Saturday Night Wrestling

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American Wrestling Alliance 
Proudly Presents 
AWA Saturday Night Wrestling

Live from the Crockett Coliseum
Dallas, Texas
October 30th, 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 "TWO WEEKS AGO!" where Juan Vasquez and Stevie Scott are staring
across a table at one another in the middle of the ring.  A stack of
papers rests on the table that Ben Waterson and Jim Watkins are also
standing around.  Watkins is speaking.]

JW:  Juan, before you sign... let's make clear what is at stake here.  

On November 25th... right here in Dallas, Texas...

[HUUUUUUGE CHEER!  Watkins grins.]

JW:  It will be Juan Vasquez challenging for the AWA National Title
against the current champion Stevie Scott.  

AND... if Juan Vasquez fails to become the National Champion on that
night, he will voluntarily LEAVE the AWA FOREVER!

[The crowd buzzes with concern.]

JW:  There will be no loopholes.  There will be no way out, Juan.

[Watkins points to the paper.]

JW:  Once you sign that paper, there is no turning back.  To quote Mr.
Waterson here... consider yourself warned.  

The choice is yours, Juan.

[Vasquez picks up the pen on the table, looks down at the sheet of paper
long and hard...

...and signs it!]

JW:  Alright... Mr. Scott... Mr. Waterson... if you please...

[Scott grabs the paper, staring across the table at Vasquez...

...and signs the contract!]

JW:  Alright!  Folks, we've got a Main Event!  

[HUGE CHEER!]

ATTSBW:  And now, let's give these people a preview of what's gonna
happen, champ!

[Stevie takes a swing at Vasquez who blocks it and then throws a right
hand of his own, knocking Scott flat.  Vasquez leaps up onto the table,
diving off onto Waterson!]

GM:  OH MY!!  WE'VE GOT A FIGHT ON OUR HANDS!!

[But Jim Watkins has seen enough, grabbing Vasquez around the head and
neck, and dragging him off the downed Waterson.  He shoves Vasquez back
to the corner, holding him there.]

JW:  I knew this... damn it, hold still, Juan... I knew this would
happen.  I knew you two would be out of control tonight and I knew you
would be just as out of control at SuperClash.

I can't have it, guys.  I can't risk that match not having a winner.

That match... MUST!  HAVE!  A WINNER!

[BIG CHEER!]

JW:  So, I went out... and I made a phone call to one man who I knew
would stand between you two without batting an eye... one man who has
seen it all in this sport and has done it all in this sport...

He'll make sure we have a winner... he'll make sure this ends the right
way...

[The crowd begins to buzz with confusion and anticipation.]

JW:  I went out and I got a special guest enforcer for the Main Event!

[Big cheer!  Watkins turns, pointing down the ramp.  All eyes turn to
the entryway, necks craning for the first glance...

But it's not a sight that informs the world just what Jim Watkins is up
to.

It's a sound.]

# It's alright...#
# It's alright...#
# It's alright... I'm just a little crazy #

[And the crowd ERUPTS in one of the loudest reactions in AWA history!]

GM:  OH MY STARS AND GARTERS!!  I KNOW THAT MUSIC!!

BW:  SO DO I!!  BUT IT CAN'T BE, GORDO!!  IT CAN'T BE!!

GM:  ALL EYES ARE ON THE ENTRYWAY... IS IT REALLY-

[The crowd goes absolutely NUTS as a seven foot beast of a man steps
through the curtain, hands on hips as he looks out over the roaring
crowd with a grin on his face.]

GM:  ALEX MARTINEZ HAS ARRIVED IN THE AWA!!  

[With the crowd still roaring, Martinez quickly walks down the elevated
rampway to the ring.  He swings a leg over the top rope, stepping into
the ring where Ben Waterson is losing his mind, screaming and ranting
and raving in Martinez' direction.]


"YOU?!  WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?!?"


[Martinez grins at Waterson's reaction.  Juan Vasquez is glaring at
Martinez, having not taken his eyes off him for a second since Martinez
walked through the curtain. 

Stevie Scott has the title belt in his hands, staring up at Martinez. 
He slowly approaches, belt still in hand.  He holds the title belt up,
slapping it and shoving it in the face of Martinez.]


"You here for this, big man?  Take a long look now 'cause you'll never
get any closer than this!"


[Martinez turns his head, trying to ignore the title belt being shoved
into his face.]


"LOOK AT IT, PUNK!!  LOOK AT THE MOST IMPORTANT TITLE IN THIS SPORT!"


[He shoves the belt closer, the gold face slapping into the cheek of
Martinez.  The crowd begins to buzz in anticipation.]


"You come here into MY building... into MY ring... get involved in MY
business... and you don't have the guts to look me in the eye like a
man?!  No wonder your wife left you for that psychopath!"


[Whoops.  That one still stings and Martinez' burning gaze is now locked
on Stevie Scott...

...which allows the Hotshot to reach up, jabbing a thumb into the eye of
Martinez!]

GM:  Ohh!  Cheapshot!  He thumbed him in the eye and-

[Vasquez rushes over, battering Scott with a series of right hands,
driving him through the ropes out onto the ramp...

...but as he turns around, he finds two hands wrapped around his throat!
 Jim Watkins surges forward, screaming at his newest signing.]

"NO!  NO, NO, NO!!  ALEX, DON'T-"

[But the blinded Martinez has no idea what he's doing as he powers
Vasquez high up into the air...

...and DOWN to the canvas with a thunderous Firebomb chokeslam!]

GM:  FIREBOMB!!  FIREBOMB!!  VASQUEZ IS DOWN!!

BW:  And the champ escapes without a scratch on him!

[Scott and Waterson retreat down the ramp, the champion clutching the
title belt to his chest as he points mockingly at Vasquez and Martinez. 
Martinez rubs his eyes clear, looking down to the mat...

...and seeing what he's done to Juan Vasquez.]

GM:  He Firebombed Juan Vasquez!  Alex Martinez has arrived in the AWA
and on his first night, he just Firebombed the Number One contender to
the National Title!  

BW:  He laid him out!  Vasquez ain't movin' one bit!

GM:  Can you believe what we just saw?  Can you believe what just
happened?  And can you believe what we're going to see happen at
SuperClash?!

[The camera holds on Alex Martinez, looking down with some remorse at
the stunned Juan Vasquez who is still laid out.  His gaze turns down the
aisle to Stevie Scott and Ben Waterson who are in retreat mode.  The big
man slowly shakes his head as we fade to black and fade to the sounds of
the brand new intro music for AWA Saturday Night Wrestling, Lynyrd
Skynyrd's "Saturday Night Special"

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 brand new Crockett Coliseum where over 4,500 fans have jammed
into the building to watch their favorite AWA stars.

The ring sits in the middle of the oval-shaped seating area, surrounded
by a metal barricade on all sides.  The ringside seats are your standard
steel chairs while tall wood and metal bleachers are erected all around
the rear of the oval.

A long elevated entrance ramp runs from the entryway to the ring.  On
either side of the ramp stand two elevated platforms to be used for
interviews.

As we cut to the ringside area, atop thin black mats that cover the
concrete floor of the former warehouse, we find two tables - one for the
timekeeper and one for the announce duo.

Speaking of which, the camera cuts from the cheering crowd to the ring
where we find the familiar faces of "No Descriptions Needed" Gordon
Myers alongside "Big Bucks" Bucky Wilde - the best announcers in the
game.]

GM: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to another edition of AWA Saturday
Night Wrestling where you will see all the stars of the American
Wrestling Alliance, THE Major League of Professional Wrestling.  I am
Gordon Myers and by my side, as always, is the two-time Announcer Of The
Year, Bucky Wilde!  Bucky, it's beginning to look a lot like SuperClash!

BW:  Forget Thanksgiving.  Forget Black Friday.  Forget Christmas.  THIS
is the true holiday for wrestling fans and they are counting down the
days, Gordo.

GM:  As are we, SuperClash 2 - taking place right here in Dallas, Texas
as well as the AWA's debut in St. Louis, Missouri - is just twelve days
away and these fans are ready for it.  But before we get there, we've
got one more night here in the Crockett Coliseum and what a night it's
gonna be, Bucky.

BW:  The two big semifinals matches in the Longhorn Heritage Title
Tournament!

GM:  It's been one heck of a tournament and we're almost to the end. 
Tonight, we'll see Brent Maverick meet "The Hammer" Jackson Haynes and
former LWC superstar Robert Donovan meet the enigmatic Nenshou in action
with the two winners heading to the finals in twelve days to battle to
become the first Longhorn Heritage Champion.

BW:  And Eric Preston has signed his own death warrant here tonight
also.

GM:  For perhaps the final time, Eric Preston will step inside this ring
with James Monosso and he's looking to put down Monosso and move on to
Steal The Spotlight at SuperClash.  That will be an exciting, big-time
match, Bucky.

BW:  That's a Main Event, daddy!

GM:  We'll have that plus a lot more here tonight including... are you
ready for this, AWA fans?  Alex Martinez is in the building!

BW:  Yee-frickin'-haw, Gordo.  The nerve of this guy to come into our
house and start throwing people around.  This guy thinks just because
they call him a surefire Hall of Famer that he's the top dog around
here?  We'll see about that.

GM:  It's gonna be a wild night on the final stop on the road to
SuperClash 2 and let's get things started in a big way as we head down
to tonight's ring announcer, Phil Watson!

[We crossfade to the ring where a rather rotund, balding man is standing
in a tuxedo.]

PW:  Hello AWA fans!

[A mild reaction for Melissa's replacement.]

PW:  The following contest is set for one fall with a time limit of ten
minutes - ten minutes and is the OPENING MATCH of the evening! 
Introducing first, now stepping into the ring in the red and black
trunks... from Jackson, Mississippi... 240 pounds... Gerald Martin!

[A few cheers for the fired-up young man who throws his arms in the
air.]

PW:  And his opponent... 

[Danzig's "Until You Call On The Dark" starts up to almost no
reaction...

...until the man clad in the hooded black satin robe with a crescent
moon splashed across the back emerges from the entryway.  He pauses just
beyond the curtain, looking out from under the hood at the jeering
crowd.]

PW:  On his way down the aisle... from the Darkness... weighing in at
263 pounds...

He is known the world over as the PRINCE OF DARKNESS...

ANNNNNNTON LAAAAAYTON!

[Layton walks quickly down the ramp, snapping back his head to throw off
his hood as he gets closer and then shrugging the robe off as he steps
through the ropes.]

GM:  Look out!

[And even though Gerald Martin seemed to be expecting the rushing
assault, it does him no good as a barrage of fists and boots send him
falling back into the corner.]

GM:  Whoa!  Whoa!  Get in there, ref!

[The battering in the buckles is relentless, knocking Martin down to a
knee where Layton backs off, shoving the official aside, and charges
back in with a running kick to the side of the face that knocks Martin
under the ropes and out to the floor.]

GM:  Layton knocks him to the floor!  He's... what's gotten into him?

BW:  It's SuperClash, daddy!  It's got everyone fired up!

[Layton drops down to his back, rolling under the ropes to the floor. 
He quickly hauls Martin off the floor by the hair with both hands...

...and SMASHES Martin's skull into the wooden timekeeper's table!]

GM:  Good grief!  

[The referee shouts at Layton from inside the ring but the Prince of
Darkness ignores him, yanking Martin off the table by the hair.  He
wheels him around, grabbing the arm...

...and FIRES him spinefirst into the steel ringside barricade!]


"CLAAAAAAAAAAAANG!"


GM:  Into the steel!  Anton Layton may be trying to give a sneak preview
of what he's going to attempt to do to Vernon Riley at SuperClash 2,
Bucky.

BW:  This is exactly what's going to happen there!  Vernon Riley has
been the bane of Layton's existance for years and in twelve days, Layton
gets his payback.

GM:  Layton drags him, shoving him back into the ring...

[Layton rolls back in as well, pushing up to his knees.  He crawls over
to the downed Martin, sinking his fingers into the corners of Martin's
mouth, ripping and tearing.]

GM:  A blatant fishhook there.  The referee is warning him again but I
don't think Layton cares one bit.

[Layton lets loose a wild scream as he gets to his feet, promptly
leaping into the air, and drives both feet squarely down on the
midsection of the stunned Martin.  He applies a lateral press, the
referee quickly counting three for it.]

GM:  Anton Layton gets a win - a brutal win at that.  

[Layton promptly pushes out of the press, grabbing a handful of hair and
yanking Martin into a seated position.  He measures him, driving the
point of his elbow down into the forehead.]

GM:  Oh, come on!  The match is over!

BW:  But the preview for Vernon Riley may not be.

[A second bone-jarring elbow smash connects as well.  The referee steps
in, grabbing Layton by the arm...

...and gets popped with a left hand, knocking the official flat on his
back.]

GM:  OHHH!  This guy is nuts!  He's out of control!  He needs to be
fined!  He needs to be suspended!

[A few hard stomps to the downed official sends the referee rolling out
of the ring to the apron.  Layton spins away, dropping to a knee and
digging into his boot.]

GM:  Wait a second... what is he doing, Bucky?

BW:  You tell me.  You've followed his career for years.

GM:  I have - and I don't like the looks of this because I have a really
bad suspicion of what he's going for in that boot and-

[The crowd explodes in surprise as Layton pulls out a gold spike,
holding it high over his head.]

GM:  The Golden Spike!  Look out now!  Get that thing away from him!

[Layton grabs Martin by the hair again, pulling him back to a seated
position, his back resting against the Prince of Darkness' legs.  Layton
nods with a sadistic grin on his face, raising the spike high
overhead...

...and SLAMS the sharpened instrument into the forehead of Martin!]

GM:  OHHH!

[Cackling like a demonic madman, Layton stabs the spike into the
forehead again... and again... and again...]

GM:  SOMEBODY STOP THIS!!

[With Layton cackling and attacking relentlessly, we soon see a stream
of blood pouring from the skull of Gerald Martin.]

GM:  He's busted him open!  He's split Martin's head wide open!

[The spike continues to be driven down into the skull over and over and
over and over...

...when suddenly the crowd ERUPTS as Vernon Riley, Wade Kennedy,
Supernova, and the Rockstar Express hit the ring fast and hot, sending
Layton scurrying for cover.]

GM:  Thank heavens.  Thank the stars above that these men were able to
get out here...

BW:  But the damage has been done, Gordo.  Look at Martin.

GM:  I'd rather not.

[The camera catches a shot of a horribly bloodied Gerald Martin lying on
the canvas, curled up in a fetal position as Wade Kennedy kneels over
him, checking on the young man.  A furious Vernon Riley stands near the
ropes, screaming down the entryway at the retreating Anton Layton who
backpedals, a blood-covered Golden Spike in one hand as he cackles all
the while.]

GM:  What a start to our show, Bucky.  And you said you think it's
SuperClash being in the air that drove Layton to do something like that
so that makes me both excited and extremely nervous about what else
we'll see here tonight.  This could-

[Suddenly, the words of Gordon Myers are cut off and replaced by a
shouting Vernon Riley.]

VR:  I had it, Gawdahn! 

[The camera cuts to show a pissed-off Vernon Riley at ringside, face
turning red with rage as he shouts.]

VR:  What did that kid in there - all busted up and bloodied - EVER do
to YOU, Layton, you sick son of a-

[Gordon pulls the mic back.]

GM:  Please, try to compose yourself, Vernon.  I'm as upset as you are
and-

[Riley interrupts again.]

VR:  You are NOT as upset as I am, damn it!

[Gordon looks a bit shocked at the response.]

VR:  There's no way, Gordon... no possible way.  This is all my fault,
damn it.  This kid's blood...

[Riley holds up a bloody hand.]

VR:  ...is LITERALLY on my hands, ya hear?  I brought this madman here. 
I brought the Devil himself here.  He's here in the AWA because of me
and every single person he's hurt since he showed up... it's all my
fault.  Him... Childes... Monosso... Nenshou...

Damn them!  Damn them all straight to their Master, Gordon!

[Riley shakes his head.]

VR:  You just raised the stakes, Layton.  One more time, just twelve
days away, you raised the stakes!  If this is how you wanna play?  If
this is how you wanna do it?  We can play it that way!  We can do it
that way!  You want to smash my head into a table?

[Riley smacks his own head with an open hand.]

VR:  DO IT!

You want to throw me into the damn steel?

[Riley marches away, kicking the steel barricade hard before moving back
to the announcers.]

VR:  DO IT!  

And you want to take that damn spike... that damn spike that's haunted
my dreams for years... and split this ol' noggin open 'til I'm bleeding
all over Dallas?

[Riley punches his own head a few times until a trickle of blood appears
from an eyebrow.]

VR:  DO IT!

Do everything you can do!  Do everything your Master whispers into your
ear, Layton!

'Cause in twelve days?  One way or another?  This is over, ya hear me? 
You may get carried out, I may get carried out but one way or another...

[Dramatic pause as Riley points a finger at the camera.  His voice drops
to a whisper.]

VR:  It's over.

[Riley turns away from the camera, joining the other fan favorites in
helping the bloodied Gerald Martin back up the ramp towards the locker
room.]

GM:  Whew.  Fans, now THAT'S how you start a show!  Now, don't forget,
we've got four men battling it out tonight to try to make it to the
Championship Match in the tournament to crown the first Longhorn
Heritage Champion.  Right now, Mark Stegglet is standing by with one of
those men.  Mark?

[We cut to a shot of Jackson Haynes, standing by with Mark Stegglet in
the interview area. Haynes is dressed in a brown suede vest, red
Confederate flag-style trunks, and a floppy, tri-cornered cowboy hat. He
has his arms crossed, staring off into the audience as Stegglet begins
to speak.]

MS: Jackson Haynes, you're moments away from taking on Brent Maverick
for a spot in the finals of the Longhorn Heritage title tournament! Your
thoughts heading into this big match?

JH: I've been hearin' a whole lotta' talk recently from the talkin'
heads about stickin' Maverick in the wrasslin' Hall Of Fame, Stegglet. A
man still in the prime of his wrasslin' career and they wanna' erect a
monument to him? 

MS: Well, you can't really deny the influence that The Outlaws brought
to tag team wrestling...

JH: Are ya' bein' goofy on purpose, boy!? I can deny whatever the hell I
want!

[Haynes chuckles.]

JH: But 'yer right, Stegglet. Even when I was wrasslin' in Japan, all
I'd ever hear was "The Outlaws" this and "Maverick" that! They'd always
go on and on 'bout how damn great they were. Brent Maverick? He was
one-half of the "greatest tag team ever!"

[Haynes uses some rather harsh air quotes when he says "greatest tag
team ever."] 

JH: Hearin' all those sweet words that everyone was tossin' Maverick his
way, how do ya' think that makes a man like me feel?

MS: ...Jealous?

[This seems to set Haynes off, who whips off his hat and gets a
wild-eyed look on his face.]

JH: I AIN'T JEALOUS OF ANYONE!

[Stegglet jumps back, startled by the outburst.]

JH: It makes me feel like I should be prepared to take Brent Maverick's
friggin' head off if we'd ever cross paths just so everyone knows that
there's only one team around that's the greatest to ever lace up a pair
of boots...

...and that's Violence Unlimited!

[Haynes shakes his head.]

JH: It ain't anything personal, it's just doin' good business...and if
he's the kind of man I think he is, Brent Maverick would tell ya' he'd
do the same!

MS: Speaking of doing good business, you and Danny Morton were recently
offered the opportunity to join forces with James Dallas and the Samoan
Hit Squad. Any news on that front?

[There's a brief moment of awkward silence, as Haynes gives Stegglet the
stink-eye.]

JH: You're jokin', right?

["The Hammer" shakes his head disapprovingly.]

JH: I'm moments away from takin' on one of the toughest bastards in all
of wrasslin' and you're gonna' waste my time askin' me a stupid question
like that!?

MS: Well, the idea is an intriguing one. Some people are already saying
that if you joined forces, a group composed of Violence Unlimited and
the Samoans would be virtually unstoppable.

JH: Heh.

[This seems to amuse Haynes.]

JH: Stegglet?

MS: Y...yes?

JH: I'm already virtually unstoppable!

[Big Pop!]

JH: Get 'yer butt in gear and get with the program! I ain't some sorta'
moron like Larry Doyle that needs to pay someone to watch their back!
You don't think me and Danny see that offer from Dallas for what it
really is?

MS: And what is that, exactly?

JH: An excuse not to get beat within' an inch of their lives! Violence
Unlimited doesn't need to form any damn alliance to dominate this sport.
Never have, never will!

[Haynes puts his hat back on.]

JH: Now if ya' excuse me, I got myself a match to win.

[And with that, Haynes walks off camera leaving Mark Stegglet behind.]

MS:  Brent Maverick versus Jackson Haynes - we'll see that later tonight
but right now, I wouldn't want to be around James J. Dallas after what
he just heard.  We've gotta take a quick break but we'll be right back
with more AWA Saturday Night Wrestling!

[We fade away from Mark Stegglet to black...

And then to a very long shot of the exterior of a pretty dingy looking
building.]

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

[Fade to a graphic that has all the info on the AWA Combat Corner.  We
freeze there for a moment and then fade back up to the interview
platform where Mark Stegglet stands, microphone and cue card in hand.]

MS: At this time, I'd like to greet my guest and the only Hall of Famer
in the AWA - Mark Langseth!

["Save Yourself" by Stabbing Westward plays as Langseth comes out of the
entrance to a loud crowd pop. Langseth's dressed in a pair of black
slacks, a blue dress shirt with the top button open, and a pair of black
wingtips. He looks around at the crowd with a smile on his face as he
get to the platform.]

MS: Mark, thanks for coming. I know that you're busy preparing for your
rematch against Shane Destiny at Superclash.

ML: Hey, I can't train twenty-four/seven for it or I'd go insane. But...
I'm ready, Stegglet. I'm ready for whatever Destiny's going to throw at
me.

MS: It will be Hold Versus Hold, but - and don't take this the wrong way
- I would say that Destiny's Strangle is more dangerous to you than your
Greatness Personified is to Destiny.

[Langseth shoots Stegglet a look for a moment before responding.]

ML: Your opinion, Stegglet. Your opinion. Look, I know that people are
saying all Destiny's got to do is hit my back a couple times, lock in
the Strangle and stretch me out until I either tap or break. I know my
past, I know my injuries...

MS: The injury to your back and neck that kept you out of wrestling for
four years?

[Mark shakes his head.]

ML: But I also know that I've been in these situations before. People
said I could never beat Alex Martinez, but I did. People said I'd never
have a chance against Chris Courtade, but I beat him too. People said it
would be impossible that I could pin Eddie Van Gibson, but I showed
people wrong.

[Langseth gets a determined look on his face as he continues.]

ML: Stegglet, I've beaten Joe Reed, Jeff Matthews, Tiger Claw, and Serge
Annis all in matches. I've nearly crippled The Gremlin and Steve
Spector. And I took all that Gabriel Whitecross had to offer and made my
career something Hall of Fame worthy. You name the man and I've either
made him tap, pinned his shoulders for three seconds, or beaten him
straight into a hospital bed!

[Langseth looks over at Stegglet.]

ML: I've taken it ALL throughout my career and made it a habit of coming
back for more! I've always overcome the odds! And come Thanksgiving?
Come SuperClash in St. Louis? It WILL be one more outstanding, come from
behind victory by the man who's made it his marquee! 

[The crowd roars in applause as Langseth walks past Stegglet - giving
him a bit of a glare again before stepping off the platform. The camera
follows Langseth down and towards the entrance.

However, the crowd nearby starts to turn their applause to boos as a
figure gets in Langseth's way.]

GM: Is that Joe Petrow?

BW: I believe so, Gordo. Haven't seen him around in recent weeks, but
that doesn't mean the man's not working.

GM: But why is he here, now? And what does he want with Mark Langseth?

[Petrow and Langseth get into a bit of a discussion as the crowd
continues to turn into boos. Petrow tries to hand something to Langseth,
but Mark moves the arm out of the way and waves off Petrow before making
his way to the entrance again.]

GM: Well, I'm not exactly sure what went down there, but we'll try to
have a follow up later to see what that was about.

BW: Like I said, Gordo - Joe Petrow's got plans here in AWA. I'm more
than sure now that it includes Mark Langseth.

[The camera cuts to ringside where Gordon Myers looks quite annoyed as
he looks slightly off-camera.]

GM:  We have a lot of stuff to get to here tonight, and, well, now we're
being joined here by Count Adrian Bathwaite.  Former champion, now
manager of Sultan Azam Sharif. Count Bathwaite, we don't have you
scheduled!
 
[The silver-haired veteran, wearing a flashy red dress shirt with a dark
blue checker pattern that shines in the light, black dress pants, and
yellow shoes, pokes Myers in the ribs with his cane, drawing a yelp from
the broadcaster.  Despite the Angry Old Man canejabbing, the Count seems
to be in a good mood.  A smile shows off his English front teeth, which
seems a bit at odds with his Asian skin tone.]

CAB: Shut your yap, you needle-necked serf.  A man like me can come out
unannounced whenever and wherever I want to. I'm nobility, and all of
you gawkers out here, you dirt farmers will never understand what that's
like.  

GM: Your man Sharif isn't with you this week?

CAB: That is Sultan Azam Sharif to you!  The Great and Honorable Sultan!
 And he is in his homeland, accepting the praise and adulation of the
great Iranian people.  The Ayatollah held a ceremony in his honor, and
personally awarded the Sultan with a medal for representing his nation
with honor, class, and above all, with victory!  Everyone has seen him
dominate all competition.  The AWA executives were begging me to put him
in the Steal The Spotlight match, but that's an obvious trap. All those
Americans, threatened by superior genetics and a noble bloodline?  They
would have all turned on him at once.  In fact, my good friend Louis
Matsui was saying the same thing about his man Misuzawa, who is clearly
destined to win that match unless all of the Americans do what Americans
do and gang up on all those who are culturally superior.  That would be
a tragedy, and if the Sultan was in there too, they'd do it for sure.

No, the Sultan will not have his honor sullied by the devices of our
enemies.  Instead, he is looking forward to watching the great matchup
between Velikov and Sudakov.  Comrade Kostovich asked me to be sure that
neither myself or Sultan Azam Sharif interfered, and my word is gold. 
We will not interfere in the match, in fact, the Sultan scheduled his
trip back to Iran just so that Sudakov's mind would be at ease on that
point.  When he returns, you mewling peons had better give him the
hero's welcome he deserves!

[How about a nice chant of "USA! USA!" instead?]

CAB: Disgusting!  Disrespectful!  When will you dirt farmers learn how
to read?  Then maybe you could pick up a newspaper and realize that your
country is in the toilet.  Your leaders are greedy tyrants who pretend
to care about you, then make themselves rich by making their sponsors
rich.  Didn't you hear Warren Buffet thanking the government for the
bailout money?  Aren't you all so thankful that you paid to dig the rich
people out of the hole they dug for themselves, so they can still have
all of their multi-million-dollar salaries while the rest of you rot on
the unemployment line?  You deserve it!  You idiots deserve to suffer,
and they deserve to take your money because you're stupid enough to let
them!  Go ahead and chant "USA"... I love hearing a good punchline!

[BOOOOOOOOO!]

CAB: If you don't like it?  Do something about it!  Let's see America
bring up a champion to take on my man!  Let's see an American hero step
up and face Sultan Azam Sharif!  HAH!  That's a laugh!  Do you know why
no American hero can beat Sultan Azam Sharif, Myers?

GM: I'm sure you'll tell us.

CAB: It's not just because Sultan Azam Sharif is a better wrestler than
any American hero.  It's not just because Sultan Azam Sharif is a more
honorable man than any American hero.  It's not just because Sultan Azam
Sharif is tougher than any American hero.

It's because America has no heroes.

[BOOOOOOOOOO!  "USA!  USA!  USA!"]

CAB: That's not a chant, you needle-necked serfs!  That's _denial_!  HA
HA HA HA HA!

[Bathwaite walks away laughing, as Gordon shakes his head in
frustration.]

GM: I can't stand that man.

BW: He speaks only the truth.  Tell me one thing he said that is not
true!

GM: "America has no heroes."

BW: Name one.

GM: Juan Vasquez!  Vernon Riley!  Ron Houston!

BW: All of them are selfish men who are absorbed in their own little
worlds, Gordo.  None of them could afford to take Bathwaite's challenge
even if they wanted to.  Let's face it, the Count spoke the truth. 
Forget patriotism; everyone else is lookin' out for Number One.

GM:  I don't believe that for one moment.  Fans, let's go up to the ring
for more action.

[We crossfade back to ringside where we find two poor young men getting
battered by three wild-haired mountain men.]

GM:  The Moonshiners attack!

[Zeke and Jug are pounding one guy into the mat with dueling double
axehandles while Mange is bootchoking the other on the opposite side of
the ring.  The referee is screaming, frantically calling for the bell
over and over.]

GM:  We've got no control over this at all!  The introductions never
happened!  The bell never rung and-

[Mange yanks the helpless victim off the mat, hurling him towards his
men...

...who flip the young man inside out before dumping him to the mat with
a running double clothesline!]

GM:  DOUBLE CLOTHESLINE ON ONE MAN!!!

[Jug breaks away, dragging the other to his feet by the hair.  He throws
him towards Mange who leaps slightly off the mat, smashing his skull
into his victim's.]

GM:  Ohh!  A... well, I guess you could call it a flying headbutt taking
out the other young man - I'm being told his name is Rocky Ma-

BW:  IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT HIS NAME IS 'CAUSE HE'S GETTIN' HIS TAIL
KICKED, GORDO!!

[The crowd jeers as Mange hurls the young man over the ropes, sending
him crashing down on the wooden platform.  Jug and Zeke continue to
stomp and kick the other man over and over as the referee continues to
have the timekeeper ring the bell.]

BW:  You can ring the bell all ya want but it won't matter to the
'Shiners.

GM:  Can we get this under control?  What in the world is going on here
tonight?

[Zeke drags the smaller man up by the hair, tossing him towards Jug who
grabs him by the throat, throttling him with a choke as he pushes him
back into the corner, strangling the air out of him as the crowd jeers. 
He keeps on pushing, sending the young man through the ropes and out to
the floor.]

GM:  They cleared out both of these young men but you can bet it won't
be that easy at SuperClash when they take on the War Pigs with Richard
E. Lee.

[All three Moonshiners exit the ring, dropping off the apron.  Jug grabs
Gordon Myers by the jacket, yanking him close as Mange snatches the mic
out of his hands.]

Mange:  Twelve days, Myers!  Twelve days!

[Gordon looks on in horror at Jug.]

Mange:  We've got twelve days until we finally get our hands on Richard
E. Lee and his painted-up goofs.  

[Mange eyes Gordon Myers a bit.]

Mange:  Gordon... they say you're a bit of a history buff for this
business.  That right?

[Gordon uncomfortably nods.]

Mange:  You familiar with the lore of Mid-South 'Rasslin, Gordon?

[Another nod.]

Mange:  Then you know why SuperClash is the biggest night of our lives.

[Gordon musters up some courage.]

GM:  No!  I don't!  You won the feud!  You ended the Dixie Fireballs! 
You chased them out of Mid-South in the Loser Leaves Town match!

[Jug tightens his grip, quieting the announcer.]

Mange:  IT.  WASN'T.  ENOUGH!

FOR TEN YEARS, WE FOUGHT THEM, MYERS!  We fought the Fireballs in every
state in the South, in every nickel-and-dime buildin' they'd put us in. 
We fought them for ten years.

And you think that goes away in one night?

[Mange strokes his wild beard.]

Mange:  No, no... it doesn't.  It doesn't go away in TWENTY YEARS!  It
was 1988 the last time the Moonshiners and the Dixie Fireballs got into
the ring together.  And things may have changed a lot since then.  We're
older, we're slower but we're no less meaner.  And the Fireballs have
changed too.  Lee's a manager, not a 'rassler and he's got two
painted-up softies doin' his dirty work.

But at the end of the day, Gordon... it's the Moonshiners and the Dixie
Fireballs.

[Mange chuckles.]

Mange:  I know EXACTLY what I'm thankful for on Thanksgiving night.

[Jug releases Myers, shoving him back into Bucky as the three men storm
out of sight together.  A rattled Myers tries to compose himself,
flattening the front of his jacket.]

GM:  We'll be right back.

[Fade to black.

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

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

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

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

JD:  Hello, Mr. iPhone.

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

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

JD:  Well, actually I did.

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

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

[Thankfully, a voiceover starts.]

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

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

[Fade back to black...

[We hear the beginning to "Shake Ya Tail Feather" by Nelly, P. Diddy,
and Murphy Lee start up.]

# Looowww slooowww
Looowww to tha floooo #

[We open up on the Aces tag team standing in a hotel room.  Both men are
looking into a mirror.  The camera is behind them.  Both men are wearing
dark navy blue jeans, low cut.  Both are also shown wearing purple
button-down shirts.  The buttons are left open.  The short-haired
individual has a white wife-beater underneath his shirt.  The back of
his button down reads "Delicious."]

# We do it for fun
We just do it for fun
Dirty E.A.T
We do it for fun
Bad Boy (Nelly, Diddy, Murphy Lee)
We do it for fun (This is history baby)
Bend them trucks
We do it for fun (haha) #

[The long-haired individual has a white muscle shirt underneath his
button down.  The muscle shirt has been cut off to show his midriff.
The back of his button down says "Sweet."  Both men finishing primping
in the mirror, dancing to the rhythm of the music.]

# Stack them bucks
We do it for fun (Come on now)
And the band played on (yea)
Just like (I believe you cool to this)
We do it for fun
If you see me ma
We do it for fun #

# Bad Boys 2, the soundtrack
Let's Go #

[The scene switches "Sweet" and "Delicious" driving down the road in a
Mustang convertible, "Sweet" is driving.  It's dark out and the two
pull up to a red light.  In the lane next to them is a Jetta
convertible.  "Delicious leans over and motions for them to get into the
car.  We cut to the two men in the car, one riding passenger with an arm
around "Sweet" and the other in the backseat with "Delicious."]

# C'mere gurl
What your name is?
Where you from?
Turn around who you came with?
Is that cha ass or your momma have reindeer?
I can't explain it but damn sure glad you came here
I'm still a sucka for cornrows, you know I never changed that (nah uh)
Your body is banging mamma, but where your brains at? (Come on)
I'm still the same cat when I was young I was running with bad boys
But now I'm older hope they saw I'm running with bad boys (that's right)
#

[Cut to in-ring action from Japan.  "Sweet" delivers a savate kick as
"Delicious" delivers a shuffle side kick only moments later knocking the
opponent down to the mat.  Cut to "Sweet" perched on the top rope 
facing into the ring.  He stands up, raising his arms up into the air. 
He leaps off, driving his elbow into his opponent's sternum.  Cut to to
a shot of "Delicious" as he whips his opponent into the turnbuckle. 
"Delicious" charges off the ropes as his opponent hits the turnbuckle
and bounces out, dropping him to the mat with a diving elbow.]

# Here come another man
Unlike no other man
Candy coated whoa!
Switching in e'ery lane
Ya'll help me
Why don't cha
Please help me
Eighth gurl this week and its only Tuesdey
I like the cocky bow legged ones
Like white and Dominicans
Hispanics and Asians
Shake it for Nelly son
Manolos Ma-no-no's I can't tell
E'erybody and they hootchies
When you do it do it well #

[Cut to the inside of a club on the dance floor.  "Sweet" and
"Delicious" are dancing with the two women from earlier.  They've
somehow lost their undershirts.  It's just the purple button-downs,
still unbottoned, with bare chest underneath.  The two continue dancing
as the camera pans out and goes one rotation around the dance floor.]

# Let me see you take it low
Girl go and take it low
We can even do it slow
We can even do it slow
Take it where you want to go
Take it where you want to go
Just take that ass to the floor
Work something move something
Shake ya tail feather, girl go and take it low #

[Cut to more action of the Aces in Japan.  "Delicious" catches the
opponent with an enzuigiri to the face as "Sweet" hits a legsweep at the
same exact time.  Another shot of "Delicious" delivering and enzuigiri
to the back of the head, staggering the opponent forward.  "Sweet" hits
a perfect standing dropkick, sending the opponent to the mat.  In
mid-air, he twists and lands on the opponent with a splash.]

# We can even do it slow
We can even do it slow
Take it where you want to go
Take it where you want to go
Just take that ass to the floor
Work something move something
Shake ya tail feather #

[The scene fades to black.  White lettering appears, "Stampede Cup." 
Two seconds later, below "Stampede Cup", "The Aces will be there"
appears.  The lettering fades off the screen a few seconds later and we
fade back to ringside.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, and the Aces are coming indeed, Bucky.  I've
had the pleasure of seeing some video of these two young men in Japan
and when they arrive at the Stampede Cup, our fans are in for quite the
treat.

BW:  Two high-flyin' guys who are chick magnets.  Reminds me of me.

GM:  I'm sure.  You and "Playboy" Johnny C.  Fans, two weeks ago, we saw
something just... it was just horrible to witness... and we wanted to
take a moment to talk about it.  Let's take a look...

[We cut to footage marked "TWO WEEKS AGO" with Melissa Cannon inside the
ring, being addressed by Lori Dane who is standing up on the entrance
ramp.  Nenshou and Percy Childes are inside the ring, the former pacing
back and forth.  The audio comes from this week and not the old
footage.]

GM:  One of the quarterfinal matches was about to begin with Nenshou
taking on Supernova.  Nenshou had already been introduced to the ring
when Lori Dane, who has been showing up for weeks and harassing Melissa
Cannon, made her presence known once again.

BW:  Harassing is a strong word, Gordo.  She's trying to get Melissa to
get back in that ring as a wrestler - do what she originally set out to
do in this business.

GM:  But Melissa has repeatedly stated she has no interest in that -
that those days are behind her.  Lori Dane, however, will not take "no"
for an answer and this was her response...

[At a signal from Dane, Nenshou grabs Melissa Cannon by the back of the
hair, pulling her head back, and spraying mist directly into her eyes. 
Cannon immediately collapses to the mat, screaming in pain...

...and we cut back to live action.]

GM:  Now, even though Lori Dane is a member of AWA management, I am
being told that her actions are under review by the AWA Championship
Committee and she has been banned from appearing on AWA television until
that review is complete.

BW:  How is that possible?  What jurisdiction does the Committee and
that bonehead Watkins have over AWA management?

GM:  I am under the impression that the Committee controls ALL aspects
of AWA action, Bucky, and this very much falls within their duties. 
Now, as you may have noticed, Melissa Cannon is not with us this week as
she nurses her injuries.  We are told we should expect her to be out of
action for several weeks which unfortunately means she will not be at
SuperClash either.

BW:  And that's a big pay day to have to miss out on.  Lori Dane knew
EXACTLY what she was doing here two weeks ago.  If she wants to drive
Melissa Cannon to getting back into the ring, she may have just done it.

GM:  That remains to be seen but we wanted to wish Melissa the best of
luck in a speedy recovery and to let her know that all of us here at
Saturday Night Wrestling and throughout the entire American Wrestling
Alliance miss her very much.  And we weren't the only ones disturbed by
what Nenshou and Lori Dane did to Melissa two weeks ago, Bucky.   Right
now, let's hear from Supernova.

Again, sorry this is late.

[Cut to backstage where we find Mark Stegglet standing next to
Supernova. The young AWA wrestler is dressed in blue jeans and an AWA
T-shirt... but he still has his face painted black and yellow.]

MS: Supernova, you had a tough loss last week against Nenshou in the
quarterfinals of the Longhorn Heritage Title tournament... where do you
go from here?

[Supernova just sighs.]

S: Mark... I can accept a defeat... it comes with the territory when you
step into the wrestling ring. But what happened before the match...

[He just shakes his head.]

S: I don't know what Lori Dane's problem is with Melissa Cannon. I don't
know what she wants from her... but that... that...

[He takes a deep breath.]

S: You know, Mark, that was what upset me about last Saturday Night more
than anything. I really don't care if Lori put Nenshou up to that or
not... a real man doesn't do something like that to a young lady.

And Nenshou...

[Supernova's eyes are wide with anger at this point.]

S: I can accept losing a match... but I will NEVER accept what you did
to Melissa Cannon!

And I don't care what Lori Dane asked of you or that manager of yours...
I will NOT allow that to go unanswered!

Because the next time I catch up with you... and I promise you I WILL
catch up with you... the heat's gonna be that much hotter, you can count
on that!

[With that, he walks off camera quickly.]

MS: Whoa... Supernova not very happy with Nenshou... but not as much
about the loss as he is about what happened to Melissa Cannon. Back to
you, Gordon and Bucky.

[We fade back to ringside.]

GM:  Thanks, Mark.  And obviously Supernova will be looking to get his
hands on Nenshou in the very near future for a rematch from that great
matchup we saw two weeks ago.  But will that match be for the Longhorn
Heritage Title?  That's part of the question we'll be looking to answer
later tonight when Nenshou will meet Robert Donovan in one of the
semifinal matches in this big tournament we've got going on.  The other
part?  That's coming up right about now and I understand that Jason Dane
is standing by with one of the semifinalists, Brent Maverick.  Jason?

[We go up to the interview platform with Jason Dane.  He is joined by
Brent Maverick... the broad-shouldered Arizonan with the tousled dark
brown hair, stubble, and mustache is pacing.  Wearing his usual ring
attire (rust red knee-length trunks with Arizona Sun logo, laceless red
leather Western style boots, cutoff brown leather gloves, and a brown
leather vest), Maverick's facial expression is a strange mix of focus...
and a smile.  the fans cheer for the popular star.]

JD: Alright, Gordon... with me right now, a man who is about to head to
the ring for his semifinal match in the Longhorn Heritage tournament! 
Brent Maverick, you've got the formidible task of taking on the most
unlikely semifinalist in the field, one half of Violence Unlimited,
Jackson Haynes.

BM: How's that unlikely?

JD: Well... you wouldn't expect a tag team wrestler to...

BM: Damn fool "tag team wrestler" excuse!  Ya didn't look real shocked
when I put away Kennedy.  Or when I pinned Nenshou.  Or when I went
through three men in one night.  An' what do people STILL remember me
for?  A tag team.  So when I look at Jackson Haynes, I see a man.  Not a
_half_ of nothin'!  An' he's a man that likes ta fight, an' is real real
good at it.

By coincidence, I'm a man that likes ta fight.  An' I'm real, real, REAL
good at it.  So it looks like I got my hands full, but I look at it like
this: no crazyman runnin' outside tryin' ta ambush me, no weasel manager
tryin' ta make me lose cheap... now this is how I like it!  When men
like us raise Hell, Dane, th' Devil gets his hide outta dodge.  This is
th' kinda fight for which th' AWA built an arena; because if we was
rentin', we damn sure wouldn't get our deposit back.  This is th' kinda
fight that shows why we go to a three count; somebody'd die if we had ta
go ta four.  This is th' kinda fight that people remember when they talk
about Longhorn Heritage.

You say it's unlikely?  I say it couldn't be no other way.

Haynes, I don't know you.  I don't know whether a title is an honor to
ya, or just a bigger paycheck... an' it don't matter neither way. 
Tonight, what matters is this.  You will be taken to that point; that
point where it ain't gonna be enough just ta _like_ ta fight.  Joy only
goes so far... up ta that point when th' fight ain't fun no more.  When
ya hit that point, it ain't gonna be enough just ta be big an' tough. 
It ain't gonna be enough that ya wrassled in Japan, or that yer fists
are th' size o' softballs, or that ya know all these moves... no, when
ya hit that point, only one thing matters.

An' when we hit that point, Jackson Haynes, I'm gonna find out
everything I need ta know about you.  I'm gonna find out if yer as hard
as you say you is...

[Brent thumps his chest to make his next point.]

BM: ...or just another Tin Man who cain't find Oz.

[With that, he walks off the platform and onto the aisle ramp to the
cheers of the crowd.  The southern rock cover of "The Good, The Bad, and
The Ugly" begins to play as Jason wraps up.]

JD: Strong words there, and we're ready to see how they play out!  Let's
go up to the ring for the match!

"DING!  DING!  DING"

PW:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit and is a semifinal match in the tournament to
crown the first Longhorn Heritage Champion.  Introducing first...

[Maverick has already cleared the aisle, and steps into the ring,
raising his gloved hands to the crowd to a loud roar.]

PW: ...from Tucson, Arizona... weighing two-hundred forty-three
pounds...

BRENT MAVERICK!!

[Big cheers for the Arizonan.]

PW:  And his opponent... weighing in tonight at 310 pounds... from
Moscow, Tennessee...

"THE HAMMER" JACKSON HAAAAAAYNES!

[Motley Crue's "Shout At The Devil" kicks in to a big cheer as well.]

GM:  Both of these men are among the most popular competitors we have
here in the AWA, Bucky.

BW:  That and a nickel will buy them a cup of coffee.

GM:  A nickel?  How old ARE you?

[Haynes wastes no time coming down the entrance ramp.  A big, imposing,
rugged-looking guy with long, stringy, unkempt dirty blond hair, he
moves quickly and steps into the ring...

...and goes right after Brent Maverick!]

GM:  HERE WE GO!!

[The referee calls for the bell as Haynes tears right into Maverick,
throwing heavy haymakers that rock the much smaller man.]

GM:  Jackson Haynes is wasting no time in laying down the hammer on
Brent Maverick who is outweighed by about seventy pounds tonight, Bucky.

BW:  Maverick's a tough guy but he may have just ran across someone a
whole lot tougher.

GM:  He's battering Maverick back into the corner now...

[In the corner, Haynes switches to forearms, raining them down across
the back of the head and neck of Maverick, pummeling the smaller man
down to a knee.]

BW:  He's beatin' the heck out of Maverick!

GM:  He certainly is so far and-

[Haynes makes a mistake, turning his back to shout to the fans.  And as
he turns back around...

...and Maverick lunges at him, smashing him across the face with a
double axehandle blow.]

GM:  Ohh!  He caught him good right there!

BW:  And that's the kind of thing that could have been avoided if Haynes
would have swallowed his pride and joined up with James J. Dallas and
the Samoans.  Dallas could have pointed out what was going on and saved
Haynes from getting walloped between the eyes.

[With Haynes down on the mat, Maverick lays in a few kicks to the ribs
that forces Haynes to roll out under the ropes to the floor.]

GM:  All the way out to the floor goes Jackson Haynes... and he may want
to take this fight out there, Bucky.

BW:  It could be to his advantage.  He likes a good fight.

GM:  So does Brent Mav- OHHHHHH!

[The crowd roars along with Gordon as Maverick grabs the top rope with
both hands, slingshotting over the ropes and wiping out a recovering
Jackson Haynes with a bodyblock!]

GM:  BOTH MEN ARE DOWN ON THE FLOOR OFF A TREMENDOUS MOVE BY MAVERICK!

[Maverick is the first to his feet, nodding his head at the cheering
crowd.  He leans down, dragging Haynes off the thinly-padded floor by
the stringy hair...

...and gets caught with an abrupt martial arts thrust to the throat!]

GM:  Ohh!  And now it's Haynes' turn to catch Maverick off-guard!

[The stiff-fingered blow sends Maverick falling back against the apron,
clutching his windpipe and gasping for air.  Haynes regains his vertical
base, leaning over to grab the apron...

...and smashes his shoulder into Maverick's gut, driving the small of
the back into the edge of the apron!]

GM:  Maverick goes spinefirst into the apron and that's the hardest part
of the ring, Bucky.

BW:  It certainly is and when you're in that ring, you'd rather be
smashed into any other part of it.

[A couple more shoulder drives to the gut follow before Haynes
straightens up, grabbing Maverick by the wrist...

...and slinging him backfirst into the steel barricade!]

GM:  And this is what we talked about.  Jackson Haynes likes the fight -
and if the fight just happens to be on the floor?  Well, that's right up
his alley, Bucky.

BW:  Brent Maverick doesn't shy away from a fight either but this is one
he needs to be careful with.  If he stays out there with Haynes, he may
find himself driven into the floor or slammed on a table or smashed into
the ramp.  Who knows with this maniac?

[The Hammer slowly approaches Maverick who is leaning against the
barricade...

...and the Tombstone native throws a boot to the gut, doubling up
Haynes.  He quickly grabs Haynes by the back of the head, SMASHING him
facefirst into the railing!]

GM:  OHHH!  

BW:  That's a good way to bust a man wide open, Gordo.

GM:  Maverick fires him back under the ropes into the ring... rolling in
after him now...

[Maverick rises to his feet, approaching Haynes who is crawling away. 
Maverick grabs him by the back of the trunks, pulling him up to his feet
where he wraps his arms around the waist.]

GM:  Belly to back- no!

[Haynes blocks the lift attempt with a stiff left hand to the bridge of
the nose followed by three hard elbows to the back of the neck that
sends Maverick stumbling back into the ropes.  Haynes winds up, smashing
him across the forehead with an overhead elbow smash before firing him
across the ring.]

GM:  Whip by the Hammer...

[As Maverick rebounds off, Haynes dips down, hoisting him up across his
shoulders...]

GM:  SAMOAN DR- no!  Maverick elbows out!

[Maverick tries to mimic his opponent, dipping down to hoist him up
across the shoulders...]

GM:  ACEY DEUC-

[But Maverick falls straight back, smashing Haynes into the canvas with
a Samoan Drop.]

GM:  Ohh!  I thought he was going for the Acey Deucy there, Bucky!

BW:  He could have - he may have decided it was too early to try for it.
 Instead, he hits the Samoan Drop.

[Maverick scrambles to his feet, racing to the ropes...]

GM:  Off the ropes...

[Maverick leaps into the air, twisting his body slightly to smash home
an elbowdrop across the sternum.]

GM:  Corkscrewing elbowdrop by Brent Maverick!  And there's our first
cover of the match!

[The referee dives to the mat, delivering a two count before Haynes
fires a shoulder up off the canvas.]

GM:  Two count.  Only a two count there.

BW:  That was a nice elbowdrop but it's going to take more than that to
finish off a big bull like Jackson Haynes, Gordo.

GM:  I think you're right.

[Grabbing the recovering Haynes in a front facelock, Maverick hauls him
to his feet... 

...and somehow powers him up into a vertical suplex, dropping the Hammer
down to the mat with big impact.]

GM:  Whoa!  Big suplex by Maverick!

BW:  If he wants to hit something like that, he needs to do it early
while he's still fresh and that's exactly what we saw there.  That's a
veteran move by Maverick.

GM:  Look out here... he's measuring Haynes...

[And as soon as the Hammer finds himself up to a knee, Maverick rushes
forward and delivers a kneelift that knocks Haynes flat on his back!]

GM:  High impact kneelift!  And there's another cover for one!  Two! 
But that's all.  Haynes is out at two again.

[Maverick swings a leg over the torso of Haynes, taking the mount.  With
one hand, he grabs Haynes by the back of the hair and with the other, he
batters the skull of the Hammer.]

GM:  Maverick's taking it to him with those right hands - finally being
forced off by the official now.  The referee's warning him against a DQ.
 

BW:  And that's something both of these guys have to be careful. 
They're both very aggressive guys who like a fight but a DQ in this one
takes away their chance to be the first Longhorn Heritage Champion.

GM:  It certainly does.  

[Dragging Haynes off the mat by the arm, Maverick moves to the far
corner and HURLS Haynes from corner to corner, sending him smashing
chestfirst into the buckles...]

GM:  High impact whip right there and-

[Maverick charges in behind his own whip, arm raised.]

GM:  CLOTHESLI- ducked!

[Haynes ducks the clothesline coming from the blind side, allowing
Maverick to slam chestfirst into the corner...

...and then takes a page out of Maverick's playbook, swinging his arm
violently to smash Maverick in the back of the head, knocking him off
his feet!]

GM:  OHH!  AND IT'S HAYNES WHO HITS THE CLOTHESLINE!!

BW:  And that's like getting hit in the head with a baseball bat! 
Maverick may be out!

[Thinking the same thing, Haynes rolls Maverick to his back, applying a
lateral press...]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR-

[The crowd responds with a mixed reaction as Maverick fires a shoulder
up just before the three count comes down.]

GM:  Ohhh -  so close, Bucky.

BW:  I think the surprise helped there.  Maverick didn't see that coming
at all and he had to be shocked at seeing one of his signature moves get
countered by the big brawler.  Strategy and technique's not something
you'd expect from Haynes.


"FIVE MINUTES HAVE EXPIRED!  FIVE MINUTES REMAIN!"


GM:  We've hit the halfway mark in this one but at the rate these two
are going, I don't think the time limit should be a problem.

BW:  You never know, Gordo.  They're both tough, tough guys who can take
a lot of punishment and keep on comin'.

[Haynes yanks Maverick off the mat, tugging him into a standing
headscissors and spinning towards the turnbuckles.]

GM:  Uh oh - look out now...

BW:  Could be a turnbuckle powerbomb comin' up.

GM:  HE LIFTS!!

[Haynes looks set to drive Maverick into the buckles with a powerbomb
but at the peak of the lift, Maverick throws a barrage of right hands,
breaking Haynes' momentum.  The Hammer stumbles forward, setting
Maverick down on top rope...

...where Maverick throws a hard boot to the face, causing Haynes to fall
backwards.]

GM:  Ohh!  He caught him- 

[Maverick leaps off the middle rope, arm outstretched.]

GM:  CLOTHESLI-

[But the powerful Haynes somehow snatches Maverick out of the sky,
pivoting, and DRIVING him down to the canvas with a thunderous
powerslam!]

GM:  POWERSLAM!!  HE CAUGHT HIM AND DROVE HIM DOWN!!

[Haynes throws himself into another press, reaching back to hook the
legs.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!!  THRE-

[The crowd roars with another mixed reaction at the near fall.  Haynes
looks quizzically at the referee, holding up three fingers.  The
official shakes his head, holding up two in response.]

GM:  Haynes thought he had him there, Bucky.

BW:  Can you blame him?

GM:  I sure can't.  It sounds like a lot of people in this building
thought he had him as well.  This crowd is pretty evenly split between
Brent Maverick and Jackson Haynes right now and they're living and dying
on these near falls.

[Haynes hauls Maverick up in a three-quarter nelson, taking him right
down in a snap mare...

...and CREAMS him with a brutal crossface forearm shot across the
cheekbone!]

GM:  Ohh!

[Maverick hits the mat hard, curling up in a ball and covering up his
face as Haynes stands over him, letting loose a loud war cry before
dashing to the ropes, rebounding off, and leaping high in the air to
drop a leg across the covered head!]

GM:  310 pounds down in the legdrop - and here's another pin attempt. 
ONE!!  TWO!!  THR- still can't get him!  

[An irate Haynes balls up his fists and slams them into the canvas over
and over and over.]

GM:  And now we're seeing some serious frustration out of Jackson
Haynes.

BW:  He can't let it get to him.  He's in control of this match and if
he wants to move on to the Finals of this tournament, he needs to keep
his cool and stay focused.

[Haynes hauls Maverick off the mat by the hair, grabbing the arm to fire
him into the buckles...

...and charges right in behind him, smashing Maverick in the corner with
a running clothesline!]

GM:  Big clothesline there but he's not done.  Another whip...

[And as soon as Maverick hits those buckles, Haynes is on him with
another charging clothesline in the corner!]

GM:  Two big clotheslines!  Maverick's on Dream Street!

[But Haynes wants to be sure this time, throwing Maverick across the
ring once more...]

GM:  Into the buckles again!  Another clothesline?

[Haynes has other ideas as he rapidly approaches, raising his leg for a
running big boot in the corner...]

BW:  BIG!  BOOOOOOOOO-

[A desperate Brent Maverick throws himself out of the corner, allowing
Haynes to miss the kick, getting tangled up in the corner with his leg
around the top rope.]

GM:  He's caught!  He got caught up in the ropes!

[And as Haynes struggles to free himself, a dazed Maverick grabs him by
the stringy hair, pulling his head backwards low enough that Maverick
can lift his own leg, putting it across Haynes' throat and taking them
both down to the mat with an inverted Rocker Dropper!]

GM:  AMBUSH VALLEY DROP!!

BW:  Shades of Jason Keening's Black And Decker Drop!

GM:  The back of Haynes' skull SLAMMED into the canvas!

BW:  The good news for Haynes is that his leg came free from the ropes. 
The bad news is that he just got his bell rung!

GM:  Maverick crawls across - one!  TWO!!!  THRE-

[But this time, it's Haynes turn to kick out of the pin attempt to some
cheers from the crowd.]

GM:  Back and forth, back and forth these two men go!  This is a great
matchup, Bucky.

[Maverick again takes the mount, battering Haynes with right hands.  As
he does, the voice of Phil Watson fills the air.]


"TWO MINUTES REMAIN!  TWO MINUTES!"


GM:  And now it becomes nervous time for these two men and their fans! 
Two minutes to go!

BW:  What happens if there's a draw, Gordo?  Does Nenshou and Donovan
become the title match?

GM:  I suppose it does, Bucky.  But let's hope it doesn't come to that.

[Maverick stumbles up, shaking his head as he stomps the torso of Haynes
a few times before dragging the Hammer to his feet.  He pulls him into a
loose side headlock, turning him away from the official...

...and jams his thumb into the throat, sending Haynes gasping for air as
he stumbles to the ropes.]

GM:  A little Whiskey Lullaby of his own there by Brent Maverick.

BW:  But he doesn't throw it like Haynes does, Gordo.

[Moving to the ropes, Maverick grabs Haynes by the wrist, firing him
across the ring...]

GM:  Irish whip and-

[As Haynes rebounds off, Maverick hooks him around the upper thighs,
rotating and DRIVING Haynes down to the mat!]

GM:  SPINEBUSTER!  HE GOT ALL OF THAT!

[Maverick throws his arms straight out from his sides in a "it's over"
gesture as he applies a cover.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE-

[The crowd explodes in a mixed reaction!]

GM:  SHOULDER UP!!  SHOULDER UP!!

[And this time, it's Brent Maverick's turn to look incredulous at the
referee, insisting it was a three count.]

GM:  Two count only right there and Brent Maverick can't believe it!

[Maverick climbs to his feet, shouting at the official.]


"ONE MINUTE REMAINS!"


[Hearing the time call puts Maverick in another gear as he waves off the
official, pulling Haynes up to his feet.  He ducks down, hoisting him up
on his shoulders.]

GM:  He's got him up!  He's calling for Acey Deucy!

[Maverick backs to the corner, getting a running start.]

GM:  HERE!  IT!!  COM-

[But the crowd roars with shock as Haynes slips out the backdoor,
landing on his feet behind Maverick whose momentum takes him a couple
steps away.]

GM:  Haynes got out!  He slipped out of the-

[As soon as Maverick turns around, the right thumb of Jackson Haynes is
flying straight for him, aimed at his throat...]

GM:  WHISKEY LULLA-

[But Maverick knows it's coming and is ready for it, ducking down and
using Haynes' own momentum to get him up across his shoulders.  This
time though, he goes with the momentum - no pause to run and set up -
and INSTANTLY drops down to drive Haynes' skull into the mat!]

GM:  ACEY DEUCY!!  ACEY DEUCY!!  HE NAILED IT!!

[Maverick dives across Haynes, hooking BOTH legs as tightly as he can!]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREEEEEEEEEE!!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[The crowd roars for Brent Maverick as he rolls off the downed Haynes,
head bowed as the referee approaches to raise his hand in victory.

GM:  They just barely got it in before the end of the match but what a
counter by BOTH men leading into the Acey Deucy for the three count.

BW:  And it was a lightning quick Acey Deucy - a desperation Acey Deucy,
I'd say - as he used Haynes' own momentum to put him down for the three
count, Gordo.

GM:  A fantastic exchange there to end a great matchup and now, Brent
Maverick, finds himself in the Finals of the Longhorn Heritage Title
tournament!  You've gotta love that!

BW:  I do?

GM:  And whether he meets Nenshou in the Finals or Robert Donovan in the
Finals at SuperClash 2 in twelve nights, you know that a man like Brent
Maverick is EXACTLY what Longhorn Heritage is all about.  

[The camera zooms in on the triumphant Maverick as he raises his arms to
salute the cheering fans...

...and stops to shake the hand of the seated Haynes who nods his head
with a little respect.]

GM:  And look at that - a show of respect there by both men.  You've
gotta love that too!

BW:  Really?

GM:  Fans, one-half of the Longhorn Heritage Title finals is set with
Brent Maverick advancing to SuperClash but who will he face?  We'll find
that out later tonight.  Let's go backstage where Jason Dane is standing
by!

[Cut to the back where the camera holds on Jason Dane in front of a
white wall of the backstage area.  Beside him is Mark Langseth, who
gives the impression that he'd like to swat away Dane than talk to him.]

JD: Jason Dane here and I do apologize for pulling you away from the
locker room -

ML: Yeah, I was getting ready to leave, actually.

JD: But we all saw what happened after you spoke with Mark Stegglet a
few weeks ago.  What did Joe Petrow have to say to you -

ML: Look, Dane, what Petrow said to me is between him and myself, ok? I
don't mean to be rude or be short, but...

[Langseth pauses, sighing.]

ML: It's really none of your business.

JD: But -

ML: I mean - it's nothing, ok? You know Petrow - he's going around,
asking this and that. It's nothing. The only -

[Langseth nods, his annoyance at fielding this question showing.]

ML: The ONLY thing that's on my mind is the Hold versus Hold match at
SuperClash. That's IT! That's all I've got. There's nothing else -

[When suddenly, a voice is heard from off camera.]

'Well, if it isn't Marky Langseth.'

[The camera pans around, to reveal a man leaning against the wall, arms
crossed over his chest. Even leaning against the wall, the seven foot
tall Alex Martinez looms large in the frame. He wears a leather jacket
over a black t-shirt, and a pair of blue jeans. Mirrored sunglasses
cover his eyes, and his black hair is pulled back into a loose ponytail.
As he looks over his old enemy, a smirk spreads across his face.]

AM: I'm sorry, that was disrespectful, wasn't it? I mean, Mark.

[Langseth looks over and up... and if he wasn't annoyed now, Langseth
certainly's showing it by the sneer growing on his face. Dane sticks the
microphone out as he stands back a bit.]

ML: You? You?

[Langseth narrows his eyes at Martinez.]

ML: What the he... What do you want, huh?

AM: Believe it or not, I didn't come here lookin' for a fight. You and
I? We've got a long history together. But, I'm hopin' that its just
that. History. Seems to me like I've already made some enemies here, and
I just need to know, when I'm lookin' over my shoulder, who I'll be
lookin' for.

[Langseth gives a deadpanned look.]

AM: I doubt we'll ever be friends. There is too much bad blood between
us. We won't be hangin' out or teamin' up. But it seems to me like right
now, there's no reason for us to be at each other's throat. Unless you
feel like you got somethin' you want to settle with me.

So, Mark. I just wanna know. You and I? We gonna have a problem?

[Martinez comes forward, standing in front of Langseth.]

AM: Or, we cool?

[Langseth looks up, sneer still on his face.]

ML: You come in here, throwing this intimidation in my face, and you ask
ME if WE have a problem?! You...

[Mark stops himself, shaking his head.]

ML: You know, I don't need this right now, alright? So, no, there's no
problem. Do I still not like you as a human being?

[Langseth lets loose a quick grin.]

ML: But a problem? No.

AM: That's all I wanted to know. Now, what say we make this official.

[Martinez' hands uncross from in front of his chest, and he extends his
right hand, waiting for Langseth to shake it. Langseth looks down at his
long time rival's hand... Then back up to Martinez's face...

And then VERY quickly shakes his hand before backing off, shaking his
head and exiting the scene in a huff.]

AM: Good luck against Destiny, Langseth.

[His goal accomplished, Martinez walks away, leaving Jason Dane to wrap
up the event.]

JD: Well, I thought we would get some answers about what went on between
Joe Petrow and Mark Langseth, but it seems we saw - at least for this
moment - some clarification on where the lines are here in the AWA. Back
to you, Gordon and Bucky!

...and back up to a shot of the original SuperClash logo.  A voiceover
begins.]

"It was a night that few can forget."

[We can hear announcer cries like...

"ROUGH HOUSING!  ONE!!!  TWO!!!  THREEEEEEEE!!!!"

"What a night for the Matsui Corporation!  They stole the spotlight and
now they've beaten the mighty Tumaffi!"

"FIREBALL!  FIREBALL!"]

"Stars were made.  Careers were shortened.  Lives were altered forever."

[We can hear the "moment of truth" for Raphael Rhodes...

"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"]

"But in the end, there was only one conclusion...

SuperClash... IS... wrestling."

[One more soundbite.

"HE DID IT!  HE DID IT!  STEVIE BEAT ALL THE ODDS!"]

"On Thanksgiving night, show the world of wrestling what you're thankful
for."

[And a final graphic comes up...

SuperClash 2.  Thanksgiving Night.

We fade back to live action where we pan over to the interview platform,
upon which stands the round figure of Percy Childes.  The "Collector Of
Oddities" is flanked by his man, the enigmatic Nenshou.  Childes, who is
wearing a black suit, black pants, a black shirt, and black tie... in
fact, every article of clothing the man wears is black, including a
fedora that he's wearing on his bald head this week.  He clutches his
crystal-tipped cane in one hand, and a brass urn (?) in the other.  Next
to him on the platform is a small metal wastepaper basket.  His smile is
the sick smile of someone who knows something that noone else knows, and
who is taking great satisfaction in that fact.

We can't see Nenshou's expression, because it is masked with a black
draped-on hood.  Nenshou is wearing what looks like a ceremonial
Japanese robe of some kind... like everything else both men are wearing,
it is also black.  He stands at attention, facing Childes; in his hand
is a bag of some kind.  Jason Dane, who looks positively colorful next
to these two, starts the interview.]

JD: Percy Childes, along with Nenshou... later tonight your man will
face Robert Donovan in the semifinals of the Longhorn Heritage Title
Tournament.  I can't help but notice that you're wearing an awful lot of
black tonight.

PC: Of course.  Nenshou and I are attending a funeral, you know.

JD: I don't think that kind of threat is going to worry Robert Donovan.

PC: You don't think at all, Dane, but understand that I am not talking
about Robert Donovan's funeral.  I am talking about Robert Donovan's
heritage.  His... Longhorn heritage, if you will.

Donovan, from the first moment you entered the AWA, you have gone on
about the past.  About how you want to do tribute to your long-gone
home, the Longhorn Wrestling Council.  And all of the 'great stars' of
the past.

[As he speaks, Percy screws open the top of the urn, and sets it down. 
Nenshou draws the bag open, and hands Percy a large photograph.  It
shows a small packed arena.]

PC: Oh, look.  Here we have a photo of the Longhorn Wrestling Council's
first major card.

[He dumps it in the wastepaper basket, and gets another photo.  It
appears to feature Tex Violence.  Percy gazes at it, amusement in his
eyes.]

PC: Oh, look.  Here we have one of the alleged 'legends' of the Longhorn
Wrestling Council.

[The photo of Tex also goes in the waste bin.  The fans boo loudly.  The
next photo that Nenshou hands Childes features Bishop.  Percy
practically snickers at it.]

PC: And another one.  Supposedly an example of greatness.  In fact, so
were all of these men.

[The Bishop photo is dropped in the waste bin, and Percy starts going
through the stack of photos from Nenshou's bag.  We see the likes of
Bishop, Tex Violence, Brody Thunder, Midori-Iro Kikai, JW Hardin, Otto
Verhoeven, Steve Spector, and Casey James... we see them in promotional
photos and in action shots.  One by one, every picture goes in the waste
basket. As Percy is going through them, he continues to speak.]

PC: You see, Donovan, you're much like these people.  You simply refuse
to look at reality.  It might be because you're not sharp enough to
interpret the things that happen in the real world... it might be
denial... it might be a hopeless optimism... it might be that you simply
need someone to point out the fact that you've looked at this from an
entirely flawed point of view. Whatever.  But here is the hard, cold
fact that you... and each and every fan of wrestling needs to understand
about 'Longhorn Heritage', each one of these 'legends', and Robert
Donovan.

[Percy gets to the last photo... a group shot of the LWC roster.]

PC: __FAILURES.__

[The fans boo vehemently, and Dane looks at Childes incredulously as he
drops the last photo in the basket.  He then casually pulls out a small
drinking flask as Dane questions him on that point.]

JD: Failures?!  You're talking about Hall Of Famers!  Some of the most
successful men in the history of sports!  How can you call them
failures?

PC: Let me ask you, and Robert Donovan, the one question... the one
armor-piercing question that will reveal the idiocy in thinking of any
of these wrestlers, or the Longhorn Wrestling Council, as a great
success story...

...if these 'legends' were so great, why did the business shut down?

[Percy looks around mockingly.  He is greeted with a roar of jeers as
the fans do not appreciate where this is headed.]

PC: I'm looking as hard as I can, and I do not see a longhorn Wrestling
Council.  It is yet another failure, which couldn't pull in the business
it needed to operate.  Donovan, what don't you understand about that? 
Why are you paying tribute to a _failure_?  Or haven't you noticed,
Dane?  Every 'major' federation... every _legendary_ territory? 

They are all shut down.  ALL OF THEM.  Los Angeles.  Portland.  St.
Louis.  New York.  Toronto can only run six shows a year and has been a
shambling corpse for years.  For all of these 'Hall Of Fame legends',
NOBODY CAN MAKE MONEY RUNNING A WRESTLING COMPANY.  You, and all of
these failures, Donovan... you were not paid to fight because you can
fight.  You were paid to put on such good fights that it would bring in
sustainable business.  But all of these 'legends' apparently weren't
good enough to do what they were paid for.  If that is not the
_definition_ of failure in business... what is?

So let me make a toast, Robert Donovan.  Let me toast the Longhorn
Wrestling Council.  May it forever be imagined as somehow different than
every other failed venture of the past fifteen years.

[Percy takes a big swig from his flask... then dumps the rest of his
liquor in the waste basket.  He pulls the handkerchief out of his suit
pocket.]

PC: As for you and your illusions, Robert Donovan?  Let the cremation
begin.

[With that, Percy flicks open a Zippo, lights the handkerchief, and
drops it in the waste basket.  Flames lick up as the lighter catches the
liquor on fire.  BOOOOOO!]

PC: Tonight, Robert Donovan, failure meets future.  Nenshou will bring
to clarity the difference between the two.  You will enter, remembering
your glorious battles of years gone by.  But what you will see is
nothing like your memories.  Your experiences are useless.  Nenshou is
like nothing you have ever known.  His mental conditioning makes him
capable of superhuman feats... did you not see how Supernova ended up?  

And I know very well that you are still an able fighter, yes.  I know
very well that you are still a dangerous man.  But you are motivated by
illusion and denial, Robert Donovan.  Your past is not what you think it
is, and you are neglecting your present and future by abiding in it. 
You need to do what these people need to do: let go.  Let go of your
'Longhorn heritage'. Because the only meaning that the phrase 'Longhorn
heritage' has?

Will be provided by Nenshou, when he claims the Longhorn Heritage
Championship, and makes the world forget about the failures of days gone
by.

[Childes bends down, and tips up the wastebasket.  The photos have
burned quickly, being printed on cardstock  instead of photo paper.  He
pours the still-burning ashes into the urn, and screws the lid back on. 
Hefting the urn up in front of the camera, he turns it so that, for the
first time, the camera can see the inscription:

"ILLUSIONS - REST IN PEACE"]

PC: Tonight, Robert Donovan, we are gathered here not to remember our
past... but to bury it.

And we're starting with you.

[With that, Childes and Nenshou head off, leading Jason Dane speechless
in their wake, and an angry crowd that is anything but.]

GM: That was beyond disrespectful!  Percy Childes and Nenshou
practically desecrating the memory of... of what the Longhorn Heritage
Title is supposed to be about!

BW: He's got a point, Gordo!  Why are we worryin' about companies that
couldn't cut it when the AWA is live an' on top? Aren't _we_ the hottest
thing goin'?  Forget all them other territories.  Forget the past.  I
wanna see 2010, 2011.  An' Nenshou's the man ta remind us all about
that.

GM: Nenshou is incredible.  But Percy Childes is petty and spiteful,
trying to ruin good memories for no reason!  He may regret that tonight;
there is no chance that Robert Donovan would have heard that and not be
fired up!

BW: An' he's got all that anger... an' hasta wait for the match!  He'll
use up energy just ragin' about it!  Brilliance!

GM:  I still can't- what a disrespectful piece of garbage that man is. 
Let's go up to the ring.

[We do indeed go up to the ring where Phil Watson is ready and waiting.]

PW:  Our next match is also scheduled for one fall and also has a ten
minute time limit!  Introducing first... from Baltimore, Maryland...
weighing in at 205 pounds... Dexter Keith!

[A few cheers for Keith who hops up on the second rope to salute the
fans.]

PW:  And his opponent...

[The sounds of Cypress Hill's "Rock Superstar" sends the crowd into a
jeering frenzy.]

PW:  From Boston, Mass... he is a two-time former World Champion...
weighing in at 262 pounds...

"SUUUUUUPERSTAAAAAR" KEVVVVVIN SLAAAAAAATER!

[Slater pops through the curtain, sunglasses on his face, gold chains
hanging around his neck.  He's sporting a gold and white basketball
jersey with "SUPERSTAR" written across the front and "SLATER" across the
back.  He smiles wide as he struts down the aisle.]

GM:  It's been a while since we've seen Kevin Slater in action here on
Saturday Night Wrestling but he's only got twelve days until he meets
his destiny.  Since Kevin Slater's first day here in the AWA over two
years ago, he has planted the seeds for the moment when he'd get Bobby
Taylor, his former best friend, inside the ring.  And that day is almost
here, Bucky.

BW:  Can you imagine it, Gordo?  For over two years, Slater has plotted
and planned - waiting for this moment.  He's sacrificed so much to get
here.  He cast out his own girlfriend, he betrayed his friends, he put a
bounty on HIMSELF and took beating after beating - all to lure Bobby
Taylor into this one match.  All roads led to this for Kevin Slater.

[Upon reaching the ring, Slater grabs the top rope, slingshotting over
it into the ring.  He pulls off the jersey, wiping his underarms with
it, and then tossing it out into the front row with an arrogant smirk.]

GM:  But does Slater REALLY know what he's gotten himself into, Bucky? 
It's Outlaw Rules!  It's Bobby Taylor's specialty at SuperClash and...
well, I'm just not sure Kevin Slater's ready for that.

BW:  Slater's been active for most of those two years though, Gordo. 
He's in ring shape.  He's ready.  Taylor's had - what?  Three matches in
over two years?  You really think he can hang with the Superstar?

GM:  We'll find out in twelve days, I guess.

[Slater pulls off his sunglasses and chains, handing them out to
ringside as he backs into the corner, rolling his neck around to loosen
up.]

GM:  There's the bell and this one is underway.

[Both men move pretty quickly from the corner, locking up in the center
of the ring.  Slater quickly moves into a rear waistlock before powering
Keith off the mat, taking him chestfirst down to the mat.]

GM:  Nice takedown by Slater - spins across the back of Keith into a
front facelock now.

[Holding the front facelock, Slater goes into a roll, rolling Keith from
his chest to his back and back down to his chest in one motion.  He
quickly spins across the back again, this time ending up straddling the
lower back...

...and paintbrushing the kid across the back of the head.]

GM:  Give me a break, ref.  

BW:  Slater didn't do anything illegal.

GM:  No, he's just being a jerk.

BW:  Nothing illegal about that.

GM:  I suppose not.

[Slater pops up to his feet, ignoring the protesting official as he
stomps the lower back of Keith.  The young man rolls away, getting to a
knee as Slater approaches...

...and catching the former two-time World Champion with a blow to the
body!]

GM:  Big right hand to the breadbasket!

[The crowd cheers Dexter Keith as he gets back to his feet, throwing two
more big right hands to the temple of Slater, knocking him back into the
ropes.]

GM:  Keith's got Slater stumbling back... Irish whip...

[Keith goes for a clothesline but Slater ducks under it, rushing to the
far ropes.  Bouncing off, he spots Keith setting for a backdrop and
catches him with a clubbing blow to the back of the head that stuns the
youngster and allows Slater to throw him down to the mat by the back of
the head.]

GM:  Ohh!  A hard impact slam to the mat by Slater.

BW:  And that's the kind of veteran skills that Kevin Slater brings to
the table, Gordo.

GM:  It's also the kind of veteran skills that won't work against a
fellow veteran like Bobby Taylor.  Don't expect Taylor to drop his head
on a backdrop or to telegraph a big move.  He'll be ready for a fight,
you can bet on that.

BW:  Would you like to bet on that?

GM:  What do you mean?

BW:  Let's make SuperClash a little interesting, Gordo.

GM:  Would you stop?

[Slater toekicks the youngster near the ropes where he steps up on the
middle rope, springing off with a kneedrop down across the sternum.  A
few more stomps follow before Slater applies a sloppy cover.]

GM:  Cover for one... for two... but Slater pulls him up.

BW:  Haha.  He's not done with him yet, Gordo!

GM:  Apparently not.

[Dragging Keith off the mat, Slater scoops him up, slamming him down in
the middle of the ring.]

GM:  Big bodyslam... uh oh... Slater's heading up top!

[The crowd begins to buzz as Kevin Slater steps out of the ring, slowly
scaling the ropes until he reaches the peak.  He raises both arms to the
jeers of the crowd...

...and takes flight, burying his elbow in the heart of Dexter Keith!]

GM:  ELBOW OFF THE TOP!!

[Slater pops back up, throwing his arms apart and going into a full spin
to even more jeers from the crowd.  He shakes his head at their
response, dragging Keith off the mat...

...and tugging him into a front facelock.]

BW:  Here it comes, Gordo!

GM:  This is just a slap in the face to Bobby Taylor.

[Slater hoists Keith horizontal off the mat and then SPIKES him
skullfirst into the canvas!]

GM:  CATTLEBUSTER!  CATTLEBUSTER!!

[Slater rolls Keith to his back, placing a pinkie in the chest as the
referee drops down to count one, two, and finally three before calling
for the bell.]

GM:  Kevin Slater is your winner... rather easily at that... but it
won't be that easy when he meets Bobby Taylor in just twelve days in
Outlaw Rules, Bucky.

BW:  That remains to be seen and- hey, why don't you tell him that
yourself 'cause he's comin' down here, Gordo.

GM:  Oh, brother.

[The shot cuts down to ringside where Kevin Slater has joined the best
announce duo in the business.  Gordon raises the mic.]

GM:  Another victory, Mr. Slater, but-

BW:  But Gordo here thinks it won't be so easy against Taylor, Kev!

[Gordon casts a disgusted look towards Bucky but Slater is all grins.]

KS:  That a fact, Gordo?  You think ol' Bobby Taylor is gonna put a
whoopin' on the Superstar?

GM:  I don't know about that but you seem to be taking him awfully
lightly.

[Slater's mood changes drastically.]

KS:  Lightly?

[His brow furrows.]

KS:  LIGHTLY?!  I've never taken Bobby Taylor lightly for a single
second!  I've known the man almost my entire career in this sport and I
know EXACTLY what he's capable of!  I've seen him do things that would
make children scream and keep grownups awake at night with the cold
sweats, Gordon.

So, when you say that I'm taking him lightly, I call you a liar and a
fool.

[Gordon shrugs off the insult and continues.]

GM:  Well, where exactly have you been all these weeks?

KS:  I've been training, Gordon.  I've been in the finest gyms back home
in Boston cutting this finely-toned body into the greatest physical
specimen in the business.  And I've been in the nastiest divebars in
Texas picking fights with guys who would make Tex Violence look like a
Boy Scout.  

Because that's what it's going to take to beat Bobby Taylor at his own
game.  You have to be nasty.  You have to be dirty.  You have to be
tough.  You have to fight like your life depends on it...

[Slater smirks.]

KS:  Because it just might.

Outlaw Rules, Bobby... make no mistake, I know the kind of man you are. 
And I know EXACTLY what it's going to take to beat you.

[Slater pats Gordon on the shoulder and walks out of view.]

GM:  It's Outlaw Rules in twelve days' time and those two men are in for
the fight of their lives against the one man who know them better than
anyone - each other.  Fans, we'll be right back with more Saturday Night
Wrestling!

[Fade to black...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And now, it can be yours!"

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

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

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

...and then we come back up to the locker room area where Jason Dane
stands by with a scruffy looking Tin Can Rust - dressed in a flannel
shirt and jeans.]

JD: Jason Dane here with Tin Can Rust, a man who was absent from the
last Saturday Night Wre-

TCR: Jason, before you go down that road? Let me just say that the last
show? For me, was a holiday. I had to take the time away from my job to
make sure I tended to what was important - my family. It was Halloween,
ok?

JD: I understand that, but -

TCR: No, Jason, I don't think you do. You see, ever since I came back -
ever since I made the decision to come back and try to fight for my
friend, City Jack...

[Rust pauses, shaking his head at the situation.]

TCR: All I can keep thinking about in the back of my head is the sight
Jack, laid up in that hospital bed for months... His sight taken away
from him for God only knows how long!

[Rust looks away briefly, putting a hand to his mouth as he sighs.]

TCR: I got two little kids that mean the world to me, Jason. I got a
wife I love seeing every day I'm home. She asked me after that Saturday
Night I accepted the Texas Death Match if I would just take one day off
- one day, Jason - to come home to Centre City and take the kids out
around town for Halloween. But I knew in her voice, it wasn't just about
me tending to the kids' costume and candy...

[Rust shakes his head.]

TCR: I could tell she was concerned. She's seen Jack. She's seen what
that coward Calisto Dufresne did to him. And she's knows enough about
this sport to know that some men never make it out of a Texas Death
Match the same as they went in... She was scared, Jason. Scared I might
be in that hospital room...

[Another pause as Rust darts his eyes around.]

TCR: Scared I might never see my kids again. So I had to go, take that
day off, and just make sure... Make sure things are right before I step
into the ring with Dufresne.

JD: Well, excuse me if I'm out of bounds here, but it sounds like
there's a bit of doubt in your mind when it comes to your match at
SuperClash here in Dallas.

[Rust closes his eyes, but doesn't shake his head to disagree with
Dane.]

TCR: Jason... I'd be lying if I said I wasn't concerned myself. It's
hard not to when the man you're facing up against outright says he's
going to do everything he can to take away my vision and my livelihood.
No man can honestly sane man would say that they aren't scared... So...

[Rust pauses for a moment and then nods.]

TCR: Yeah... Yeah, I do think it could me in that hospital bed,
listening to people telling me it'll get better...

[Rust then narrows his eyes as he looks into the camera and clenches his
teeth.]

TCR: But I'll be damned if I allow it happen! I'll be damned if I'm
going to fail the fans, my friend, and my family! It'll be a cold day in
hell when I won't answer to the ten count and have that yellow-streaked
Dufresne's hand be raised as the better man!

[As Tin Can Rust continues his stare into the camera, it cuts back to
the ring where Phil Watson is standing.]

PW:  Up next, this match is scheduled for one fall and has a time limit
of ten minutes.  First, in the corner to my right, from Detroit,
Michigan... weighing 250 pounds... Jeff Cross!

[Cross raises a hand to very little reaction.]

PW:  And his opponent...

["Sharp Dressed Man" by ZZ Top kicks in to jeers from the crowd.]

PW:  He hails from Avery Island, Louisiana... weighing in at 245
pounds... he is one-half of the former AWA National Tag Team
Champions... representing the Southern Syndicate and accompanied to the
ring by his manager, Ben Waterson...

He is the Ladykiller...

CAAAAAALISTO DUUUUUUFRESNE!

[The camera cuts to the entranceway, where the curtains part to reveal
two of the AWA's most despised (and annoying) characters, "Ladykiller"
Calisto Dufresne and "Agent To The Stars" Ben Waterson.  The duo stands
at the head of the entryway for many moments, soaking in all of the
boos.]

GM:  And here comes one of the most dastardly duos in the entire AWA,
Bucky.

BW:  Love 'em or hate 'em, they're the best in the world, daddy!

GM:  Well, these fans don't seem too confused about whether or not they
love 'em or hate 'em.  This is quite the negative reaction they're
getting here in the Crockett Coliseum.

BW:  Just imagine the reaction they'll get in two weeks when Dufresne
plucks out Rust's eye and sends him to lay in the old folks' home with
his old buddy.

GM:  That's disgusting.  Would you stop?

[Dufresne steps through the ropes, getting some final advice from Ben
Waterson before the referee calls for the bell.]

GM:  Here we go - Calisto Dufresne taking on Jeff Cross!

[Cross marches out of the corner, fists balled up and ready for a
fight...

...but Dufresne simply smirks in response, nodding his head as he slowly
walks along the ropes, looking out at the jeering crowd who hates his
every footstep.  He points to a fan at ringside, making a comment that
seems to draw more boos in his direction.]

GM:  I'll choose not to repeat that comment since this is a family show,
Bucky.

BW:  Do you think that guy's wife is really from Nantucket?

[The Ladykiller slowly edges out to the center of the ring, looking for
a tieup...

...and instead promptly going to the eyes, raking his fingers across
them!]

GM:  Ohh!  Right to the eyes!

BW:  One of the favorite pages of the Dufresne playbook, Gordo.

GM:  Cross staggering away... look at this guy...

[Dufresne, mocking his opponent, closes his eyes and stumbles around the
ring with his hands at a distance.]

GM:  Give me a break.

BW:  What?  He's just doing his best City Jack impression.  

GM:  Continuing to mock City Jack is what has gotten Dufresne into this
mess with Tin Can Rust that can only be settled inside a Texas Death
Match in twelve days' time at SuperClash 2, Bucky.

BW:  Or maybe it's what has lured Rust into the final night of his
wrestling career.  Dufresne has said he won't hesitate to finish off
Rust just like he did his old buddy if he gets the opportunity.  That
opportunity may happen down at the Fair Park Coliseum on Thanksgiving
Night.

[Caught up in his mockery, Dufresne still has his eyes closed when Cross
recovers and throws a dropkick that catches the Ladykiller squarely on
the chin, knocking him down to his rear.]

GM:  Big dropkick by Cross!  Get him, kid!

[Cross is waiting as Dufresne recovers, throwing another dropkick that
knocks Dufresne down to the mat once more.]

GM:  Two dropkicks by Jeff Cross!  The kid has caught Dufresne
off-balance and now he's taking it to him!

[The Ladykiller quickly scampers up once more...

...and this time sidesteps a third dropkick attempt, causing Cross to
slam chestfirst down to the mat where Dufresne promptly drops a knee
across the back of the skull, driving Cross' face into the mat.]

GM:  Ohh!  What a counter by Dufresne!

BW:  Most guys would have been happy just avoiding the dropkick but
Dufresne got out of the way and then lowered the boom on him to boot. 
Perfect.

[Down on his knees, Dufresne rolls Cross to his back, balling up his
fist...

...and slamming a hammerfist down into the eyesocket!]

"Hey Rust!  You watching?"

[A second blow comes down.]

"Can you SEE this?"

[A third connects as well.]

"This is what happened to your boy!"

[A fourth.]

"And this is gonna happen to you!"

[On the fifth, he switches to an elbowsmash with the bony point of his
elbow connecting with the eyesocket.  The crowd is jeering as he regains
his feet, sneering at his fallen opponent who is clutching his face.]

GM:  Dufresne with a little message for Tin Can Rust right there,
telling him he's going to do to Rust at SuperClash exactly what he's
doing to Cross right now and exactly what he did to Rust's best friend a
year ago.

BW:  That's right, Gordo.  It's a one year celebration since City Jack
got sent packin' and now Rust is gonna join him.  Calisto Dufresne is
going to rid the AWA of that Kentucky's Pride filth once and for all.

GM:  I can't believe you support this animal, Bucky.  Even for you,
that's low.

BW:  You watch your mouth, Myers.  I get paid well to play nice with you
but don't think for a second I won't go upside your skull if you get
mouthy with me!

[Dufresne delivers a hard kick to the cheek of Cross, rolling him onto
his back.  The Ladykiller stands over him, measuring him with a fist...

...and drops the clenched fist directly down on the eyesocket as well!]

GM:  Fistdrop!  Right to the eye!  And the referee is warning him now to
stay out of the eyes.

BW:  And he hits him again anyways!  Calisto Dufresne is telling the
world that the Southern Syndicate does whatever the heck they want when
they want to do it.  And at SuperClash, just when the wrestling world
thinks they've got the Southern Syndicate on the ropes, I look for Ben
Waterson to pull the rug out from under everyone!

GM:  You think Dufresne, Freeman, AND Scott end the night unharmed?

BW:  Beaten, bloodied, and battered perhaps but I think Stevie Scott
will still be the AWA National Champion, I think Calisto Dufresne will
succeed in running Tin Can Rust out of town, and I think Adrian Freeman
could very likely Steal The Spotlight and he just might take a few
enemies out in the process.

GM:  Dufresne with a few more shots to the eye before he gets up to his
feet.

[Dragging Cross off the mat by the wrist, Dufresne hurls him into the
ropes.  On the rebound, he hooks Cross under his armpit, swinging around
and DRIVING him down with a sidewalk slam.]

GM:  And Dufresne continues to try to get under the skin of Tin Can Rust
as he uses Rust's own move right there.

[A smirking Dufresne drags Cross into a standing position, hooking the
front facelock...

...and SPIKING him skullfirst into the canvas with a lifting DDT!]

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

[The crowd jeers as Dufresne rolls into a one-handed cover.]

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

[The bell rings as Dufresne gets to his feet...]

GM:  What is he...?

BW:  He told the ref to keep counting!  He wants the ten count!

GM:  Dufresne wants to hear the ten count he'll need to win the Texas
Death Match in twelve nights.

[The official reluctantly continues the count, easily reaching ten
before calling for the bell again.]

GM:  There was no doubt on that one, Bucky.

BW:  None at all - and now the whole world knows what he wants us to
know.

GM:  What's that?

BW:  If he hits that DDT at SuperClash, Tin Can Rust will NOT get up
either.

GM:  We'll see about that.  Fans, earlier tonight, we saw Nenshou and
Percy Childes out here in one of the most distasteful interviews I've
ever witnessed as they insulted the legacy of the LWC and the men who
competed there - the same legacy that the AWA is paying tribute to with
the creation of the Longhorn Heritage Championship.  But before that
went down, we got comments from Robert Donovan on the big semifinal
matchup we'll be seeing in just a short while between he and Nenshou. 
Let's take a look...

[The camera cuts to the back to footage marked "EARLIER TODAY", where
the tallest of the Longhorn Heritage semi-finalists looms large over the
camera.  He's dressed for action -- black jeans, black wrestling boots,
a dark red tank top.  Hair is tied back, hands are taped, and Robert
Donovan has the general look of a man ready to cause someone else
serious harm.]

RD:  Well, Nenshou, for once, I don't have to stand here in front of a
camera and say that I don't know anythin' about the guy I'm facin' next.
 For once, even though I don't know you personally, only by what you've
done in the ring, well...I know all I need to know about you.

[Donovan holds up one finger.  No, not that one, the first one.]

RD:  First of all...athletically, you're damned impressive.  I've been
around a lot of guys who did a lot of the things you can do,
Nenshou...but they were all about thirty, forty pounds lighter.  What
you do in that ring is nothin' short of amazing, and under normal
circumstances, that'd be enough to at least garner a little bit of
respect from yours truly.

[Donovan pauses.]

RD:  Unfortunately, the other things I've seen you do in the ring --
from spittin' in the face of a ring announcer to usin' that little toad
attached to your hip to steal a win...well, Nenshou, those are things
you can do to make sure respect is the last damn thing you ever get from
me.  Of course, you don't really seem the type to give half a damn if
your opponent has any respect for ya or not...in this case, maybe you
wanna reconsider that line o' thought, though.

[Donovan folds his arms in front of his chest.]

RD:  Jack Holland?  That's a respectable guy.  Stand-up, fights like a
man -- an' I used everything I could find on that sumbitch without
gettin' disqualified.  We bounced each other off the guardrail, the
post, you name it an' we used it.  Again, let me emphasize that I
respect Jack Holland, even if he is too much the "Gentleman" for his own
damned good.  If it still doesn't make sense, I'll make it real simple
for ya, Nenshou -- I beat the livin' hell out of a guy that I respect. 
I don't respect you.

[Donovan leans forward slightly, grinning.]

RD:  If I'll do that to a respectable man...what do you think I'll be
willin' to do to you?

[And with that, we fade from the previously-taped footage back to live
action where Phil Watson is standing inside the ring.]

PW:  The next contest is set for one fall.  Ten minutes is your time
limit. Introducing first!  He weighs two-hundred and sixty-eight pounds
and hails from Bucksnort, Tennessee.  Here is... SCOTTY THE BODY!

[A pale, muscled man lifts his arms in the air.  The crowd cheers a bit,
probably more for his "business up front, party in the back" mullet he's
rocking.]

GM:  The young Scotty the Body is making his debut for the AWA tonight,
Bucky.  He's wrestled for the past few months in Tennesee and has taken
a big step in making the transition to Texas and the AWA.

BW:  He's looking for that next step in his career, daddy.  He wants to
hit the big time and make a splash.

["Ain't No Rest for the Wicked" by Cage the Elephant starts up as the
crowd boos.]

PW:  From Huntsville, Alabama and weighing in at two-hundred and fifteen
pounds.  Here is... "THE INVADER" BRIAN VON BRAUN!

[Brian Von Braun appears from the entrance portal as the ring announer
finishes saying his name.  The crowd boos more.  BVB stops at the
beginning of the aisle, scanning the audience.  His eyes narrow as he
scans starting to his left side and finishing his right.  He shakes his
head and smirks as he heads down the aisle, taking time to avoid fans
reaching out to touch him.  One fan gets a bit too close, BVB reaches
his arm back as if to backhand the fan, while jawing at the fan.  He
continues to the ring, sliding in under the bottom rope.  BVB scans the
crowd again, as he slowly pushes himself to his feet.]

# Oh, there ain't no rest for the wicked #
# Money don't grow on trees #
# I've got bills to pay, I've got mouths to feed #
# THere ain't nothin' in this world for free #
# I know I can't slow down #
# I can't hold back #
# Though you know I wish I could #
# Oh, no there ain't no rest for the wicked #
# Until we close our eyes for good #

[BVB takes a few steps towards one side of the ring, looking out at the
fans.  He hooks his thumbs at himself and says something to the crowd. 
He walks over to a corner, still looking at the crowd as his music stops
playing.]

BW:  And here stands the man who put Ron Houston out of commission,
daddy.  

GM:  He wrapped an armbar on Ron Houston's left arm two weeks ago,
Bucky.  That was the same arm injured some time ago by the Southern
Syndicate, which kept Houston on the sidelines for months.  You have to
wonder if Ron Houston will be able to make SuperClash 2.

BW:  He swallowed his pride, Gordo.  He won't show up on Thanksgiving
night unless he wants to be put out for a few more months.

[Scott The Body grabs onto the top rope and pulls on it to stretch.  The
bell rings and both combatants head to the middle of the ring and
circle.  The two lock up, and Scotty the Body easily throws Von Braun to
the mat using his superior strength.]

GM:  Scotty uses his strength and forces the smaller Von Braun down to
the mat off of the collar-and-elbow tie up.

BW:  Don't think Bee Vee Bee is going to wrestle to his weaknesses,
Gordo.  He's too smart to make that mistake.

GM:  He made the mistake of angering Ron Houston.  

[Von Braun gets to his knees, scowling at the mulleted Tennessean.  Von
Braun gets to his feet and immediately rushes into another
collar-and-elbow tie up.  Using his quickness, he quickly grabs the left
arm and twists it up and over into a top wristlock.  BVB smiles and
cackles as he pushes up for added leverage and pressure.]

BW:  Brian goes right after that left arm, daddy.  He's picked out the
part he's going to work on, Gordo.  That's the sign of a ring veteran.

GM:  Von Braun has the legacy of his family behind him.  He's a second
generation wrestler with a lot of family members in wrestling.  He knows
what he's doing in the ring.

BW:  It's hard to be ignorant about wrestling when you grew up around
it.

[BVB twists the arm again, causing Scott the Body to slap his shoulder. 
BVB steps to the side, holding the arm with one hand.  He delivers a
standing side kick to the head sending Scotty to the mat.  Von Braun
grabs Scotty's left arm and extends it out.  He delivers a kneedrop to
the arm.  He brings his knee back and brings it crashing down on
Scotty's left arm again.  He delivers a third kneedrop and then applies
an armbar.]

GM:  Von Braun keeping his attack on Scotty's left arm.  He's clearly
changed his game up.  

BW:  No doubt about that, daddy.  I talked to him last week.  He decided
to ditch the Crimson Tide Cloverleaf in favor of his new pet move, the
Endgame Armbar.  He told me it was to make Houston hurt.

GM:  He changed to a new finisher to punish Ron Houston more?

BW:  Exactly, daddy.  That's why this cat isn't playing with a full
deck.

GM:  He's desperate, Bucky.

BW:  I know.  I'm still waiting for him to enlist the help of the
Alabama National Guard to destroy Ron Houston.

GM:  He may have accomplished that goal two weeks ago, Bucky.

BW:  Only if Ron Houston is smart, Gordo.  He needs to stay away and
stay FAR away from this guy or he'll get put on the shelf permanently.

[Scotty is able to get to his feet.  He pushes Von Braun back to the
ropes and then fires the Rocket City Badboy across.  Von Braun rebounds
and hits Scotty the Body with a shoulder tackle.  Scotty only takes a
step back as Von Braun hits the mat back first.]

GM:  Von Braun tried using a shoulder tackle, but he's the one who ended
up on the mat!

[Von Braun gets to a seated position and glares at Scotty the Body who
gives BVB the "bring it" hand motion.]

BW:  That ain't smart, Gordo.

[BVB gets to his feet and immediately charges at Scotty the Body.  The
crowd cheers as Scotty lifts BVB over his head in a gorilla press and
holds him there.]

GM:  Impressive display of strength from the Tennessee native!

[Scotty drops BVB to the mat, letting the Alabama-native land
face-first.  Scotty the Body shakes out his left arm and then fluffs his
mullet.]

BW:  Business up front, party in the back, daddy!  He's rocking that
mullet just like every other Tennessean at the local Waffle House!

GM:  Von Braun holding on his stomach.  He landed hard, Bucky.

BW:  It ain't over until we get a three count or someone quits.  Then we
headed to Sizzler!

[Scotty peels Von Braun off the mat and pushes him back to the ropes. 
He whips Von Braun across the ring and sets for a backdrop.  Von Braun
stops short on the rebound and grabs Scotty's left arm, pulling it out
to full extension and then drops with an armbar DDT.]

GM:  Right back to the left arm!  Von Braun is methodical in the ring
when he's in control of himself, Bucky.

BW:  I think he's about to lose control, daddy!

[Sure enough, Von Braun's eyes are wide.  He grabs the left arm and
starts throwing punches into Scott's bicep area before finally giving up
and grabbing the man with two hands and choking him.  Von Braun grits
his teeth, the loss of self control evident.]

GM:  Blatant choke by Von Braun!  

[The ref administers a count and Von Braun breaks at four.  He reapplies
the choke hold.  He breaks at four again.]

BW:  He's lost control in there.  This isn't good for Scotty the Body.

GM:  No it's not, Bucky.

[Von Braun releases the choke and then uses his left hand to smooth his
hair. He looks out at the crowd, the rage and wild glint in his eyes
slowly leaving.  He pulls himself up to his feet using the middle rope
and then delivers a few stomps to Scotty's left arm.  He pulls Scotty up
and applies a modified armbar.]

GM:  He's setting him up for another move to that left arm!

[BVB drops Scotty to the mat with another armbar DDT.  The Tennessee
native grabs his left arm and yelps.  Von Braun is quick to capitalize
by applying his Fujiwara armbar.]

BW:  Endgame Armbar, daddy!  This one is over!

[It only takes a second and Scotty the Body calls it quits.  The ref
calls for the bell as BVB releases the hold.]

GM:  This one is over, Bucky.

BW:  And Brian Von Braun is headed to the pay window and the Sizzler,
daddy.  I hope he asks me to go with him.

PW:  The winner of the match as a result of a submission... "THE
INVADER" BRIAN VON BRAUN!

[Von Braun rolls out of the ring and walks over to the announcer's
table.  Gordon Myers grabs a mic and gets up from the table, meeting Von
Braun out in front.]

GM:  We saw you attack Ron Houston two weeks ago, Brian.  You went right
after his left arm, the same arm injured by the Southern Syndicate that
kept Ron Houston out of action for months.

[BVB's nostrils flare as he stares at the screen.  His bangs are in his
face and he tosses his head back to swing them out of the way.  The wild
gleam has returned to his eyes.]

BVB:  He got lucky when he was able to fend off me and my family,
Gordon.  He got _real_ lucky.  Two weeks ago?  His luck ran out.  I
ain't got time for your questions, Gordon.  I want to talk to Ron.  

[BVB looks at the camera.]

BVB:  You watching this, Ron?  You at home, arm in a sling, pride
swallowed, watching this!?  I want you to _understand_ me, Ron.  You
_can't_ beat me.  You _won't_ beat me.  You don't have what it takes to
sink to a level in order to win this war.  These fans [motions to the
crowd with his left arm] mean too much to you to forake everything you
stand for and do what's necessary to end this.

[BVB points brings his left arm back and extend his pointer finger on
his left hand, holding it close to his chest.]

BVB:  All the attacks, all the words, all the actions mean nothing.  

[Thumb hook at himself.]

BVB:  I'm the guy who will stoop to any level to end you.

[Another thumb hook.]

BVB:  I'm the guy who doesn't have a line he won't cross.  People think
what Calisto Dufrense did was horrible?  I would've shown up in the
hospital room, handcuffed his buddy to a nearby table, and tossed
another fireball at the blind eye.  Forget Percy Childes and his
collection of crazies and oddities.  

[A third thumb hook.]

BVB:  _I_ am the devil, Ron.  We're going to have our match.

[He nods.]

BVB:  Oh yeah, bet on it.  It won't be at Super Clash II 'cause you
swallowed your pride two weeks ago.  We're going to have it.  You can
Fade me and pin my shoulder to the mat for a three count.  You can stop
my heart for a second and pin me.  You can beat me bad enough that I
can't continue.  When you get your arms raised in victory?  When you
come out after Super Clash and tell the world you beat Brian Von Braun?

[The wild eye in BVB's eyes only gets wilder.]

BVB:  When you come out and say it's over?  I'm going to saunter down to
the ring with only a swagger the Rocket City Badboy can muster.  I'm
going to look you in the face, grin, cackle, and then...

[He reaches back with his right hand and swings connecting with his left
hand for a "SLAP!" sound.]

BVB:  ... start it all over again.

[BVB cackles and then stops as suddenly as he started.]

BVB:  Then I'll dive out of the ring and make my way to the back.

[BVB looks behind him at a young boy in the crowd.  BVB grabs the mic
and grabs Gordon Myers' hand pulling them both over next to the kid,
sitting in the front row.]

BVB:  And as you stand there, stunned, not sure what to do.  This little
kid?  He's going to look at his hero, his shoulders are going to slump,
and his hopes are going to be dashed.  He's going to look up at his
hero, teary-eyed and ask...

[BVB fakes some tears to get his eyes watering.]

BVB:  [sniffle] "You said you would beat Von Braun, Mr. Houston.  You
failed.  Why?"

[BVB ends the fake crying.]

BVB:  And you won't have an answer for him.  You won't be able to tell
him that good always triumphs over evil.  You won't have the heart to
tell this snot-nosed punk that life ain't fair and it sucks most of the
time.

[Another thumb hook.]

BVB:  Me?  That's what I do.  I don't make dreams and wishes come true. 
I _dash_ them along with hope.  See?  If this kid was a Brian Von Braun
fan?  He wouldn't dare ask me why I couldn't beat you.  Know why?

[BVB looks back at the kid and then turns to face him, glaring down at
the Ron Houston fan.]

BVB:  I'd toss a fireball in your face, kid, and put you into the
hospital.

[There's a thunderous chorus of boos as BVB cackles in the young man's
face.  Gordon Myers looks appalled.  BVB turns back to the camera.]

BVB:  And that's the difference between us, Ron.  I'm a sick bastard. 
You'll never play the game the way I do.

[From off camera, someone hands Bucky Wilde a note.  He opens it up,
reading it...]

GM:  Something more important than this interview, Bucky?

BW:  Not to me.  You'll disagree, I think.

[Gordon takes the offered note, reading it.  A grin crosses his face.]

GM:  Brian Von Braun, this note is for you - more specifically, it
DIRECTLY affects you... twelve nights from now.

[Von Braun arches an eyebrow.]

GM:  This note says that despite the advice of AWA management and his
doctors...

Ron Houston WILL be at SuperClash to face you!

[The crowd ERUPTS in cheers!  Von Braun kicks whatever is closest,
Bucky's chair in this instance, in anger.  From off-mic, we can hear
shouts of "WHAT?  YOU'RE KIDDING ME!"]

GM:  I most certainly am not!

[The cheers from the crowd are deafening.  Gordon Myers can't help but
looked completely thrilled at the news.]

GM:  RON HOUSTON IS GOING TO MAKE IT TO SUPERCLASH II!  He will be
there, Brian!

[The look on BVB's face says it all.  It's desperation.  He cocks his
head to the left, the left corner of his mouth twitching.  He grits his
teeth and the veins in his head pop out.  He reaches over and grabs his
cane.  He yells as he brings it crashing down on the side of the ring
splintering the cane.  Myers has long since dodged out of the way.]

BW:  I think Ron Houston just sent this guy over the edge, daddy!  I
think he's going to the Crazy House instead of the Sizzler tonight!

[BVB keeps the death grip on what remains of his cane, his knuckles
turning white as we fade to black.

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

And then fade back up to live action where, microphone in hand, Mark
Stegglet stands next to one of the AWA's newest stars, the seven foot
Alex Martinez. Martinez wears his trademark black leather jacket over a
black t-shirt, his outfit finished with a pair of fading blue jeans and
black biker boots. A pair of mirrored sunglasses cover his eyes. The
giant Martinez seems more relaxed than usual, as if he's happy to be
back in the spotlight.]

MS: Mr. Martinez, first of all, let me say, it's a real pleasure to have
you in the AWA. Welcome to the Crockett Coliseum.

AM: Yeah, thanks, its good to be here.

MS: Earlier, we saw you and Mark Langseth reach some sort of peace. But,
of course, he's not the only man in the AWA you have a history with.

AM: Well, when you've been around as long as I have, you're bound to
make enemies. But I'm sure, given my winning personality, I'll be able
to make lots of friends too.

[Martinez smirks.]

MS: Speaking of making enemies. Last week, you were introduced as the
special referee in the upcoming National Title match at Superclash. And
things went, well, they didn't exactly go your way.

AM: That's one way of puttin' it. The other way would get me fired
before I have my first match. Things got ugly, and somethin' happened
that I didn't want to happen. And that somethin' happened because of
Stevie Scott.

So Stevie, I want you to listen up, real close.

A man gets in my face like that, puttin' his fingers in my eyes? That's
usually a one way ticket to the hospital. I didn't get to where I am in
the world backin' down from threats, or listenin' to some idiot tellin'
me to get off the stage. And Stevie? I'm way too old to be changin' my
ways now.

But somethin' happened last time. Somethin' with Juan Vasquez...

[Just then, a loud cheer can be heard from the crowd as Juan Vasquez
enters the shot.]

JV: "Something?"

[Juan rubs his throat, still raw from the Firebomb chokeslam he took on
the last edition of Saturday Night Wrestling.]

JV: I'd say it was a hell lot more than "something."

[Vasquez cranes his neck upwards towards Martinez, not quite meeting his
gaze.]

JV: Now, maybe we ain't exactly been the best of friends during our time
in this business, but I've always respected you, Martinez. I understand
that accidents happen and I ain't even really mad about the Firebomb...

[Juan pauses and a serious expression forms on his face.]

JV: ...but the thing is, I can't afford to have any "accidents"
happening at SuperClash. I'm not just fighting for the National
title...I'm fighting for my _career._ 

[He shakes his head.]

JV: I already got enough to worry about...and I sure as hell don't need
to be worrying about you.

[Martinez removes his glasses, and looks down, meeting Juan's eyes.]

AM: You done now?

Listen, as I was sayin', normally, what Stevie did to me? The next week,
I'd be huntin' him down like a dog, and I wouldn't give up until I made
sure he never did somethin' like that to me a second time.

But see, I did ya wrong Juan. You didn't deserve a Firebomb. So, I ain't
gonna apologize to ya, 'cuz that ain't the kinda guy I am, but I am
gonna do somethin' for ya.

I'm not gonna touch Stevie until after you've had your shot at him.

I'm not gonna lay a single finger on him. I ain't gonna look for
revenge. I'm gonna leave him for you. You've got the prior claim on him.
I'm puttin' my pride aside, and lettin' you have your shot. He's yours,
free and clear, and if ya beat him, it'll be because you did. He won't
be able to say I helped ya, or I wore him down, or anything of the sort.

I got hired by Watkins to do a job, and that's what I'm gonna do. I'm
callin' this thing right down the middle. No bias for either of ya. Ya
both get your shot at winnin', and ya get to have me makin' sure no one
else gets in the way.

So that's what I'm doin' to make it up to ya Juan. I'm lettin' you have
what you've earned. Question is...

You good with that?

[Juan is silent for a second, before lowering his head and chuckling
softly.]

JV: As long as you don't get too disappointed when I get finished with
that bastard and you realize that I didn't leave anything for you
besides a bloody corpse.

[He smirks.]

JV: But as far as things 'tween you and me go? Am I "good with that?"

[He nods slowly.]

JV: Amigo... I'm good enough.

[An understanding reached, Martinez nods his head and walks away, as we
cut back to the ring where Phil Watson is ready to go.]

PW:  AWA fans, our next match is scheduled for one fall and has a ten
minute time limit.  Introducing first... already in the ring at this
time from Hollywood, California... Davey Duncan!

[Little reaction for the sunglass-wearin' young man.]

PW:  And his opponent...

[Soul Coughing's "Super Bon Bon" starts up to an enormous reaction from
the Dallas, Texas fans.]

PW:  From San Jose, California... weighing in at 252 pounds... he is the
former AWA National Champion and the man known around the wrestling
world as the San Jose Shark...

MAAAARRRRCUS BROUUUUUSSAAAAAARD!

[Broussard strides through the curtain to a huge cheer.  He throws both
arms in the air, saluting the cheering fans before starting the long
walk down the entrance ramp to the ring.]

GM:  The first man to ever wear the National Title and if he has his way
at SuperClash and manages to Steal The Spotlight, Broussard will get a
shot at becoming a two-time National Champion, Bucky.

BW:  Where does he get off, Gordo?  Where does he get off in trying to
get himself a title shot?  What has he done since he's been back? 
Nothing!

GM:  He was on the team that beat the Southern Syndicate in WarGames!

BW:  Yeah, with four other guys.  What has he done on his own?

GM:  We may have a very good answer to that question on Thanksgiving
night.

BW:  Really?  If he somehow manages to win Steal The Spotlight, he STILL
won't have done it on his own.  That's still a team match, Gordo.

[Broussard steps through the ropes, smiling at the cheering crowd as he
settles back into a corner to wait for the match to start.]

GM:  Here we go...

[The San Jose Shark strides out to the middle of the ring at the bell,
quickly offering a handshake to Davey Duncan who accepts.  Broussard
grins, clapping his hands together before lunging into a collar and
elbow tieup.  He promptly twists the wrist, going behind Duncan into a
rear hammerlock.]

GM:  Quick go-behind by Broussard, cinching in that hammerlock...

[Broussard applies the pressure, causing Duncan to move to the corner,
standing against the buckles.  The former National Champion breaks
cleanly, stepping back to the middle of the ring.]

GM:  And back to the middle we go... another tieup... and Broussard
hooks in a side headlock.

[Holding the headlock, Broussard shifts his weight and takes Duncan down
to the mat.]

GM:  Side headlock takedown by Broussard, rolling Duncan to his back. 
One!  Two!  Whoa!  He almost got him there.

BW:  If this kid got pinned by a side headlock, it'd be time to hang 'em
up.

GM:  Broussard almost caught him off guard with it and-

[Duncan returns the favor by hooking his arms around the waist of the
Shark, rolling him to his shoulders.]

GM:  One!  Two!  Th-

[The crowd breathes a sigh of relief as Broussard rolls back the other
way, breaking the pin count.]

GM:  And just like that, Davey Duncan almost scored an upset.

[Both men work their way back to their feet, Duncan pushing Broussard
off to the ropes.]

GM:  Off the ropes... ohhh!  Big shoulder tackle takes down Duncan!

[Duncan scrambles back up, racing to the ropes...

...and taking Broussard down with a shoulder tackle of his own!]

GM:  Nice exchange here.  Davey Duncan's really showing something here
in the early moments of this one.  He's going toe-to-toe with one of the
best in the world and faring fairly well.

BW:  For now.

GM:  Yes, for now.

[Broussard takes a knee, eyeing Duncan for a bit before pushing up off
the mat.  The San Jose Shark nods his head as he slips into another
collar and elbow...

...and quickly goes behind Duncan into a rear waistlock.  He swiftly
drops to a knee, yanking Duncan's legs out from under him from behind,
sending him facefirst down to the mat.]

GM:  Takedown by Broussard and- ohh!  Hard elbow drop to the back of the
head!

[The San Jose Shark pops back up, dropping another elbow to the back of
the head before rolling Duncan to his back, applying another press for a
two count.]

GM:  Another two count there.  Broussard is all business in trying to
wrap this one up.  He needs to get some momentum on his side heading
into Steal The Spotlight, Bucky.

BW:  Momentum or not, he's got no shot.  

GM:  He's a former National Champion!

BW:  Have you SEEN the men on the other team?  Okay, sure.  He might
take out Wade Kennedy.  Maybe even Holland.  But Johnny C?  Adrian
Freeman?  Mizusawa?  No chance.

[Broussard promptly pulls Duncan up, tugging him into a front facelock. 
He slings Duncan's arm over his neck before powering him up, taking him
down with a bone-rattling vertical suplex.  The Shark floats over,
applying a lateral press again.]

GM:  Another cover for one!  For two!  For-

[Duncan fires a shoulder up again and the Shark immediately drags him
back to his feet, firing him into the ropes.]

GM:  Big boot to the gut - to the ropes goes Marcus...

[And the approaching former champ hooks Duncan around the head, snapping
him down to the mat with a neckbreaker.]

GM:  Swinging neckbreaker!  Looked a bit like Mark Langseth right there.

[Broussard takes the mount, grabbing Duncan by the back of the head and
driving a trio of right hands into the skull.]

GM:  Ohh!  Look out here... maybe some of Broussard's dark side coming
out there.

BW:  Duncan's putting up more of a fight than he expected.

GM:  You could be right about that.

[Broussard drags Duncan back to his feet, hooking him around the waist
in a bodylock...

...and powers him up, popping his hips and driving him down to the mat
in a belly-to-belly suplex.]

GM:  Ohh!  There it is, Bucky!  The belly-to-belly suplex done to
perfection right there!

[Broussard stays on top, hooking a leg for one...two... and three.]

GM:  Broussard wins it!

BW:  Well, he may have beaten Davey Duncan but when that's Adrian
Freeman or Johnny Casanova standing across from him in twelve days, it's
going to be a very, very different story, Gordo.

GM:  We'll all find out together on Thanksgiving Night at SuperClash,
Bucky.  A big win for Marcus Broussard though to gain some much needed
momentum as he continues down the road to SuperClash.  Fans, let's go up
to the interview area to Jason Dane!

[Back to the interview area, where Jason Dane is standing alone.  He
seems very nervous, looking this way and that, before addressing the
camera.]

JD: Fans, I'm scheduled to interview James Monosso, who is set in
tonight's Main Event to have one final encounter with Eric Preston...
but I... OH NO!

[* C R A A A S H ! *]

[The huge spotlight next to the interview area, which was suspended up
above platform level via a metal pole, turns off... and is then tipped
over onto the platform!  Broken glass and pieces of the casing scatter
across the interview site.  Dane jumps in a start... the spotlight
didn't land near him, but that is still jarring.

The mad Monosso himself climbs up onto the interview area immediately
thereafter from the direction of the 'accident'.  Clad in his
black-and-silver one-strap singlet, matching boots, and pale green
"PROPERTY OF STATE MENTAL INSTITUTION" cutoff T-shirt, he has a
snarling, surly expression on his blocky, cleanshaven face.  Dane
protests in a... higher-pitched voice than usual.]

JD: Monosso!  Are you trying to kill me?!

JM: You're still alive.  So no.

JD: Then what was that all about?!

JM: Eric Preston seems to still not understand.  One long year, Eric. 
What is a year to you, when all of your years are in front of you?  You
don't like it that I 'took a year' from your career?  Selfish rat...
maybe you deserve what you're going to get if I don't help you.  If I
don't end your career.  Maybe you deserve a lifetime of pain and regret.
 Maybe I was too easy on you, when I tried to inflict a nice
career-ending injury that would rule out wrestling, but still give you a
chance to live a normal life. Maybe I'm just too nice of a guy.

JD: ...

JM: What?

JD: I'm trying to imagine how that conclusion makes any sense at all. 
You're saying... you've been MERCIFUL?

JM: So apparently, just like Jim McMahon and myself, Jason Dane is
having memory issues due to repeated blows to the head.  But I haven't
even hit you YET, Dane, so shut up and hold the mic.  I've said time and
again why Eric Preston has to be put out for his own good.  So he
doesn't become a crippled pain-ridden useless hopeless old man who can't
work and can't survive because wrestling made him unable to make
money... or remember where he lives.  And that's if he's lucky enough
not to be put in an asylum... let me promise you this: you'd rather live
in a box on the streets.  And I'm not just doing this for you, Eric, but
for all of those little idiots who fall for the lies about how they can
become rich, powerful, great 'legends'.

JD: We've already heard your manager's take on this.

JM: He didn't go far enough.  You know why certain guys keep coming back
again and again?  Because they know that the minute they're out of the
sport, their lives are over.  No pension, no 401k, nobody will hire
you... so you starve and die.  Why do you think Joe Petrow is running
around begging for money?  The same reason I did!  We're just extending
our lives.  In my case, it's for these few short months that I can still
do something, before my body fails totally.

And you think _I_ am wasting _your_ time, Preston?!  YOU SELFISH IDIOT! 
IF YOU HAD THE SENSE TO JUST ROLL OVER AND DIE, I COULD HAVE A TITLE BY
NOW AND BE MAKING ENOUGH MONEY TO SAVE SOME!

[Uh oh.  We've hit the Random Crazy Switch.  James starts shrieking at
the camera.]

JM: I DON'T HAVE MY LIFE IN FRONT OF ME!  I DON'T EVEN _KNOW_ HOW OLD I
AM!  ALL I KNOW IS I'M FALLING APART!  AND THERE IS NOTHING ELSE IN THE
WORLD I CAN DO FOR MONEY EXCEPT KILL PEOPLE!  AND I'M WASTING YOUR
TIME?!  

[Monosso reaches down, and pulls over the spotlight.  His voice is
descending back to it's normal gruff tone.]

JM: You want to get past me, so you can go to SuperClash and Steal The
Spotlight?  Why?  So you can throw your life away on the biggest stage
you can find?  Don't you know what the spotlight does to you, Preston? 
Don't you know?  What, are you a moth?  THE SPOTLIGHT BURNS YOU. 
SLOWLY.  TO DEATH.  You will give everything you have and are and you
will be totally SPENT.  And then there's nothing left but hollow years
of pain, where every breath is torture and every day is the worst year
of your life!  Life does not just pass you by; it runs you over!  All
these idiots...

[The wild-eyed stringy-haired maniac sweeps his hand out to the booing
fans, to indicate that he's referring to them now.]

JM: ...they'll be fine!  They don't cripple themselves for a living; we
do!  For them!  But they sure as hell don't lift a finger for someone
who has already done that.  Why don't you go ask those 'legends' you
want to be like what their lives are like now, and how much being a
'legend' helped them?  How much these ingrates care about them?  How
much their fame and glory translated to happiness?  For every one that
fluked his way into security, there are ten burnouts who can't afford to
live! Everyone thinks they're gonna beat the odds, but I don't see too
many people playing Russian Roulette with five bullets.

You think you want to Steal The Spotlight? 

[With a crazed scream, Monosso steps forward and gives the spotlight a
King Kong Kneedrop.  The outer casing is dented heavily, not being meant
to take the weight of a two-hundred eighty-eight pound man jumping on
it... it was designed to be lightweight.  James then kicks the remaining
glass in, picks up the whole thing, and spikes it down into the
interview platform... it bounces off and lands on the rampway.]

JD: This is... what does THAT prove?

JM: I just did to the spotlight what the spotlight did to me!  Fifteen
years ago, I was a hot commodity.  I was selling out arenas all over the
world.  And in the blink of an eye, it all went to hell.  Then they
locked me up because they thought I was crazy. And now all I have left
is a broken-down body, and five grains of sand in the hourglass of my
life.  I wanted to HELP you dumb clueless twits!  I wanted to show you
that this sport is a dead end!  I've spent a whole freaking YEAR, and I
might not even HAVE a year left!  Not even one!  I tried to show you
all, to warn you all, before it was too late!

And you think I'm wasting YOUR time?

Go to Hell, Eric Preston...

[Monosso practically spits out the last word.]

JM: ...LITERALLY.

[Storming out, the wide-shouldered psychopath shoves Dane out of his
way, almost sending him off the platform.  Jason recovers his balance in
time, and goes back to the center of the platform.]

JD: He's... that man has to be the biggest liability risk in wrestling. 
James Monosso is beyond delusional.  Back to you, Gordon and Bucky.

[We go back to the broadcast booth, where Bucky is headdesking.]

BW: Dane... you idiot!  Talkin' about Monosso while he's still close
enough ta turn around and do ta you what he did ta that spotlight?  He'd
almost deserve that!

GM: I agree... Jason, please keep your opinions a bit more guarded when
the madman is within easy reach.  Fortunately, Monosso is showing some
rare focus, as he has a big Main Event tonight and Eric Preston is very
clearly in his sights.  But his worldview is outrageous, and someone
needs to somehow get him to see that!

BW: Gordo, I know Monosso.  I was there when he won his World Title long
ago, in the era before places like Portland and LA took off.  He was
young, strong, and dangerous... and he's always been nuts.  He can't
blame wrestling for makin' him crazy; he came out of the BOX crazy. 
Don't try and reason with him.  Just AVOID him.  Like the plague.  The
man is bad news... and when he sets his mind on something to th' extent
that he can KEEP it there?  You better pray it ain't you.  Eric
Preston's too late for that.  That kid is done.

GM: That remains to be seen.  Fans, we'll be right back with more
Saturday Night Wrestling!

[Fade to black.

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

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

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

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

JD:  Hello, Mr. iPhone.

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

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

JD:  Well, actually I did.

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

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

[Thankfully, a voiceover starts.]

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

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

[Fade back to black...

And then up.  Backstage, Jason Dane, AWA banner!]

JD: Hello fans, Jason Dane here with the Masked Menace.  Menace--

[The aforementioned big and scary masked guy steps in from stage right,
flexing unnecessarily, looming over Dane in a way that would seem
threatening if he didn't do it to everybody all the time.]

JD: --welcome.  You recently lost your shot at the Longhorn Heritage
Title in the semifinal round to Jackson Haynes.  It was a brutal war and
many seem to think that it could have gone either way.  Your thoughts?

[Scratching his masked chin, the Menace ponders what he's just heard,
shrugs nonchalantly and comes right back at Jason.]

MM: Frankly man, I don't pay that no nevermind.  I don't much cotton to
layin' down for no man, but I still got paid didn't I? That Haynes guy
is tough, yeah, but y'know what?  His win over me?  That was luck, man. 
If it happened again, I tell you what, it might not be an easy win but I
can pretty much guaran-damn-tee that I'd take the duke and the winner's
share at the pay window.

JD: Yes, uh, speaking of that ... recently the manager of the Blonde
Bombers, Larry Doyle, and you reached an accord where you will receive
20,000 dollars each time you assist the Bombers as a bodyguard.  How,
uh, is that going?

[A knowing look from Jason to the Menace.  For his part, if he suspects
anything, the Menace plays it straight.]

MM: It's goin' good man, I tell you, I'm really runnin' that boy's tab
up!  Can't wait to collect--

[It's at this point that the members of Rough N Ready enter the picture.
 Dave Cooper is dressed in a pair of khakis and a white button-down
shirt, while Eric Matthew Somers wears a black T-shirt and blue jeans.]

JD: Hold on... Dave and Eric...what are you doing here?

MM: I'm wonderin' that too.  Boys, I'm thinkin' maybe I'm about to earn
me a bonus from ol' Larry's war chest.

DC: Relax... we aren't here to start any trouble.

EMS: And we aren't here to do the Super Bowl Shuffle either.

[He laughs at his own joke, bad as it was.]

DC: My partner's sense of humor aside... we just want to talk to you,
Menace.

MM: Talk to me?  What?  Like a counter-offer?  I doubt you can beat
twenty large per diem, man.

[Dave throws his hands up and shakes his head to ward off any idea of a
financial transaction.]

DC: Let me ask you one simple question: What makes you believe you can
trust Larry Doyle?

MM: I don't trust nothin' or nobody but the green, man.  Doyle brought
the dollar signs so I'm bringin' the pain.

DC: Really? If you were to ask me, Doyle is just stringing you along in
the hopes you can cover for his inadequacies... all the while, he's
writing a check his account isn't gonna cover.

EMS: Not that Doyle doesn't do that with the words that come out of his
mouth... but what Dave is saying is... how do you know that payment for
your services won't bounce when you cash it in?

MM: Eh, what you talkin' about man?  That'd be the dumbest thing anybody
ever pulled, man, I'd ... have to collect on his hide and the hide of
his boys.

DC: See, that's all we wanted to say to you... because I know you are a
man who is serious about his business. And certainly a man who is
serious about his business wouldn't be happy about being promised a
payday, and then not getting that promise delivered.

[With that, Dave and Eric walk off.  Standing very still, Menace seems
to have checked out, mentally speaking.  Jason Dane looks around,
nervous, then holds the mic up to the Menace.]

JD: Menace?  Comments?

[Woken from his stupor, the Masked Menace glares down at Dane, causing
the intrepid interviewer to flinch back.]

MM: Comment?  You want my comment, boy!?  I'm gonna take a real close
look at the financial records of one Larry Doyle and if there ain't a
balance with my name on it, heads are gonna roll!  Business may be
brutal man, that's my philosophy, but OH MY GOD if you welch on me it's
gonna get REAL DAMNED PERSONAL!

[Briskly brushing past Dane, Menace actually sends Jason to the floor. 
Sitting there, craning his neck around to see the monstrous Menace
depart, Dane lets loose with a low whistle at the sight of such fury.]

JD: Wow.  Maybe Mark'll have better luck with his interview.  Mark?

[Cut to Mark Stegglet, standing by with a smirking, dark-suited Louis
Matsui. Conspicuous by his absence is the seven-foot-tall monster,
MAMMOTH Mizusawa. Matsui looks at Stegglet expectantly, waiting for him
to ask him a question.]

MS: Louis Matsui, I'm guessing MAMMOTH isn't out here right now because
he's preparing for SuperClash? In just a couple of weeks time-

LM: [Interrupting.] In just a couple of weeks time,
Green-Steggs-and-Ham, the world will bear witness to the greatest
assemblage of talent that I, Louis Matsui, have brought together to
Steal the Spotlight, as it were, at SuperClash...

MS: I'm sorry, Louis, but the greatest assemblage of talent that YOU
have brought together? Aren't you perhaps overstating your role a lit-

LM: Are you calling me a liar, Stegghead? Are you calling Louis Matsui
a liar? Last I checked, the only person in that match who's ever won
Steal the Spotlight is my client, seven foot tall and four hundred
pounds of blinding hot talent, MAMMOTH Mizusawa; that's why he gets to
be captain of Team Matsui! But just in case you are still not
convinced, allow me to call forth the rest of my compatriots, the ones
worthy of standing alongside my client at SuperClash, and they'll tell
you just why Team Matsui will obliterate the competition. First, allow
me to introduce...

[Johnny Casanova comes out, as "Addicted to Love" blares over the
sound system. He's accompaned by Big Mama.]

LM: He is as classy as Big Mama's sassy, accompanied to the ring by
the Belle of the Ball, the Primadonna of Primetime, the First Lady of
the AWA herself, he is Hollywood's own...

"PLAYBOY"

JOHNNY

CASANOVA!!!

LM: Next...

["Try Honesty" by Billy Talent starts up to a huge shower of jeers.]

LM: Throw a shrimp on the barbie and hide your Sheilas, because here
comes the Wonder from Down Under himself. Now, recently the team he's
been fighting for has not been doing too well, so SuperClash will be
his chance to relive his days being on a winning side. Ladies and
gentlemen, please welcome...

"SUBZERO"

ADRIAN

FREEMAN!!!

[The jeers intensify as Freeman and Ben Waterson walks through the
curtain onto the elevated entrance platform, Waterson jabbering away
at aisleside fans as both men approach the interview area.]

LM: Oh, and Ben Waterson, too. Let's keep them coming, please...

['Dead Flowers' by Townes Van Zandt strums lazily onto the speakers
and Jack Holland strolls out from the back, lifting his fists into the
air briefly. After that display, he heads towards the interview area
purposefully.]

LM: You can never have too many gentlemen on Team Matsui and this man
is the epitome of gentility. A polite round of applause, please,
for...

'GENTLEMAN' JACK HOLLAND!

LM: Finally... Oh, just get your butt out here, kid!

[Wade Kennedy emerges without much fanfare, as he gives a small salute
to the cheering crowd before approaching the interview platform,
pausing only to appraise the situation he is about to walk into.]

LM: Stegglet, AWA, I present to you, Team Matsui! These are the men
who will ensure a Steal the Spotlight victory at SuperClash for
MAMMOTH Mizusawa! Gentlemen, since you are out here, here's how it's
going to be a-

[Johnny Casanova, unable to contain himself anymore, cuts in.]

JC: Louis! Louis Matsui! I gotta tell ya this, Louis.

[Matsui glares at the interruption.]

JC: I am so, so, honoured and delighted to be a part of this
phenomenal team! To be able to take part in a match like the Steal the
Spotlight, with men of the calibre of Adrian Freeman, Jack Holland,
and of course MAMMOTH... this is a dream come true!

[Matsui smiles and nods.]

JC: But I gotta ask ya something, Louis. There's a personal favour I'm
begging of ya.

Ya see, I was finished with Scotty Mayhem. He was nothing to me. A
speck of dust on the Playboy's dazzling resume. And then we got to
last time around.

Mayhem, ya can laugh at me all ya want, coward. Ya can take cheap
shots at me when ya know I'm not in the building for as long as ya
like, see if I care. The Playboy has been around for long enough to
know that lesser men will always be jealous of the real talents.

[He grows red in the face now.]

JC: But what ya did to my sweet lil' angel here, the way ya humiliated
and made sport of my poor darling girl Big Mama...

I ask ya, Louis, can I forgive that?

[He stalks across to Jack Holland.]

JC: Jack, as a gentleman, did ya ever see anything more despicable?

[He turns to Adrian Freeman.]

JC: Adrian, would ya expect me to just let something like that lie?

[He shakes his head, walks over to Wade Kennedy, thinks better of it,
and walks back to Matsui.]

JC: So Louis, it is a privilege and an honour to be a part of this
fantastic team. We will do whatever ya want us to do to play our part.
But I'm begging ya one tiny, tiny, thing. Let it be ME who takes care
of Scotty Mayhem!

LM: You want to be the one who takes care of Mayhem? Well, let me tell
you-

WK: [Cutting in.] Now there isn't any secret that I'm the black sheep
of this team.

[Matsui raises an eyebrow at the interruption, as Casanova nods his
head in agreement and the other two still continue to act as if he
doesn't exist. Wade continues.]

WK: But I'll tell you this right now, I came into this match to win.
Now there isn't a doubt in my mind that if teams could have been
picked any other way, you wouldn't want me on your team - and I
wouldn't want to be on this team. But that is how the cookie crumbled.
So there is two ways we can do this.

One, we can all work together and show we are the dominant team.

[Holds up two fingers.]

WK:  Or two, we can just eliminate ourselves before the match even
begins.
Anyway you look at it, having a five on five match is better then us
being one down. I know you all think I can't hold my own. But as
Freeman can attest to, I can hold my own.

[Freeman glares at Kennedy who looks into the eyes of every member one
after the other before continuing.]

WK: So I'll hold up my end of the team. I'll do what i have to do
within MY rules to have our team walk out victorious. I'll climb into
that ring looking to win just as I do every other time. Then when we
have eliminated the other team, then we can sort out our differences
and see who will walk out the winner.

[Kennedy thrusts the mic back towards Matsui who shakes his head in
disbelief, as Kennedy stands off by himself with hands on hips.
Before Matsui can respond, he is again interrupted by Adrian Freeman,
who snatches it from his hands.]

AF: And then we'll all hold hands and work for world peace, right?

[He snorts and shakes his head.]

AF: Believe it or not, I actually don't have anything against any of
you.  MAMMOTH... we've worked together in the past, and I know I can
rely on you to be a professional.  Wade, you may have gotten a fluke
win, but most of the scrubs in this promotion couldn't even do that.
And Jack and Johnny... I don't really know you, to be honest, but you
seem like competent wrestlers without any self-righteousness.

So I don't see a team that's ready to explode, unless you all really
want to explode.  Now, I look at the other side of this match, and
what do I see?  Two men that I've injured before and are dumb enough
to step in a ring with me again, two rookies who don't know a headlock
from a burning hammer, and whatever's left of that sanctimonious twit
Eric Preston.  Now that is five men I want to destroy.  That's twenty
limbs that I fantasize about breaking and putting on my mantlepiece.

So let's try and keep our heads together until we're done with that,
huh?

["Agent to the Stars" Ben Waterson takes the mic from his charge.  He
seems frustrated -- this may be the longest we've ever seen him
silent.]

ATTSBW: Oh yeah, and if anyone pulls any funny business?  They get to
see how frightening the wrath of the Southern Syndicate still is.

GJH: Pardon me.

[Holland speaks those first words from behind Waterson's shoulder, but
he quickly reaches out and plucks the microphone from Waterson's
hand.]

ATTSBW: Hey, I--

GJH: Hold your horses, alright? Just got a short piece.

[Holland edges his way between Waterson and Freeman, taking the
camera's attention. However, he lowers his eyes, sliding his shades
off with his left hand. He folds them deftly with one hand.]

GJH: Now this team we've got here... we're a motley pack of hounds,
I'll tell ya that. This team ain't unified but by one thing.

[Holland lifts his head and aims his hard green eyes at the camera.]

GJH: The spotlight. We all want it. And if we can just band together
for one night, put our heads together, scrape, scramble, find some way
to put our differences aside and get our collective talent running in
the same direction, we might just get it. When I get paid I've earned
every cent of it, I deliver results, and I plan to do the same at
SuperClash. Now, as for the rest of you...

[GJH turns slightly so he can look at some of his SuperClash comrades.]

GJH: I don't know you. And despite your eloquent words Freeman, that
means I don't trust you as far as I can Shotgun you. What I do trust
is that you want to win this, and I'm gonna stick to that. I won't
shoot any you in the back. But if you cross me, I guarantee ya you'll
be singin' the Razorwire Blues.

[Holland shifts his attention back to the camera, squaring his
shoulders and pointing at the camera.]

GJH: But come SuperClash... Broussard, Sone, Rhodes, Mayhem, Preston,
my guns, OUR guns, will be aimed straight at you. This team right here
is a motley pack of mongrels but that means we're vicious. We're out
for blood. We're like a five-headed demon dog guarding the gates of
hell: mean, damn evil, and downright unpleasant to be around. I'd
advise you five to start prayin' on your knees to the big man upstairs
for deliverance.

[Louis Matsui steps towards Holland, not even bothering to take the
mic in his eagerness to put in a word edgewise.]

LM: Trust the "Gentleman" to put it so eloquently. At SuperClash,
Scott Mayhem, "Playboy" Johnny Casanova is looking to take you out,
but Johnny Casanova won't be coming alone. Broussard, Rhodes, you've
been thorns in the side of the Southern Syndicate, but at SuperClash,
you're not facing the Syndicate and Adrian Freeman isn't coming alone
and neither will MAMMOTH Mizusawa. And while we'll eventually have to
turn our guns against each other, Jack, rest assured it won't happen
BEFORE we've taken out each and every one on the other team. Saddle
up, gentlemen, we're headed to SuperClash and this here's your chance,
Wade Kennedy, to ride with the big boys!

[The crowd jeers as Matsui leads the big group off the interview
platform back towards the locker room.]

GM:  Unified or not, that is one dangerous team heading into SuperClash
in just twelve days, Bucky.

BW:  Like I said, Broussard is dreaming if he thinks he's walking out of
SuperClash with a title shot in his pocket - not to mention Preston,
Rhodes, Mayhem, and Sone.  Team Matsui's got this one in the bag - the
only thing left to figure out is which one of them will Steal The
Spotlight for himself.

GM:  The Steal The Spotlight showcase is one of the big matches going
down at SuperClash but one of the biggest matches on that night will be
the Finals of the tournament to crown the first Longhorn Heritage
Champion.  Earlier tonight, we saw Brent Maverick move on to the Finals
but who will he face?  Will it be the LWC original Robert Donovan
looking to show the world what Longhorn Heritage is all about or will it
be the engimatic Nenshou who, along with his manager Percy Childes,
would like nothing more than to show the world that the LWC - and its
legacy - is dead and buried?  We're about to find out so let's head up
to the ring for this big semifinal showdown!

[We cut back to the ring where Robert Donovan is already standing inside
the ring, pulling on the ring ropes trying to get his massive 7'2" frame
loose and prepared for the quick, nimble Nenshou.]

PW:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit and is the second semifinal matchup in the Longhorn Heritage
Title tournament.  Introducing first... weighing in at three-hundred
forty-five pounds and hailing from Pensacola, FL... please welcome...

ROBERT DOOOOOOOONNNOOOOOVAAAAAAAAAANNN!!

[Donovan pays no attention to the crowd response; fully focused on the
task at hand and the man that stands in his way to the finals of the
Longhorn Heritage Title tournament.]

GM: Robert Donovan has already made his way to the ring and is ready to
get this match started.  He's anxious to find his way into the finals of
the tournament that pays homage to his beloved LWC.

BW: Donovan is going to really have to channel his inner LWC tonight,
daddy, because the man he's gonna be facing does not kid around!

[Thunder rolls over the PA; the distinctive open to "Raijin's Drums" by
George Sakalis (you can hear it
here:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-iGRKsBHlrY).  A wispy white mist
swirls up from the edges of the elevated rampway, covering the surface
of the walkway in a thin cloudy fog that extends ankle-high.  As the
drums begin to beat, Percy Childes marches solemly from behind the
curtain.  The short, fat manager is still wearing his all-black funeral
ensemble, and is carrying the urn bearing the 'ashes of the LWC' we saw
earlier.  Behind him walks Nenshou, and while Childes walks with a
waddle, Nenshou moves with the grace of a cat.  Still garbed in his
black draped mask and formal funeral robe, the Japanese enigma focuses
only on the ring.]

PW: And his opponent... accompanied to the ring by his manager Percy
Childes... from Parts Unknown... weighing two-hundred thirty-five
pounds... 

  N E N S H O U  !  !

[The fans boo as Childes enters the ring, showing off the urn to each
side of the ring.  "Here lie your failures!", he shouts, but his voice
cannot be heard over the boos.  Childes removes his fedora, and places
it over his heart in mock tribute. Nenshou, in the meanwhile, is
meditating, focusing on his hand... his index and middle fingers are
upstretched, his ring and pinky fingers bent outwards in some gesture
that apparently has meaning to him.]

BW: Ya know, this really might be a funeral.  And the way Percy is
totin' around that bronze urn, he looks like a pallbearer.

GM: That urn contains the ashes of all of those photographs that Childes
burned earlier in the evening, when he desecrated the great memories of
the Longhorn Wrestling Council... and by proxy, every beloved territory
that our fans across the country loved and grew up with.  Make no
mistake, he is a jealous and bitter man who feels big when he's
belittling others. Well, he's going to look like a small man indeed if
he gets within arms reach of Robert Donovan.

BW: When you walk around town with a killing machine like Nenshou?  You
don't need to worry who's in arms reach.

[Childes is now giving the referee a lecture on how to properly
officiate the match, as "Raijin's Drums" dies out.  Donovan stares
across the ring at Childes with contempt after the man's actions earlier
in the evening.  Marty Meekly finally forces Childes outside of the ring
as Nenshou stares long and hard across the ring at his opponent.  Meekly
signals for the bell and the crowd pops slightly just at the thought of
this one getting started.]

GM: Aaaaaand we're off!

BW: I've got some inside knowledge that says Nenshou has the perfect
gameplan to get himself into the finals.  And we all know that Bucky is
never wrong!

[Donovan's gameplan, however, appears to be simple: bring the pain. 
Donovan storms across the ring towards Nenshou who awaits him in the
corner.  Before Donovan can lay a hand on him, however, Nenshou ducks
out of the way as Donovan rumbles into the corner where Nenshou was only
a moment ago.  As Donovan spins around Nenshou unleashes a few stiff
kicks to the knees of the Pensacola native.  Donovan is able to shake
that off, though as he grabs Nenshou around the neck and spins, tossing
him back into the turnbuckle where the big man begins to lay into
Nenshou with big right hands!]

GM: Robert Donovan is wasting no time in bringing the hammer down on
Nenshou with some massive right hands!

BW: All part of the plan, daddy.  All part of the plan.

[Childes is heard screaming on the outside about a closed fist, but
Meekly ignores him.  Donovan grabs Nenshou by the wrist, whipping him
across the ring into the other corner where Nenshou collides with the
turnbuckle.  Donovan follows behind, crashing into Nenshou with a big
avalanche that elicits a nice crowd response.  Donovan scoops up the
stunned Nenshou and takes a few steps before throwing him down with a
powerslam!  Donovan goes for the quick cover... One!  Tw-kickout by
Nenshou.]

BW: It's not gonna be that easy, no way!

GM: Donovan is certainly getting off to the start he was hoping for,
though.

[Donovan pulls Nenshou off the mat and whips him against the ropes. 
Nenshou rebounds and Donovan reaches up for a big boot to the face of
the Asian enigma but Nenshou ducks under, continuing on against the
opposite ropes and flies at the former LWC great and connects with a
stiff dropkick to the back of the knee that drops the big man down to
one knee.  Nenshou is quickly back up and rears back, connecting with a
stiff martial arts kick to Donovan's back that comes with a loud
"THWACK!" and a grimace of pain from Donovan.  Nenshou unleashes two
more stiff kicks before Donovan hits the mat face down, clutching at his
back.]

GM: Nenshou is clearly targeting the knees and back of Robert Donovan
here, which have to be somewhat weak after decades of battle.

BW: I told you he had a master plan!  There's not much tread left on
those tires and Percy Childes knows it!  Brilliant.

[Nenshou rebounds off the ring ropes and quickly approaches the fallen
Donovan, throwing himself down with a lightning quick elbow drop to the
knee.  Nenshou is up again and once again rebounds for an elbowdrop, but
this time Donovan is prepared; rolling out of the way as Nenshou finds
nothing but mat.  Donovan is up at about the same time Nenshou is, but
Nenshou is sent back down rather quickly as Donovan connects with a big
lariat as Childes pounds on the mat on the outside of the ring in
disgust.]

GM: Percy Childes is not happy with the direction this match is taking,
Bucky.

BW: Can you blame him?  Nenshou is giving up a lot of size against
Donovan and cannot afford to take too much punishment in this one if he
wants to face Brent Maverick for this title!

[The big man stands over Nenshou and stomps the man from Parts Unknown a
few times before falling over like a toppling tree with an elbowdrop to
the sternum of Nenshou.  He once again goes for the pinfall as Meekly
dives down for the cover.  ONE!  TWO!  Kickout by Nenshou!  Donovan
doesn't seem fazed by it, though as he is back to his feet relatively
quickly (as quickly as a 345 pound man can be), pulling Nenshou with
him.  He hoists Nenshou over his head in the gorilla press position,
walking around the ring a bit as the crowd buzzes.  Nenshou, however,
has the presence of mind to reach down with one hand, locking his
fingers into a nervehold on Nenshou's trapezius.]

BW: You see that, daddy?  Nenshou has got some kind of acupuncture
technique or something locked on Donovan despite being 35,000 feet in
the air!

GM: Definitely some presence of mind there by Nenshou; let's see what he
does with it...

[What he does is pretty impressive.  Donovan slams Nenshou down with a
gorilla press slam, but throughout the slam Nenshou keeps his grip on
the nervehold, bringing Donovan down to one knee in pain.  Nenshou
clutches at his back with one hand and tries to keep the hold on with
the other but Donovan has had enough and laces into Nenshou with a right
hand that forces him to release the hold.]

BW: You know that slam had to hurt Nenshou, but he held on for dear life
anyway.  That's the sign of a champion!  Our first Longhorn Heritage
champion!

GM: Let's not get ahead of ourselves quite yet, Bucky.  

[Donovan pulls Nenshou back to his feet and throws a few big left hands
at him before out of the corner of his eye he sees Percy Childes
climbing onto the ring apron where Meekly quickly rushes over to get him
off of the apron.  Donovan decides to help out the referee by releasing
Nenshou and charging over to Childes, swinging a wild right hand. 
Childes (and his urn) quickly duck out of the way of trouble and head
back off the apron.]

GM: That may be the first, but I highly doubt the last time we see Percy
Childes stick his nose into this match tonight.

BW: He was just giving moral support, daddy.  Nothing nefarious about it
at all.

[Donovan returns his attention to Nenshou, grabbing him by the wrist and
sending him to the ropes.  The LWC alum once again attempts to connect
with the big boot, and Childes interference pays dividends as the break
has given Nenshou enough time to once again have it scouted; grabbing
Donovan's leg and sending him down to the mat with a dragon screw leg
whip!  Donovan slowly gets up to one knee, shaking the cobwebs off a
bit.  Nenshou sees an opportunity for one of his signature moves and
quickly moves in for a Shining Wizard.  Donovan has laid a trap, however
and springs forward with a lariat.  Nenshou doesn't fall into the trap,
though and quickly dropkicks Donovan in the knee, sending the big man
face down onto the mat!]

GM: We've got lots of strategy going on in this match.  Donovan isn't
exactly known for his tactical prowess, but he knew that knee was coming
and tried to connect with a lariat but Nenshou was ready for him.

BW: You've got to think that Percy Childes gets some credit for that.

[Nenshou slowly pulls Donovan up to his feet, grabbing his neck and
turning slowly around before falling down with a reverse neckbreaker,
before rolling on top of the big man to go for the cover...]

GM: One!  Two!  And Donovan kicks out!

[Ever the tactician, Nenshou quickly goes back to work on the knees of
Donovan, lacing into them with stiff martial arts kicks.  He then
quickly grabs both of Donovan's legs quickly wrapping his own around
them and twisting into a standing figure four leglock.  He throws
himself backwards with some force, really wrenching the hold on. 
Donovan grimaces in pain, slamming both arms against the mat in pain as
Marty Meekly quickly drops to one knee to check on Donovan.]

GM: Donovan is not going to submit, not with the pride of the LWC on the
line.  No way.

BW: He doesn't need him to submit here, he just needs to keep working on
that knee.  One wheel cannot support all 345 pounds, no way.

[Donovan refuses to submit, digging into some inner reserves of energy
and using his superior size to pull Nenshou backwards a bit as he
reaches his long arms out towards the ring ropes, but can't quite get
there.  He heaves his body backwards once again, sliding along the mat
before finally reaching the ropes as the crowd cheers.  Meekly demands
that Nenshou release the hold, but predictibly Nenshou refuses.  Meekly
begins an immediate five count as Donovan continues to grimace in pain. 
At 4 7/8 Nenshou releases the hold, not wanting to risk
disqualification.]

BW: Once again, a clear strategy for Nenshou is working out!

GM: The only thing clear is that he's willing to break any rule to get
that shot against Brent Maverick.

BW: Any means necessary, daddy!

[Nenshou goes back to work, pulling Donovan up to his feet and whips him
towards the opposite ropes.  Donovan reverses it, though and sends
Nenshou flying instead.  Nenshou rebounds and leaves his feet; flying
towards Donovan, but the 7'2" giant catches the martial artist in mid
air and spinning down to the mat with a thundering powerslam that sends
the crowd into a frenzy!]

GM: What a monstrous powerslam there by Robert Donovan, good grief!

[Donovan reaches over and hooks the leg...]

GM: This might be it!  ONE!  TWO!  THR-NO!  Nenshou just gets his
shoulder up!

BW: 345 pounds crashing down like that would keep most men down for ten,
let alone two and a half!

[Donovan knows he has Nenshou reeling and doesn't want to miss an
opportunity so he gets up as quickly as his aching knees will allow,
pulling Nenshou up with him.  He whips Nenshou to the ropes and is there
waiting for him on his return, throwing him down with an extremely stiff
spinebuster which again elicits a response from the crowd and has
Nenshou rolling around the ring in serious pain.]

GM: It looks like Robert Donovan has a plan of his own: break Nenshou
into pieces.

BW: Four Nenshous are better than one, as they say.

[Percy Childes looks on with concern etched on his face as he clutches
the urn and the "remains" of the LWC.  Donovan yanks Nenshou up to his
feet once again and once again sends the smaller man flying; this time
into the corner.  The big man charges in and leaps into the air,
squashing the much smaller Nenshou with an avalanche, rendering the
Asian enigma unseen for a few moments before Donovan backs away.]

BW: That's gotta feel like a ton of bricks just fell on you.

GM: To say the least.

[Donovan looks to make it two tons, as he once again looks to send
Nenshou to the opposite corner.  Nenshou digs deep and finds enough
energy to reverse the Irish whip, sending Donovan into the corner
instead.  He dashes behind, flipping into a handspring...]

BW: HERE IT COMES!

[...but before Nenshou can connect with the back elbow, Donovan steps
out and catches the smaller man around the waist in mid air, lifting him
into the air and down onto his knee with a big atomic drop!]

GM: Donovan saw that one coming and did the only thing he could do!

[As a stunned Nenshou stumbles about the ring, Donovan stalks over,
reaching around the waist of Nenshou into a gutwrench...]

GM: This might be it, Bucky!

BW: Not if Percy has anything to say about it!

[Childes scrambles onto the apron as Donovan looks over and smiles at
him, knowing the end is near.  He hoists Nenshou up to finish him off
with the gutwrench powerbomb, but Nenshou counters it into a flying
headscissors that sends Donovan into the ropes where Childes is
standing!]

GM: Nenshou just dodged a bullet!  And he's back up and... and he's
getting ready to use the MIST!  Get in there, Meekly!

[Meekly sees the same thing, as Nenshou is clearly in position to use
the mist on Donovan.  Meekly stands in front of Nenshou, physically
blocking him from approaching Donovan with the mist.]

BW: Meekly's looking the wrong direction, daddy!

[Indeed he is.  Childes sees Meekly's back is turned and seizes the
opportunity that has presented itself.  He looks down at the urn in his
hands, rears back and storms over to Donovan.....













.........WHAAAAAACK!!!]

GM: No!  Percy Childes just laid out Robert Donovan with that urn!  

BW: Talk about irony!  The ashes of the LWC lays out one of its own!

[Nenshou wastes no time, sprinting over to the corner, quickly scaling
the turnbuckle and immediately leaps backwards with a perfect, arcing
moonsault and hits it cleanly!]

GM: NOT LIKE THIS!

[Nenshou quickly hooks one of the large legs of Donovan as Meekly dives
down for the count, oblivious to what happened....]

GM:  ONE!  TWO!!!!! 
THRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


"DING! DING! DING!"


PW:  Your winner of the match - moving on to the Finals to face Brent
Maverick... 

NENNNNNNSHOU!

[A jubilant Percy Childes celebrates at ringside as Nenshou climbs to
his feet, dragging a thumb across his throat and giving a thumbs down to
the fallen Donovan.]

GM:  Nenshou wins - but that win is not worthy of the LWC legacy, Bucky.

BW:  Maybe it's time for YOU to give ME a break, Gordo.  I'm as sick of
hearing about the LWC legacy as Percy Childes is.  You want to see the
LWC legacy?  Check out Donovan flat on his back 'cause you're looking at
it, daddy!

GM:  Nenshou moves on to the Finals where he'll meet Brent Maverick in
twelve nights for the honor of becoming the first-ever Longhorn Heritage
Champion.

[Nenshou and Childes make their exit as a dazed Donovan sits up on the
mat, shaking his head in disbelief and we fade to black...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And now, it can be yours!"

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

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

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

The camera cuts to the locker room, where Mark Stegglet stands in khakis
and an AWA sportcoat. Next to him is Eric Preston, dressed to wrestle
for the first time in weeks. Preston stands with his hands on his hips
as Stegglet begins to talk.]
 
MS: Welcome back, fans!  We're back here in the locker room area with
Eric Preston, who will be returning to the SNW airwaves for the first
time in months to take on James Monosso. The issue between you two has
gotten extremely personal, and you've gone on record as saying you can't
move on in your career until you've settled the score.
 
EP: James Monosso is a menace, Mark. The man personifies everything that
is wrong with sports, everything that's wrong with humanity today.
 
He's a liar. He's a coward. He's a punk.
 
[Preston shakes his head angrily.]
 
EP: Not one time has James Monosso ever looked me in the eye like a man
and fought me, not once has he ever stood his ground. Every time we've
been in the ring, he's run for cover like a punk.
 
But when I was doing an interview in the Combat Corner, he was a real
tough guy. He was a real tough guy planting that dumbbell in my ribs. He
was a real tough guy backjumping me when I was walking down the aisle in
the Lady Luck Challenge. In my hometown, with my Dad in the stands,
attacking me from behind'
 
'yeah. Real tough.
 
I don't like a damn thing about the man, there's not one redeeming human
quality in him. I don't like him, don't like who he hangs out with,
don't like the way he acts or the things he does. Most egregious is the
fact that this is a man who preys on the weak. Who deals in attacks when
the numbers are in his favor, who lets the rest of the Freakshow do his
bidding.
 
He goes against everything I believed in growing up, everything I
committed myself to on my way to the AWA.
 
[Preston sticks out his thumb.]
 
EP: Hard work. Self discipline. Mental toughness. Respect for those who
came before you. Every young kid who ever had a goal, that's what
they're taught. That's what I was taught, and that's what I still
believe in. And every time I watch James Monosso blind side somebody, or
take advantage of some young kid who is in the same shoes I was in not
too long ago' it makes me sick to my stomach.
 
Looking at James Monosso makes me sick to my stomach, to the point where
I can't think straight any more. I'd be lying if I said it's not
affecting me. That man has taken a toll on my mind, my body and my soul.
Every time I think about moving on or shooting for bigger goals, my
conscience calls to me.
 
Not without Monosso. Not without Monosso.
 
[Preston runs his hand through his hair, almost frothing at the mouth.]
 
EP: I can't move on in my career, or in my life, with that man still
walking. I can't stand to see him ruin every AWA show with his presence.
Someone important once told me that there comes a time in every man's
life when he's got to spit on his hands, plant his feet in the ground
and kick a little ass.
 
Today's that day. Today we move on.
 
With Monosso taken care of.

[Preston walks out of view as Stegglet stands with a silly grin on his
face.]

MS:  I'm looking forward to that one coming up later tonight but for
now, we've got tag team action to look forward to so let's head down to
Phil Watson for the introductions!

[We crossfade to the ring where the tuxedoed replacement is standing
in.]

PW:  The following tag team contest is set for one fall with a fifteen
minute time limit.  First, already in the ring at this time... from
Tocula, Mexico... the team of Jorge Santos and El Lobo Loco!

[The crowd cheers the seemingly-spunky Mexican duo, especially the
masked Lobo Loco who hops up on the middle rope and rocks his
wolf-looking mask back and forth.]

PW:  And their opponents...

[The sound of two angry men shouting "SAAAAMOOOA!" fills the air before
it's overtaken by tribal chanting and drums.]

PW:  From the Isle of Samoa... accompanied to the ring by their manager
James J. Dallas... they are the team of Scola and Mafu... the SAMOAN HIT
SQUAD!

[The jeers pick up as Scola, Mafu, and the white-suit clad Dallas stride
into view.  Dallas looks less than pleased which makes him look
absolutely overjoyed in comparison to his large charges.]

GM:  Uh oh.

BW:  You said it.  If I was standing in the ring and I saw those two
coming down the aisle looking like that, well, I wouldn't be standing in
the ring anymore.

GM:  Me either.

[The Samoans reach the ring fairly quickly, stepping through the ropes
and charging their opponents as the referee frantically calls for a bell
to start the match.]

GM:  We're off and running -

BW:  That's what the team from Tocula should have done.  Been off and
running for the border.

[Mafu hurls Jorge Santos into the ropes, felling him with a thrust kick
under the chin on the rebound.  Across the ring, El Lobo Loco is
throwing chops to the massive chest of Scola before dashing to the
ropes.]

GM:  The masked man off the ropes, crossbody- caught!

[Scola holds the masked man across his chest for a moment before quickly
and powerfully swinging him up over his shoulder and driving him down
for a thunderous powerslam!]

GM:  GOOD GRIEF!  What impact!

[Scola climbs off the mat, glaring down at the masked man.  He barks
something in the direction of Mafu who walks over to his partner.  Scola
lifts his partner off the mat for an atomic drop style hoist...

...and drops him legsfirst across the throat of the masked man!]

GM:  A brutal doubleteam there - using his own partner as a projectile
weapon!

[The massive Scola stands over the downed masked man...

...until a pair of forearm smashes splash across his wide back.]

GM:  Look at Santos!  Trying to fight back!  Trying to help out his
partner!

[Scola turns around with a look resembling amusement on his face...

...and promptly grabs Santos around the throat!]

GM:  Uh oh!

[He yanks Santos towards him, hooking him around the head and neck where
he powers him off the mat, sending him crashing down with a brutal
standing uranage slam!]

GM:  GOOD GRIEF!

BW:  You said that already.

GM:  I have a feeling we may be saying it a few more times because these
Samoans are absolutely lethal inside that ring.  

[Scola delivers a hard kick to the body, forcing Santos to roll out of
the ring to the floor.  Mafu drags the masked man off the mat by the
eyeholes of the mask.  Each Samoan grabs the mask with one hand and then
floors El Lobo Loco with a crushing double headbutt!]

GM:  OHHH!

BW:  One of the most feared moves in the business!  A double headbutt
from the Samoans is like a one-way ticket to a concussion!

GM:  James J. Dallas is shouting for them to finish this young man off.

[Scola marches to the corner, climbing up to sit on the top turnbuckle. 
Once there, he signals Mafu who begins climbing the ropes facing his
partner.  Scola hooks a front facelock on Mafu, hoisting him high into
the air in a front-layout...

...and sends him splashing down facefirst on the prone luchador!]

GM:  SAMOAN SUPER SPLASH!!

[Mafu pushes up into a cover, his tongue stuck out with a roar as the
referee mercifully quickly counts three.]

GM:  A victory here for the Samoans as we inch closer by the minute to
SuperClash 2 on Thanksgiving Night.  They were very impressive tonight,
Bucky.

BW:  Everyone's talking about Rough N Ready, the Bombers, the Rockstars
- don't sleep on the Samoans, Gordo.  The Samoans are as tough as they
come in the business and-

[Suddenly, the voice of Ben Waterson interrupts Bucky Wilde.]

ATTSBW:  Don't sleep on the Samoans?!  Don't sleep on the Samoans?! 
Bucky, I'm surprised in you.  You usually are right on target with your
commentary but you missed the mark on this one.

[The camera cuts to reveal Ben Waterson standing at ringside alongside
Adrian Freeman and Calisto Dufresne, the former National Tag Team
Champions.]

ATTSBW:  You see, while the entire wrestling world is talking about
SuperClash and everyone is focused on SuperClash, Ben Waterson is once
again a step ahead of the pack.  Because I just left Jim Watkins' office
to discuss something just as important to the Southern Syndicate as
SuperClash...

The Stampede Cup!

[Waterson grins at the crowd's cheers.]

ATTSBW:  One year ago, the Southern Syndicate became whole with the
addition of these two men - the National Tag Team Champions - to the
fold.  They went on to win the Cup that night and brought a million
dollars home in the process.

And this year, they're going to do it all over again.

GM:  You've entered Dufresne and Freeman in the Cup?

ATTSBW:  You're not as dumb as you look, Myers.  But I'll go one step
better than that.  After much debate within the Championship Committee,
these two men - thanks to their victory in last year's tournament - have
been named the NUMBER ONE SEED for the tournament!

[The crowd jeers that announcement.]

GM:  Now, hold on... I heard that the winner of Rough N Ready vs the
Blonde Bombers would be named the Number One seed.

ATTSBW:  Semantics.  Technically, there will be two number one seeds in
two separate brackets.  But these men... these men are truly the Number
One seed.  These men are the team not to sleep on, Bucky Wilde!  And
these two men are the favorites to win this whole-

[Suddenly, James J. Dallas and his Samoans are on the scene, grabbing a
mic of their own.]

JJD:  Now, hold on here one moment, my friend.

Ben Waterson, you and I have always seen eye to eye when it comes to
certain matters and we have an unspoken agreement to stay out of each
other's business.

But as you just saw, my Samoans are the team to beat in the Stampede Cup
and anyone who claims otherwise is...

[Dallas tugs at the lapels of his jacket.]

JJD:  Well, my mama told me if I didn't have somethin' nice to say, to
keep my ol' trap shut, old friend.

[Waterson smirks at Dallas.]

ATTSBW:  Oh, your Samoans are impressive, James.  There is no doubt
about that.  But you're talking about former National Tag Team
Champions.  You're talking about the winners of the 2009 Stampede Cup. 
You're talking about the team widely considered the best in the sport!

Your Samoans are good but they can't match that, James.  

[Dallas bristles a bit.]

JJD:  Care to test that theory?

[The crowd buzzes a bit at that suggestion.]

ATTSBW:  What did you have in mind?

JJD:  Your boys are busy at SuperClash.  But the Saturday Night
Wrestling after that... I think BOTH of our dance cards are empty.

[Dallas grins.]

JJD:  How 'bout your boys PROVE they deserve that top seed?

[Dufresne interjects.]

CD:  Hey!  How about your two foul-smelling, fish-eating savages prove
they belong in the tournament at all?!

[Waterson tries to settle down the Ladykiller.]

JJD:  I suppose it's my turn to say - what did you have in mind?

[Dufresne huddles up with Freeman and Waterson.  Waterson emerges with a
smile, nodding his head.]

ATTSBW:  Calisto makes a good point, James.  As of right now, your
Samoans aren't even in the tournament.  So, why don't we do this - a
quick look at the SuperClash lineup tells me you boys aren't even
scheduled to be on the biggest show of the year.

[A smirk.]

ATTSBW:  I suggest we change that.  At SuperClash, the Samoans take
on... oh, I don't know... Violence Unlimited!

[BIG CHEER!]

ATTSBW:  And whoever wins that?  We'll see 'em on December 4th right
back here to show that we're still the best in the world at what we do.

[Dallas sneers at the proposal, shaking his head.]

JJD:  Violence Unlimited seems to think they are better off without my
services.  Perhaps it's high time we show them just how mistaken they
are.

[A chuckle.]

JJD:  You're on, old friend.

[A handshake between the two dastardly managers.]

JJD:  And we'll see you on the 4th.

[The crowd jeers the two managers staring one another down as we fade to
a shot now familiar to AWA fans.  It's the Control Center!  It's a bank
of monitors showing AWA footage!  And it's Jason Dane!]

JD:  Hello everyone and welcome one last time to the SuperClash 2
Control Center!  It's going to be a wild night in Dallas and St. Louis
and we are just twelve days away!  

Everyone knows the lineup by now but just in case you don't, let's take
one final look at it...

[The screen changes to a shot of the SuperClash 2 logo which first shows
Anton Layton on one side of the screen with James Monosso by his side
and Vernon Riley on the other.]

JD:  Vernon Riley says it will be the final confrontation between he and
Anton Layton in twelve days at SuperClash - but how will it end?  And
will James Monosso's presence at ringside be too much for the Working
Man to overcome?

[The shot switches to Mark Langseth and Shane Destiny with the words
"HOLD VERSUS HOLD" on the bottom of the screen.]

JD:  It will be Hold Versus Hold - the Greatness Personified versus the
Destiny Strangle when Hall of Famer Mark Langseth meets future Hall of
Famer Shane Destiny in a match that could Main Event anywhere in the
world.  Shane Destiny has had his eyes locked on the National Title
since arriving in the AWA and a win over his rival could cement a future
title shot.

[The words "STEAL THE SPOTLIGHT" fill the screen before zooming down to
the bottom of the shot to reveal the ten men involved.]

JD:  Speaking of title shots, that's the big prize for the Steal The
Spotlight showcase.  Ten men, two teams battling it out in an
elimination match - but there can only be one survivor.  And the biggest
prize of all - a title shot of their choice - goes to the winner when
Marcus Broussard, Johnny Sone, Raphael Rhodes, Scott Mayhem, and Eric
Preston collide with MAMMOTH Mizusawa, Adrian Freeman, "Playboy" Johnny
Casanova, "Gentleman" Jack Holland, and Wade Kennedy!  Let's hear from
one of the men who'll be in that match right now - newcomer Johnny Sone!

[We crossfade to footage obviously recorded earlier today where Jason
Dane is standing with Johnny Sone.]

JD: Here with a man who could make a huge leap forward in his career at
SuperClash's Steal the Spotlight Showcase - Johnny Sone.

[Sone - who is dressed in a black T-shirt with a white design, jeans,
and a light black jacket - nods.]

JD: The last time we saw you, however, was your qualifying match for the
Steal the Spotlight where - and I'm sure you don't need to be reminded,
but where James Monosso kicked you twice in the head and then walked
out.

[Sone sighs and looks down, almost ashamed.]

JS: Jason, you're right. You don't have to remind me... Not that I
remembered any of it, but I watched that Access many times.

JD: Will you be cleared to compete at SuperClash?

[Sone nods.]

JS: Of course. There's no way I'm missing this opportunity. There's no
way I'm letting go a chance to fight alongside Marcus Broussard,
Ralphael Rhodes, and Eric Preston. And Scott Mayhem, there's a man who's
got fire in his eyes - someone I can only hope to fight with for years
to come.

[Sone pauses, getting a more serious look on his face.]

JS: But also, Jason? This match means the world to me cause... 

[Sone puts a finger up to the air.]

JS: I still feel shame in the way I "won" my spot in this match, so
there's much to prove on my end yet. You've got former National
champions, former tag team champions, and former number one contenders
in this match. So when I step into that ring, I'm going to do all I can
to prove I belong here. To prove that my feet are big enough to fit the
footsteps my grandfather and father left behind. To prove...

[Sone nods.]

JS: That I, Johnny Sone, can be the next contender for the title.

[The third generation wrestler nods again and shakes Jason Dane's hand
before we crossfade back to the Control Center to a shot of six men.]

JD:  It'll be six man tag team action when the War Pigs and their
manager, Richard E. Lee meet Jug, Zeke, and Mange - the Moonshiners! 
This feud has roots all the way back to the late 70s in Mid-South
Wrestling but in 2010, an over thirty-year feud may come to an end!

[The faces of Ron Houston and Brian Von Braun fill the screen.]

JD:  One of the most bitter feuds in AWA history will come to a head in
twelve days when former AWA National Champion Ron Houston meets "The
Invader" Brian Von Braun to settle their issues.  But will Houston be
one hundred percent after feeling Von Braun's Endgame Armbar two weeks
ago?  Could he be letting his pride get the better of him in even
showing up for that match?  We'll find out on Thanksgiving night!

[A shot of the Longhorn Heritage Title appears.]

JD:  It has been a long, hard road to become the first ever Longhorn
Heritage Champion but at the end of it, Brent Maverick and Nenshou are
still standing tall.  Those two men will meet at SuperClash to see who
will wear that title belt for the very first time... and we just
received news that Robert Donovan has sworn to be at ringside to make
sure that the LWC's legacy is lived up to in this one!

[Bobby Taylor and Kevin Slater's images appear over the words "OUTLAW
RULES!"]

JD:  No referee, no rules, no way to end the match but render your
opponent unable to fight any longer.  For a match over two years in the
making between two former best friends, is there any better way to go
out swinging?  We caught up with Bobby Taylor earlier today to get his
thoughts on what could be the toughest fight of his life in just twelve
days.  Take a look!

[We fade to a shot of Bobby Taylor standing outside the Crockett
Coliseum.  He's dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans, leaning against
the exterior wall of the building with his black Stetson tugged down
over his eyes.]

BT:  I'm not the best man in this business.  I admit that.  I'm a good
wrestler, I'm a hell of a fighter, and I'm one of the toughest bastards
who ever stepped foot in a locker room.

But as a man?  As a husband?  As a father?  

I've left a lot to be desired over the years.

[Taylor nods.]

BT:  My son... I tried to keep him sheltered from the business.  I had
seen some of the boys' sons end up pretty messed up from watching their
father get the crap kicked out of him nightly and I didn't want that for
my boy.  I tried to keep him away from all this.

But three times in my career, my son has gotten involved and every time
had made me want to hang up my damn boots and walk away.

[Taylor holds up his index finger.]

BT:  After that beating in Toronto, I was laid up in a hospital bed
eating through a damn tube when the phone rang.  Someone held it up to
my ear 'cause I couldn't move my arm and I heard my son's voice on the
other end.  He was little then... four?  Five maybe?

"Daddy, are you hurt?"

I ain't ashamed to admit I cried that night.

"Daddy, are you hurt?"

How the hell do I explain to a kid what I just went through?  His mom
had bought the Pay Per View because she thought I might win the World
Title that night.

Obviously, things ended up much different.

[Taylor holds up a second finger.]

BT:  In 1998, my wife thought it would be a good idea to bring our son
to ringside for a match I was having in Texas with Casey James.  Casey
and I - we ended up on decent enough terms - but back then, he was out
to prove he was the damn Blackheart in every match just like I wanted to
prove I was the Outlaw.  He wasn't happy about me bein' the Outlaw and I
knew this one could get ugly.

I didn't realize how ugly until my head was on fire and I could hear my
wife and son screaming through the flames.

That night, when I was laid up in another hospital, they came to visit.

"Daddy, are you hurt?"

My burnt flesh was still hot to the touch... but I smiled through the
pain and told him, "No, son.  Daddy's fine."

I ain't ashamed to admit I cried that night too.

[A third finger comes up.]

BT:  Chris Myers.

[He spits.]

BT:  Chris and I used to be good friends but we ain't never been right
after what he did to my boy.  We tried to work together a couple times
but I just couldn't get past it.

Chris Myers broke into my house...

[Taylor shakes his head.]

BT:  And he branded my boy with the Syndicate mark.  Never in my life
have I felt as much rage as I did when I saw that.  Chris Myers is lucky
to be breathing today - I promise you that.

[Taylor lowers his hand.]

BT:  It's been a long time since my son has talked to me about
wrestling.  He's a man now.  Eighteen years old.  But last week, I got a
phone call from him.

"Dad, are you really going to wrestle Uncle Kevin?"

[Taylor shakes his head.]

BT:  'Bout ripped my heart out to hear him ask that.  Because I know how
much his Uncle Kevin means to him.  I know how much he loves him.  All
those years we ran together, Kevin... the vacations, the holidays... our
families side by side...

But it's come to this.  It's come to the point where our entire past is
nothing but a memory.

But how do you explain that?  Even to a man, how do you explain that he
needs to bottle up all the feelings he had for someone and toss that in
the corner because when the bell rings on Thanksgiving Night, there's
nothing left to stop this?

I told him what I had to do.

[Taylor nods.]

BT:  And this time, HE cried, Slater.

My son wept at hearing the things I intend to do to you.

He's a man now.  He needs to know.  So, I left no stone unturned.  I
told him in great detail every single thing I intend to do to you.  I
told him every thing I plan on doing to make sure you never wrestle
again.

And he cried.

[Taylor shrugs.]

BT:  I'm not the best father in the world.  But I'm a good wrestler, a
hell of a fighter, and one of the toughest bastards to ever step foot in
a locker room.

I'm the Outlaw, Slater.

You'd do well to remember that in St. Louis.

[We fade from the shot of a determined Taylor back into the Control
Center where we now see the National Tag Team Titles with a host of
people around them.]

JD:  The National Tag Team Titles will be on the line when Rough N Ready
put their gold up for grabs against The Blonde Bombers - and wherever
the Bombers are, you can expect Larry Doyle, Crusher Glenn, and on this
night, the Masked Menace to follow.  The numbers will be against Dave
Cooper and Eric Matthew Somers but can they pull out a successful title
defense?

[The shot of the gold fades and is replaced by a smirking Calisto
Dufresne and a focused Tin Can Rust over the words "TEXAS DEATH MATCH."]

JD:  One year ago at SuperClash, Calisto Dufresne hurled fire in the eye
of City Jack, putting him out of wrestling.  Tin Can Rust, Jack's best
friend, earned a bit of payback this past summer but he's not done yet. 
He wants to put Dufresne to hell and back and he'll get the chance to do
exactly that in twelve days.

[The shot fades to reveal Jason Dane again.]

JD:  Now, before we go any further, we've got two more matches that have
been announced for this big show.  Just moments ago, you heard the
challenge made - The Samoans will meet Violence Unlimited in what has
been determined to be a Stampede Cup seeding match.  Plus, the winner
will be right back here in Dallas on December 4th to meet one of the
Number One seeds, Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman in tag team
action!  That's one big match added.

And the other?

Former National Champion Kolya Sudakov will meet his own Uncle, Vladimir
Velikov in singles action with Ivan Kostovich at ringside.  Sudakov has
agreed.  If he loses, he falls under the control of Ivan Kostovich in a
match that Kostovich has declared is under the sanctioning of the
Russian Athletic Federation.

Two big matches added to an already stacked show!

[Dane grins.]

JD:  But the biggest of them all will come in the Main Event.  The AWA
National Title will be on the line - that's for sure.  But so will Juan
Vasquez' very AWA career!  If Vasquez loses at SuperClash, he will
voluntarily walk away from the AWA FOREVER!

And just to make sure we have a clear winner, AWA Championship Committee
Chairman Jim Watkins has secured the services of a very special guest
ringside enforcer...

ALEX MARTINEZ!

[Dane pauses.]

JD:  Now THAT'S a Main Event!  So much at stake, so much on the line -
the final showdown between "Hotshot" Stevie Scott and Juan Vasquez one
year after their first title match.

It's going to be a night for the ages.  If you can't be in Dallas or St.
Louis because both buildings are already sold out, be sure you are with
us LIVE on WKIK for the biggest night of the year for wrestling fans!  

It's Thanksgiving Night - and by the end of the night, we'll have given
you so much more to be thankful for!

For the Control Center, I'm Jason Dane and I'll see you on Thanksgiving
night for SuperClash 2!

[We fade from the Control Center to black...

...and back up to a shot of the original SuperClash logo.  A voiceover
begins.]

"It was a night that few can forget."

[We can hear announcer cries like...

"ROUGH HOUSING!  ONE!!!  TWO!!!  THREEEEEEEE!!!!"

"What a night for the Matsui Corporation!  They stole the spotlight and
now they've beaten the mighty Tumaffi!"

"FIREBALL!  FIREBALL!"]

"Stars were made.  Careers were shortened.  Lives were altered forever."

[We can hear the "moment of truth" for Raphael Rhodes...

"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"]

"But in the end, there was only one conclusion...

SuperClash... IS... wrestling."

[One more soundbite.

"HE DID IT!  HE DID IT!  STEVIE BEAT ALL THE ODDS!"]

"On Thanksgiving night, show the world of wrestling what you're thankful
for."

[And a final graphic comes up...

SuperClash 2.  Thanksgiving Night.

We fade back to live action where suddenly the familiar high-pitched
piano of John Carpenter's "Theme From Halloween" plays over the PA to
the loud boos of the capacity crowd.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, and here we go... here comes the madman.

BW: Eric Preston, you got one chance.  Take the man's advice and leave. 
Forever.

[The six-foot-seven, wide-shouldered beast named James Monosso lumbers
from behind the curtain, wearing his black-and-silver single strap
singlet.  Over this is the familiar pale green "PROPERTY OF STATE MENTAL
INSTITUTION" cutoff T-Shirt.  He wears black boots with shiny silver
trim, and is  carrying a large picture frame.]

GM: What is that in Monosso's hands?

BW: I can't see what it is, but it's a picture frame.  Could be a
mirror, a painting, or whatever, but all I can see is the back of it the
way Monosso is holdin' it.  Fifty bucks says he breaks it over Preston's
head.

GM: If you find a taker for that, I may put in fifty of my own on that
same proposition.

[Behind Monosso, the squat, round physique belonging to Percy Childes
comes waddling out.  Dressed in his all black 'funeral' attire, Childes
is using his crystal-tipped cane to get along.  He seems fairly cheerful
considering how his evening is going so far.]

GM: Percy Childes was not with Monosso earlier, but with Nenshou's
business done, he is here for this.  And he looks quite pleased with
himself.  You have to wonder if the joy at seeing what Anton Layton did
earlier tonight plus Nenshou's big victory to move on to the Finals of
the Longhorn Heritage Title tournament will cloud his vision here in
this one.

BW: Percy is a man of intelligence and focus, Gordo.  His mind is right
here on Monosso and Eric Preston.  Believe that.

[James steps into the ring, and looks around at the fans with a
disdainful sneer on his blocky, clean-shaven face.  They return that
expression with jeers, and a chant:]

"PRES-TON!  PRES-TON!  PRES-TON!  PRES-TON!  PRES-TON!  PRES-TON!"

GM: Listen to this!

"PRES-TON!  PRES-TON!  PRES-TON!  PRES-TON!  PRES-TON!  PRES-TON!"

BW: Aw, these fools are just like Monosso said.  All they want is blood.
 That's why they're chantin'.

GM: I disagree.  James Monosso has been so cruel, and has said and done
so much evil... these fans cannot wait for Eric Preston to finally,
finally give him the justice he has coming to him!

"PRES-TON!  PRES-TON!  PRES-TON!  PRES-TON!  PRES-TON!  PRES-TON!"

BW: Please.  Preston has as much chance of doin' anything serious to
Monosso as you do.  None.

"PRES-TON!  PRES-TON!  PRES-TON!  PRES-TON!  PRES-TON!  PRES-TON!"

[The music dies down, but the chant goes strong.  Monosso plugs his ears
and stomps around the ring, yelling at the fans to shut up.  Childes
stands at ringside, looking around with a disgusted expression.]

"DING!  DING!  DING!"

PW: The following contest, scheduled for one fall with a twenty minute
time limit is the Main Event of the evening!

Introducing first, in the ring: seconded by his manager Percy Childes...
from The State Of Confusion... weighing two-hundred eighty-eight
pounds...

    ...JAMES MONOSSO!

[Monosso continues to rant and rave and stomp about the chant, which
continues on.  But it soon dissolves into a huge ovation as "Show Me How
To Live" by Audioslave hits the PA.]

PW:  And his opponent... he hails from Greenville, South Carolina...
wiehging in at two hundred and forty-eight pounds...

EEEEERRRRRRRIC PRESSSSSSTON!

[The cheers grow louder as Preston emerges from the curtain.  He glares
down the entrance ramp to the ring where Monosso paces back and forth
like a caged animal.  Preston runs a hand through his short hair,
shaking his head.  Slowly, he starts to bounce back and forth from one
foot to the other.]

GM:  This is it, Bucky.  The moment of truth for Eric Preston. 
Everything he is... everything he's done in the AWA so far comes down to
this one match just twelve days before SuperClash.

[Preston seems to be trying to psyche himself up, bouncing faster from
foot to foot, eyes locked on Monosso as the crowd whips itself into a
frenzy...

...and he breaks into a full sprint, charging the length of the ramp.]

GM:  HERE WE GO!!

[And HURLS himself over the ropes in a Superman dive, tackling Monosso
down to the mat as referee Michael Meekly signals for the bell to start
the match as the crowd goes NUTS!]

GM:  PRESTON WIPES OUT MONOSSO!!

[The Combat Corner graduate immediately takes the fight to Monosso,
grabbing his stringy hair and throwing haymaker after haymaker into the
skull of the madman!]

GM:  PRESTON'S ALL OVER HIM!!

[Percy Childes, sensing trouble, immediately climbs up on the apron,
angrily gesturing at Preston with his crystal-topped cane...

...which causes Preston to break off of Monosso, grabbing Childes by the
suit jacket to the roars of the crowd!]

GM:  He's got Childes!

BW:  Hey!  Let go of him!  Percy didn't do anything wrong to him!

[Monosso rolls to the floor, trying to recover from Preston's quick
start.  The referee tries to wedge himself between Childes and Preston,
forcing the Greenville native to back away, fists balled up and ready to
throw 'em.]

GM:  Monosso's out on the floor and-

[Preston angrily stomps across the ring, grabbing the top rope...

...and Monosso grabs the object he had brought to the ring with him,
holding it up for Preston to see!]

GM:  What the-?!

BW:  That's his family!  He's got a family photo!

GM:  James Monosso, that sick son of- why?!

[Monosso holds the frame up so Preston can clearly see it, pointing to
it.]

"FOR THEM!!  WALK AWAY FOR THEM!!"

[A furious Preston grabs the top rope, slingshotting over them towards a
waiting Monosso...

...who SWINGS the picture frame full force, shattering the glass on the
torso of the incoming Preston!]


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


GM:  That's it!  Ring the bell right now!

BW:  The referee didn't see it, Gordo!  Percy had the referee tied up
and he didn't see any of that!  That picture frame just got busted up
over Eric Preston and the ref missed all of it!

GM:  I can't- Percy Childes is smiling like a maniac!  He knew EXACTLY
what he was doing up there, Bucky!

BW:  Of course he did!  He's a genius!

[The camera zooms in on Preston as he uses the steel railing to pull
himself off the floor, revealing a small cut on the right arm, a nick on
the chest, and a slash in the cheek.]

GM:  That glass, that broken glass did some damage and there's still a
bunch of it on the floor out here at ringside.  Just look at it, ref! 
How the heck do you think broken glass got out here?

[The referee seems to be thinking along the same lines, loudly
questioning Monosso who is leaning against the apron, a sick grin on his
face as Percy Childes drops back off the apron, shouting instructions to
his man.  Monosso nods, grabbing Preston off the floor...

...and catching a right hand to the midsection!]

GM:  Ohh!  Preston goes downstairs on the big man!

[Grabbing Monosso by the hair, Preston spins around and SLAMS him
shoulderfirst into the steel railing!]

GM:  And Eric Preston's taking a page out of Monosso's playbook, Bucky!

BW:  He better be careful with that.  I don't think Preston should be
out there tangling with Monosso on the floor no matter how tough
Michaelson made him think he is.

[Preston grabs Monosso by the arm, hauling him over towards the ring
apron with the referee warning both men to get back inside the ring. 
But Preston ignores him, spinning around and FIRING Monosso spinefirst
into the steel barricade with an Irish whip!]

GM:  OHHH!  HARD INTO THE STEEL GOES MONOSSO!!

[The crowd roars as Preston hooks a loose side headlock, driving fist
after fist into the face of Monosso...

...and then sinks his teeth into the forehead of the madman!]

GM:  He's biting him!  He's biting Monosso!

BW:  Where's your hero now, Gordo?  This guy has snapped!

GM:  Monosso's driven him to it!  And to bring a photo of the man's
family out here?  How could he?  How DARE he?

[Preston finally fires Monosso back under the ropes into the ring before
rolling under them himself.  He climbs to his feet, delivering a hard
kick to the ribs.]

"How's that feel?"

[A second kick to the same spot connects.]

"How about that one?"

GM:  Eric Preston turns his attention to the ribs - perhaps a little
payback for when Monosso assaulted Preston in the Combat Corner so many
months ago to go after those ribs.

[A third kick causes Monosso to roll over towards the ropes where Percy
Childes is angrily shouting orders to his man...

...and Preston connects with a sliding dropkick to the ribs that knocks
Monosso out into Childes, sending both men sprawling down to the floor
to the cheers of the crowd!]

GM:  He knocks Childes flat as well!  Eric Preston is all over BOTH of
these men tonight, Bucky!  This is a different Eric Preston!

BW:  If you think you can't recognize him now, wait until Monosso gets
up and tears into him.  His own mother won't recognize him then!

GM:  Preston steps out on the apron, going out after Monosso again.

[Hauling Monosso off the mat, Preston delivers a boot to the gut.  He
quickly dips down, scooping Monosso up...

...and SLAMMING him down on the concrete floor!]

GM:  OHHH!  BODY SLAM ON THE THINLY-PADDED CONCRETE!!  That cold, hard,
unforgiving floor!

[Monosso howls in pain, clutching his lower back as Preston stands over
him glaring down with a hateful stare.  He delivers a kick to the ample
midsection of the downed Childes as well before hauling Monosso to his
feet by the hair again, firing him under the ropes into the ring.]

GM:  Monosso's down - Preston back up on the apron...

[Preston grabs the top rope, slingshotting over the ropes and crashing
down on the chest of Monosso!]

GM:  Slingshot splash!  I don't think I've ever seen that from Preston
before and he's going for a pin!

[The referee dives to the mat...]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR-

[Monosso fires a shoulder off the mat before the three count comes down,
barely breaking the pin.]

GM:  He almost got him, Bucky!

BW:  I think Monosso's in shock.  There's no way Preston's worn him down
enough to pin him.  James Monosso was surprised by the pin attempt, I
believe.

GM:  Preston pulls him- ohh!

[The crowd groans as Preston recoils, having had a thumb jabbed into his
eye.  Monosso slowly stumbles up, looking like something out of a horror
movie as he stalks towards Preston's exposed back...

...and SMASHES a double axehandle across the back of the neck, knocking
Preston down to his knees.]

GM:  The referee is- get Childes down from there!

[Suddenly, Percy Childes hops up on the apron again, drawing the
referee's attention...]

GM:  The referee is trying to get Childes off the apron... I don't
understand what he's doing up-

[But James Monosso understands and without warning, he charges the
exposed back of the official...

...and SMASHES him with a running forearm to the back of the skull!]

GM:  OHHHHH!  Ring the bell!

BW:  What in the world did he do that for?

GM:  I'm not sure - heck, HE may not even no!

[And for a moment, he seems confused as to why he did it but a few
shouts from Percy Childes regains his focus.  He nods, dropping to the
mat and rolling out to the floor.]

GM:  Where is he going?

[Monosso digs under the ring apron for a moment or two...

...and pulls out the badly dented and damaged spotlight he busted up
earlier in the night!]

GM:  Wait a second.

BW:  The spotlight, Gordo!  James Monosso has stolen the spotlight!

GM:  Oh, you're a real riot!

[Monosso shoves the metal spotlight under the ropes, crawling in behind
it.]

GM:  Now, hold on here... this isn't a no DQ match!  We need to get some
control of this thing!

BW:  The referee's down!  Childes and Monosso have plotted this
perfectly.

GM:  I have a feeling it's more Childes than Monosso.

[Monosso climbs to his feet, picking up the metal spotlight, and holding
it high overhead...]

"If you want the spotlight so badly, Eric..."

[A sick grin crosses Percy Childes' face.]

"STEAL IT!"

[...and Monosso HURLS the metal projectile into the face of the kneeling
Preston, knocking him flat!]

GM:  OHHH!  Come on!  Where the heck is the referee when you need him?

[Childes shouts a few more orders at Monosso who drags Preston into a
seated position, reaching down into the dented metal spotlight...

...and pulls out a shard of glass!]

GM:  Oh no.

BW:  Parental discretion is advised!  Oh, never mind.  What parent would
let their kids watch this nutcase in the ring?

GM:  No, please... please stop him... NOOOOOO!

[The crowd shouts along with Gordon as Monosso digs the shard of broken
glass into the forehead of Eric Preston.]

GM:  HE'S DRIVING THE GLASS INTO THE FOREHEAD OF PRESTON!!

[Monosso drags the broken glass across the forehead, slicing open the
flesh of the downed Preston.  After a few more moments, he throws the
broken glass aside, kicking the metal spotlight to knock it through the
ropes to the floor.  The bloodied Preston collapses to the mat, hands
covering up his head as Monosso stands over him.]

GM:  Eric Preston just had his head torn open by this maniac!

[Monosso grabs his head, shaking it back and forth like he's trying to
"clear the cobwebs."  Childes shouts at him, trying to keep him on focus
as he drags Preston, now bleeding from the forehead, up to his feet.  A
well-placed right hand to the gut knocks Preston back into the
turnbuckles.  Monosso leans over, grabbing the middle rope...

...and DRIVING his shoulder into the ribcage!]

GM:  Ohh!  And James Monosso is going after those ribs he injured months
ago!

[A second shoulder drive has the bloodied Preston wincing and trying to
grab his ribs...

...but Monosso straightens up, slapping Preston's defending hands away
before driving a knee up into the midsection.]

GM:  Good grief, James Monosso is a savage animal.

[Grabbing the arm of Preston, Monosso fires him from corner to corner. 
Backing to the buckles, he gets a full head of steam...

...and DRIVES a knee into the midsection of Preston again!]

GM:  Running knee to the ribs!  Monosso just rocked him!

[Monosso grabs the arm again...]

GM:  Another whip... wait a second!

[The crowd roars as the athletic Preston leaps to the middle rope, steps
up top...

...and hurls himself off, twisting backwards towards the rampaging
Monosso!]

GM:  CROSSBOD-

[But Monosso uses his head as a harpoon, lunging forward to drive his
own skull into the torso of Preston, taking him out of the air and back
down to the mat.]

GM:  OHHH!  What a counter by Monosso!

[Out on the floor, the camera catches Childes shouting "GUTBUSTER!"]

GM:  Did he just call for a gutbuster?

BW:  He certainly did.  And now we know for sure that they're going
after those ribs.

GM:  Monosso drags the bleeding Preston off the mat... what's he-?

[The crowd buzzes as Monosso powers Preston up into a military press,
holding him high above the ring...

...and then drops him straight down onto his own bent knee!]

GM:  OHHH!  GORILLA GUTBUSTER!!

[Monosso shoves the gasping Preston off his knee to the mat, leaning
forward to apply a lateral press as the recovering official crawls into
position.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR- 

[The crowd roars as Preston fires a shoulder off the mat before three.]

GM:  Close.  Too close perhaps for fans of Eric Preston.

[Monosso slowly gets to his feet, grabbing Preston by the back of his
purple trunks, yanking him back up to his feet.]

GM:  Another whip to the corner by Monosso...

[The madman backs up, charging in with a roar...

...and runs directly into two raised boots from Eric Preston!]

GM:  OHH!  HE RAN RIGHT INTO THE FEET OF PRESTON!!

[Preston promptly hops up on the middle rope, sizing up the staggered
Monosso...

...and leaps OVER Monosso, hooking his head on the way over and taking
him down with a somersault neckbreaker!]

GM:  Oh yeah!  And that might be a major turning point in this one! 
Eric Preston used Monosso's aggressiveness against him and made him pay
the price right there!

[The bloody Preston gets to his feet, raising an arm to salute the
cheering AWA fans before he leans down to haul Monosso off the mat.]

GM:  Big right hand by Preston!  And another!  And another!  He batters
Monosso all the way back against the buckles... 

[Grabbing Monosso's arm, Preston fires him so hard into the buckles that
the Greenville native actually drops down to a knee from the effort
involved.  Monosso slams against the corner, staggering out...

...and EATING a lunging clothesline across the collarbone that knocks
him flat!]

GM:  Preston knocks him down... a cover...

[The referee lunges over to make the count.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  TH-

[But Monosso powers out of the pin attempt, actually throwing Preston
out of the lateral press.  An angry Preston goes right back in, grabbing
the hair of Monosso and throwing rapid-fire right hands to the skull of
Monosso before shoving him back down to the mat.]

GM:  Preston's back to his feet and-

[The Greenville native leaps as high as he can into the air, bringing
both legs down across the chest of Monosso!]

GM:  OHH!  Both legs crash down on the chest of the madman!  A legdrop
of sorts that by Preston.

[Preston rolls off the downed Monosso, pointing to the buckles.]

GM:  And I think Eric Preston's going up top!

[But he doesn't get a chance as Monosso grabs his ankle, pulling at his
leg.]

GM:  Monosso blocked his- ohhh!  Preston with a savage kick to the face!

[The crowd buzzes as an angry Preston hauls Monosso to his feet.  He
drags him to the ropes, hooking a front facelock.]

GM:  He may be setting up a slingshot suplex here...

[Preston tries to do exactly that...

...but fails, grabbing his ribs in pain just before Monosso delivers a
headbutt to the bridge of the nose, knocking Preston to a knee.  Monosso
grabs the front facelock instead.]

GM:  Wait a second here... look out!

[Monosso hoists Preston up, turning slightly like he's going for a
slingshot suplex of his own...

...but shoves Preston out over the ropes, sending him crashing
chestfirst onto the wooden entrance ramp!]

GM:  OHHHH!  He went facefirst down on the ramp!

[Monosso stumbles back, dropping down to a knee in the middle of the
ring.  Outside the ring, Childes is screaming for him to continue - to
go out after Preston and the ribs.]

GM:  Monosso looks confused - he looks puzzled...

BW:  Percy Childes is SCREAMING at him, Gordo! 

[The crowd gets all over Childes as he gets up on the apron, shouting at
Monosso...

...and then holding up the crystal-topped cane, jabbing it in the air
right where Monosso can see it.  Monosso stares long and hard at the
crystal for a moment.]

GM:  What in the world...?

[And then suddenly the light comes on for Monosso, his eyes wide as he
storms through the ropes, driving a kick into the ribs of the recovering
Preston out on the platform.]

GM:  Ohh!  Big punt kick to the ribs!

[The kick rolls Preston onto his back which allows Monosso to back into
the ropes, slowly walking off...

...and leaps high in the air, bringing his 280 plus pounds down in a
King Kong kneedrop with the knee crushing the ribs of Preston!]

GM:  OHHHH!  What a kneedrop!

[Monosso stays kneeling on the ramp, looking out at the jeering crowd
with disdain.  He slowly gets to his feet, pulling an injured Preston up
with him...

...and hurls him over the ropes, sending him crashing down to the mat.]

GM:  Monosso brings him back in - and now he's going back in as well. 
Both men back inside the ring now.

[Preston pushes up to a knee...

...where a running kick to the skull connects, knocking him flat!]

GM:  Ohh!  A savage kick by Monosso!  Absolutely brutal!

[Dropping to his knees, Monosso crawls over the downed Preston, leaning
over him.]

"Now I'm gonna do it!"

[He pulls Preston up by the hair, connecting with a brutal haymaker to
the skull.]

"Your brain!"

[Another right hand lands.]

"I'm going to give you a concussion so bad..."

[A huge haymaker connects, snapping Preston's head back to the mat. 
Monosso grabs him by the hair, lifting his head off the mat...]

"...you'll forget who you are!"

[...and SLAMS the back of Preston's head into the mat!  The crowd jeers
wildly.]

"You'll forget who your family is!"

[He goes to slam Preston's head into the mat again but Preston throws a
right hand from his back that catches Monosso on the ear, knocking him
backwards...

...at which point Preston dives atop him, rearing back his right hand
and letting it fly!]

GM:  MONOSSO WENT TOO FAR!  HE MENTIONED PRESTON'S FAMILY AND-

[The crowd is roaring as Preston connects with right hands over and
over, his knuckles smashing into the temple of James Monosso.]

GM:  PRESTON'S BEATING THE HELL OUT OF HIM!!!

[The crowd goes nuts as Preston pops back up to his feet, throwing his
arms apart with a loud roar.  He spins back to Monosso, dragging him up
by the hair.  He grabs the arm, firing him off to the ropes...]

GM:  Off the far side... 

[A collective gasp is heard as Preston powers the big man up, spinning
fast, and DRIVING him into the canvas!]

GM:  POWERSLAM!!  SPINNING POWERSLAM!!

[Preston dives atop Monosso, reaching back to hook a leg.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE-


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


GM:  SHOULDER UP!!  MONOSSO GOT THE SHOULDER UP!!

[An angry Childes is shouting from the floor, smacking his cane over and
over into the ring apron as Preston pulls Monosso to his feet again,
firing him into the corner...]

GM:  Into the buckles goes Monosso - look out!

[Preston breaks into a full corner-to-corner sprint, leaping up at the
last moment to drive his elbow back into the jaw of Monosso!]

GM:  OHH!  HE CAUGHT HIM ON THE CHIN!!

[Staying in the corner, Preston hooks a side headlock...

...and stampedes out of the corner, leaping into the air, and DRIVING
Monosso's skull into the canvas!]

GM:  BULLDOG!  A page out of his friend Vernon Riley's playbook!

[Preston rolls Monosso to his back, leaning over for a cover.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE-

[The crowd deflates once more as Monosso fires the shoulder up.  An
angry Preston buries his head in his hands, shaking his head in
disbelief as the referee holds up two fingers.]

GM:  Still not enough!

BW:  He can't do it, Gordo!  He can't pin Monosso!  He can't keep him
down!

[Monosso crawls away from the fired-up Preston, dragging himself to his
feet in the corner...

...which brings Preston charging in once more!]

GM:  HERE HE CO- OHHHHHH!

[The crowd echoes Gordon's response as Monosso sidesteps at the last
moment, HURLING Preston shoulderfirst into the steel ringpost!]

GM:  He got out of the way!  Monosso caught him coming in and made him
pay for it!

[The hulking Monosso slips out to the apron, backing to the adjacent
ringpost as he points down the apron at Preston who is still leaning
with his head against the steel...

...and rampages down the apron!]

GM:  NOOOOOO!

[Monosso lifts his leg, determined to deliver his dreaded ringpost
kick...

...but at the last moment, Preston pulls himself backwards, causing
Monosso to kick the ringpost, just barely avoiding the charge!]

GM:  He missed!  He missed!

[Monosso crumples to a knee on the apron, clutching the leg he just
drove into the steel.  A fired-up Preston approaches, reaching over the
ropes to grab the madman in a front facelock...]

GM:  Are you kidding me?

BW:  He can't do it, Gordo!  The ribs are shot!

GM:  He's gonna try to bring in Monosso the hard way!

[Preston struggles and strains, desperately trying to power his hated
rival up into the air...

...but fails miserably, clutching his ribs as he sets him back down.  A
hard punch connects through the ropes, smashing him in the ribs.]

GM:  Ohh!  He caught Preston!

[Grabbing the hair, Monosso drags him over the ropes out onto the apron.
 He drills him with a pair of right hands before raising both hands high
overhead...]

GM:  Double axehand- 

[The crowd cheers as Preston fires a right hand to the gut!]

GM:  Preston caught him in the breadbasket!

[A second right hand stuns Monosso.  Preston backpedals a few feet and
charges back in, connecting with a running kneelift that knocks Monosso
back through the ropes and down to the mat!]

GM:  WHOA!! 

BW:  Where the heck did that come from?!

GM:  I have no idea but Preston caught all of that kneelift!

[With Monosso down on the mat, Preston points to the buckles and starts
to climb slowly.]

GM:  Preston's heading up top!

[A stunned Monosso rolls to his stomach, pushing up to his knees where
he spots his rival stepping up to the middle rope outside of the ring. 
He surges to his feet, staggering forward where a hard forearm across
the ribs stops Preston in his tracks.]

GM:  Monosso caught him!  He stopped his ascent up the ropes- ohh! 
Another shot to the ribs!

[With Preston trying to protect himself, he quickly finds his torso
wrapped up in the massive arms of James Monosso who backs away from the
corner holding Preston high in the air...]

GM:  Wait a second!  Wait a second!

BW:  DESCENT INTO MADNESS!

[He holds him over his shoulder, looking like he could dump Preston down
to the mat on his head and neck in the aforementioned backdrop driver at
any moment...]

GM:  Preston's fighting it!  Right hand to the head!  Another!  Come on,
Eric!

[Monosso sets Preston down on the mat for a moment...

...but quickly powers him back up with the momentum needed for the
Descent Into Madness backdrop driver!]

GM:  DESCENT INTO MADN-

[But at the peak of the lift, Monosso loses his grip on Preston who
somehow twists his body...

...and yanks Monosso down to the mat in a sunset flip!]

GM:  SUNSET FLIP!!  SUNSET FLIP!!  

[The referee dives to the canvas.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREEEEEEEEE!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[A furious Percy Childes is almost immediately in the ring, getting
right into Michael Meekly's face and shouting about the count as Eric
Preston bursts to his feet, pumping his arms into the air in victory.]

GM:  PRESTON WINS!  PRESTON WINS!!

BW:  That wasn't- that was a fast count, Gordo!

GM:  It looked pretty good from where I'm sitting!

[Preston is celebrating his win...

...but James Monosso immediately drills him from behind with an
axehandle to the back of the head.  The madman grabs Preston by the back
of the head, smashing his knee into Preston's head once, twice, three
times.]

GM:  Come on!   Get off the man!  He won the match!

BW:  He doesn't look like much of a winner now!

[Grabbing Preston by the arm, Monosso flings him to the ropes...

...where Preston grabs the ropes, blocking his rebound, and snatches the
crystal-topped cane out of Percy Childes' hands.]

GM:  CANE!!

[The crowd roars as Preston smashes the cane across the face of Monosso,
knocking him a step back.]

GM:  He drilled Monosso between the eyes with the cane and-

[Preston swings the cane again, connecting squarely between the eyes a
second time, sending Monosso staggering backwards.]

GM:  A second one!

[And a third sends Monosso falling through the ropes to the floor,
leaving Eric Preston standing tall with the cane in hand.  He pauses for
a moment before throwing it down to the mat, sinking to a knee with his
head in his hands.]

GM:  Eric Preston has vanquished his rival!  Eric Preston has defeated
James Monosso!

BW:  But at what price?  Look at him, Gordo.  He's bloodied.  His ribs
are busted up.  He took a couple nice shots to the skull too.  Look at
him, Gordo - is that really a winner?

[As a furious Childes leads Monosso back up the aisle, the camera zooms
in on a bloodied Eric Preston who is kneeling on the mat, clutching his
skull and ribs as he watches his rival retreat and we fade to black.

...and back up to a shot of the original SuperClash logo.  A voiceover
begins.]

"It was a night that few can forget."

[We can hear announcer cries like...

"ROUGH HOUSING!  ONE!!!  TWO!!!  THREEEEEEEE!!!!"

"What a night for the Matsui Corporation!  They stole the spotlight and
now they've beaten the mighty Tumaffi!"

"FIREBALL!  FIREBALL!"]

"Stars were made.  Careers were shortened.  Lives were altered forever."

[We can hear the "moment of truth" for Raphael Rhodes...

"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"]

"But in the end, there was only one conclusion...

SuperClash... IS... wrestling."

[One more soundbite.

"HE DID IT!  HE DID IT!  STEVIE BEAT ALL THE ODDS!"]

"On Thanksgiving night, show the world of wrestling what you're thankful
for."

[And a final graphic comes up...

SuperClash 2.  Thanksgiving Night.

We fade back to live action where Juan Vasquez is standing in the ring,
the crowd roaring all around him.]

GM:  We are back LIVE in the Crockett Coliseum, fans, and during the
break, the man who will challenge for the AWA National Title in twelve
nights - Juan Vasquez - is standing in the middle of the ring... in the
middle of all these fans who love him.  

BW:  Gordo, do you realize what we're seeing here?

GM:  What's that?

BW:  This is the last time Juan Vasquez will EVER be in the Crockett
Coliseum!  This is the last time Juan Vasquez will EVER be on Saturday
Night Wrestling!

GM:  Well, I think you're a little ahead of yourself here but that
certainly is a possibility.  Fans, this could very well be the final
time that Juan Vasquez will stand in front of these fans on Saturday
Night Wrestling.  That's what's at stake for him in twelve nights at
SuperClash 2.  Either he walks out with the National Title or he walks
away... period.

[Vasquez smiles at the reaction of the fans, leaning through the ropes
to grab an offered mic from ringside.]

JV: Ya' know...I was walking around backstage earlier and everyone kept
on coming up to me to shake my hand, pat me on the back and wish me good
luck. I really appreciated the support...

...but I could see the looks on their faces. 

[He looks down with a frown and shakes his head.] 

JV: In their minds, I'm already as good as gone. They all were thinking
the same thing: "When Juan Vasquez leaves the Crockett Coliseum
tonight...he ain't ever gonna' be coming back." 

[The crowd boos loudly. If anything, they hate naysayers.] 

JV: They were already preparing themselves for the worst. They weren't
just shaking my hand to be friendly. They were there to say "Goodbye." 

[Juan sighs.] 

JV: Well, you know what I say? 

[He pauses and looks up, his face as defiant and determined as ever.] 

JV: THE HELL WITH THAT! 

[BIG POP!] 

JV: 'Cause I sure ain't ready to say "Goodbye!" 

[A big grin forms on Juan's face as the crowd cheers in approval.] 

JV: So long? 

Farewell? 

Auf weidersehen? 

[By the scurvy beard of Julie Andrews, good lord almighty...the "Sound
of Music" just got a face pop in Texas.] 

JV: Not in a million years! 

[Juan shakes his head furiously.] 

JV: I've fought too long and too hard just to let it all end for me at
SuperClash, people. I would never have put my career on the line if I
didn't know for _damn_ sure that I'd take that title from Stevie Scott!
[Pop!] I would never have held on this long if I didn't think I'd win
this war! [Pop!] And you better believe me when I say...I _WILL_ win
this war! 

[A chant of "Juan!" starts up, which Vasquez of course, encourages to
grow louder.] 

JV: Stevie, you can keep on dreamin' of a Vasquez-less AWA, but that's
all it ever will be, amigo. 

A dream! 

[He places a hand over his heart.] 

JV: 'Cause I guarantee you right here, right now...Juan Vasquez ain't
going anywhere! 

[And just as the AWA fans are getting all worked up and excited,
"Hotshot" Stevie Scott arrives, title belt slung over his shoulder,
inside the entranceway to rain on their parade.  He slowly makes his way
down the aisle, talking on a wireless mic as he does so.]

HSS:  Guarantee?

[Stevie grins.]

HSS:  Guarantee?  I'm not sure you're in a position to guarantee a
thing, 
Vasquez, because the last time I checked...

[Stevie slaps the belt hanging over his shoulder.]

HSS:  This belt is mine no matter what you've done to steal it from me. 
And anytime it really counted against me, you came up short.

[The National Champion is smirking.  He's enjoying this.]

HSS:  So, you can tell these people all you want about how I'm just
dreaming about putting you out of the AWA once and for all but there's a
funny thing about the Southern Syndicate.

We have a way of making dreams come true.

[The champ nods to the jeering crowd as he reaches ringside, stepping
through the ropes where Vasquez is waiting.]

HSS:  It was MY dream to dump Sweet Daddy Williams' sorry self and
become the AWA National Champion... I think we know what happened there.

It was Calisto Dufresne's dream to end the careers of BOTH members of
Kentucky's Pride and in just a couple weeks, he'll do exactly that.

It was Adrian Freeman's dream to break into the big time, wear
championship 
gold, and be considered one of the biggest stars in the sport... that's
Adrian to a tee, Vasquez.

You see, while you're out here blowing hot air about what you're gonna
do and how you're gonna do, you know - deep down - that you just can't
live up to the hype.

[A chuckle.]

HSS:  That's all you are, Vasquez.  Hype.

But the Southern Syndicate?  That's reality.  We are the most elite
force in professional wrestling.  When we get in there with the best of
the world, we PROVE that we're just flat out better... and odds are,
they get taken out in the process.

And if you doubt me... ring up Tumaffi... ring up Gary Bright... ring up
Adam Rogers... ring up Sweet Daddy Williams...

[Stevie gestures to the blingin' gold watch on his wrist, the infamous
"Sweet Vasquez."]

HSS:  Thanks for your help with that one by the w-

[The champ never does finish that sentence, as an enraged Juan Vasquez
suddenly dives right at him, taking him down to the canvas and driving
the crowd into a wild frenzy!]

GM: OH MY STARS AND GARTERS! Juan Vasquez's heard enough! He's all over
the National Champion!

BW: But Stevie's right, Vasquez was the one that helped finance Sweet
Daddy's demise! You can't attack a man for telling the truth!

[The two wrestlers roll around on the canvas wildly throwing punches at
each other, before breaking apart briefly. Seizing the opportunity,
Stevie Scott attempts to roll out of the ring but a relentless Vasquez
dives onto him and continues to pound away!]

GM: Stevie Scott's trying to get away, but Vasquez just will not be
denied!

BW: That's the National Champion, damn it...and he should be treated
with more respect than that!

GM: I'm sure the last thing on Juan Vasquez's mind is treating Stevie
Scott with any sort of respect, Bucky.

[As they battle it out along the ring apron and get tangled in the
ropes, Stevie manages to roll most of his body out of the ring. However,
Vasquez grabs a firm hold of his left arm, trying frantically to pull
the champion back in. The two struggle for a bit, before Stevie breaks
free with one hard yank from his arm, tearing the sleeve off his shirt
in the process. He beats a hasty retreat up the aisle as the crowd
continues to go wild!]

BW: This is exactly why Jim Watkins had to bring in Alex Martinez,
daddy! These two can't even have a simple conversation without having it
break into a brawl!

GM: This is twelve months worth of bad blood spilling over and if you
can imagine, it'll be even worse at SuperClash!

[Meanwhile inside the ring, a heavily breathing, angry Juan Vasquez
grabs the microphone off the canvas and calls out to the champ, trying
to get his attention.]

JV: Stevie! STEVIE!!!

[Stevie stops at the top of the ramp and turns back towards the ring as
an outraged look appears on his face.]

JV: I think ya' dropped this.

[There's a huge pop as the we see dangling from Juan's fingers, is the
"Sweet Vasquez" gold watch. The camera cuts to a shot of the National
champ, who raises his now sleeve-less left arm and realizes he's missing
his expensive piece of jewelery. With a cold look on his face, Juan then
unceremoniously drops the watch to the canvas...

FACE POP!

...and stomps on it!]

JV: I don't need to call or ask a single damn person to know what a sick
son of a bitch you are! I saw it all with my own eyes! Adam Rogers, Gary
Bright, Tumaffi...Simon Rhodes, Pedro Perez...Sweet Daddy Williams...you
took all their careers.

[He shakes his head.]

JV: But this time it's different, Stevie.

Don't you understand?
 
It's not just _my_ career on the line at SuperClash!

[Face pop!]

JV: 'Cause no matter what the outcome, one of us ain't comin' back! I
swear, I promise...

[Juan pauses and chuckles.]

JV: ...and yeah, you better believe I _GUARANTEE_ you, that I ain't just
gonna' take your title...

[He stares grimly at Stevie Scott, never more focused, never more
determined, never more serious than he is now.]

JV: ...I will take your career!!!

[Stevie's eyes go wide at the threat, the crowd roaring their support of
the AWA's favorite son.]

GM:  My stars, Bucky!  Juan Vasquez says he's not happy with just the
title!  He wants Stevie Scott's career as well!  What in the world is
going to happen at SuperClash?

BW:  I don't know, I just don't know.

GM:  For Bucky Wilde, I'm Gordon Myers - we'll see you on Thanksgiving
Night at SuperClash 2!

[The camera holds on Stevie's surprised gaze and then follows it all the
way down the ramp to Juan Vasquez who is standing on the middle rope,
pointing a finger of warning at the National Champion...

...and we fade to black.]