
heavier man remains on his knees.  Pulling his arms apart, his torso is
unprotected as Simon and Raphael unleash a series of blistering kicks to
the stomach.  After several of these, the referee intervenes and forces
Raphael Rhodes to retreat to his corner.]

GM:  Punishing kicks to the body by Simon and Raphael Rhodes.

BW:  Don't worry, there's more punishment to come!

[Jason Keening remains on his knees, gasping for breath as Simon Rhodes
races into the ropes on the opposite side of the ring.  Building
momentum as he bounces off the ropes, Simon charges back towards Jason
and jumps up to drive his kneecap right into the heavier man's face.]

GM:  High knee by Simon Rhodes and that definitely hurt!

[Simon chortles in amusement as he stands up, smiling down at the
groaning Jason Keening.  Grabbing an arm, Simon hauls the heavier man to
his feet only to move around behind him to grab him around the waist. 
Holding Jason around the middle, Simon lifts him up and hurls him over
to land on the back of his neck and shoulders.]

GM:  Waistlock suplex!  And Simon's holding on tight to bridge for the
pin... ONE!  TWO!  SHOULDER UP!!

BW:  Now THAT was a slow count!  This match should be over!!

GM:  An impressive display of strength by Simon Rhodes as while he's the
heavier of the Rhodes Brothers, he's still giving up almost sixty-five
pounds of weight advantage to Jason Keening!

BW:  That just means Jason's gotten fat in his old age.

GM:  Bucky!

[Snarling at the referee, Simon steps over to his corner and slaps hands
with Raphael.  Remaining in the ring, Simon turns back to Jason Keening
and grabs the heavier man from behind while trapping his arms.  Raphael
grins in anticipation as he winds up and unleashes a powerful roundhouse
punch to the side of Jason's jaw.]

*SMACK!*

GM:  OOOH!  And a hellacious punch from Raphael Rhodes likely loosened
some of Jason Keening's teeth!

[The referee and Simon get into a shouting match as the older Rhodes
brother takes his time exiting the ring.  Raphael uses the distraction
to step behind Jason Keening and insert fingers into the sides of the
heavier man's mouth before pulling them apart with all his strength.]

GM:  Oh come on!  Double fishhook by Raphael Rhodes and that's NOT a
legal wrestling move!

BW:  Yeah but who's smiling now, Jason?!?  C'mon... smile for us!

[Michael Keening yells an angry protest as he charges into the ring but
Raphael Rhodes releases his grip before the referee turns around to stop
the older Ghost Dancer in his tracks.  As Michael and the referee argue,
Raphael steps over into a neutral corner and leans down to do something
to the back of the bottom turnbuckle.]

GM:  What is Raphael Rhodes doing with that turnbuckle pad?

BW:  I dunno but I bet it's gonna be good!

[Raphael continues to tug at the back of the turnbuckle pad when
something metallic falls out and lands on the toe of his boot.]

GM:  Knuckleduster!  Raphael Rhodes had hidden a knuckleduster in that
turnbuckle pad!

[Michael Keening sees the illegal weapon and immediately rushes back
into the ring only to be cut off by the referee once more.  Raphael
Rhodes grins as he straightens up and with a deft flick of his toe,
flips the brass knuckles up into the air so that he can catch them and
place them on his right hand.  Michael Keening continues to shout
unheeded warnings at the official as the unsuspecting Jason steps
forward only to be met by a vicious metal-assisted punch to the jaw. 
His eyes rolling upward, Jason crumples to the mat as Raphael tosses the
brass knuckles to Simon who immediately drops them to the arena floor.]

GM:  JASON KNOCKED OUT BY THAT WICKED PUNCH!

BW:  Payback time!

GM:  The referee finally turns back to the action but it may be too late
as I think Jason Keening has been knocked unconscious by that
knuckleduster blast from Raphael Rhodes!

[Raphael leers as he uses his foot to nonchalantly roll the stunned
Jason Keening over onto his back.  But before the younger Rhodes Brother
can drop down for a pin, his head snaps upward and his eyes flash in
anger as Michael Keening yells something at him from the Ghost Dancers
corner.]

GM:  Michael Keening yelling something... I think in Japanese and it's
got Raphael Rhodes' attention!

BW:  What does 'ketsu no ana' mean, anyway?

GM:  I don't know but I don't think Raphael Rhodes likes any of what the
older Keening brother is yelling at him.

[Michael Keening continues to hurl a stream of Japanese invective at
Raphael Rhodes whose face flushes dark with anger before he lunges at
the taller man.  Charging forward, Raphael unleashes a barrage of
punches but few of them hit home as Michael Keening leans backward to
avoid most of the flurry.]

GM:  Raphael Rhodes has lost that famous hair-trigger temper of his as
he's trying to get at Michael Keening!

BW:  It's a distraction, Raphael!  Go for the pin!

[The older Keening brother is forced to move back from the fury of
Raphael Rhodes' assault as the referee gets between the two and forces
them apart.]

GM:  Michael Keening wrestled in Japan for many years and married a
Japanese woman as well so it's little surprise that he knows the
language.  But how did he know that Raphael Rhodes also spoke Japanese?

BW:  It's a conspiracy!  What else could it be?

GM:  Or perhaps some clever scouting on the part of Michael Keening as
he used Japanese insults to give his brother some time to recover from
that vicious knuckleduster punch.

[Finally gaining some self-control, Raphael spits at Michael Keening
before turning back to the younger Ghost Dancer.  Jason is still flat on
his back and motionless as Raphael drops down on top of him and hooks a
leg to make the pin.]

GM:  Cover by Rhodes!  One!  Two!  Thr--SHOULDER UP!

BW:  Oh come on!

[Raphael pounds the mat in frustration as he yells angrily at the
official.  Grabbing a handful of hair, he yanks Jason up to his feet and
snaps the heavier man's head sideways with a nasty open-handled slap to
the face.  But the blow has the opposite of its intended effect as
Jason's eyes snap wide open and the corner of his lip curls upward in a
snarl.  Turning his head back toward the smaller man, Jason growls as
Raphael realizes he may have awoken a sleeping giant.]

GM:  Jason Keening looks like he's recovered and he is ANGRY!

[Raphael attempts an uppercut but it is blocked as Jason retaliates with
a forearm smash to the top of the head.  Raphael staggers and is then
doubled over by a kick to the belly.  Jason steps to one side and grabs
the smaller man around the waist before flipping him up and over onto
his back.]

GM:  Gutwrench suplex by Jason Keening and he is back in this match
after being knocked senseless by a pair of brass knuckles!

BW:  Senseless is a permanent state of being for the Keenings!

[Simon Rhodes charges into the ring to help his brother but is caught in
mid-air as he attempts a high cross bodyblock.  Jason demonstrates his
own strength as he holds the smaller man across his chest before
flipping him up and over his head.]

GM:  Fallaway slam and Jason Keening is really taking it to both of the
Rhodes Brothers!

[Staying on Simon, Jason pulls the smaller man upright and stands behind
him as he grabs both wrists.  Bending forward at the waist, Jason pulls
Simon's arms apart so that the smaller man is forced to lean over
backwards on top of the Ghost Dancer.]

GM:  Jason's going for the Drillbit Driver!  He's going to take Simon
out of this match!!

[But before Jason can straighten up to finish his trademark maneuver,
Raphael Rhodes intervenes as he kicks the heavier man in the face.  This
brings Michael Keening into the ring as he races over and smashes into
Raphael with a spinning leg lariat.  Saved from the Drillbit Driver,
Simon Rhodes immediately begins exchanging punches with Jason Keening.]

GM:  This match is breaking down as all four men are in the ring and
we've got a brawl on our hands.

BW:  And this is a bad thing... how?

[The referee tries to regain control as he grabs the arms of Simon
Rhodes and Jason Keening.  But he pays for his intervention as both men
react unthinkingly and lash out with their other arms, punching the
official in the face.  Jason Keening gasps in shock at his inadvertent
attack on a referee but Simon takes advantage of the opening to punch
the heavier man in the side of the head.]

GM:  Michael Meekly eats punches from both Simon Rhodes AND Jason
Keening!  This match has definitely gotten out of control!

[While Simon lays into Jason Keening with a vengeance, Michael Keening
does the same to Raphael Rhodes.  The referee staggers to his feet,
clutching his jaw, as he begins signaling furiously to the timekeeper.]


*DING!  DING!  DING!*


MC:  Ladies and gentlemen, as a result of a double-disqualification,
this match is declared... a DRAW!!!

[The crowd boos at this inconclusive result while in the ring, the
Rhodes Brothers and the Keenings continue to brawl.  A flood of security
guards pours into the ring to separate the combatants as the fans voice
their displeasure.]

GM:  Once again, neither team wins this contest as the Rhodes and the
Keenings could not control themselves.

BW:  Control is highly overrated.

GM:  We have definitely not seen the last of these two teams as after
two matches, neither one of them can claim a victory over the other.

BW:  A day of reckoning is coming for the Keenings, mark my words!

[Separated by a number of guards, the Keenings and Rhodes continue to
yell threats and insults while struggling to reach one another as we
fade to black.

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

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

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

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

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

JD & MS:  NOW WE CAN!

[A voiceover takes over - thank God.]

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

[Fade back to black...

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

GM: WeÕre back, ladies and gentlemen, and up next we haveÉ

[MetallicaÕs ÒOf Wolf and ManÓ begins to blast out over the P.A. and the
crowd comes to its feet as the 6Õ8Ó Werewolf Gregorson steps out through
the curtain and makes his way down the aisle to ringside. Shaking hands
with Gordon Myers, Gregorson waits patiently for his music to stop but
is cut off by an unusually fired-up Bucky Wilde.]

BW: You know, Gregorson, youÕre not even on the card tonight, so why
donÕt you just turn around and head right back up that aisle to wherever
it is you came frÉ

[Gregorson grabs the microphone from Bucky WildeÕs hand and positions
himself right in the smaller manÕs face.]

WG: Why donÕt *you* try and make me, Bucky.

[The crowd pops as Wilde tries to put Gordon Myers between himself and
the silver-haired Alaska native.]

WG: ThatÕs what I thought youÕd do.

Now, since itÕs true that IÕm not on the card tonight, IÕm not going to
take up any more of your time than is absolutely necessary.

You see, ever since I came back to the AWA, people have been asking why
I me was here and, to be honest with you, I wasnÕt a hundred percent
sure myself. Was I here to take on Tin Can Rust or go after Adrian
Freeman and Callisto Dufresne? Well, Gordon, after seeing what happened
at the end of the Stampede Cup, I know why IÕm here.

You see, a lot of things have changed since the last time I was here in
the AWA. Familiar faces have come and gone, people I once considered
friends are friends no more, and the very mood of the boys in the back
is nothing like I remember it.

But, despite all that, one thing seems to have remained constant. Since
Day One, Stevie Scott, Callisto Dufresne, Adrian Freeman, theyÕve all
been nothing but a bunch of lowlife back-jumping scum looking to make a
name for themselves by putting someone out. And now, with the addition
to their ranks of Raphael Rhodes and that slimy little weasel, Ben
Waterston, the so-called Southern Syndicate suddenly thinks theyÕre
unstoppable.

But IÕm putting them on notice right here and right now that they are
*all* very sadly mistaken.

And, whether itÕs by myself or alongside anyone in the AWA whoÕll have
me as a partner, I intend to show them, once and for all, the error of
their ways.

So, gentlemen, IÕm putting you all on notice to keep your eyes open and
watch your backs.

Because Werewolf Gregorson is on the hunt for the Southern SyndicateÉ

[Gregorson smirks.]

WG: And Open Season starts NOW!!!!

[And with that, Gregorson stalks away to the cheers of the WKIK crowd.]

GM:  Wow, there seems to be quite the line forming to take on your
buddies, the Southern Syndicate, Bucky.

BW:  Who says they're my buddies?  Just because I have an occasional
dinner with them... maybe a social gathering at the Hotshot's house...
you ever been there, Gordo?

GM:  I wouldn't dream of it. 

BW:  Oh, you should see it... big flat screen TVs on every wall, the
best of the Southern Syndi runnin' on 'em all 24/7... the maids are
hotter than Georgia asphalt... 

GM:  I'm sure it's fantastic.

BW:  And the pool!  My heavens, the pool, Gordo!  Well, the indoor one
at least.  The outdoor one is-

GM:  Let's go up to the ring.

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

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit.  Introducing first, already in the ring at this time...
Hailing from DeSoto, Texas and weighing in at two hundred and
fifty-eight pounds...

Phillop RibŽ!

[A smattering of applause for RibŽ - a thirty-something looking wrestler
wearing a blue singlet, with brown hair, somewhat stocky build, and a
couple battle scars showing that he's been around the block in the
wrestling circuit. RibŽ holds his arm up as the crowd continues their
polite appreciation.]

MC: And his opponent, hailing from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania and weighing
in tonight a two hundred and twenty-seven pounds...

PUUUUUUUURE X!

[The crowd pops as "The Thing I Hate" by Stabbing Westward plays over
the PA, bringing out one of AWA's gifted technicians, Pure X. Tonight,
he's dressed in his normal attire, but his face shows a rather angry
look about him.]

GM: Pure X coming to the ring for this one-on-one matchup with local
wrestler Phillop RibŽ and he does not look happy.

BW: Well, Gordo, I don't remember him ever "being happy", but he
certainly looks pissed off for some reason.

GM: I'll try to get some words with him -

[Gordon Myers stands up and tries to go over to X, but the young star
brushes past him on his way towards the ring. As Myers goes back to his
seat at the broadcast table, X stomps up the steps and narrows his eyes
towards the ref before the bell rings.]

BW: Great interview, Gordo!

GM: Something is indeed bothering Pure X tonight... I hope to get some
words with him after the match.

BW: Good luck - personally, I'd just let sleeping dogs lay.

[Pure X stays in his side of the ring, arms down, staring right through
RibŽ as he seethes.]

GM: Pure X boring a hole through the eyes of Phillop RibŽ here - I just
don't know what's gotten into him tonight.

BW: The guy's always been a hothead, Gordo, we just haven't really seen
that side of him yet.

[RibŽ looks on a bit confused as X just stands there. The DeSoto native
looks around at the audience, wondering what to do, as X continues to
look on. Finally, RibŽ figures it's time for action as he lunges at X
with a clothesline.]

GM: RibŽ with a clothesline attempt, but X sidesteps...

[RibŽ falls into the ropes and rebounds back first into X, who locks in
a full nelson and fluidly lifts RibŽ up and over, slamming him head
first into the mat.]

GM: BRIDGING PURE IMPACT! THE COVER - ONE, TWO, THREE!

[The bell rings as X drops the bridge and gets up, rolling out of the
ring before the ref could even raise his hand in victory.]

MC:  Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner... PURRRRRRE X!

[The crowd applauds as X tries to make his way back, but gets blocked by
Gordon Myers.]

GM: Pure X, a minute of your time, please?

[X looks around - looks towards the cameras and the fans - and sighs,
nodding.]

GM: From the time you came out here to now, you've shown that
something's bothering you. What is it? Why so put off?

PX: Why? How about this, Myers. Last month, at the Stampede Cup, Shane
Destiny lucks into a match with the National Title holder Stevie Scott -
not because he earned, not because he's shown that he deserves it, but
only cause Ross pulled his name out of a hat. And then he gets a gifted
win not by pinfall or submission...

[X shakes his head.]

PX: And he's awarded the fifth spot in the rankings? He's ranked over me
cause he beat me ONCE in a match where I beat him TWICE?

[Pure X looks away for a moment and spits down on the floor beside him.]

PX: THAT'S what I think of that decision, Myers! I just don't get it -
from day one, Destiny's been handed every single opportunity imagined
for no other reason than he did some impressive stuff in the PAST. The
long past, I might add. While me, I've been here - night in, night out -
getting win after win and busting my a... hump to climb up the rankings
and EARN my shot at the champion.

[Pure X pauses, breathing a bit hard as he clenches his teeth.]

PX: It's not right, Myers... It's not right...

[Pure X abruptly walks away.]

GM:  Well, fans... we knew Pure X would be upset with Shane Destiny's
most recent ranking in the Top 10 and now we know just HOW upset he is. 
I'm not sure I'd want to be in the shoes of Mr. Destiny when Pure X gets
his hands on him.

BW:  Shane Destiny's got bigger fish to fry than that pipsqueak, daddy.

GM:  We'll see about that.  Fans, we're going to take a quick break but
when we return, the Chairman of the Championship Committee, Stephen Ross
will be joining us with a very special announcement so don't you dare go
away!

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

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then back up to footage marked "EARLIER TODAY!" where we see Mark
Stegglet standing by outside the entrance of the WKIK studios, flanked
by two security guards. Stegglet looks a little nervous as he grips his
microphone and looks out into the distance. There, walking up from the
parking lot, is weary looking Tin Can Rust. 

Rust - carrying his duffel bag while wearing a pair jeans, a flannel
shirt, and black jacket - walks up to Stegglet and the guards. He eyes
all three before trying to make it past them, only to be cut off the by
the security guards.]

TCR: Look, I don't want to give a word, just let me in...

MS: I- I'm here to inform you that your match tonight's been... Been
canceled.

TCR: Canceled?

[Stegglet just nods, swallowing afterwards as Rust drops his duffel
bag.]

TCR: Why?

[Rust clenches his fist as he raises his voice.]

TCR: WHY?!?

[Stegglet raises his hands as he backs off a bit.]

MS: I-I-I think it's cause... Cause the Committee thinks you're still
not... Uh... Ready to compete.

[Rust's teeth chatter a bit before he grinds them, his head shaking in
the process.]

TCR: I'm... I'm here for my match. I have a match...

[Rust pauses, letting out a deep breath.]

TCR: And that's... All I'm here for, so just let me through...

[The guards back up and cover the door as Stegglet takes a step back out
of the way. Rust raises his fist and looks to fight his way though...

But just when it looks like a problem could take place here, Rust
suddenly backs.]

TCR: Alright. Alright.

[Rust picks up his bag.]

TCR: I'll leave. But just do me a favor and tell Dufresne and Freeman
that they can't hide forever! Cause if you all keep banning me from
coming here, I WILL get them outside of this building!

[Rust storms off as Stegglet exhales before the shot fades back to live
action where Gordon and Bucky have been joined by the Chairman of the
Championship Committee, Stephen Ross, who looks a little frazzled and
not quite his usual smooth self.]

GM:  Welcome back to Saturday Night Wrestling, fans... and as you can
see by that tape we just played, Tin Can Rust was barred from the
building here tonight - just like he was at The Stampede Cup after he
tried to get at the National Tag Team Champions.  Mr. Ross, before you
make your announcement, can I ask when we can expect to see Tin Can Rust
allowed back inside the building?

[Ross nods, wiping his already-sweating brow.]

SR:  Well, very obviously, Mr. Rust is still upset with the injury that
happened in that Unsanctioned match at SuperClash to his tag team
partner, City Jack - an injury we warned might occur, I might add.

[Myers nods.]

SR:  But after much deliberation, the Championship Committee has decreed
that Tin Can Rust will...

[Dramatic pause.]

SR:  ...NOT be allowed inside the WKIK Studios in two weeks' time
either!  

[The boos pour down over the Chairman, making him even more frazzled.]

SR:  No, no... it's just too much of a risk.  He's too volatile right
now, Gordon.

GM:  Well, I can certainly understand that decision even if these fans
are letting you know what an unpopular decision it is, Mr. Ross.

SR:  Sometimes...

[Ross sighs heavily.]

SR:  Sometimes you have to make the tough decisions.

GM:  Alright... I understand you have a special announcement to make
here tonight.

[Ross brightens visibly, nodding his head enthusiastically.]

SR:  Yes!  Yes, I do!  I am out here tonight to announce a very special
and unique concept we've developed in the Championship Committee.  The
AWA fans have told us in their feedback that they want to see more
action on Saturday Night Wrestling between the top stars.  They want to
see guys go at it that usually don't get the chance and most of all,
they want those battle to MEAN something.  

[Ross pauses.]

SR:  So, it is with great pleasure that I come out here tonight to
announce the Lady Luck Challenge!

[The crowd buzzes with confusion.]

GM:  The Lady Luck Challenge... can you give us more details, sir?

[Ross nods again.]

SR:  Happy to!  

[Ross produces a deck of playing cards.]

SR:  Each of these cards has the name of a current AWA competitor or is
wrapped up in paper to block the name listed on it.  Starting next week,
on every edition of Saturday Night Wrestling, we will draw two cards
from the deck... and those two men will square off in the ring that
night.  Whoever wins will draw another card and will face THAT person
the following week.  Winner stays to play, loser goes.

AND...

[Another pause!]

SR:  If a wrestler is able to win FIVE Lady Luck Challenge matches, they
will receive the opportunity of a lifetime - a title shot at the AWA
title of their choosing.

[Big cheer!]

SR:  I thought you'd like that one.  We are very excited about this
concept and are eagerly waiting for the first match in two weeks' time.

BW:  Wait a second - what about these wrapped cards?  Who is on those?

[Ross grins.]

SR:  Those cards have been wrapped to prevent anyone from seeing the
name on them.  The names on those cards are blocked because they are
people who are not current members of the AWA roster.  They may be past
members, they may be people looking to take advantage of the Open Door
policy - the sky is the limit when it comes to those folks.

GM:  Mr. Ross, I notice that there are several tag teams in this deck as
well.

SR:  That's right.  All tag team members have been entered separately. 
If they are drawn, they will be wrestling as a single.  If they win the
Challenge, they can choose to wrestle for the National Tag Team Titles
if they want.

GM:  Well, this sounds pretty exciting, Bucky.

BW:  Hey!  There are jokers in this deck!

[Ross nods with a grin.]

SR:  In the event that a joker is drawn, that match will be conducted
under some type of stipulation - cage match, First Blood, Texas Death,
who knows!

GM:  Well, Mr. Ross, I want to thank you for your time and-

[Ross raises his hand and shows three cards.]

SR:  One more thing... do you see these three cards?

GM:  Yes.  They are Stevie Scott, Calisto Dufresne, and Adrian Freeman.

SR:  That's right - and into the deck they go.

[Ross inserts the cards into the deck.]

SR:  If one of those three cards are drawn while the individual is still
a champion, their Lady Luck Challenge match...

...will be for their title!

[HUGE CHEER!]

GM:  Oh my!  I can't imagine they're gonna be-

[And almost on cue, "Agent To The Stars" Ben Waterson storms from the
locker room area, ranting and raving as he approaches the interview
area.]

ATTSBW:  Here we are again, Ross.  The Southern Syndicate on top of the
world and you using all your chicanery to drag us down - just like you
did at The Stampede Cup!

Hell, the whole Cup event was designed to bring down the newest members
of our elite establishment - Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman.  Now
that that failed, I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you'd take
another shot at it.

[Waterson glares at Ross who doesn't reply, head bowed.]

ATTSBW:  The Lady Luck Challenge, huh?  Well, I guess that would be
important to men who rely on chance and luck to get by.  But real men,
real athletes, real champions make their own damn luck, Ross.  And the
Southern Syndicate doesn't have the time or patience to wait for some
dame to smile upon us so we win five bucks on a scratcher ticket.

Like I said, we make our own luck.  Myers, your producer should have a
very special video that I want played right now to show Stephen Ross
exactly what he's dealing with.

[Myers looks irritated but shrugs.]

GM:  You heard the man.  Let's roll it.

[We fade to black for a moment before AC/DC's "Back in Black" begins to
pound the airwaves over a dark screen.]

He's coming...

*2001 IN IOWA*

[A youthful Jack Snyder in a red and black singlet wrestles in the NCAA
wrestling finals, heavyweight division.  The Bullhead City, Arizona
native shakes his opponents hand and the whistle blows.  He shoots
immediately with a double-leg takedown and starts gaining back points.
After only 46 seconds, the ref's palm smacks the mat and Snyder gets the
pin.  The gymnasium erupts!]

*2004 IN JAPAN*

[Jack Snyder stands in the center of the ring, blood streaming down his
face, with tag team partner Kazuki Suzuki by his side.  They thrust
their newly won JXWW World Tag Team belts high over their heads.  Suzuki
has a monstrous grin on his face, but Snyder's gaze and demeanor are
ferociously cold.  The jam-packed crowd is going absolutely wild in one
of Japan's largest venues.  Suzuki joyously wraps his arms around
Snyder, who responds with a 'loving' gesture of his own... that is, he
brains his partner in the back of the skull with the gold plated belt.

One of Snyder's famous quotes his heard.]

"There has been one rule of thumb in professional wrestling that has
always held true: When a burglar breaks into your home, you don't squirt
him with a waterhose, you pick up something and you bash his brains out
with it."

*2005 IN MICHIGAN*

[Snyder stands in the ring surrounded by his stablemates, about to face
Chris Courtade.  He speaks:

JS:  Tonight, under these lights... Michigan will witness the fervid
collision of two unbreakable wills! Tonight, under these lights... our
sweat will drip, our blood will be shed, and our limits will be tested!
Tonight, under these lights... my dreams become my reality! Tonight,
under these lights... continues an age old war, another battle in the
timeless sagawhich pits the cagey veteran against the underdog.

[Snyder takes the finger that was pointing at the ceiling and sticks it
in his own chest.]

JS:  And this dog here has one helluva bite!  Now bring your crazy self
out here, you sonofabitch...

 ... 'cause I can't wait to kick your ass!

[Cut to the match:

Snyder shakes of another Courtade kickout and starts kicking Chris in
the head, landing several blows before pulling him up to his feet and
firing him into the ropes, hitting the ropes himself.]

RB: Both men into the ropes!  LARIAT BY SNYDER MISSES!  COURTADE DUCKED
IT!!!

JJ: JACKBRE--

RB: COURTADE DROPPED HIM!  HE WENT FOR SNYDER'S JACKBREAKER WITH ONE ARM
AND COULDN'T DO IT! SNYDER FIRES HIM INTO THE ROPES!!


[_THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!_]


RB: JACKBREAKER!  JACKBREAKER!  JACKBREAKER!  JACKBREAKER!  COVER ON
COURTADE!!!  ONE!  TWO!  THREE!!!

[DING! DING! DING!]

RB: HE DID IT!  SNYDER WINS!  SNYDER WINS!  JACK SNYDER DEFEATS CHRIS
COURTADE!

*2006 IN MICHIGAN*

[Cut to Jack Snyder winning his first World Title:

MC: Snyder connects with a right hand, Stone ducks the second one --
STONE CU --

JJ: NO! SNYDER BLOCKS IT!

MC: STONE INTO THE ROPES!


[_THHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!_]


MC: JACKBREAKER CONNECTS! COVER BY SNYDER!!!  ONE!  TWO!  THREE!!!

[DING! DING! DING!]

*2007 IN MICHIGAN*

Here's Snyder dressed as "Future Death" on the eve of his biggest match
to date:

FUTURE DEATH:  So, tonight...

A chance to improve to three and oh lifetime 'gainst Wilton Stone.  A
chance to show my old boss Gremmy _exactly_ how I feel about him closing
down so many months ago.  A chance to give that drunkard Sanders a
hangover like he's never experienced.  A chance to show Shimizu that
Texarkana is Texarkana, and Michigan...?  Is _my_ turf. 

A chance to recapture the glory!

A chance to re-validate my livelihood!

A chance to carry my team to the top of the mountain!

A chance to fulfill my purpose!

... AND YOU CALL THAT HELL ON EARTH!?

[Future Death stops in front of a door with a nameplate... "The
Future."  He grasps the doorknob, then looks back over his shoulder
at the camera and speaks emphatically.]

FUTURE DEATH:  [BLEEP] no.  Not me. Tonight?

I'm in Heaven.

[The final image is of Snyder, on that same night, getting a three count
on The Gremlin and winning the World Title for a second time.]

Yes, he's coming...

The "Dying Breed"...

AWA!

[Music fades as does the video as we come back to live action where a
grinning Ben Waterson is standing.]

ATTSBW:  Lady Luck?  LADY LUCK?!  To hell with Lady Luck, Ross... I make
my own damn luck!  And bringing Jack Snyder, the Dying Breed, to the AWA
has not a thing to do with luck.  He KNOWS where the power lies.  He
KNOWS where he needs to be to make the big money, to get the biggest
houses, to ride the biggest cars, to be with the most beautiful women. 
To get all that?  You gotta be Southern Syndicate...

...and that's EXACTLY what Jack Snyder's gonna be.

[A smirk.]

ATTSBW:  Consider yourselves warned.

[Waterson storms away, leaving a stunned Stephen Ross and Gordon Myers
behind.]

GM:  Jack Snyder in the Southern Syndicate?  It can't be.  How can
things possibly get any worse?

SR:  I... I'm sorry, Gordon.

GM:  I don't-

[Ross storms out of sight as well, leaving Gordon and Bucky behind.]

GM:  Fans, we'll be right back.

[And we fade to black...

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

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

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

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

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

JD & MS:  NOW WE CAN!

[A voiceover takes over - thank God.]

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

[Fade back to black...

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

GM: Welcome back, fans.  At this time we're pleased to welcome in "The
Working Man" Vernon Riley.  Vernon, it's good to see you again in the
WKIK Studios.

[Riley, in a red flannel shirt, jeans and a black cowboy hat, shakes his
head.]

VR: I gotta tell ya, Gawhdaaaaaan...things haven't been goin' too well
for ol' Vern here in the Ay-Dubya-Ayyyy so far.

But daddy, I'm here to tell ya right now!  That's all 'bout to change.

Ya see, Gawhdan, Big Vern, the Workin' Man that I am, I've been
spreadin' myself a little too...thiiiiiin.  Been tryin' to do my thang
in Florida and Texas at the same time, and you know what I found out?

[Riley pauses, and Myers realizes that the big Texan really wants him to
answer.]

GM: What's that?

VR: I may be a big man with a big ol' belly-welly-

[Pop!]

VR: -but Vernon Riley ain't meant to try to be in two places at once,
daddy!

So what that meeeeeans, Gawhdon My-ahs...is that Big Vern is givin' all
his _time_...all his _en-er-JAY_...all his _effort_...to the great state
of Texas and the AY! DUBYA! AY!

[Pop!  The Working Man nods his head emphatically and removes his cowboy
hat.]

GM: Well, Vernon, these fans seem to be very pleased with your decision
to give all you have to the AWA.

VR: Hey, daddy, ol' Vern is just as pleased as they are.

[But here's someone who's NOT pleased, apparently.  Riley sees his foe
coming and steps back prepared to fight.  But it seems that Vladimir
Velikov isn't here to fight just yet as he grabs Myers' arm and pulls
the microphone toward him.]

VV:  You are pleased!  They are pleased!  Do you know who is not
pleased, Gordon Myers?  I am not pleased!  The Baron... heh... the Baron
is not pleased at all!  For almost two years, Vladimir Velikov has been
in the AWA and still... STILL... I get no respect as your Championship
Committee puts me against filth and swine like this...

[Velikov waves his hand dismissedly at Riley.]

VV:  You sicken me!  You are out here with your fat stomach,
out-of-shape like these American swine who buy ticket week after week,
and they cheer you as hero!

[Velikov spits on the floor.]

VV: In Mother Russia, you would be treated like nothing more than the
DOG that you are!

[Heel pop!]

VR: Ya know somethin' Velikov...lemme tell you a little somethin' about
all these people out here that you wanna run down.

These people work harder than you'll ever imagine just to be able to
come here, spend some of their hard-earned money that they got by
workin' in a factory in 110 degree heat!  Money that they got by workin'
14 hours a day under the hood of a car!  Money that they got by workin'
14 hours a day in the fields, plowin' and diggin' and shovelin' until
their backs feel like they're gonna collapse.

They ain't like you, who's been taken care of by your gov'ment from the
day you was _born_!

[Pop!]

VR: They know the _meanin'_ of bein' a workin' man.  _I_ know the
meanin' of bein' a workin' man...my daddy used to take me to the job
site with him when he was nailin' two-by-fours together to build
houses...when he laid brick by brick by brick with his two hands in the
burnin' hot sun of summer and freezin' cold wind of winter.

So when you insult these people, daddy...you insultin' ME!

[Another pop!  Yay!]

VR: Now I may be a fat man...ain't no denyin' that.  I ain't ripped from
head to toe with muscle.  But I'm tough as a two-dolla steak and mean as
a Texas rattlesnake, daddy!  So if you wanna back up that big!  Loud! 
Nasty!  Vodka-drinkin' mouth of yours with a little action?

Bring it on, baby, 'cause I'd love to show ya how workin' men take trash
like YOU out to the curb!

[Huge pop!  Velikov, apparently up to the challenge, tries to sneak in a
right haymaker, but Riley blocks it and fires right back, stunning the
big Russian!]

GM: Riley's had enough!  Vernon Riley had all he could stand to listen
to from Vladimir Velikov!

[Riley grabs the stunned Russian and drags him toward the ring, tossing
him underneath the bottom rope.  But Velikov is quick to his feet and
delivers a hard stomp to the big Texan as he slides into the ring.]

GM: It's all breaking loose in the ring, Bucky Wilde!

BW: Vernon Riley may have just written a check his fat body can't cash,
daddy!

[Velikov clubs Riley across the back as Vern gets to his feet, then a
forearm to the head.  The Russian irish whips Riley to the far side and
as Riley rebounds...]

GM: HERE COMES THE RUSSIAN SICKLE!

[But with surprising quickness, Riley ducks it, stops on a dime, and as
Velikov turns around he meets his foe with a flurry of left jabs while
the crowd goes nuts.]

GM: RILEY UNLOADING ON VELIKOV!

[Six jabs in, Velikov's legs are wobbling.  The pause gives Riley enough
time to roll his hands together quickly and then deliver his signature
move.]

GM: ATOMIC ELBOW SMASH!  DOWN GOES VELIKOV!

[But Riley cannot follow up, as Velikov's new partner-in-crime Baron Von
Klauss appears out of nowhere, jumping into the ring and attacking Riley
from behind.]

GM: VON KLAUSS!  WHERE DID HE COME FROM?

BW: Beautiful, daddy!  All a beautiful set-up by Velikov and the Baron,
and the fat dummy fell for it!

[The duo lifts up the stunned Riley and shoves him into a corner,
pounding and kicking away.  But suddenly, the big Texan fights back with
a flurry of punches that drive both of his attackers away.  POP!]

GM: RILEY'S FIGHTING BACK!  RILEY'S TAKING THEM BOTH ON!

[An atomic elbow sends Von Klauss down to the mat, allowing Riley to
grab Velikov by the throat and push him backward.  But Riley takes a
little too much time, allowing Von Klauss to recover and...]

GM: THE CLAW!  VON KLAUSS GETS THE CLAW ON RILEY!

[Yes he does, and locked on pretty good as Riley flails and fights but
can't escape...probably hindered by the fact that Velikov is holding him
by the waist.]

GM: Riley is in serious troub- SHAW!

[Indeed, "Stars and Stripes" Clayton Shaw hits the ring, as Velikov and
Von Klauss quickly exit stage left...

...which leaves a fired-up Shaw leaning over the ropes, screaming at the
fleeing foreign squad before turning around to check on his downed
ally.]

GM:  Boy, we haven't seen the end of this one, Bucky.  Some time, some
day, some place... these two teams are gonna go at it and it's gonna be
a wild one!  Fans, it's Main Event time here on Saturday Night
Wrestling!  But before we go to the ring, let's go backstage where Eric
Preston is moments away from the biggest match of his life!

[We cut backstage where Mark Stegglet is standing with Eric Preston.]

MS: Mark Stegglet here, backstage with Eric Preston a few minutes before
his big match tonight with Juan Vasquez. Eric, when Jason Dane told you
the news, you were shocked speechless. You've had the chance to think
about it now, can we get your thoughts on your opponent tonight?

[Preston's demeanor has changed since last we've seen him. He's calmer
now, with a solemn look on his face as if he's concentrating on
something.]

EP: Yeah, last time we spoke I wasn't exactly the picture of confidence,
Mark. Having that dropped on you is enough to send anyone into
jibberish, temporarily. I've got nothing but respect for Juan Vasquez,
because he's the real deal, brother. He's the best for a reason. It's an
honor to lock up with him tonight.

But this day came a lot sooner than I thought it would, man. I'm a
realist, Mark, I know that I've got a long way to go until I can deserve
a match with someone like Vasquez based on merit, and not on the picked
out of a hat method. But I'll get there, and I believe that. I believe
in myself, my man, I believe that I can make my mark in the AWA. And I
would be a liar if I didn't say that one day I didn't want to hold the
AWA National Title. I think about it all the time, it's something I
dream about. 

But I know that if I somehow manage to beat Juan tonight, I won't be
getting a title shot. Well... maybe I will, but I don't count on it.

[Eric leans into the microphone, still serious.]

EP: But when that day comes, when I face Juan Vasquez on merit, when I
wrestle for the National title on merit, I'll be ready. I'll be ready
because I'll have earned it, I'll have climbed that high on my own.
Tonight's an aberration, or maybe it's a cruel joke. But I can guarantee
that no one in the audience tonight or watching around the country
believes I can win this thing tonight. Heck, I thought about that myself
in the locker room.

Is this for real? Do I have a chance?

What's real, Mark Stegglet, is that there's damn near 25 guys in the
Combat Corner, working their tails off to get where I am, and that's the
AWA. And there's just as many guys in that locker room who have worked
their tails off to get where I am, and that's in a match with Juan
Vasquez. I'm not sure I deserve it. But I'm sure that tonight's my
chance to stamp my ticket to the AWA. They told me I'm pencilled in for
a few shows, brother, tonight I'm going to write my name in with
permanent marker. 

I grew up in this business, Mark, I had a father who lived it. And he
always told me, "Be ready when they call your name. Be ready when it's
your chance." You never know when the door's about to open, so you've
got to be ready. 

[Eric turns and looks at Stegglet.]

EP: I'm as ready as I'm going to be, Mark. Win, lose or draw, I am
prepared to give Juan Vasquez my absolute best tonight. I'm prepared to
leave my mark. There's someone out there tonight who's laughing his head
off at my situation, because he thinks I'm going to be embarrassed. What
I'm telling you, Mark, and all the people in the audience tonight is
that I'm going to prove my worth tonight and I'm going to take advantage
of this blunder in scheduling.

You want to see what I'm made of? We're all gonna find out real soon. 

And that includes Juan Vasquez.

[With a nod to Mark Stegglet, Preston walks out of sight, heading
towards the entrance curtain.]

MS:  It's not often you get to talk to someone just before the biggest
moment of their life.  Tonight, I just had that chance.  Melissa, she's
all yours!

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

MC:  The following contest is set for one fall with TV Time Remaining
and is our MAIN EVENT of the evening!  Introducing first!

From Greenvile, South Carolina... weighing 248 pounds... 

ERIC PREEESSTTOOOOOOONNNN!!

[The fans let out a cheer as "Show Me How To Live" by Audioslave blares
in the WKIK Studios, and Eric Preston trots through the the curtains.
Preston holds his hands up to acknowledge the crowd, and then zig zags
down the aisle, slapping hands and exchanging war whoops. The chiseled
Preston is in his customary purple tights with the orange and white
waistband, and white boots with orange and purple stripes around the
top. His wrists are heavily wrapped in white athletic tape, and as he
climbs into the ring he lets the officials check him out, before
loosening up his shoulders in the corner.]

MC:  And his opponent...

[The opening horns of "They Reminisce Over You" by Pete Rock & C.L.
Smooth begins to play over the PA system, bringing the crowd into a
frenzy.] 

MC:  He hails from Los Angeles, California...standing 6'2 and weighing
in at 238 pounds...

JUUUUUAAAAAAAANNNNNN

VAAASSSSSSQQQUUUUEEEZZZZ!!!!

[The crowd erupts as Juan Vasquez emerges from behind the entrance
curtain, pausing just inside them to look towards young Eric Preston who
is nervously pacing the ring.  Dressed in his tracksuit, Vasquez tugs
the lapels open, revealing the same AWA Combat Corner t-shirt we saw
earlier in the night.  He slaps the shirt over his heart a few times,
pointing to Preston...

...and then heads towards the ring where he promptly rolls under the
ropes, popping up to his feet to even more cheers as he grins at the
young man who awaits him.]

GM: I've got to say that this was not the match I expected to be
calling, Bucky. Juan Vasquez and Eric Preston are about as polar
opposite as you can get when it comes to experience and accomplishments.

BW: He's no Stevie Scott, but you can't deny Juan's resume, Gordo. I
don't see this going well for Preston.

[Both men walk towards the center as the bell rings. Vasquez looks
slightly perturbed, while Preston is the picture of anxiety. He works up
the courage (?) to extend his hand to Juan, who looks at it for a
moment, then goes to shake... 

...and runs his hands through his hair, backing away from the newcomer
and laughing at his gesture.]

GM: Well that's surprising. Juan Vasquez is usually a very gracious
competitor.

BW: It's mind games Gordo, come on now. You don't think Juan knows
what's going through Preston's mind? He's just messing with him. 

GM: Still surprising to see, Bucky. Both men circle one another... and
tieup in the middle of the ring. Preston's got about ten pounds on
Vasquez, but Juan seems to have the leverage advantage... and he backs
Eric into the corner.

[Vasquez cleanly breaks from the tie and brushes off his hands, then
holds them up as he backs away.]

GM: Clean break by Vasquez, and he backs into the middle of the ring...
Eric follows Juan back to the middle, back into the collar and elbow.
Preston this time uses his weight advantage and backs Juan into the near
corner... and now the newcomer gives the clean break.

[Preston mirrors the actions of Vasquez a moment ago and brushes his
hands off, then turns to walk to the center of the ring... only to go
tumbling across the ring a moment later courtesy of a hard shove from
Juan Vasquez! The crowd buzzes at Juan's actions, who is hollering at
Preston:

"I'M NOT TODD MICHAELSON, SO YOU BETTER GET YOUR HEAD RIGHT! THIS IS THE
AWA!"]

BW: Vasquez is frustrated, Gordo, you can see it in his eyes. He can't
get a leg up on Stevie Scott and the Southern Syndicate, and he's got no
allies baby! He's a desperate man, and he's taking it out on this young
kid.

GM: I don't know how I feel about that, Bucky. Juan Vasquez has been a
pillar here in the AWA, for him to just give in to frustration would be
a disappointment. 

BW: Getting beat down every day of your life takes it's toll, Gordo.
Being a doormat wears on you.

GM: I don't know if Vasquez has been a doormat, exactly, Bucky. Anyway,
back to the collar and elbow tieup again, both men jockeying for
position... Preston wins the battle and backs Vasquez into the
buckles...

[No clean break this time.



"WHAAAAAAAAAACK!"]

BW: Yowch!

GM: An open handed slap right across the chest of Preston, that's got to
sting! You can see the red mark where Juan hit him!

[Preston gets pissed and charges full speed into the corner, just as
Juan ducks out of it. Eric hits hard, backfirst, and eats a sharp elbow
to the chops that stuns him for a moment. Grabbing him by the wrist,
Juan whips Preston hard across the ring, but has it reversed in
mid-stride...]

GM: Vasquez hard to the corner, but he uses his momentum to kick his
feet up off the mat just as Preston charges underneath him! 

BW: Preston turns around just as Juan lands and grabs him...



"WHAAAAAAAAAACK!"



BW: Uh oh, that woke him up!

GM: An open hand slap right across the chest, courtesy of Eric Preston.
That sounded like a shot throughout the WKIK Studios! 

BW: Maybe Juan's little speech fired the young boy up, Gordo. We might
see a little life.

[To add insult, Preston cups his hands around his mouth and fires a
"WHOOOO!" at the crowd, who respond with some applause and a few
scattered "WHOOOO!"s in return. Juan is not impressed.]

GM: Vasquez charges out of the corner, drop toe hold by Preston and he
floats into a seated front facelock. Nice quickness from the Combat
Corner graduate, but the hold is quickly reversed by Juan Vasquez, who
is now seated with a side headlock applied. 

BW: This is almost like a game for Vasquez, Gordo. It looks like he's
just toying with the kid.

[To hammer home that point, Juan tussles Preston's hair with his free
hand as he clamps on the side headlock.]

GM: Preston fights up to his feet, and throws an elbow to the ribcage...
he gets his hands around, and wrenches for a suplex... Vasquez flipped
out! Preston couldn't get a good grip and Juan backflipped behind him!
He shoves Eric to the ropes, off the far side...



"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!"



GM: OH! Spinning heel kick right on the button! Something different from
Juan Vasquez.

BW: He kicked him right in the mouth, Gordo, and I think he may have
busted his lip.

GM: Preston gets back to his feet and charges in- hiptoss by Vasquez!
Up, right into another hiptoss, and that one causes Eric to slide all
the way to the corner.

BW: It's student and teacher baby, Juan Vasquez is teaching this young
pup what it's all about. Too bad it's the slow kid class, have mercy if
Stevie Scott was the teacher.

[Vasquez flicks his hands at Preston, as if to say, "Go and think about
it," and then retreats to the near corner, kicking his legs up and
relaxing.]

GM: Juan's giving Preston a lot of space, which is unusual for him.

BW: Just another game, Gordo. In any athletic type competition, you
gotta let instinct take over at some point. Vasquez is making him think
about it, which is a veteran kinda move. 

GM: I guess Preston thought about it enough, he's back up... collar and
elbow tieup again, and Vasquez doubles him over with a knee to the
midsection. Juan now, measures... and drives the point of his elbow into
Preston's head. Simple but effective.

[Juan hits another elbow to the back of the head, then sends Preston for
the ride and deposits another knee to the midsection. The South Carolina
native doubles over as Juan steps into a front chancery, but an uppercut
to the gut ends that. Vasquez takes a step back from shock and then
charges, into a hiiiiigh back body drop.]

GM: Signs of life from Eric Preston, and he got some height on that back
body drop, Bucky.

BW: He's explosive when he gets the chance, Gordo, but it's so few and
far between.

GM: Preston sprints to the far ropes as Juan gets up... 



"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"



GM: A leaping clothesline floors Juan Vasquez! And you're right on the
money about Preston, Bucky, he can generate power and velocity in a few
short steps.

[Vasquez tumbles to the outside as Preston takes off for the far ropes
again, then aims a baseball slide dropkick at Juan... who spots it a
mile away and dives back into the ring just as Preston slides out.]

GM: Vasquez off the far ropes just as Preston climbs into the ring- OH
MY! Seated dropkick right to the face of Preston as he tried to enter
the ring! 

BW: That was timed up just right Gordo, and that's the kind of kick that
mama's cooking can't fix.

GM: That's the kind of kick that might loosen some fillings.

[Juan turns to the crowd and points to his head, and gets a mixed
reaction from it. He looks at the fans quizzically as Eric crawls back
into the ring, then reaches down and brings him over with a snapmare.]

BW: He can't get ahead Gordon Myers, it might be time for this kiddo to
throw in the towel!

GM: That's not the kind of competitor this young man is Bucky, but he is
certainly staring at a grim reality right now. 

[Vasquez bounces off the ropes and _drives_ his knee into young
Preston's face, then hooks the leg for the cover...]

GM: ONE!! TWO!!! No sir, Preston kicks out of that pin attempt.

BW: And gets a cheer from the crowd, Gordo. I don't get it...

GM: They're just showing their appreciation for this kid showing a
little bit of heart in the ring, Bucky. Some people actually like that
sort of thing.

BW: No one I know.

[Juan grabs Preston and brings him to his feet, then whips him to the
ropes and doubles him over again with a fist to the breadbasket... then
takes off for the adjacent rope.]

GM: Here's Vasquez off the far rope as Preston straightens himself up...




"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"



BW: Hello!

GM: Juan kicked him right in the back of the head! He swung his leg all
the way around and drilled him with his shin, and Eric Preston seems to
be on dream street.

[Preston stumbles to the corner and hits back first... seeing this,
Vasquez charges in at full speed as Eric lifts his boot up... but stops
short, catches Preston's boot and drags him out to the center of the
ring.]

GM: This doesn't bode well- single leg takedown by Juan Vasquez!

[Juan goes to work, stomping the knee and thigh of Preston over and over
and over again, then dropping an elbow to the inside of the knee.
Vasquez gets to his feet and bends over, bending his knee to hyper
extend it, when Eric reaches up and busts a move...]

BW: Small package!

GM: ONE!!! TWO!!! VASQUEZ POWERS OUT!

[This pisses off Vasquez good and proper, because he races to his feet,
hits the ropes full speed and takes dead aim at the rising Eric
Preston's face...]


"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"


BW: Hot dang Gordo, that's just nasty!

GM: A driving knee that went _through_ Eric Preston, and good gosh what
a sound that made! Juan Vasquez is taking out months of frustration on
Eric Preston, who keeps getting back up!

[Vasquez grabs a groggy Preston by the wrist and whips him to the far
ropes... leapfrogs him on the way back, then turns around and leapfrogs
him on the rebound... but gets caught on the way down! POP!]

GM: Powerslam! Preston caught Juan in midair and planted him with the
powerslam! 

BW: You gotta follow it up now sonny boy, don't stand there all five
o'clock half struck!

[Eric looks at the crowd, puzzled at their cheering, and then brings
Juan to his feet and sends him for the ride... catches him on the way
back, swings him up and over and slams him down with a tilt-a-whirl
backbreaker!]

GM: What a backbreaker by Eric Preston, and he certainly followed that
up Bucky! Juan Vasquez slides to the corner as Preston now, on the
second rope... looking around him at the fans who are starting to get
behind him...

BW: Don't do it, don't get caught up in it!

[Too late. Preston jumps off the second rope, and gets a mouth full of
black boot for a his troubles.]

BW: I told you, I told you! Even I couldn't change him. The boy has no
patience.

GM: He will learn patience.

BW: Well now that he's staggering around like a drunken bum, he better
learn to walk in a straight line!

[Juan spots the same thing, and then flattens the dazed Eric with a
giant football tackle, laying in heavy right hands to the chin of the
newcomer, only to have the mount flipped and the punches returned by
Preston! BIG POP!]

GM: It's broken down to a brawl right here in the center of the ring!
Juan Vasquez and Eric Preston, firing rights and lefts at warp speed,
and the audience is loving it.

BW: Heck, I'm loving it! This is what Bucky likes!

GM: Both men are firing right hands but getting no advantage, Preston
rolls back over on Juan and-


"THUNK!"


GM: Headbutt!

[Uh oh.]

GM: This kid must be crazy. Everybody knows that outside of Tumaffi and
Tommy Stephens, Vasquez has the hardest head in all of wrestling!

BW:  And Raphael Rhodes and Soup Bone Samson and... should I keep going?

GM: Semantics, but he's close. That knocked Preston back into a sitting
position on his ankles, and now Juan snapmares him over once more... and
bounces off the ropes behind him...

[WHAAAAAAAAP! That would be one kick to the back of Preston's skull,
which moves the headache to a new position and causes the youngster to
grasp for the back of his head. Vasquez races to the far side, barreling
down on Eric and once again driving a knee into the face of the South
Carolinian! The sound echoes through the building and the fans react
with both boos and cheers...]

GM: A vicious, vicious assault by Juan Vasquez, and Eric Preston must be
made of Teflon, because he's getting right back up.

BW: Yeah, but he's slowin' down, baby, and it looks like he's seeing
things that ain't there.

GM: Preston is back up indeed, and a knife edge chop puts him right back
down... Juan drops for a cover! 

BW: ONE!!

GM: Oh, nice presence of mind for Preston to grab that near rope and
break that count. A savvy move for such a raw competitor.

[Preston has not moved since breaking the pin count, and finds himself
being dragged to the center of the ring. Vasquez hooks both of Preston's
legs under his armpits and plunges back... sending Eric Preston up and
over, and headfirst to the turnbuckle...]

GM: A lovely slingshot, and Preston is planted! He went headfirst to the
buckle and that's how he landed. Vasquez now, creeping up behind him and
grabbing his legs... rear waistlock from Juan... 



"THUUUUUUD!"



GM: A wheelbarrow suplex!  Here's a cover... ONE!!! TWO!!! T- NO SIR, A
KICKOUT BY PRESTON!

[The crowd unabashedly roars for the kickout by Preston, and Vasquez
smacks the mat with both hands as Eric rolls away. Juan slowly gets to
his knees, then to his feet, then grabs Preston by his hair and helps
him up as he looks at the crowd... then rears back and DRILLS Preston
with the stiffest right hand seen on AWA TV in a long, looong time...]




"WHAAAAAAAAAAAM!"




BW: That's just nasty, Gordo. That's a grown man punchin' ya in the
mouth!

GM: That might be the knockout blow, no pun intended. Vasquez stands
over a writhing Preston... and leaps into the air, connecting with a
backsplash!

BW: Shades of Tommy Stephens!  Send us royalties, Stephens!

[Vasquez covers Preston and remembers to hook the leg, but only gets a
two and a half count, as the South Carolina native manages to squirm a
shoulder up. The crowd claps and begins to stomp their feet as Juan
drags the young Preston to his feet and backs him into a corner with a
right hand...]

GM: Vasquez now, waiting for Preston, trying to clear his own head...
and he charges hard to the corner- Preston moved! Eric Preston got out
of the way!

[The crowd cheers at this sign of life, and Preston respond by grabbing
the momentarily stunned Juan and hurling him headfirst into the
turnbuckle, then waiting behind him as he staggers back...]

BW: SCHOOLBOY!

GM: ONE!! TWO!!! T- VASQUEZ KICKS OUT! One second away from a major
upset, Bucky, and the beaten down Eric Preston is still fighting the
fight.

BW: He's fightin', he's clawin', but he might not be survivin' much
longer.

GM: Eric Preston can barely stand up, Bucky, he's got to use the ropes
to get to his feet, and the fans are trying to get behind him, trying to
urge him on.

[Preston struggles back to his feet, turns around and gets stung with a
high dropkick right to the face that knocks him right back down!]

GM: He just can't buy a break, Bucky, everytime Preston tries to turn
the corner, Vasquez knocks him back down.

BW: It's called cutting off momentum, Gordo. It's what veteran wrestlers
do to rookies like Preston.

[The LA native drags Preston to the corner, drapes him over his shoulder
and plants him on the top rope. Preston is sitting on the top
turnbuckle, feet on the middle strand, as Vasquez climbs up to join him.
Juan tries for a right hand, but Preston blocks it and delivers a right
to Juan's face...]

GM: Another right hand from Preston, Vasquez returns- no, Preston caught
it and lays one more right hand in. This might just be instinct Bucky,
but Eric Preston has come alive at the right time. Another right to the
jaw, and Preston shoves Juan off!

[Vasquez backward rolls to his feet as Preston hops down into the
corner... in time to spot a charging Juan and get a boot up right
underneath the jaw.]

GM: Vasquez staggers back from that boot, Preston now... bulldog out of
the corner! He spiked Juan Vasquez in the center of the ring! Cover!
ONE!! TWO!!! T- NOW IT'S JUAN WHO KICKS OUT!

BW: I've said it before, I'll say it again, if Preston's going to make
it out alive he needs to capitalize on the opening.

GM: Eric Preston wastes _no_ time and goes outside, then up to the top
rope in one step...

[Eric takes one second to look at the crowd, then leaps off the top rope
and _drills_ a rising Vasquez with a double axehandle! The crowd lets
out a big roar in support of Preston as Vasquez staggers to the other
side of the ring...]

GM: Now it's Vasquez on wobbly legs, and Eric throws him into the
corner... Vasquez staggers out backward, Preston wraps him up...





"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDD!!"





GM: WAISTLOCK SUPLEX! Eric Preston scores big with a released waistlock
suplex, and that was all impact on the neck!

BW: But look at 'im Gordo, he's too spent to make the cover. He can
barely get over there!

[Preston turns onto his stomach and crawls one hand at a time, letting
the crowd urge him on as he lunges and manages to drape an arm across
Juan's body! POP!]

GM: ONE!!!! TWO!!!! TH- KICKOUT AT TWO AND A HALF! 

[Ahhhhhhhhh.]

GM: So close, so very close for Eric Preston, Bucky Wilde. We almost saw
a monumental upset.

BW: You know what they say, Gordo. Almost only counts in horse shoes and
home pregnancy tests!

GM: I've certainly never heard that, but what I've seen is this match
become very interesting. Eric Preston has been beaten from pillar to
post by Juan Vasquez, and he's managed to find something inside of him
to make him keep going. Both men having trouble getting to their feet,
Vasquez actually up first!

[And he swings a wild right hand at Preston who dodges and then grabs
Juan's head, dropping with a jawbreaker. The Californian's head snaps
back as Preston scrambles to his feet and races off the ropes, leaping
up and greeting Juan as he turns around with a running dropkick that
knocks him up and over the ropes! Huge cheer!]

GM: Vasquez landed right on his feet after the thunderous dropkick, and
he pulls Preston right out to the floor! Fantastic ring awareness by
Juan Vasquez, who may have cut Preston's momentum short!

BW: Not just ring awareness, but that damn Vasquez always manages to
land on his feet. He's got great body control.

[Vasquez rifles a right hand to the cheek or Preston, who throws a left
hand in return that catches Juan on the ear! A forearm by Vasquez makes
Preston crash into the near railing, and a kick to the gut puts him at
Juan's mercy.]

BW: You knew that would happen, daddy, you knew Eric Preston couldn't
hang with Vasquez on the outside.

GM: Juan's got Preston by the neck...



"CLAAAAAAAAAAAAAANG!"



GM: And throws him headfirst to the ring post! My God in heaven, that's
a vicious move, and Eric Preston has to be feeling it. 

[Vasquez grabs him by the wrist and flings Preston to the steps, but
Eric reverses the throw and sends Juan shoulder first into the steps!]

GM: This has broken down into a fight Bucky, and all previous notions
have been thrown out the window. Forget who the veteran is and who the
rookie is, it's just two guys getting after it.

[Preston throws Juan into the ring and then climbs up the apron, and
then up to the top rope. But Vasquez saw the whole thing coming and
lunges to his feet, then crashes into the nearby top rope, causing young
Eric's sensitive bits to meet the top turnbuckle.



"OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHH"!]

BW: Ha! He was goldbrickin', Gordo, Vasquez was playin' possum. I never
thought in all my life I'd enjoy a Juan Vasquez match so much!

GM: Vasquez is quick like a cat, and now he's up on the top rope! He's
got him hooked, he's got him-







"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDD!"







GM: HE DRILLS HIM WITH A SUPERPLEX! HERE'S A COVER! ONE!! TWO!!! THR- NO
SIR, A KICK OUT AT THE LAST SECOND! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT!?

BW: It don't get much more impactful than a superplex, Gordo! They dang
near went through the mat!

GM: Both men, understandably slow to get to their feet. Vasquez is on
one knee now, trying to stand up- and he staggers back into the ropes
for support.

[Juan gets his bearings and then picks Preston up, scooping him and
slamming him down in the center of the ring, and then backing up into
the nearest corner. Vasquez hops onto the second rope and holds his fist
up to the crowd, then leaps off and _drives_ his fist in between the
eyes of Preston.]

GM: Right between the eyes! A fistdrop with surgical precision, and Eric
Preston is thrashing about like a fish out of water. 

BW: That might be the end of it, Gordo. The clock hit midnight, it looks
like. 

GM: Vasquez drags Eric Preston to his feet again, into the front
chancery...

[Juan lifts the South Carolina native hiiigh in the air as if for a
vertical suplex... but lets him drop sternum first onto the ropes, then
snaps him overhead with the added momentum.]

GM: Slingshot suplex by Vasquez, and he floats over into the cover!
ONE!!! TWO!!! THR- KICKOUT ONE MORE TIME! Preston kicked out of the
suplex and Vasquez is letting his frustration show!

[Juan slams both hands into the mat and curses loudly, then stands up
and lays in a series of hard stomps to Preston's body. Energized from
his anger, Juan goes to the nearest corner and jumps in one hop to the
top rope... looks at the crowd for a moment, and then jumps off with a
high, beautiful backflip... that hits nothing but canvas!]

GM: HE MISSED THE MOONSAULT! VASQUEZ WITH AN ILL-ADVISED MOONSAULT, AND
PRESTON GOT OUT OF THERE IN PLENTY OF TIME!

BW: It's called anger, it clouds your mind, makes ya do dumb things. It
might just cost Juan Vasquez!

GM: Preston rolled out of the way, to his feet, and now he's waiting,
measuring Vasquez... Juan's to his feet!

[When he turns around, Preston grabs Juan as if for a bearhug, bends his
knees and then explodes backwards, hurling Vasquez high over head with
an impressive belly to belly that lands Juan halfway across the ring!]

GM: Whatta suplex! An incredible belly to belly suplex and I can't
believe I'm saying this, but Eric Preston is in control of this matchup!

BW: The one day I don't play the lottery, the one day mama didn't gimme
the numbers. Miracles don't happen every day, dagnabbit, and we just
might see one!

GM: That throw took a whole lot out of Eric Preston as well, and he just
now rolls into a cover!

BW: ONE!! TWO!! THR- Kickout by Vasquez! He ain't givin' up that easy.

[Preston rolls to his feet and crawls to the ropes, helping himself up
as Vasquez pushes himself to one knee. Eric darts across the ring and
throws himself in the air, catching a rising Juan with a picture perfect
high cross body block... that Juan goes with, and rolls over!]

GM: ONE!!! TWO!!! THREE!!! NO, NO! Eric Preston just managed to get the
shoulder up, he just managed to kickout!

BW: I thought that was it, I thought Juan had it one. 

GM: So did he, I think, as he gets right to his feet, more on instinct
than anything else.

[Juan indeed stands up a moment before Preston does, who takes a second
or two longer to catch his breath, and when he turns around Vasquez
scoops him right up...]




"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDD!!!"




GM: City of Angels! He spiked him right in the center of the ring!
ONE!!! TWO!!! THREEEEE!!!!!!

[The bell rings as the crowd roars its reaction to the win by the #1
contender.]

GM:  Vasquez is your winner... Juan Vasquez has defeated young Eric
Preston in the middle of the ring.  What a hardfought battle for both of
these men and you really have to give Eric Preston a lot of credit,
Bucky.  The kid took the match on short notice and put up one heck of a
fight before finally falling in defeat.

BW:  He did, he did.  Good performance from the kid but the veteran
comes up just a little bit better.

[Vasquez sits on the mat for a moment, shaking his head in disbelief at
how close the match was...

...and finally cracks a grin before climbing to his feet.]

GM:  And it looks like the old Juan Vasquez just appeared before our
eyes.  He was all business in there until that moment and it's like a
giant weight just got taken off of his shoulders, Bucky.

BW:  Not so fast, Gordo.  He's picking the kid up!

[The crowd buzzes as Vasquez drags Preston by the wrist off the mat,
pushing him back against the ropes.  Preston is clinging to the top
rope, trying to stay on his feet as he looks at the man who just
defeated him...]

GM:  What's gonna happen here, Bucky?

BW:  Waffle him!  Blast him!  Drill him!  

[Vasquez eyes Preston for a bit...

...and then extends his hand.]

GM:  Oh yeah!  Look at that!

BW:  Makes me sick.

GM:  What a show of sportsmanship from Juan Vasquez, offering to shake
the hand of young Eric Preston right here in the middle of the- hey!

[The crowd EXPLODES in jeers as the locker room curtain parts, revealing
Simon Rhodes, Raphael Rhodes, Calisto Dufresne, Adrian Freeman, and
bringing up the rear, Stevie Scott and Ben Waterson as the group charges
towards the ring.  All save Waterson dive under the bottom rope,
swarming the two men inside.

Preston tries to battle back against the ruthless Rhodes brothers as
Simon tangles him up while Raphael throws brutal punches and forearms to
the kidneys.

Vasquez catches an incoming Freeman with a right hand, knocking him
flat.  An incoming Dufresne gets some of the same, leaving both National
Tag Team Champions down...

...and the crowd ERUPTS as Vasquez points a finger squarely at the
National Champion!]

GM:  Oh yeah!  You come to fight, well, here's your fight, champ!

[Vasquez advances on Scott, finger still pointed as the Hotshot
backpedals, arms raised...

...and buys just enough time for Adrian Freeman to throw himself at the
legs of Vasquez, tangling him up long enough for Dufresne and Scott to
rush forward, toppling Vasquez down to the mat with a barrage of rights
nad lefts.  Once down on the mat, the threesome start to stomp the hell
out of the #1 contender.

Meanwhile, a few feet away, Raphael Rhodes executes a belly to back
suplex on Preston just before Simon Rhodes leaps off the middle rope
with a knee drop to the chest.  The two Rhodes brothers come together to
their feet, stomping on Preston.]

GM:  Come on!  This is a five-on-two assault!  This isn't right!  This
isn't-

[The crowd EXPLODES into cheers as the curtain parts again.]

GM:  WEREWOLF GREGORSON!  ROUGH N READY!  THE KEENINGS!

[The sight of the five men sprinting towards the ring is enough to send
the Southern Syndicate scurrying.  Freeman manages to get from the ring
just before the barrage hits but his partner is not so lucky, eating a
huge Silver Bullet spear tackle from Gregorson before rolling to the
floor to safety.

A few feet away, Eric Matthew Somers and Dave Cooper smash the skulls of
the Rhodes' brothers into one another before Jason Keening barrels them
both up and over the ropes with a double clothesline.

Michael Keening pops the chest of the National Champion with a couple
chops in the corner, leaving him gasping for air as the Banshee
backpedals, looking for a high impact blow...

...but the champ quickly drops to the mat, rolling out to the floor to
join his comrades.]

GM:  Oh yeah!  Take that, Southern Syndicate!  Not so tough when the
odds aren't in your favor, are you?  

BW:  This is nuts!

[Inside the ring, Dave Cooper helps Juan Vasquez back to his feet while
the Keenings aid Eric Preston to his.  The Southern Syndicate retreat up
the aisle, slowly backing away from the ring.  Battered, but still
defiant, Vasquez asks for and is handed a microphone. Breathing heavy,
he marches over to the ring ropes, using them to hold himself steady. He
doesn't seem to have the strength to lift his head, but the tone of his
voice makes his anger evident.] 

JV: I'm sick of this.

[Juan clutches his ribs, finding it hard to breathe, but he manages to
compose himself. He stands straight up and slowly raises his left arm,
pointing right down the aisle towards the Southern Syndicate.]

JV: I'm sick of having to watch you idiots ruin everything good that
ever happens here. I'm sick of having to put up with this garbage week
after week. I tried to play the good soldier. I tried to believe that
maybe...just *maybe* I could solve this problem the honorable way...the
right way...just...

...like how a hero would.

[He drops his head and laughs at the absurdity of it all.]

JV: But you know what?

_Forget that._

[Looking up, he smiles a devious grin at Waterson and company.]

JV: It's time to solve this problem...like how _Juan Vasquez_ would. 

[What does he mean by that!? The crowd reacts with confusion, as Juan
continues on, leaning over the ropes and speaking slowly, making sure
The Southern Syndicate hears his every word.]

JV: Twenty-five thousand...

[Juan is suddenly wracked by a fit of coughs, but he manages to settle
down, once again repeating the words...]

JV: ...twenty-five thousand dollars...

[As he pauses momentarily to take in a deep gulp of air, Juan's face
twists and contorts into a dark, serious look.]

JV: ...on _all_ your heads.

[HUGE SHOCKED POP! Ben Waterson screams a clearly audible "WHAT!?!" as
the rest of the Syndicate have equally shocked reactions. Inside the
ring, the other wrestlers seem similarly confused.]

BW and GM: WHAT!?!

JV: If you stand with the Southern Syndicate, you're my enemy! If you
side with the Southern Syndicate...if you shake the hand of Ben
Waterson...if you align yourself with that devil, then this bounty's on
your head! 

[The crowd is going wild, because they can't believe what they're
hearing. Neither can anyone else.]

JV: Bring me blood or bring me a corpse...I don't care! If twelve of you
gotta' band together to split the money and leap outta' a bento box in
Tokyo to take down MAMMOTH Mizusawa, then so be it! If I gotta' pay off
Shane Destiny's alimony for the next year to end the Rhodes bloodline,
then I will! If I need to feed, clothe and let James Monosso live like a
king to get this done...then damnit...whatever it takes!

Whatever it takes! 

[Waterson and the rest of the Syndicate scream and shout threats at
Juan, but he's not hearing any of it. He's too far gone to tolerate
anything they say any longer.]

JV: You said I'm "finished" with you? You consider me a "dead issue"!?

[He smiles and shakes his head.]

JV: Oh no, boys...I ain't done with you by long shot. Like that song
they played at my wedding...We've only just begun! 

[As the crowd begins to lose their minds over the sheer craziness of
what Juan's been saying, a smirk appears on his face as he drops his
next bombshell.] 

JV: By the way...I almost forgot to mention...

[Dramatic pause.]

JV:  _FIFTY_ thousand dollars to whoever rids the AWA of Ben Waterson.

[HUGE POP! Waterson is livid to say the least. Juan then points directly
at his greatest adversary...the National champion, himself.]

JV: Just don't touch Stevie Scott.

[A cruel, almost twisted smile forms on Juan's bloodied face.]

JV: Leave that bastard to me. 

[Another HUGE POP! And with that, Juan Vasquez drops the microphone to
the canvas. Behind him, the various wrestlers in the ring turn to each
other with the same disbelieving look on their faces, trying to process
what Vasquez just said. Up the ramp, the Southern Syndicate continue to
scream threats at Vasquez. And just then, the darnedest thing happens.

Eric Preston, the young rookie who had impressed so many on this night,
going toe-to-toe with Juan Vasquez...

...leaps out of the ring and runs up the aisle straight towards the
Southern Syndicate...

...quickly followed by everyone else in that ring...chasing Ben Waterson
and the Syndicate up the aisle!]

GM: THEY WANT THE BOUNTY! THEY WANT THE BOUNTY!!! THEY'RE ALL GOING
AFTER THE SOUTHERN SYNDICATE!!!

BW: Has Vasquez lost his mind!?!?! He put a bounty on Ben Waterson! On
the Syndicate! On every single person associated with them! If he wasn't
a walking dead man before, he sure as hell is one now, daddy!

GM: We're desperately out of time, folks! But what a night...what a
night! Juan Vasquez has thrown the entire AWA into utter chaos! My
gosh...see you next time!

[The camera cuts to a shot of a smiling Juan Vasquez, standing alone in
the ring, watching the other wrestlers disappear into the back. As the
crowd goes wild...we fade to black.]