Saturday Night Wrestling

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American Wrestling Alliance 
Proudly Presents 
AWA Saturday Night Wrestling

Live from the WKIK Studios 
Dallas, Texas 
April 10, 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!"  It is the closing moments of the Main Event
with Juan Vasquez and Stevie Scott battling over the AWA National Title.
 As we join the footage, we see Stevie Scott pulling Juan Vasquez into a
standing headscissors.]

GM:  NO!

BW:  He's going for the piledriver!  He's going for-

[But Vasquez yanks the legs out from under him, leaping forward into a
double leg cradle!]

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

[The Hotshot just barely escaped the tight cradle before the three count
came down.  Both men attempt to scramble up...

...and a big chop from Vasquez sends Scott falling back into the
corner.]

GM:  Vasquez puts him into the corner...

[Big cheer as Vasquez mounts the midbuckle!]

"ONE"! 
"TWO!" 
"THREE!" 
"FOUR!" 
"FIVE!" 
"SIX!" 
"SEVEN!" 
"EIGHT!" 
"NINE!"
"TEN!"

[Vasquez hops down off the ropes, connecting with an uppercut that
knocks Stevie down to a knee...

...where he rips Vasquez' legs out from under him, pushing him down into
a jacknife cradle where he puts his legs on the middle rope for
leverage!]

BW:  COUNT!  COUNT!!

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR-

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  VON BRAUN KNOCKED HIS LEGS OFF THE ROPES!!  VON BRAUN JUST SAVED
THE NATIONAL TITLE!!

BW:  And Stevie Scott is LIVID!

[The Hotshot is quickly to his feet, shouting and screaming at Von Braun
who is grinning like a madman at the reaction...

...and as Stevie turns around...]

GM:  SUPERKICK!!  JUAN CAUGHT ALL OF THAT!!

[And when the Hotshot staggers out of the corner, Juan hoists him up
over his shoulder.]

GM:  CITY OF ANGELS!  JUAN'S GOT HIM UP!

[Juan positions Stevie with his head between the challenger's legs,
reaching up to hook one leg with his right arm...

...but when he swings him around, the left leg catches Michael Meekly in
the head!]

GM:  OHHH!  THE REF GOES DOWN!!

[Reaching back with his left arm to hook the head of the Hotshot,
Vasquez charges out of the corner...

...and leaps into the air, SMASHING the back of Scott's head into the
mat!]

GM:  CITY!  OF!  ANGELS!!

[The crowd is roaring as Juan rolls over onto the downed challenger,
reaching back to hook the leg.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!  THREE!  FOUR!  FIVE!

BW:  You can count to a hundred but there's no referee to count!

GM:  The referee is down!  Where is Ron Houston when you need him?!

BW:  Houston was barred from ringside tonight!

[The crowd is roaring, trying to get a referee in the ring...

...when suddenly a chant starts up, "B-V-B!"  "B-V-B!"  "B-V-B!"]

GM:  The crowd wants Von Braun in there!  This is just like what
happened at The Main Event!

BW:  He can't do that!

GM:  Why not?!  Houston did it!

[Vasquez gets up off the mat, looking around exasperated while Von Braun
looks around puzzled at the crowd...

...and then slides headfirst under the ropes to the roar of the crowd! 
He shouts for the match to continue!]

GM:  Oh yeah!  We've got a ref now, fans!

BW:  THIS ISN'T FAIR!

GM:  Vasquez has got the Hotshot in trouble - and he's going up again!

[The Los Angeles native exits the ring, stepping up to the middle rope. 
He looks down at the ring where a dazed Stevie Scott is trying to get to
his feet - his manager SCREAMING warnings from outside the ring.  As the
Hotshot regains his feet, Vasquez steps up to the top rope, pausing for
a moment...

...and HURLS himself into a flying cross body press!]

GM:  CROSSBODY OFF THE TOP!!

[The crossbody lands fully across the chest of Scott, knocking him down
to the mat...

...but the wily Hotshot rolls through it using Vasquez' momentum against
him, rolling him onto his own shoulders!]

GM:  HE ROLLS THROUGH IT!

[And secures a handful of tights just as Von Braun drops down to count.]

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


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM:  You've gotta be kidding me!  Fans, we've got... I can't believe...

BW:  We've got a new National Champion!  YES!

GM:  Stevie Scott has regained the AWA National Title right here on
Saturday Night Wrestling just two weeks after he lost it!  Juan
Vasquez... he had the match in hand but...

BW:  But Stevie got the best of him again!

GM:  There was a handful of tights involved in there!  I don't think
Brian Von Braun was able to see it but we saw it as clear as day! 
Stevie Scott with a great counter but it was the handful of tights that
made him a two-time National Champion!

BW:  The FIRST two-time National Champion!  Stick that in your pipe and
smoke it, Broussard!

GM:  We've got a new National Champion and... fans, I am in shock.  Juan
Vasquez is... he's beside himself, fans.

[He certainly is.  Vasquez is kneeling on the canvas, a look of total
shock on his face as he stares at the canvas.]

BW:  Of course he is!  He just lost any chance he'll ever have of
wearing that title belt again!  No more rematches!

[The shot freezes on a kneeling Vasquez staring at the mat as we slowly
fade to the sounds of "One More Saturday Night" by the Grateful Dead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

GM:  Good evening, fans, and welcome to another edition of AWA Saturday
Night Wrestling featuring all the stars of the American Wrestling
Alliance, _the_ major league of professional wrestling.  Bucky Wilde,
well, on a show coming off the National Title changing hands, you would
think that we couldn't come close to touching that with big news but...

BW:  But he's gone!  That mental midget Stephen Ross is gone!

GM:  As my colleague has mentioned, last night the Championship
Committee held a meeting to discuss the future of Stephen Ross as their
Chairman and came away with a vote of no confidence in his leadership. 
As a result, they asked for and received Mr. Ross' resignation from the
role of Chairman.  Of course, Mr. Ross has been the Chairman of the
Committee for over two years now and I, along with many others here in
the AWA, wish him the best of luck-

BW:  That's all well and good, Gordo, but the fact is that Ross stepped
on the wrong toes, made the wrong calls, buckled when he should have
stood tall and stood tall when he should have buckled.  The guy was a
weak, quivering mess - and now he's gone.  Good riddance in my book.

GM:  Well, if you want to call Stephen Ross weak and-

BW:  And I do.

GM:  You can NOT call his replacement that.

BW:  That's another story, Gordo.  I can't believe they got this guy to
agree to do it.

GM:  This guy... is a legend in the world of professional wrestling.  He
is known the world over for being one of the roughest, toughest men to
ever lace up a pair of wrestling boots.  His legacy of matches and feuds
can be matched by very few in the history of our sport, fans.  And his
history here in the South makes him one of the most recognizable faces
in Southern wrestling.  Ladies and gentlemen... at this time... please
welcome the NEW Chairman of the Championship Committee...

JAMES WATKINS!

[A pretty good reaction from the surprised fans as Watkins steps through
the curtain.  Sporting a black Stetson, Watkins looks about as far from
Stephen Ross as can be.  Where Ross was thin, slight, and
non-threatening, Watkins is tall, bulky, and imposing.  Standing around
6'4, Watkins must weigh in the high two hundreds and looks every bit of
it as he slowly lumbers towards the announce desk.  He looks
uncomfortable in a sports jacket and tie, even though there's a pair of
blue jeans and cowboy boots accompanying it.

As Watkins reaches the announce desk, he leans over to shake the hands
of both announcers - enveloping their hands in his massive paw.  Bucky
comes back wincing, cradling his hand as a smiling Watkins claps him
hard on the shoulder.]

GM:  James Watkins... welcome to the AWA!

JW:  Gordon, as long as we've known each other, you should know to call
me Jim by now.

GM:  Alright, Jim... welcome!

JW:  Thank ya, Gordon.  I gotta tell ya... I never thought I'd be here. 
After all the years of fightin' in that ring, bustin' skull and breakin'
bones... all for these people out here...

[Big cheer!]

JW:  The last thing I 'spected is that someone would be able to drag me
kicking and screaming into a suit.  And after all the rules I broke over
the years... and boy oh boy... it was a lot of 'em...

[Watkins chuckles.]

JW:  I never thought I'd be the guy who would be here to enforce 'em. 
But that seems to be the position that we're in, don't it, Gordon?

GM:  It sure does, Jim.

JW:  Well, never let it be said that I'm not a man of my word.  And I
gave my word to the Championship Committee and the owners of this here
place that I would do my best to straighten this ship out and make these
people understand some law and order.

[Watkins gives the camera a cold stare and a nod.]

JW:  Now, that's not to say I'm not gonna let a man fight if he feels
the need to fight... but we're gonna do things a little bit differently
around here now.  You're gonna see some changes around here and while
it'll probably take a while to get 'em all in place - we're gonna see
some of 'em start right here tonight.

[Bucky speaks up.]

BW:  Don't you have something to announce?

[Watkins turns his gaze to Bucky, nodding his head.]

JW:  Thanks, Buck.  Almost forgot that I do.  Now, this ain't no way at
all like I wanted to start things off here in the AWA but a man's gotta
do what a man's gotta do.

Tonight, our Main Event was set for a National Title match - a matchup
between the champions and the Number One contenders...

Well, that ain't gonna happen.

[The fans jeer!  Watkins lifts a hand, shaking his head.]

JW:  I know, I know.  I feel the same way.  But it ain't nobody's fault
now.  Rough N Ready... we just got the call that they're having travel
delays and there's just no way they're gonna make it here in time for
the Main Event tonight.

[Some more jeers.]

JW:  But like I said, I'm a man of my word... and even though I didn't
promise that match, the Championship Committee DID!  They promised y'all
a National Tag Team Title match... and I'll be damned if that's not
exactly what you're gonna get!

[Big cheer!]

JW:  But what I don't know is who-

[Suddenly, the crowd comes to its feet as Werewolf Gregorson and The
Samoan Hit Squad step through the curtain and make their way down to
ringside.  The trio quickly join the announce area, Gregorson standing
before the monstrous Samoans as he reaches out to offer his hand to Jim
Watkins which Watkins warily accepts.]

BW:  Such a suck-up, Gregorson!  This guy's not gonna fall for that!

JW:  This guy will throw your loudmouth tail off this set if you don't
let men do some business out here, Buck.  Now keep quiet over there.

[Big cheer!  Gregorson grins before speaking.]

WG:  Mr. Watkins, let me be among the first to welcome you here to the
AWA...

[More cheers!]

WG:  And, on behalf of The Samoan Hit Squad, I'm here to ask that you
give Scola and Mafu the opportunity to face Adrian Freeman and Callisto
Dufresne...

For the titles...

Tonight.

[Another cheer!]

BW:  What?!? No! He can't do that!

[Gregorson glares at Wilde as the crowd starts chanting "Sam-o-a,
Sam-o-a!!"  Watkins looks around at the cheering crowd with a pensive
gaze and then turns back to Gregorson.]

JW:  Werewolf... you're a good kid... a tough kid... a hell of a
fighter.  I've seen what you can do in that ring and I like what I've
seen.  And these Samoans of yours, you'd have to be a blind man to not
see how much potential they've got out here.

[The crowd cheers as Gregorson nods in agreement.]

JW:  However... 

[Watkins grimaces.]

JW:  As much as I don't care for this whole three point crap, it's still
a rule... for now.  And since it's a rule, I gotta follow it.  The
Samoans only have two points according the rankings... that means they
can't face the champs for the titles.  Not tonight at least.

[The crowd jeers as a resigned Gregorson nods his head, accepting the
decision.  His Samoans seem a little less understanding, Scola barking
something unintelligible in the direction of Watkins who tilts his head
in the big man's direction.]

JW:  He understand me?

[Gregorson moves to speak to Scola as Mafu angrily paces back and forth.
  Suddenly, the crowd begins a slight roar as the underdog team of Corey
Lawson and Bailey Fitzgerald arrive on the scene.]

CL:  Mr. Watkins, pleased to meet you.  I'm Corey Lawson, and my partner
here is Bailey Fitzgerald.

[Lawson shakes the new boss' hand, and as Watkins goes to shake with
Fitzgerald, Lawson goes to shake hands with Gregorson.]

CL:  Mr. Gregorson, darn pleased to meet you.  Always liked watchin' you
wrestle.

[The two shake hands.]

CL: Now I hope you don't mind, we don't want to step on no toes, but we
just wanted to come out here and mention somethin'... Mr. Watkins, I
know you ain't a big fan of the three points rule, but these fans here
tonight were promised a tag team title match.  Now I don't know what
happened to Rough N Ready, and I bet the Southern Syndicate's behind it
because that's the kind of men they are.  And I know I ain't exactly
100%, but I was thinkin'...

[Lawson rubs his chin thoughtfully.]

CL: Bailey and I got three points.

[The crowd cheers!]

CL: We've beat the champs two times already here on television.

[The crowd cheers again, realizing where Lawson is coming from.]

CL: I ain't one for tryin' to make matches, but if Rough N Ready ain't
goin' to be here tonight, Bailey and I would be more than happy to step
in and not only give these fans the tag team title match they were
promised... but _take them belts home!_

[Huge cheer!  Lawson looks surprised by how enthusiastic the crowd is,
as Bailey Fitzgerald encourages the cheers.]

CL: What do you say, boss?

[Watkins again looks out over the crowd... then at the two men standing
before him.]

JW:  I say we need two challengers for tonight and you two boys seem
ready and willing to give those champs one heck of a fight.  You want
'em?  I say let's hook 'em up!

[BIG CHEER!  Fitzgerald and Lawson exchange a quick high-five and
embrace before giving Gregorson some off-mic words of apology.]

GM:  Oh yeah!  Bailey Fitzgerald and Corey Lawson will take on the
National Tag Team Champions of Adrian Freeman and Calisto Dufresne...
and they'll do it tonight!

BW:  NO!  NO!  NO!

GM:  Fans, what a night this is gonna be - let's go up to the ring for
our opening matchup!

[We cut to the ring where Melissa Cannon is already ready and waiting.]

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

[Two men in full black body suits and masks throw their arms into the
air to some jeers.]

MC:  And their opponents...

[Kiss' "Rock And Roll All Nite" kicks in to some cheers from the crowd.]

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

THE ROCKSTAR EXPRESS!

[The cheers intensify especially from the young ladies in the crowd as
Storm and Morgan break into view.  Both are clad in matching black and
green full-length tights.  Storm is clad in a Poison t-shirt with the
sleeves cut out while Morgan has a Skid Row shirt cut in a similar
style.  Both hit ringside quickly, making their way around the ring to
slap the hands of all the fans looking to greet them.]

GM:  Scotty and Marty, the Rockstar Express, and boy, have we heard a
lot about these two, Bucky.

BW:  We have... nothing I'd like to repeat...

GM:  Heheh... that's not true at all.  These two young men have really
been making a name for themselves up and down the Southern states and
finally have made their way to the AWA where the tag team scene is
hotter than ever, Bucky.

BW:  That much I'll agree with.  We saw signs of that just moments ago
with the Samoans, Fitzgerald, and Lawson all trying to get the tag title
shot that Rough N Ready is going to miss later tonight.

GM:  Of course, Fitzgerald and Lawson were given the shot later tonight
- I can't wait for that one.  But even if they win, they've got a long
list of challengers chasing them including these guys - total tag team
specialists in every way from what I'm told.

[Scotty and Marty hop up on the apron, pausing a moment just as the
music breaks down to the...

"I... WANNA ROCK AND ROLL ALL NIIIIIIIGHT..."

[The duo points to the crowd, trying to encourage a sing-a-long.]

"AND PARTY EVERY DAY!"

[With a high-five, the two good-looking young men step through the ropes
into the ring.  To a squeal from the crowd, they pull off their
t-shirts, tossing them to the floor.  Morgan decides to start off for
his team, tugging at a zebra-printed bandana tied around his knee as he
stares across at the larger Shadows.]

GM:  There's the bell and heeeeere we go, fans.

[One of the Shadows marches out of the corner to the middle of the ring,
slapping himself across his broad chest.]

GM:  And I guess we'll call this gentleman Shadow #1... he seems to be
challenging Marty Morgan to something out here...

BW:  He wants to see if Morgan's got any game to back up those pretty
boy looks.

[Nodding his head, Morgan hits the ropes, rebounding back, and smashing
shoulderfirst into the Shadow...

...who goes nowhere.]

GM:  Oooo... no movement there, Bucky.

BW:  Morgan's all of 245 pounds... he ain't gonna budge the Shadow,
daddy!

GM:  Which one?

BW:  Either of 'em.

[Morgan backs up, sizing up the Shadow...

...and dashes to the ropes again, throwing himself into another big
running tackle.  And again, Shadow #1 just glares at him.]

GM:  Wow.  Not much there again.

[The Shadow again slaps himself across the chest, challenging Morgan. 
Young Marty hits the ropes quickly, charging out towards the masked man
who throws a big clothesline that Marty ducks under, hitting the far
ropes where he rebounds back again...

...and baseball slides between the legs of a surprised Shadow.  As the
masked man turns around, Morgan leaps into the air, catching the masked
man square in the chest with a dropkick that makes him stumble
backwards, arms swinging to balance himself.  A running right hand
knocks the Shadow another step back.]

GM:  He's got the big man reeling!

[With the Shadow leaning near the ropes, Morgan gets a running start,
climbing up the body of the masked man to hook his head and neck between
his legs...

...and takes him down to the mat with a headscissors!]

GM:  Ohh!  Nicely done right there by Morgan!

BW:  A headscissors takedown took the big man off his feet...

[Grabbing the big man by the wrist, Morgan cranks it into an armtwist,
pinning it to the mat as he makes the tag to Storm who grabs the top
rope, slingshotting over the top and dropping a knee across the bicep!]

GM:  Ohh!  The double teaming Rockstar Express going to work on the arm
of the big man.

[Grabbing the wrist again, Storm cranks on the arm as he hauls the big
man to his feet.]

GM:  Armbar applied by Scotty Storm and-

[The masked man slips a knee into the gut, breaking the armbar.  A pair
of right hands sends Storm falling back into the corner where the masked
man tags his partner.]

GM:  And if the first man is Shadow #1 then this must be Shadow #2.

[Each masked man grabs Storm by an arm, firing him across the ring.]

GM:  Double whip...

[But Storm ducks under the double clothesline attempt, hitting the far
ropes where Marty Morgan leaps up to the top rope, springboarding off
with a crossbody block that wipes out both members of the Shadows!]

GM:  OHHHH!!

BW:  He's not the legal man!  Get him out of there!

[And as Shadow #1 gets back to his feet, Morgan and Storm are waiting
with a picture perfect double dropkick that knocks the big man through
the ropes and out to the floor!]

GM:  Double dropkick!  Ohh my!

[With a whoop, Storm hops up to the middle rope as Morgan hoists the
other Shadow up in the air by holding him around the upper thighs...

...and then Storm leaps off the buckles, driving both feet under the
chin of the masked man, knocking him flat!]

GM:  OHHHH!

BW:  They call that the Rockslide, daddy!

GM:  Storm with the cover for one... for two... and for three!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Here are your winners... the ROCKSTAR EXXXXPRESSSSS!

[Storm and Morgan trade another high-five, celebrating their victory as
they look out on the cheering fans.  After a moment, they exit the ring,
heading over towards Gordon and Bucky.]

GM:  Here they come... these two young men who were just
oh-so-impressive inside the ring... Scotty and Marty, the Rockstar
Express.  Welcome to the AWA, gentlemen!

[Scotty is the first to speak, clapping Gordon on the shoulder with a
loud whoop that gets the crowd cheering yet again.]

SS:  Now THAT'S what I like to hear, baby!

[Another cheer!]

SS:  That right there is exactly why we came to the AWA, Gordon Myers. 
These people out here who are hootin' and hollerin' for their favorites
and we just knew... we KNEW... that as soon as Scotty and Marty, the
Rockstar Express showed up in the AWA, we'd be their favorites too. 
Ain't that right, Marty?

[A slightly more subdued Marty Morgan steps forward.]

MM:  Everywhere we've gone, we've been the hottest thing rollin'. 
Everywhere we've been, the buildings sell out and the people know
they're watchin' the real deal, baby.  The Express has made another stop
right here in the AWA and these great fans are already ALLLLL ABOOOOARD!

[Big cheer for the cheesy line!]

SS:  That's right, brother.  But the Rockstars aren't just here for the
party with the people, baby.  Whooo!  We know these people are here for
us.  We know these people will be behind us.  But we know that there's
serious business to take care of here in the AWA, Gordon Myers.  We know
that the best tag teams in professional wrestling are right here in the
AWA, Gordon Myers.  The Samoans, the Bishops, Rough N Ready, Bailey and
Corey, Simply The Best, the Falcons... the names go on and on... and you
can not forget the National Tag Team Champions, the best in the world.

MM:  But we're pretty good too.

SS:  That's right!  We're pretty good too and I think we just showed
exactly that.  We're here for one reason - to win those National Tag
Team Titles and whether it's Dufresne and Freeman or Fitzgerald and
Lawson or anybody else, when the Rockstars hit the ring with ya, it's
gonna be a sight to see, baby.  Whooo!

[And with that, the two quick fan favorites make their exit from the
announce area.]

GM:  Quite the debut for the Rockstar Express, fans, and I look forward
to seeing more of them in the near future.  We'll be right back after
this commercial break!

[Fade to black.

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then back up to live action where our announce team is standing.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans... and the Combat Corner is indeed where the
future of our business is being formed.  We've already seen Aaron
Anderson and Eric Preston come out of that school and do very well for
themselves.  But who will be the third man out of the school?

BW:  Who cares?  If Michaelson's training them, they don't stand a
chance.

GM:  I don't believe that for a second.  Later tonight, we'll be seeing
a Combat Corner Showcase match with two young men hoping to graduate
very soon from the school.  But before that, let's talk about the news
we got earlier this week.

BW:  Hahah!  Yes, let's talk about it.

GM:  Fans, earlier this week, Eric Preston was returning to his roots -
returning to the Combat Corner to talk to the students about his
experiences so far in the AWA.  It was supposed to be a very proud
moment for Preston and a very inspirational moment for these kids. 
Instead, it turned into something... something very, very different. 
Our cameras were there recording Eric for a special Combat Corner
special that WKIK was hoping to run before Memorial Day Mayhem but...
well, just go ahead and watch, fans.

[Cut to the outside of the AWA Combat Corner, the same dingy looking
building we've seen in two years of commercials. The shot then cuts
inside to the training center itself, looking freshly cleaned and
scrubbed down. There are two rings side by side surrounded by ring mats
in the center of the room, with mirrors on every wall and racks of dumb
bells under the mirrors. Nautilus machines, cardio equipment, jump ropes
and other assorted work out items are neatly stacked all around, as the
camera closes in on Jason Dane and Eric Preston, standing near the
doorway, right in the middle of the makeshift entrance. Dane wears khaki
slacks and a white pullover with the AWA logo sown on the breast, while
Preston wears blue jeans and a Combat Corner XXL shirt, with a Clemson
Tigers ball cap on.]

JD: Hello fans, Jason Dane inside the AWA Combat Corner just days before
Saturday Night Wrestling, and the second Combat Corner Showcase. Many
people slagged the Combat Corner in the AWA's first year of existence
for failing to churn out quality competitors, but men like Aaron
Anderson and this man, Eric Preston, have debunked that theory. 

[Preston tries to repress a grin as Dane continues.]

JD: Eric, before you were promoted to the AWA, you spent a lot of time
within these walls, learning the craft. What was that training like?

EP: It was exhausting, Jason. Physically, it is almost torturous in the
beginning; A lot of guys have the misconception that if you show up here
fresh from the gym with a can of tuna in your hand that you're a
shoo-in, but good Lord is that way off base. Being a good wrestler is
about being able to move and having stamina. So before a class learns to
lock up, Todd and the trainers condition the absolute heck out of you.
Most guys don't go near the ring for three months. Guys who stick it out
routinely lose 15 to 20 pounds in a hurry. And guys with weight to
lose... it's not out of the question for someone to come in at a bulky
280 or so, and wake up six weeks later weighing 235.

JD: How was it for you, personally?

EP: I came in on the opposite end of the spectrum. I just wasn't
physically ready. I probably weighed about 220 when I walked through the
doors for the first time. They taught me how to eat, how to lift to put
on good weight, how to train to be a professional. And the running...
let me tell you brother, when you graduate from the Combat Corner you
can wear out any treadmill in any gym in the country. 

JD: So it's all about being physically ready to compete.

EP: Well... that's your key to the kingdom. Once Todd feels like you can
hack it physically, you go to the next step, and that next step is a
very personal thing, man. You can't be in this sport because you got
nothing else to do, Jason, if you want to be a pro wrestler you've got
to have a burning desire in the pit of your gut. You've got to live and
breath this thing, and Todd is so good at reading that. Todd has a
respect and love for the biz, and he wants to make sure you've got the
same thing. The people that make it through the physical conditioning
are the people who are mentally tough enough to make it through, Jason,
y'see what I'm saying? The people who make it to the next step, past the
thousands of hack squats, they're the guys who will themselves to do it
because they can't see themselves doing anything else in the world than
being right here, working their butt off. 

JD: And you?

[Preston pounds his chest.]

EP: I couldn't imagine being anywhere else, and the people who make it
out are the same way. It's all worth it for me, just like it is for
Aaron. Just like it is for the other guys. You can't even get a look
without passing every physical and mental test that the trainers throw
out at you. And this Saturday, I'm looking for my brothers from the
Combat Corner to tear the house dow- AHH!

[Eric can't finish his thought, as he is assaulted by a charging James
Monosso, who tackles Preston to the ground and in the process knocks
Jason Dane over. The maniacal Monosso pounds Preston with fists and rams
his head into the concrete floor, then grabs Dane's microphone and
repeatedly slams it against the throat of Preston, causing fits of
coughing. A pointed boot to the side of Eric makes him cry out in pain,
and then Monosso disappears off screen... then comes back with 35 pound
barbell, lifts it above his head and DRIVES it into the ribs of Preston.
Dane recoils in horror and finally speaks up...]

JD: SECURITY! SECURITY! JESUS!  MONOSSO, WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM?
WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?! HELP! SOMEONE HELP!

[James can't even be bothered to answer as he works over Preston for
another ten seconds or so, until finally uniformed security guards burst
onto the scene and pry him off. The scene fades back into Gordon and
Bucky, who look alternately upset and deflated. Bucky rubs his head with
his hand as Gordon just shakes his head.]

GM: After the fact, we learned the James Monosso had stuck something in
between the doors, wedging it shut. He is a menace, Bucky Wilde, plain
and simple. 

BW:  He's just not a nice guy.  That's putting it mildly, I know, but...
I'm just not sure how else to describe him.  He just hates everyone.

GM:  Eric Preston's ribs were pretty banged up from that barbell shot I
understand and he'll be out of action tonight but I'm told he WILL be
back here in two weeks.

BW:  We'll see about that.  He took a thirty-five pound barbell weight
to the ribs, Gordo.  You don't just pop back up from that.

GM:  Perhaps.  

[Gordon's gaze drifts off-camera, looking more than a bit disgusted at
the sight of the flabby form of Percy Childes walking into view.]

GM:  Fans, joining Bucky and me at the announce table is the "Collector
of Odditites" Percy Childes, manager of one of the competitors in the
next match, the enigmatic Nenshou.

BW: The only competitor that matters in the next match, daddy!

PC: Thank you both SO much for your kind words regarding my latest
find...I have to admit, that even *I* shudder at some of the things that
this Japanese buzzsaw is willing to do to another human being...he has
no remorse for me...no remorse for women...I think he's willing to hurt
anyone in that ring...even children!

GM: Now there's no need for that, Percy Childes.  He had an impressive
debut, I'll grant you that, but I hardly think that there's any call for
Nenshou to go someplace like that.

PC: GO someplace like that?  GO there?  Poor Gordon, you don't
understand: Nenshou STARTS there!  He starts off in that spot that most
of the rest of us have nightmares about.  He lives in the place where
only the most vindictive and evil sociopaths reach in the heights of
rage.  The man is part animal...

BW: That don't exactly sound promising, Mr. Childes...

PC: All that he promises, Bucky, is a hospital bed for anyone foolish
enough to stand in his way.  He promises traction for his opponents. 
And he promises victory for his people!

GM: That's quite a claim, Percy Childes...especially with the talent we
have here in AWA.

PC: It'll take a lot more than a couple of Texas cowboy wannabes and
Kentucky moonshiners hiding from the law to stop a machine like Nenshou.

[The crowd boos as Gordon stares at Percy...even Bucky looks
uncomfortable.  Percy smirks at the crowd, turning away from the camera
for a moment and looking out at the disapproving fans.]

PC: That's right, I'm willing to tell this bunch of rednecks the
truth... and Nenshou will prove it for me one after another.  You line
up the sorry SoB's and he'll knock 'em down...hell, I'll tell you what:
If any true 'southern' boy can actually pin this man's shoulders to the
mat, I'll put up five thousand dollars of my own money and pay him out
in cash on the spot.

[The crowd cheers in anticipation.]

BW: Five grand is a lotta bank, Daddy...and there are some tough hombres
down these parts!

PC:  If I were worried, I'd have never offered.  Nenshou is as good as
money in the bank, and if the offer brings people out of the woodwork
that are higher quality than what he's seen so far, all the better for
it.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a match to prepare for.

[Percy waddles off camera, leaving Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde alone
once more.]

GM: I have to ask if that man's writing a check with his mouth that his
protoge isn't ready to cash, Bucky.

BW: Nenshou's bank account on that front looks pretty robust to me,
Gordo...that man is like some sort of jungle cat in that ring.

GM: Well...we'll see soon enough...let's go down to ringside.

[Melissa Cannon stands in the ring, mic in hand.]

MC: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one
fall and has a ten minute time limit.  Introducing first, already in the
ring.  He hails from Lexington, Kentucky, weighing in at two hundred and
forty five pounds...

"Rifleman" Edward Bowie!

[Mild cheers for Bowie.]

MC: And his opponent: 

Accompanied to the ring by his manager Percy Childes, hailing from Parts
Unknown and weighing in at two hundred and fifty three pounds...he
is...NENSHOU!

[The lights dim and a light mist rolls out from the entryway as
"Raijin's Drums by George Sakalis begins to play over the PA System. 
After a moment, the mysterious Nenshou appears, wearing a long black
robe with the hood pulled down over his painted face.  Pausing at the
entrance, he begins to walk smoothly and unhurriedly down towards the
ring, his steely gaze locked on the squared circle.  Behind him comes
his manager Percy Childes...overweight and sweating, the piece of filth
is as loud as his charge is silent, jawing at fans and threating to
brain them with his crystal orb topped cane.  As the enigmatic Nenshou
silently slides into the ring, Percy Childes waddles over to ringside
and begins shouting instructions to the referee.]

GM: Percy Childes is making his presence all too felt here folks as
we're waiting to get under way...something about that man rubs me the
wrong way, Bucky.

[Nenshou 's eyes remain locked on Bowie as he removes his robe and
reaches over to the ring rope, stetching. Nenshou is a lanky, well toned
Asian man with his dark black hair cut in a classic bowl cut.  He's
wearing a pair of  loose long black pants with red wrestling boots and
white wrist tape...but the most striking thing about him is the face
paint...his face completely covered with red paint with black Japanese
script written from forehead to chin, giving him a nightmarish
appearance.  Bowie turns towards the fans and away from Nenshou just as
the bell is set to ring.  Nenshou wastes no time, charging Bowie the
moment the Kentuckian can't see him and plants him face first to the
canvas with a running bulldog.]

BW: OH, that won't do his dental bill any favors!

GM: And we're underway here, with Nenshou taking unfair advantage of the
young man from Lexington before the bell rings.

BW: You know what they say, Daddy...all's fair in love and war!

[Nenshou is up quickly, stalking the young Kentuckian as he struggles to
his feet...only to catch a running kneelift to this side of his head
that sends him back to the canvas.  The face-painted Asian wrestler
hoists Bowie up by his short cropped blond hair and leans him against
the ropes, ignoring the referee's warnings...he then proceeds to unleash
a series of martial arts strikes before sending Bowie in for a
ride...and nailing him with a jumping reverse thrust kick to the chest.]

GM: OH!  Nenshou with bruising offense in the early going here...I don't
even know that Bowie can cover up to defend himself, Bucky.

BW: He needs to do something soon or it's not gonna matter.

[Nenshou remains in motion, hitting the far ropes and running in with a
driving elbow to Bowie's chest that leaves the young man gasping for
air.  Nenshou rolls over and simply wraps his hands around Bowie's
throat, choking the life out of the young man.]

GM: THERE'S NO CALL FOR THAT!  Nenshou with a BLATANT choke and the
referee is giving him the five count!  Disgusting.

BW: He took it to 4 1/2, daddy..and then started right back again!

[Nenshou once again takes the count to the verge of 5 before breaking
the hold, this time staring at the official the entire time...he then
picks Bowie up to his knees as the young man weakly fires off two
punches to the painted demon's mid section, only to be stopped in his
tracks with an eye rake that puts Bowie down to a knee.  Nenshou takes
two steps back, then pauses...and unleashes a vicious Shining Wizard
that connects with Bowie's skull, sending him to the canvas.]

GM:  Oh, lord, what a knee!

BW:  Bowie's head just got kneed clear off his shoulders!

[Nenshou once again doesn't stop as he hits the move, then heads
straight to the turnbuckle, nimbly leaping up, pausing, then lauching
himself into a picture perfect moonsault that crashes down onto the
prone form of Edward Bowie...at which point the 3 count is merely a
formality.]


MC: Here is your winner, in 3:49...NENSHOU!


[A cackling Childes applauds vehemently at ringside, cheering on Nenshou
as the Asian Assassin slowly gets back to his feet, dragging a taped
thumb across his throat before stepping out to the apron.]

GM:  The mysterious and dangerous Nenshou scores another win here on AWA
Saturday Night Wrestling and at this time of year, you have to wonder
whether or not we might see him in the Rumble, Bucky.

BW:  I'm not sure about that but if we do, I feel sorry for 29 others.

GM:  Including Devastation who made it known two weeks ago that he's the
first man announced for the Rumble?

BW:  Wow.  Nenshou vs Devastation would not be for the faint at heart,
daddy.

GM:  It certainly wouldn't.  And speaking of something not being for the
faint at heart, I understand that Jason Dane is standing by backstage
with the massive MAMMOTH Mizusawa!  Jason?

[Cut backstage where Jason Dane is standing by with the dark-suited
Louis Matsui, smiling, as usual, and his charge, MAMMOTH Mizusawa, who
is dressed for his match, in a black singlet, knee pads and boots.]

JD: Louis Matsui, tonight your client faces El Corazon Negro in the
Lady Luck Challenge. Thoughts?

LM: [Stares Dane down.] Thoughts, Dane? Thoughts? I have only one
thought about the match tonight. The owner of SouthWest Lucha Libre...
That great luchador? MAMMOTH Mizusawa is going to squash him.

JD: That was, um, brief... Thank you-

LM: [Interrupting.] I AM NOT DONE! I have one thought about my
client's match tonight, but I have questions about my client's
impending match against FORMER National champion, Juan Vasquez...
Vasquez, YOU FOOL! I hate being proven wrong, Dane-o, and two weeks
ago I was PROVEN WRONG because it looks like the big match will no
longer be for the title. So, tell me, Jay, why should we even bother
with THAT match anymore?

JD: [Shrugs.] Because you want to destroy Juan Vasquez?

LM: And that would benefit us how? Vasquez will not be granted a
rematch against Stevie Scott, even though Vasquez is, as we speak,
still ranked first among the challengers to the National champion. The
Syndicate probably no longer sees him as a threat and who knows if
Waterson still has a bounty on Vasquez's head. But, we did ask to face
Juan Vasquez in this match, so we're stuck with it and, frankly, it'll
still be a pretty damned entertaining match worth the price of
admission for, we hope, Memorial Day Mayhem. Hell, it could be
Memorial Day Mayhem's match of the evening, because, really, how long
are people going to enjoy watching the Southern Syndicate screw people
over?

JD: So, let me get this straight, you're saying the Two out of Three
Falls match against Juan Vasquez is still on, and you want it at
Memorial Day Mayhem?

LM: Did I stutter, son? Was I speaking Japanese? Yes, the match is
still on and, yes, I hope it's at Memorial Day Mayhem, because,
frankly, a match this big deserves to be on the American Wrestling
Alliance's biggest show. 

One question, however, remains. Will Vasquez be facing a giant intent on
destroying him or will he be facing a competitor who is only looking to
improve his position in the rankings? You see, Jason, right now, my
client's name is right under Juan Vasquez's in the list of contenders
for Stevie Scott's title.  With Vasquez out of the running as long as
Scott is the champion, does logic not dictate that the next individual
in the rankings step up as number one contender? 

[Dane nods his head reluctantly.]

LM:  And if MAMMOTH Mizusawa defeats Juan Vasquez, does that not make a
good case for him becoming number one contender to Stevie Scott? The
question is, what can the Southern Syndicate offer to delay the
inevitable? How about we start at twenty-five grand, Waterson? How about
you cough up the $25,000 for my client to do what we intended to do in
the first place and that is destroy Juan Vasquez? How about after my
client defeats Vasquez and takes the top spot, right below the champ,
naturally, you do what is necessary to keep the big man happy so he
doesn't come after you next and, hey, maybe he can help keep the other
contenders at bay, so they always
come up just short of that top spot?

Or maybe the Southern Syndicate have no problems making enemies with
MAMMOTH Mizusawa and the Matsui Corporation. Maybe the Syndicate sees
this epic encounter between Vasquez and my client as an opportunity to
watch two potential problems destroy each other. Maybe the Syndicate
will take advantage of the match to come down and eliminate both
Vasquez and Mizusawa. [To Jason Dane.] They could do that, you know? I
would not put it past the Syndicate. [To the camera.] Well, if that
thought even crosses the minds of Ben-o, Stevie, or any of their boys,
allow me to remind you of that old precept... The enemy of my enemy is
my friend.

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

MM: BANZAI!!!

[Louis Matsui shrugs and walks off, followed by Mizusawa.]

JD:  Don't go away - we'll be right back!

[The camera holds on Jason Dane for a moment and then fades 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 back up to Gordon Myers who is standing next to the
announcer's table holding a mic.  "Hot Stuff" Brian Von Braun stands
next to Myers.  BVB is wearing black dress slacks and a metallic green
button-down shirt.  The sleeves are rolled up to his forearms.  His hair
is pulled back into a loose ponytail.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, and with me is the Special Guest Enforcer from
the Scott/Vasquez match from two weeks ago, "Hot Stuff" Brian Von Braun.

[BVB looks at Myers and then back to the camera.  He reaches into his
right front pants pocket and pulls out a Zippo lighter.  BVB uses his
thumb to open the top and then close it back.]

GM:  Why the ruse last week, Brian?  Why act like the Southern Syndicate
was the enemy only to turn and help Stevie win the National title?

[BVB stops playing with the Zippo and looks at Gordon Myers.]

BVB:  Help Stevie win?

GM:  All right, not win the National title but attack Juan Vasquez after
the match was over?

BVB:  Glad ya got yer facts straight, Gordon.  Last week was personal
and business with Juan Vasquez.

GM:  Personal?

BVB:  You've been around the block, Gordon.  If you want to succeed in
rasslin' you don't start at the bottom, not when yer "tha Rocket City
Badboy."  That's why it was personal and business with Vasquez.  I
wanted to send two messages.  One, BVB ain't gonna start at tha bottom
rung an' work his way up.  Two, ain't no one in tha back safe from me. 

GM:  You're saying Ben Waterson and Stevie Scott were not in on your
plans?

[BVB shakes his head.]

BVB:  Nah, they weren't in on my plans.  I think that's crystal clear if
ya go back and watch tha match, sparky.

GM:  Then why?

BVB:  Why?

[BVB chuckles and grins.]

BVB:  Ya're lookin' at tha next member in the Southern Syndicate.

GM:  We've had no official announcement from Ben Waterson in regards to
this.  What about the Rhodes brothers?

BVB:  I ain't done with the Rhodes brothers jus'...

VOICE: You're bloody well right, you ain't done with us!

[With that, Raphael and Simon Rhodes barge into the frame, with Raphael
wielding a chair... Simon is trying to restrain his furious younger
brother, but hardly able to control him as he comes onto the screen.]

RR: I'm bleedin' sick of all these people comin' into the AWA, tryin' to
latch their name onto _our_ star!  And I ain't talkin' about the
bleedin' Syndicate!

[Raphael slams the chair down, as Von Braun remains unmoved.]

RR: All you've done since you got here is whine about me and Simon!  You
ain't no better than those Keening brothers, Von Braun, and they got
somethin' comin' to them in the future, but I just can't sit back there
and let you keep talkin' about us.

[Rhodes points a finger at Von Braun out of anger.]

RR: You're exactly like Jason Keening, you ain't done nothin' in years
and you ain't goin' to do nothin' here in the AWA.  We knocked your old
man's arse in the dust, and I ain't afraid to wreck another generation
of nothin'-happenin' poofs, so you'd do wise to keep my family name out
of your ballwasher.

[Raphael jerks a thumb back at his brother.]

RR: Furthermore, Simon's got more right to bein' a Southern Syndicate
member than you because he's been here doin' the dirty work for months. 
You come in here and think you can just be a Syndicate member?

[Raphael pauses, smiling for the first time.]

RR: You got to get through me.

[Rhodes steps up again, looking to advance on Von Braun...

...when suddenly "Agent To The Stars" Ben Waterson appears out of
nowhere, wedging himself between Raphael Rhodes and Brian Von Braun just
as Simon Rhodes attempts to do the same thing.]

ATTSBW:  Hold it!  Hold it!  Hold it!

[Waterson stands between the two, arms stretched out to try and hold
them back.  Von Braun is scowling at Raphael Rhodes, feverishly opening
and closing his Zippo as he eyes the Brit.]

ATTSBW:  This isn't gonna happen... not tonight at least.  I don't give
two cares about you two having issues... this isn't gonna happen.

[Rhodes barks something at Waterson.]

ATTSBW:  No.  No, he's not.  Brian is NOT a member of the Southern
Syndicate.

[Waterson nods at Rhodes.]

ATTSBW:  That's right.  He's an associate... just like Simon is.  So,
you can take it easy.

[Von Braun snips something at Waterson.]

ATTSBW:  Yes, fine.  I'll admit it.  You were there when we needed some
help.  And yes, I enjoyed seeing you stomp the hell out of Vasquez. 
I'll admit that.

[Von Braun points an accusing finger at Simon Rhodes.]

ATTSBW:  I'm not gonna argue that, Brian.  You helped us out two
weeks... Simon's helped us out as well.  You both have been valuable
associates to the Southern Syndicate...

[BVB barks again at Waterson.]

ATTSBW:  Not now, Brian.  

[Rhodes and Von Braun trade words, shouting at one another.]

ATTSBW:  I said not now!  Both of you!  Knock it off.  Raph, Simon...
you've got a match.  Get in there.  Brian, go back to the locker room. 
Stevie and I will talk to you later.

[An irate Raphael Rhodes is dragged away from another confrontation with
Von Braun by the arm - his older brother trying to get him to the ring
where Melissa Cannon and two hopeless souls are waiting.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for-

[Suddenly, Raphael Rhodes dashes, diving headfirst under the ropes and
charges their opposition for the night.  Rhodes floors a young masked
luchador named El Lobo with a back elbow.  Spinning away from him,
Rhodes cracks the other opponent, a young man named Tommy Bolt with a
forearm smash to the jaw.  The referee reprimands Rhodes as he stomps
and kicks Bolt repeatedly.  Simon shouts at his brother from the apron,
trying to calm him down.]

GM:  Raphael Rhodes has been fired up here tonight by the words of Brian
Von Braun and- ohhh!

[The crowd gasps as Rhodes leaps straight up, driving a stomp down
squarely in the masked face of El Lobo.  Grabbing Bolt by the ankle,
Rhodes drags him across the ring...

...and promptly leaps into the air, dropping an elbow down on the throat
of his opponent.  Simon extends his hand from the apron, calling for the
tag which he quickly gets.]

GM:  There's the exchange for the Rhodes brothers.

BW:  Was there even a bell yet?

[Simon pops Bolt with a chop, sending him falling back into the buckles.
 A few more chops connect, drawing closer to the throat before Simon
grabs Bolt by the wrist, firing him across the ring and flooring him
with a leaping hook clothesline.]

GM:  Ohh!  That'll knock the wind right out of you...

[Simon grabs Bolt by his short blond hair, popping him with five hooking
punches to the skull.  Still holding the hair, he SMASHES the back of
Bolt's head into the mat before climbing back up to his feet where he
slaps the hand of his brother agan.]

GM:  Another quick tag there.  This is what we DIDN'T see from them two
weeks ago when they lost to Bailey Fitzgerald and Corey Lawson.  This is
the violent, focused side of the Rhodes boys that we've seen in their
battles with the Keenings, Bucky.

BW:  They lost a bit of focus in there against Fitzgerald and Lawson...
I think even they would admit that, Gordo.

GM:  Raphael tags back in, stomping and kicking Bolt...

[Reaching down, Rhodes hauls Bolt back to his feet by his blond hair,
dragging him across the ring... and throwing him into the corner where
he shouts at him to tag El Lobo.  A quick tag is made and the luchador
slingshots over the ropes...

...only to get greeted with a brutal European uppercut that takes him
right out of the sky!]

GM:  OHHH!

[Yanking the luchador to his knees, Rhodes stands behind him, dipping
two fingers into the luchador's mouth and pulling hard at the corner.]

GM:  Fish hook!  He's fish hooking him!

BW:  And even I know that's illegal, daddy.

GM:  The ref laying a count on him... three... four... fiv- he breaks it
just in time, shoving El Lobo down to the mat.

[Measuring him, Rhodes drops a crushing knee to the back of the head,
smashing the masked man's face into the mat.]

GM:  Good grief!  These two, especially Raphael, are just punishing
their opponents right now.  He grabs El Lobo up by the wrist again...

[A hard backhand chop connects, knocking El Lobo back into the
turnbuckles where Rhodes leaps into action, a blur of motion as he
delivers two forearms to the jaw before leaping into the air with a
jumping knee strike to the face that knocks the masked man down to a
knee where a hooking punch to the jaw knocks him flat again.]

GM:  Man... the referee should think about stopping this, I think.

BW:  Just cause the kid's taking a beating?

GM:  He's not even defending himself, Bucky!

[Grabbing the masked man's ankle, Rhodes drags him across the ring where
he slaps the hand of his brother.]

GM:  Another tag there...

[Simon promptly scales the ropes, standing tall for a moment before
sailing down from his perch with a picture perfect kneedrop.]

GM:  THE ROAD TO WIGAN PIER!!

[The elder Rhodes brother applies a lateral press, reaching back to hook
the leg.]

GM:  This is over.  One.  Two.  Three.


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[But even with the bell sounding, Raphael Rhodes tears across the ring,
grabbing Bolt by the hair and yanking him over the ropes into the ring
where he immediately starts stomping and kicking him into the canvas.]

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

[Hauling Bolt to his feet, Rhodes drills him with a headbutt to the
bridge of the nose that knocks him back into the buckles.  He
immediately blasts the kid with an open-handed slap to great force to
the ear, causing Bolt to drop down to a knee on the mat.]

GM:  He slapped the taste out of his mouth!

BW:  Actually, he caught him in the ear so he may have made him deaf,
daddy!

GM:  Get him off that kid!

[Holding Bolt by the hair, Rhodes drives knee after knee after knee into
the face of the downed Bolt before dragging him up again.  He throws the
kid into a waistlock, hoisting him into the air, and dumping him on the
back of his head and neck!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Waistlock suplex!

BW:  Also known as a German suplex to the educated announcer on the
team.

GM:  Well, it definitely knocked the sauerkraut out of young Tommy Bolt!

[Rhodes dives on the downed rookie, just flat out pummeling the back of
his neck with forearm smashes.  After a bit, he slides his knee onto the
back of the neck, grabbing two hands full of blond hair to yank Bolt's
head back against the knee.]

GM:  This is getting difficult to watch, fans.  There's absolutely no
call for this at all and-

[The referee threatens Rhodes with a decision reversal...

...which finally gets him to break the hold, now turning his attention
to the referee.]

GM:  Uh oh.

BW:  Never threaten a Rhodes boy, Gordo.

GM:  From the look in his eye, I'd have to agree with that and-

[Simon shouts at the referee, ordering him from the ring before Raph can
take a swing at him.  With the referee gone, Raphael looks around the
ring, looking for another victim...

...and grabs El Lobo who has crawled to cover up his partner.]

GM:  Oh, come on!  Enough's enough!

BW:  Not for Raphael Rhodes!  Brian Von Braun... the Keenings... he's
being driven over the edge...

[A few hard forearms has the luchador leaning on the ropes, clinging to
them to stay on his feet.  Rhodes promptly picks him up, dropping him on
the top rope.  He barks an order to Simon who looks reluctant but heads
towards the corner anyways.]

GM:  You've gotta be kidding me!

BW:  We're gonna see Nothing Fancy On The Road To Wigan Pier!

GM:  He's got El Lobo up top... and he's joining him up there, hooking
him for the superplex...

[But before he can deliver it, the crowd erupts at the sight of Michael
and Jason Keening!]

GM:  KEENINGS!

[Michael promptly runs up the same ropes where Raphael is standing,
connecting with a couple of well-placed forearm smashes before shoving
Rhodes down to the mat.]

GM:  Oh yeah!

[On the other side of the ring, Jason Keening has caught Simon Rhodes
standing up top...

...and powerfully throws him from the buckles, sending him crashing to
the canvas!  Big cheer!]

GM:  THE KEENINGS ARE CLEANING HOUSE!!

[Michael Keening leaps down off the ropes, helping El Lobo down from the
ropes...

...when Raphael Rhodes rushes forward, connecting with a knee to the
back of the Banshee that sends him sailing through the ropes and down to
the floor.  An irate Jason Keening storms Raphael, blasting him with a
forearm smash that knocks him back to the buckles.]

GM:  Jason Keening's all over Raphael Rhodes!

[Forearm after forearm rains down on the side of Rhodes' jaw before he
gets thrown across the ring by the arm.]

GM:  Corner to corner whip... BIIIIIIIG RUNNING CLOTHESLINE BY JASON!!

[The crowd ERUPTS on the big clothesline as Jason pumps his fist in
celebration, hoisting the staggered Raphael off the mat.]

GM:  He's got him up... POWERSLAM OUT OF THE CORNER!!

[Jason pops up, celebrating again...

...when suddenly Simon Rhodes throws himself at the back of Keening's
legs, toppling him over to the mat!]

GM:  Ohh!  What in the world was that?!

BW:  He took his legs out!  Simon Rhodes took the legs out of Keening!

[With Jason down, Simon takes the advantage and throws heavy haymakers
to the side of his head down on the mat.  Rolling Jason to his stomach
and grabbing a handful of hair, Simon SMASHES Jason's face into the
canvas once... twice... three times... four times... five times...

...and then breaks away, rolling to the floor where he grabs a
recovering Michael Keening, aiming him towards the ringpost.]

GM:  Look out!

[Simon attempts to smash Michael's face into the steel but Keening
brings his foot up to block, throwing an elbow back to the midsection to
break Simon's grip...

...and then slams Simon's head to the steel!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

[The Banshee celebrates briefly on the floor before climbing up on the
apron, scaling the ropes as Raphael Rhodes starts to rise inside the
ring...

...and takes flight from the top, connecting with a missile dropkick
right to the face!]

GM:  DROPKICK OFF THE TOP!!!

[The impact of the dropkick sends Raphael Rhodes sailing across the
ring, rolling under the ropes to the floor as Michael helps Jason up
inside the ring.]

GM:  And again I say, the Keenings have cleared the ring!

[But they're not done yet as Michael says something to Jason who nods
before picking up his own brother in a military press, walking across
the ring with him...

...and HURLING him down on a stunned Raphael and Simon Rhodes!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHHH!

[The crowd echoes Gordon's response as the two Rhodes boys get
completely wiped out with the thrown Banshee.  Inside the ring, Jason
Keening drops to a knee, pumping a fist in triumph at the pile of bodies
out on the floor.  After a bit, AWA security rushes towards the ringside
area, trying to get the situation under control.]

GM:  We've got security out here!  We've gotta settle this thing down! 
Fans, we'll be right back with more Saturday Night Wrestling so don't
you go away!

[With security trying to gain control, we fade to black.

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

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

That's right!  You heard me right!

This year, the AWA will be in Oklahoma, Louisiana, Tennessee, and
Alabama with more to be announced!

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

[And with that, we fade back up to the locker room area where Jason Dane
is standing next to a legendary figure throughout Mexico.  Clad in black
from head to toe including a black mask with a red pentagram stitched
across it, it is El Corazon Negro - luchador and promoter.]

JD:  Welcome back, fans, and as you can see, I am standing here with the
man who will face MAMMOTH Mizusawa in one on one action here tonight as
part of the Lady Luck Challenge - El Corazon Negro!  Senor, your
thoughts on tonight's matchup...

[El Corazon Negro speaks!]

ECN:  It has been a while now since I have competed in the AWA and since
then, things have turned into a scene straight out of the Old West -
bounties and gunslingers and cowboys... good guys... bad guys...
everyone fighting over money and gold.

[He chuckles.]

ECN:  And in the middle of it all stands a giant.  A giant named
Mizusawa who is accompanied by a little tick who burrows under your skin
and bugs you and bugs you until you're ready to rip your own skin off to
get at him.  But this giant?  This giant is something else altogether.

Compadre, no one has stopped this giant so far, si?

[Dane nods.]

ECN:  He has faced some of the biggest and baddest men in the AWA and no
one can stop him.  The question you're all asking is - what chance does
this small luchador who can't even use the weaponry that made him famous
- what chance does he have?

[The masked man holds up his fingers just a little bit apart.]

ECN:  Right there.  That's the chance I stand.  And it may not be much
but for me, it's all I need.  If I stand the slightest chance, I will
fight... I will stand and fight... I will bleed... I will break... but I
will stand and fight.  I will fight until every last drop of blood has
been drained from my body... until my very fighting heart stops beating.

This heart does not stop beating, giant.

This fighting heart NEVER stops beating.  

And when the bell rings, I may be down or I may be up... but you will
know that you've been in the ring with El Corazon Negro.  Count on that.

[And the luchador walks off-camera, leaving Jason Dane behind.]

JD:  A very determined El Corazon Negro.  Gordon, Bucky - back to you at
ringside!

[We crossfade back to the interior of the WKIK Studios where Gordon and
Bucky are standing at the announce podium.]

GM:  Thanks for that, Jason.  I'm really looking forward to that
showdown later tonight in the Lady Luck Challenge... but coming up next-

BW:  Gordo, I'm lookin' at the schedule, an' I think we're about ta take
a real, real long commercial break.

GM:  Unfortunately, you're referring to Eric Preston's match.  As we saw
earlier, fans, Eric Preston was the victim of a cowardly ambush at the
Combat Corner this past week.  Todd Michealson is beside himself...

BW:  That's fine.  If Michaelson tried to do anything about it, he'd
have ended up beside himself LITERALLY, because James Monosso would have
torn him in two.

GM:  Be that as it may, we're likely to have a forfeit.  Melissa Cannon
is in the ring to make it official.

[Cut to the ring, where a smiling young wrestler awaits the verdict.]

MC: This match is set for one fall with a ten minute time limit!  In the
ring to my left, from Houston, Texas... weighing two-hundred
fourty-seven pounds...

   ... JOSEPH PUCKETT!

[Puckett, a black-haired wrestler with a bulky build and a blue
two-strap singlet, raises his hand.]

MC: And his opponent, from Greenville, South Carolina... weigh...

[Melissa's attempt to introduce Eric Preston is cut off by theme music. 
But rather than the sounds of Preston's Audioslave theme, what plays is
the familiar piano chord of "The Theme From Halloween".  The fans boo
lustily, as James Monosso heads out towards the ring in his wrestling
attire.]

GM: That is NOT Eric Preston.

BW: I'm glad you cleared that up for everyone who mighta been wrong
about that.  All three of 'em.

[Melissa backpedals, as the stringy-haired wildman slides into the ring.
 Garbed in his usual black-and-silver singlet, matching boots, and green
cutoff "PROPERTY OF STATE MENTAL INSTITUTION" T-Shirt, Monosso wastes no
time hammering Puckett in the face with a dashing front elbow shot to
the teeth.  He turns and shouts a very clear command to the referee.]

"START THE MATCH!  NOW!"

[Wisely, the referee complies.]

"DING!  DING!  DING!"

GM: If it's not enough that he ruined Eric Preston's day at the Combat
Corner, now James Monosso is stealing his match!

BW: "Ruined his day"?  Gordo, he might have ruined his career!  An' I
don't blame him.

GM: You don't blame him?!

BW: Monosso is protectin' his rep, daddy.  You mess with him, you end up
hospitalized.  That's how it goes.  He's just enforcin' the law.

[At the moment, he's enforcing a running powerslam into the center of
the ring.  Now atop his prey, Monosso starts headbutting him on the mat.
 Headbutt after headbutt, right into the mouth.]

GM: You call this enforcing the law?!  I call it anarchy!  How can a man
come out and just insert himself into someone else's contracted match?!

BW: It's a rule named after the legendary Czechoslovakian murderer Hugo
Stahpum.

GM: What?

BW: The rule is: If you don't like it... Hugo Stahpum!

GM: I'm not sure what is the worse crime: your awful pun or Monosso's
flagrant abuse of the rules!  Look at this!

[What Gordon wants us to look at is Monosso's fishhooking of his
opponent.  James is behind Puckett, stretching the man's nostrils and
mouth out with his fingers... and from there, he runs him at the corner,
mashing the man's face into the turnbuckle with everything still
fishhooked.  In great pain, Puckett yelps, and falls through the ropes
to the apron.]

BW: Oh, kid.  You can't be serious.

GM: I do not think Joseph Puckett had any idea where he was going, but
he had better get back in the ring because the floor is NOT the place to
fight Monosso.

BW: Too late, Monosso's on the apron.  What the heck is he doin'? 
Gordo, what IS that?

GM: A Mandible Claw!  Both men are standing on the ring apron, and
Monosso applying a Mandible Claw, depressing the nerve cluster under the
tongue!  I haven't seen one of those in years and I didn't know he was
even capable of... GOOD LORD!

"THUUUUUUUUUUUD!"

[The above sound?  Monosso stepping back off the apron, still holding
the Mandible Claw.  He yanks Puckett off the apron as well, and uses the
Mandible Claw to guide Puckett's jaw into the ring apron, yanking his
fingers out of his mouth at the last instant!  Poor Joseph's mouth slams
shut with horrifying impact as he hits the apron jaw-first and collapses
to the floor in a heap!  The fans go ballistic for such an evil
maneuver!]

BW: HE BROKE HIS JAW AND HIS TEETH, GORDO!  HE HAD TO HAVE!  THAT WAS
PSYCHOTIC!

GM: WHAT POINT IS THERE TO DOING SOMETHING LIKE THAT?!  WHY?!  HE COULD
HAVE SHATTERED THE MAN'S TEETH!

[And just in case you were doubting his intentions to do just that,
Monosso lifts Puckett off the floor, slaps him in a half-nelson, and
bashes his mouth into the corner of the apron!  The booing is loud, and
the referee has seen enough as he spots a trickle of blood coming out of
Puckett's mouth.]

GM: PUCKETT IS SPITTING UP BLOOD!  THIS MATCH HAS TO BE STOPPED!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


BW: Yeah, that was quick but terrifying.  I don't think I've ever seen
anyone target his opponent's teeth for weardown tactics before.  I... I
might be sick, Gordo.


MC: The referee has stopped the match, and awarded the decision to... 
JAMES MONOSSO!


GM: He should have been disqualified!

BW: For what?  People get dropped on the apron all the time!

GM: NOT LIKE THAT!  He opened his mouth with that Mandible Claw so that
he could slam his jaw shut on the apron!  It's going to take a small
army of dentists to put poor Joseph Puckett's mouth back together...
look at him!

[The camera gets a closeup of poor Puckett, writhing on the concrete
holding his mouth, making agonized moans.  He's delirious with pain, as
medics come out to attend to him.  Monosso heads for the interview
area.]

GM: James Monosso!  That was totally unnecessary!

JM: QUICK!  SOMEBODY CALL THE PARADENTISTS!  AH HA HA HA HA HA HA!

[Monosso seems to think this is pretty darn hilarious.  The fans boo him
violently, and Myers is shaking like a leaf in anger.]

GM: How could anyone, ANYONE be so casually callous?!

[In mid-sentence, James' facial expression turns from mirth to a severe
glare.  Instantly.  The sudden change is accompanied by a sudden shift
in body language, posture, and breathing.]

JM: Casual?  Gordon Myers, what is this in my hand?

GM: That's... that's a tooth!

[James holds it aloft for all to see.  A bloody tooth.]

JM: Eric Preston, you want to know why I stopped waiting for Memorial
Day?  LOOK AT THIS TOOTH, ERIC!  LOOK AT IT!  THIS IS WHY I STOPPED
WAITING FOR MEMORIAL DAY!

GM: I... I don't understand!

JM: You wouldn't.  You're safe.  Hiding behind your flimsy cardboard
set.  Hiding behind your nerd glasses.  Hiding behind rules and lawyers
and the hopes that everyone you meet will have pity on you because
you're a weakling.  What are you doing here, Gordon Myers?  Don't you
know that this is a dangerous place?  Don't you know people get hurt
here?!  Hurt REAL BAD?!  LOOK AT THIS TOOTH!

[Monosso practically thrusts the tooth into the camera.]

JM: This week, Eric Preston went to the zombie factory.  He went to the
Combat Corner.  And you know what those dumb kids in there were doing? 
Learning how to twist arms.  Learning how to bounce off steel ropes
without hurting yourself.  Learning how to talk to a camera.  And that's
disgusting.

GM: What...

JM: WHERE'S THE COMBAT?!  Those dumb kids get sucked in by lies and
false hope!  Just like I did when I was a dumb kid!  They told me I
could be a big star!  A World Champion!  All I had to do was sacrifice
and struggle for a few years, and when I was on top my life would be
wonderful!  Well, guess what?

GM: Very few make it!  We tell them that!

JM: NO ONE MAKES IT, YOU IMBECILE!  THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN TELLING YOU
ALL!  I WAS A BIG STAR!  I WAS A WORLD CHAMPION!  I DID EVERYTHING IN
THIS SPORT YOU CAN DO!  AND LOOK WHAT THEY DID TO ME!  LOOK AT ME!  LOOK
AT ME!

[As he screams with the cracking voice of a madman, Monosso holds his
"PROPERTY OF STATE MENTAL INSTITUTION" shirt up towards the camera.]

JM: You think I'm the only one?!  You want a laundry list of former
World Champions, who did everything the liars who sucked them in told
them they could, and ended up broken pitiful shells of human beings?! 
You want that list?  EVERYONE'S ON IT!  No one makes it in this sport. 
No one.  Stevie Scott will be nothing in fifteen years.  He thinks he'll
save his money and have plenty to live on the rest of his life, or that
he'll be able to play his fame into some great thing after he retires. 
So does Juan Vasquez.  So did Kolya Sudakov.  So did Ron Houston.  So
did Marcus Broussard.  They'll all end up the same!  Either dead, or
having to drag their destroyed bodies through endless nights of pain in
an endless mockery of their childhood dreams!

That's why I went to the Combat Corner!  That's why I showed them all
what this sport IS!  I WAS TRYING TO SAVE THEM FROM THIS!

[And there's the tooth again.]

JM: When you live in an asylum, and a cardboard box, and have everything
you thought was true turn to lies, and everyone you trusted stab you in
the heart over and over... what's left?  I'll tell you, because I know. 
What's left is taking it out on the dumb kids who come in and spit on
everything I ever did!  They spit on it by coming in and thinking they
know better.  Thinking they'll do better. Thinking they _are_ better! 
And there's nothing to do about it but KNOCK ALL THEIR TEETH DOWN THEIR
THROATS!  You know why that little punk deserved to have his teeth
smashed in?  Because he stepped into this sport and thought he could
make it. Congratulations, kid, I just saved you fifteen or twenty years
of your life!

GM: ...

JM: And Eric Preston!  I know you're hurt... I know you're injured a lot
worse than these mindless puppets are saying!  They lie, because that's
all any of them ever do.  I made an example of you, to show those dumb
kids that they had to give up their stupid dreams.  Forget Memorial Day;
these fat turds only use it as an excuse to picnic, wave flags, and
pretend to care about the cannon fodder our so-called country sends out
there so old rich white men can get richer.  No, Eric Preston.  You
already made the choice that you were trying to sell those rubes at the
Combat Corner.  And then I showed them what REAL Combat is like!  That's
why I want the match with you NEXT WEEK!  Because if that lying rat
Michaelson has another month to lie to them, they might make the wrong
choice. 

And you know what'll happen to those kids if they make the wrong choice?

[James lifts the tooth up for all to see... and then pops it into his
mouth and swallows it.

The fans go into a shocked hush before booing even more.  Bucky's cheeks
puff out as he has to go off-screen to revisit his lunch in a less
public place.  Myers just shakes his head, jaw slack, as Monosso
finishes.]

JM: If they're lucky, those of us who learned the hard way will swallow
them quickly.  And if they're really, really unlucky?  They'll BECOME
us.

So next week, Preston.  Right here, in this arena.  It'll be the
luckiest night of your life.

And you'd have to be INSANE to think otherwise!

[Monosso stalks off, as Myers struggles for something to say.]

GM: I... fans, that man... please, don't believe a word he says about
our sport!  I cannot believe they let him in here, and allowed him to
say that!  We... we have to go to commercial.

[We fade to black...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And now, it can be yours!"

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

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

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

...and then back up to live action where Melissa is already in the
ring.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit.  Introducing first... already in the ring at this time...
from Hollywood, California... Vinnie Victory!

[Young Vinnie Victory waves to the crowd, both hands up in a "V"
symbol.]

MC:  And his opponent...

["No Quarter" by Led Zeppelin starts up to a good-sized reaction.]

MC:  From Bullhead City, Arizona... weighing in at 255 pounds...

"DYING BREED" JAAAAAACK SNYYYYYDER!

[Snyder tears through the curtain to a bigger cheer.  He pauses just
beyond the curtain, looking out at the cheering crowd with a nod of his
head, and then quickly looks all business as he heads towards the ring,
rolling under the ropes in his black trunks and boots...

...where Victory is waiting, dropping an elbow on him!]

GM:  We're underway already!

[Victory drops two more elbows down on the prone Snyder before
attempting a lateral press...

...and getting shoved off by the face.]

GM:  Oh!  I don't think Snyder much cared for the sneak attack.

BW:  Who cares?  Stay on him, kid!

[Victory tries to do exactly that, dropping down in a mount to throw
fists at the skull of Snyder.  The ref counts to four before Victory
backs off, hands raised...

...and buries a boot into the ribcage with a cackle!]

GM:  Victory's got the edge here right now but... wait a second... what
in the world are YOU doing here?

[The voice of Ben Waterson is heard.]

ATTSBW:  I have a little message to deliver to Mr. Snyder.

GM:  You know he's in the ring, right?  He can't exactly hear you.

ATTSBW:  I'm sure even an idiot like him can run a DVR.  He'll hear me
loud and clear.  But right now, it looks like this kid from LA's giving
him all he can handle.  Maybe I don't need to worry about it.

BW:  He needs to stay on him.  You can't give Snyder a second to recov-

[But as Victory tries to pull Snyder off the mat, he catches a haymaker
to the midsection.]

GM:  Ohh!  What a shot to the breadbasket!

[Snyder reaches out, grabbing Victory's right leg in his arms and
ripping it out from under him, toppling the youngster.  Snyder
immediately takes the mount himself, pummeling Victory over and over
with big, heavy right hands.  At the count of four, Snyder breaks the
barrage and yanks Victory to his feet by the wrist where he promptly
fires him at top velocity into the buckles where Victory topples to the
canvas from the impact.]

GM:  Good grief!  You could hear that one down the street, Bucky!

BW:  The kid's in trouble now.

GM:  He certainly is.

ATTSBW:  Impressive, sure.  But when he gets in the ring with who I've
got in store for him, it's going to be a very different story.

GM:  You've been talking about this for a while now.  Do we get a hint?

[Snyder stalks across the ring like a hunter watching his prey. 
Reaching down, he drags Victory up by the hair and smashes him with a
headbutt that sends him toppling back into the buckles again where
Snyder mounts the midbuckle.]

"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THREE!"
"FOUR!"
"FIVE!"
"SIX!"
"SEVEN!"
"EIGHT!"
"NINE!"
"TEN!"

[And then leans over, sinking his teeth into the forehead of his
opponent!]

BW:  HE'S BITING HIM!  HE'S BITING HIM, GORDO!

GM:  Well, yes... yes he is.  What do you think of that, Mr. Waterson?

ATTSBW:  I think all the punches and teeth he can manage aren't gonna
save him from what I have planned for him.

GM:  Why not tell the world what that plan is?  What exactly are you
frightened of?

ATTSBW:  Frightened?  Watch yourself, Myers.

[Hopping down from the middle rope, Snyder uncorks another big haymaker
to the jaw that leaves Victory hanging onto the top rope to stay on his
feet.  Snyder leans over, hoisting Victory up and dropping him into a
seat on the top rope.  The "Dying Breed" quickly steps up to the middle
rope, slinging Victory's arm over his neck...

...and hoists him into the air, bringing him crashing down in a
superplex!]

GM:  OHHHHHH!

[Snyder rolls through the superplex right into a lateral press, reaching
back to hook a leg.]

GM:  We've got one!  We've got two!  We've got- uh oh!

BW:  Snyder pulled him up!

GM:  I think he's looking for a little payback on that sneak attack,
Bucky.

ATTSBW:  I think he's looking for trouble.  If he tries that against-

GM:  Look, you know what I think?  I think no matter what or who you've
got, Jack Snyder is going to be ready for him.  I think he's gonna be
ready and he's gonna show you up again!

ATTSBW:  Are you kidding me?  You think I didn't do my research on
Snyder when I brought him in?  You think I don't know EVERYTHING about
him?  I know his strengths, I know his weaknesses, and most of all, I
know his fears.  I know who he's afraid of - and that's EXACTLY what
I've got in store for him, Myers.

[Shaking his head, Snyder hauls him off the mat, firing him into the
ropes...

...and on the rebound, he catches him around the upper thighs, spinning
around, and DRIVING Victory into the canvs with a thunderous
spinebuster!]

GM:  JACKBREAKER!!  ONE!!  TWO!!  AND THERE'S THE THREE!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


ATTSBW:  I think that's my cue.  Enjoy your victory while you can,
Snyder.  It won't be long before YOU'RE the one staring up at the
lights.

[There's a "CLUNK!" heard as Waterson puts down his headset, making his
exit as Gordon and Bucky stay behind.]

GM:  Well, fans, another impressive victory for Jack Snyder but you do
have to wonder, what in the world does Ben Waterson have in store for
him?  His greatest fear?  I can't imagine Jack Snyder being afraid of
anything or anybody, Bucky.

BW:  You doubt Mr. Waterson?

GM:  That's another story altogether.  Fans, earlier this week, City
Jack had a special open visiting hours day for his fans so that they
could come to the Dallas Memorial Hospital and show him their support. 
It was a big day for a lot of his fans and for City Jack himself.  So,
now, for the first time since the Second Anniversary Show, let's hear
from City Jack!

[Shot comes to the inside of the hospital room of City Jack. The room's
a regular sized room, but it's filled with flowers and cards. Laying in
the bed, in a hospital gown (but with the bed linens up to his chest) is
Jack.

His eye has been all bandaged around. The look on his face shows one of
a person sort of depressed. However, he pastes a smile on his face as he
sees the camera and motions for it to come closer.]

CJ: Hey, y'all! Come on, come one..

[Jack sits up a bit in his bed.]

CJ: I wanted to get some here time to just thank you all for all the
great things this here past couple weeks and more. While it all be a
very difficult time for me right here, right now...

[Jack looks down for a moment.]

CJ: All these here cards, the calls on the phone, prayers, and all your
visits done made this here heart of an ol' sob warm like fire.

[Jack pats his right chest.]

CJ: All you fans who've done took time to check up on me and all, I got
to say thank ya from the bottom of my heart. Nothin' made me happier in
the world than to perform in front of you all, so seein' y'all come in
and give back to me...

[Jack shakes his head.]

CJ: Shoot, I...

[Jack stops, looking away for a moment as he brings his hand to his
uncovered eye and nose. This goes on for ten or twenty seconds before
Jack nods and turns back to the camera, his face wet with tears.]

CJ: And all my friends in the locker room and all around the wrestling
world who came by or called, I want to make sure I thanked y'all too
cause... Cause it's hard not bein' there with you all, in the arenas or
around the ring and...

[Jack pauses again for a moment.]

CJ: And I don't when... if... I... If I ever can join ya back, but...

[Another tear drops from the face of Jack before he wipes it away. He
laughs to himself, good-natured.]

CJ: Look at me, big ol' Kentucky man sobbin' like a child... Goodness...

[Jack grabs a tissue from his bedside and dries his face off.]

CJ: But I just wanted to thank you all... For all the memories you done
gave me and for all the time recently you kept me in yours. Thank you
all and...

[City Jack takes a big breath.]

CJ: And goodbye.

[Jack nods and gives a wave before the shot cuts out.  We fade back in
to Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde inside the WKIK studios, both with
somber looks on their face.]

GM: Well, fans there is City Jack, who was clearly moved by the support
from all of you at home and all of the wrestlers in the back.  

BW: I don't like him, but it's tough to see the guy like that.

GM: Then you should tell that to the scum who did this!

BW: You tell Calisto Dufresne and the Southern Syndicate that you don't
like what they do.  See how that goes.

GM: I just might!

[It looks like Gordon Myers might just get the opportunity.  Suddenly,
ZZ Top's "Sharp Dressed Man" begins to blare throughout the WKIK Studios
and the fans inside the building immediately begin to boo with reckless
abandon.  From the entrance portal emerges one half of the AWA National
Tag Team Champions and the man responsible for putting an end to City
Jack's career, "Ladykiller" Calisto Dufresne.  But Dufresne has not come
alone, apparently.]

GM: You have _got_ to be kidding me.

[Dufresne saunters out of the entrance portal clad in a pair of sandy
brown dress slacks and a green striped collared shirt.  Both starched to
the point that they might be able to stand up on their own.  His blonde
hair is pulled back into a pony tail.  The champion does not have his
title with him.  This is most likely because he has his hands full.  He
has a paper bag in one hand and in the other hand is a leash attached to
a Golden Retriever that has a red vest covering the upper portion of its
frame.  Dufresne is led over to where Myers is standing by the animal as
the boos intensify as some fans begin to get the picture.  The look on
Myers' face is of utter disgust as Dufresne approaches.]

GM: What is the meaning of this!?

[Dufresne looks a bit taken aback by the question.]

CD: What do you mean?

[Dufresne looks around a bit.]

CD: We _are_ honoring City Jack, aren't we?  All of the fans out here
and the idiots in the locker room sent get well wishes, cards and
flowers to the guy while he's been laid up in the hospital.  But as you
heard straight from the pig's mouth, it's all over for him.

GM: It may be all over for him thanks to your heinous actions!

CD: I'm not going to try and get it through your thick skull that he
brought it on himself because you clearly can't see reality.  Then
again, either can City Jack.

[Dufresne snickers a bit as the boos continue.]

CD: Anyway, Myers, I'm not here to pick on you or City Jack.  I'm here
to do what any model citizen such as myself would do in a time of
crisis.  I'm here to help ease the burden.

GM: It's a little late for that, don't you think?

[The Ladykiller ignores the question and continues on.]

CD: See, while all the idiots in their trailers were busy sending cards
made out of used Hamburger Helper boxes and sending flowers, Calisto
Dufresne was out getting a few items for City Jack that can be of actual
_use._  Of course, I tried to bring these to him in person, but for some
reason the whole floor of the hospital was closed off by security.  Not
really sure what was going on, but it must've been serious.

GM: They were posted there to keep you away from the man that you
brutalized!

[Dufresne again carries on, oblivious.]

CD: So, first things first... Here we have a beautiful dog that can keep
ole' Jacky company as he cries himself - with one eye of course - to
sleep and needs someone to tell stories to.

[Dufresne hands Bucky the leash.]

CD: I named him Rusty.  I thought it was kind of funny since Jack's
buddy Tin Can Rust has about the IQ of a dog.  Then I realized that this
dog is _far_ more intelligent than Rust.  How so, you ask?  It's simple,
because in addition to being man's best friend, Rusty here is a genuine,
fully trained...

[Dufresne smiles broadly, clearly proud of himself.]

CD: ...SEEING EYE DOG!

[The remaining fans who hadn't caught on by now add in to the chorus of
boos.  Myers stares, mouth hanging open.]

GM: You are truly sick.

CD: Ah, but Gordon, my philanthropy knows no bounds because it's not
just Rusty here that I brought for Jack.  In addition to that...

[Dufresne reaches in to the paper bag, pulling out a book with a bright
yellow cover.]

CD: ...I brought Braille for Dummies.  Perfect for Jack, wouldn't you
agree?

[Calisto doesn't wait for a response, instead handing the book to Myers
and reaching into the bag for another item.]

CD: ...And here we have the papers needed to file for Worker's
Compensation.

[Dufresne hands them to Myers and reaches back in the bag.]

CD: ...And since nobody wants to know what it looks like under those
bandages, here's an eye patch!

[The boos intensify even further as Dufresne continues to hand things to
Myers.]

CD: ...Of course, we wouldn't want Jack to start his career as a pirate
off on the wrong foot, So I also brought him a peg leg and a parrot!

[Myers' hands are now overflowing with what looks to be a broken table
leg and a stuffed parrot.]

CD: I know, I know, I went a little overboard with all of these lavish
gifts for my friend City Jack, but what can I say?  He's worth it!  The
last gift I have though is simple.  Just a word of advice: Jack, if you
value the other eye... 

[The Ladykiller turns directly to the camera, suddenly with an extremely
stoic look plastered on his face, speaking directly to City Jack.]

CD: ...Stay retired. 

["Sharp Dressed Man" kicks in once again as Dufresne turns on his heel
and walking back towards the entrance portal, leaving Myers and Bucky
slack jawed with hands full and a dog at their feet.  The crowds boos
are absolutely deafening as the camera cuts out to commercial.

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then fade back to live action where we find Melissa Cannon
already inside the ring.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit and is a LADY LUCK CHALLENGE matchup!  Introducing first...

[The sounds of Fight's "Into The Pit" starts up to a decent amount of
recognition cheers.]

MC:  From Tijuana, Mexico... weighing in at 220 pounds... 

ELLLLLL CORAZOOOOON NEGROOOOOO!

[The heavy metal music kicks up a notch as ECN enters the WKIK Studios,
clad in the same attire we saw earlier in the evening.  He pauses just
beyond the entryway, dropping down to his knees.  He whispers something
silently to himself before springing to his feet, walking the rest of
the way to the ring where he scales the ringsteps, slingshotting himself
over the ropes.]

GM:  The owner of SouthWest Lucha Libre and one of the famed luchadors
throughout Mexico, Bucky.

BW:  But as I said two weeks ago, he made his name swinging weapons and
brawling in the crowd.  There's a reason his nickname is the Hardcore
Luchador.  None of that is going to happen in the AWA and none of that
is going to help him against the giant.

GM:  He's still a very talented competitor and quite the wily veteran. 
I wouldn't count him out just yet.

[ECN tugs at the ropes, staying loose as Melissa continues.]

MC:  And his opponent...

[Tomoyasu Hotei’s “Battle Without Honor or Humanity” starts to play
over the arena speakers. Louis Matsui emerges with a smirk from the
entranceway. He is followed closely by the scowling seven-footer,
MAMMOTH Mizusawa, dressed in a black singlet, black knee pads and a
pair of black boots. Matsui points with his thumb over his shoulders
at Mizusawa, who raises both his arms in the air. Both men start to
make their way down the aisle.]

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

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

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

GM:  And there's the bell!

[The Hardcore Luchador sprints across the ring, leaping into the air
with a swinging right hand.  Mizusawa catches him around the waist in a
bearhug as ECN throws punch after punch after punch...

...and gets swung to the side, throwing him down to the mat.]

GM:  Pure power on display right there by Mizusawa and...

[The luchador pops back up, throwing another right hand and another and
another.  He charges to the ropes, springing back to connect with a
dropkick to the jaw, sending Mizusawa stumbling backwards.]

GM:  The luchador's on a roll!  He's got Mizusawa dazed!

[ECN hits the ropes again, rebounding back to leap up for a cross
body...

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

GM:  Caught!

[Mizusawa holds him across his body for a moment, pausing to turn a full
360 to show him off to everyone...

...and then drops down to the mat, squashing him to the canvas with a
powerslam!]

GM:  OHHHH!

[The giant climbs to his feet, looking out at Matsui who drags a thumb
across his throat.  With a nod, the Asian giant reaches down with both
hands, grabbing ECN by the throat, hoisting him up into the air by the
neck...

...and DRIVES him down to the mat with the MAMMOTH Slam!]

GM:  OHHHHHH!  THAT'S IT!!

[Mizusawa takes a knee, planting one hand squarely in the chest of the
Hardcore Luchador.]

GM:  ONE!  TWO!  THREE!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM:  Did that really just happen?  Did we see Mizusawa absolutely
DESTROY El Corazon Negro in... mere seconds?

BW:  We did!  The giant claims another victim and if I'm Juan Vasquez...
heck, if I'm Stevie Scott... I might start looking for a way to keep
this guy out of the ring with me.  

GM:  Matsui is elated!  Louis Matsui is- he's coming over here now...

[Matsui arrives, clapping Bucky Wilde on the shoulder.]

GM:  Well, uhh... congratulations seem to be in order, Mr. Matsui.  And
we need to have you draw the next card on your man's behalf.

[Matsui reaches into the deck, pulling a card.]

LM:  Read it and weep, Gordo.

GM:  The Ten of Spades - one of our wrapped cards...

[Gordon Myers unwraps the card to reveal...]

GM:  Ohhh my, Mr. Matsui... I'm not sure you're going to like this. 
It's one of the most bloodthirsty and dangerous men I've ever seen
inside a wrestling right... the Botswana Beast... EBOLA ZAIRE!

[A buzz of confusion goes over the AWA faithful as for perhaps the first
time... a slight glint of fear appears in the eyes of Louis Matsui.]

LM:  Ebola... Zaire?  He's coming here?

GM:  Yes, he is.  He was the Ten Of Spades - one of the wrapped cards -
surprise, surprise, Mr. Matsui.

LM:  But that guy... he's...

GM:  Yes, yes he is.

[Matsui shakes his head... and then storms out of view.]

GM:  How 'bout that, Bucky Wilde?

BW:  Two weeks ago, I said El Corazon Negro didn't stand a chance
because he couldn't use the hardcore style that made him famous and I
was proven right just moments ago.  Tonight, I tell you that when Ebola
Zaire shows up - he just won't care.  If he wants to stab Mizusawa in
the head with something sharp, he will.  The giant's never faced
anything quite like this man, Gordo.

GM:  He certainly hasn't and I think you could see a little nervousness
from Louis Matsui.  He obviously knows Ebola Zaire and he... well, I
think he's a little bit afraid, Bucky.

BW:  Who wouldn't be?

GM:  Fans, coming up next we have-

#REACH OUT AND TOUCH FAITH!# 

[Boom! The boos waste little to no time and reign down like a torential
downpour. The camera holds steady on the entrance as "Personal Jesus" by
Depeche Mode blares over the PA System.]

BW: YES! BRING ON DA BOMBERS!

GM:Yet the Blond Bombers are nowhere to be seen!

BW: Patience, Gordo. Everybody knows the Bombers _live_ for grand
entrances.

GM: Everybody? Really?!

[The curtains part and standing before the entire arena is a man of a
simple nature. He has on a pink pair of slacks matched accordingly with
a neon green trim jacket and a pair of sweet 2010 shades (you know, the
kind you get on New Years Eve. Yeah... they're that awful. The fashion
defying man works his way towards Gordon and Bucky. Leaning in over the
table. The man? Well, none other than "Hollywood" Larry Doyle. Shadowing
Larry is a goliath of a man, dressed from head to toe in black, he folds
his arms and observes the arena around him.]

BW: Well if this isn't a sight for sore eyes! Larry "Holy Bejesus!"
Doyle! Mr. Hollywood! How you been buddy?

LD: It's great to see you too, Bucky! As for how I am... 

[Doyle's face crumbles in frustration.]

LD:  ... I'm a little bit disappointed in how the AWA has chosen to
handle our tinsie tinsie li'l wi'l demands. I mean we're talking about
the
bbbbbbbbeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeessssssssssttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt.
.. tag team in the world today. 

The Blond Bu Bu Bombaaahhhhssss!

[Larry twirls an index finger around above his head.]

LD:  So since _our_ demands weren't met. Then _WE_ will not be meeting
the demands of the AWA either. HA! Take that "The Man"!

GM: What type of demands are we talking about, Larry.

LD: Gordon, my _father_ was Larry-- YOU can call me, Mr Doyle!

GM: Ok, then, Mr. Doy--

[Larry immediately interjects.]

LD: Bah, less than impressive segueway, you'll need to work on that
Gordon. But to answer your question anyway, for no other reason than to
hear myself speak... our demands were simple. 

[Larry reaches into one of his tacky pockets and pulls out a list. The
list was crumbled up into a ball and unfolds into a crumbling mess.]

LD:  *AHEM*

Number 1... The Blond Bombers will NOT under any circumstances be
required to enter into _another_ hillibililly.. podunk.. farcical..
mudhole like the one we're in tonight, in a town so awful, it shouldn't
even have been given a name. 

[BOOS!]

LD:  You can all _cram it_. You families don't love you. Move on you
dumb inbreds. 

Number 2... Under NO circumstances are the Blond Bombers to perform
without a fully functional buffet table snuggled right up there by
ringside. 

[Doyle turns to Bucky.]

LD:  I think we can _both_ agree that we got a big resounding no to both
of those. 

[Both men smirk.]

LD:  I mean, not even a shrimp cocktail, or bacon wrapped scallops, no
champagne flutes brimming with bubbles... not even those awful breaded
things with the fish eggs in the middle.

BW: Those are awful!

LD: Oh, my friend, they most definitely are! 

[His face grows stern.]

LD:  But we want them... they're expensive. 

Plus the Bombers don't, won't, and shon't (shon't?) eat anything that
costs less that $25. It's just not classy and we.. I mean... the Bombers
honestly _deserve_ to eat better than these jamookes. 

*AHEM* Back to the list... number 3. Under no condition can the Bomber
be asked to compete without a ringside hot tub as well. And I think we
all know you can't spell hot tub without 3 bikini clad babes. So those
are required as well.

[Gordon's eyes narrow, like he's in an awfully retarded nightmare.]

GM: Can't spell hot tub without...

LD: Alright.. alright! You can spell it... but it sure isn't as much fun
now is it?!

AMIRIGHT?!?!?

ZZZZZIIINNNNNNNNNNGGGGGG!!!

[Doyle is once again patting his own back for a line that probably isn't
even worth the paper it may someday be written on.]

LD:  Number 4... Waterslide entrance into the ring. Just because...
well... just _because_. 

GM: Are you serious?

LD: Oh I'm _verrryyy_ serious, El Gordo. 

And if two of these four demands are not met for the Bombers next
appearance next Saturday Night...well...

[He pats Gordon on his head uncomfortably.]

LD:  ... I guess you just won't be getting to see the world's greatest
tag team in action then, willya?!

GM: A hot tub? A WATERSLIDE?!

LD: Yeah... something aquatic. You guys figure out which two you'll
meet. 

Like I said, I'm a fair man! 

[The crowd scoffs.]

LD:  Two of out four. 

Surprise us. 

We'll be here next week. 

[Doyle once again looks at a ficticious time that does not appear on the
fake watch on his wrist.]

LD:  WO-hohohohohohoho. Look at the time! Gentlemen, we'll be seeing you
soon.

[With that, "Hollywood" Larry Doyle and his mystery accomplice disappear
to the back.]

GM:  I have a hard time imagining that the Championship Committee OR our
new Chairman, Jim Watkins, will have ANY part of having a hot tub out
here... a waterslide... or any of the other garbage that these Blonde
Bombers want the AWA to supply.

BW:  They will if they want to see the best tag team in the world
perform!

GM:  These two are the best tag team in the world!?  We've only seen
them once!  And who was the big ol' beast that Larry Doyle had out here
with him?

BW:  I don't know but he didn't look like someone I'd want to mess with.

GM:  Fans, we need to take a quick break but we'll be back with more AWA
Saturday Night Wrestling!

[Fade out on the announcers.

And then fade back up a moment later on video of the first Memorial Day
Mayhem event.  We see Mark Shaw hoisting Marcus Broussard high into the
air for a crucifix powerbomb, walking out of the corner when his knee
buckles, allowing Broussard to drop down to the canvas behind him.
Seizing the moment, Broussard hooks him in a waistlock, charging
forward, smashing Shaw's face into an exposed metal turnbuckle, and
rolling back into a reverse rolling cradle, throwing himself into a
picture-perfect bridge as the referee dives to the mat, slapping the
canvas three times.]

MC:  Ladies and gentlemen... after twenty-eight minutes and six seconds
of hard-fought action... your winner of the match...

And the FIRST AWA NATIONAL CHAMPION...

MAAAAAARRRRCUS BROUUUUUSSARRRRRRD!

[The shot freezes on Broussard with the title belt held high, confetti
falling from the sky as a voiceover sounds out.]

"The first year saw the crowning of a champion."

[The footage picks back up as we see a shot of Ron Houston standing on
the ring apron, reaching over the ropes to hoist Adam Rogers upon his
shoulders for a Fade To Black...

...when suddenly Stevie Scott lashes out with the Heatseeker, catching
Houston squarely on the chin, knocking both men off the apron to the
floor.]

GM:  OH MY STARS!  STEVIE SCOTT HAS DONE IT!  STEVIE SCOTT HAS DONE IT!
STEVIE SCOTT HAS DONE IT!

[The Hotshot falls to his knees in the middle of the ring, pumping both
fists in triumph as he lets loose a wail of victory with the crowd
roaring in celebration as the shot holds and a voiceover picks up
again.]

"The second year saw the start of a new era."

[The footage fades out to a Memorial Day Mayhem logo.]

"On May 31st, 2010, the AWA does it again.

Memorial Day Mayhem is coming.

But what will this year bring?"

[The logo and voice fade out together.

And then we fade back up on a Memorial Day Mayhem 2010 logo.  It spins
away after a moment to reveal Jason Dane sitting at a desk in front of a
row of monitors.  The graphic that appears over his left shoulder
informs us that this is the Memorial Day Mayhem Control Center!]

JD:  Welcome back, fans, and welcome to the first edition of the
Memorial Day Mayhem Control Center!  I'm Jason Dane and over the next
few minutes we're going to talking about that big event coming up in
just about six weeks time.  First, let's talk about what we know...

[Cut to a graphic that shows Bobby Taylor and Brent Maverick on one side
of the screen and Kevin Slater with Shane Taylor and Kandi Kane on the
other side.]

JD:  We will see a tag team battle that will finally - FINALLY - see
Kevin Slater and Bobby Taylor squaring off inside the ring.  This is a
battle that's been brewing for over two years here in the AWA - since
Day One when Slater started that Man With The Money charade.  But on May
31st in the Arena Theatre in Houston, Texas, the Outlaw will finally get
his hands on both Slater and his traitorous little brother.  Along for
the ride is the man who has been one-half of the legendary tag team, the
Outlaws, for a long, long time... but now, he teams with a completely
different Outlaw in what should be a brutal, brutal matchup.  Two weeks
ago, we saw Kevin Slater adopt the Outlaw name... and this week, we
caught up with Bobby Taylor to get his thoughts.

[Cut to the Outlaw in front of a MDM banner hanging on the wall.  He's
dressed in jeans and a black Outlaw t-shirt.]

BT:  Kevin Slater, you want to be the Outlaw?  You WANT to be the
Outlaw?  After all these years of begging the fans to care about you...
all these years of whining and crying about your demons... you suddenly
think your man enough to carry MY name.

[Taylor shakes his head.]

BT:  It's a hefty load to carry, Kev.  You have to be willing to do what
no one else will do.  You have to be willing to bust head, break spines,
end careers - even your own if necessary.

You have to be willing to live a life where your own family hates you.

And where if the time comes... you'll take a longtime friend and make
him wish he never knew you.

[Taylor glares coldly at the camera.]

BT:  Can you do it, Kev?

[The camera pulls in closer on his face.]

BT:  Can I?

[And we fade back to the Control Center.]

JD:  A very serious Bobby Taylor looking to get some payback on his
former best friend.  It'll be a wild one when Taylor and Maverick meet
Slater and Taylor in Houston.

[The graphic changes to show Eric Preston and James Monosso.]

JD:  Now, this one just got a little more interesting this week when
James Monosso actually WENT to the Combat Corner where Eric Preston was
filming some stuff for WKIK and assaulted Preston.  The closing shot of
that video was Monosso smashing a 35-pound barbell into the ribs of
Preston so who knows what shape Preston is in right now.  We'll have
more on that in two weeks, fans.

[Cut to a graphic that shows 30 silhoutetted bodies with only one lit up
- Devastation.]

JD:  And of course, the Main Event will be the third annual Rumble with
the winner receiving a National Title Match.  Two weeks ago, the massive
monster known simply as Devastation entered the match.  He is the only
one to have entered so far... until now.

[Fade to a shot of Ben Waterson standing in front of the MDM banner.]

ATTSBW:  Memorial Day Mayhem!  It's gonna be a big night for the
Southern Syndicate!  

30 men stepping into the ring for that Rumble.  Only one man can win and
get the title shot... the shot at the National Champion, Stevie Scott.

[Waterson grins.]

ATTSBW:  It's my job to protect the champ.  It's my job to protect the
title.  And that's why I've entered the ENTIRE Southern Syndicate in the
Rumble.  Calisto Dufresne, Adrian Freeman, Raphael Rhodes... heck, I
even pulled some strings and got Simon and Brian spots.  

And in case you morons out there can't do the math... that's five men...
one-sixth of the Rumble... 

And in case you need it a little more clear.

That gives us REEEEEEEAL good odds of walking out of Memorial Day Mayhem
with that title shot in our back pocket.

A title shot that will NEVER happen.

[Waterson chuckles as we fade back to Jason Dane.]

JD:  So there you have it, fans.  The National Tag Team Champions,
Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman, Raphael Rhodes, Simon Rhodes, and
even Brian Von Braun are ALL in the Rumble!  The Southern Syndicate
finds themselves very well-represented and if you can believe it, Ben
Waterson says if one of them win that title shot... we'll NEVER see that
title shot happen.  That makes six men in the Rumble... twenty-four
spots to fill.  Plus, you never know what else will get added to the
lineup over the next few weeks.  Fans, it's Memorial Day Mayhem coming
your way on May 31st.  I'm Jason Dane and I'll see you next time... in
the Control Center!

[With that, we fade out of the Control Center and back up to the
ringside area where Gordon and Bucky are standing.]

GM:  Thanks, Jason... and can you believe that?

[Bucky is laughing his tail off.]

GM:  Five out of thirty spots in the Rumble belong to the Southern
Syndicate?  They're trying to make a mockery out of the Rumble match! 
They're trying to make a mockery out of Memorial Day Mayhem!

BW:  I love it, Gordo!  It's brilliant.  Last year, Stevie Scott rode
that Rumble win momentum all the way to Death Or Glory where he became
the National Champion so he knows how much it means to win that thing. 
So, he and Mr. Waterson have put together the perfect plan to protect
the title.  

GM:  Unbelievable.  Soup Bone Samson, come on in here...

[The big, grizzled veteran walks into view, shaking his head.]

GM:  You've had your differences with the Southern Syndicate.  What are
your thoughts on what we just heard?

[Samson leans over the mic.]

SBS:  It's just the same ol' stuff, Gordon.  Same stuff, different day. 
The Southern Syndicate is a bunch of back-jumping, plottin' rabid dogs. 
And you know what they do to rabid dogs, don't ya?

GM:  I certainly do.  

SBS:  They'll get their day, Gordon.  Maybe it'll be at Memorial Day
Mayhem.  Maybe it'll be the 4th of July.  Maybe it'll be Labor Day. 
Maybe it won't even be til SuperClash.  But someday, it'll happen.  They
will reap what they have sown.  Don't worry 'bout it, Gordon.

[Samson pats his old friend on the shoulder.]

GM:  What else brings you out here?

SBS:  You really have to ask that?

GM:  Dufresne.

SBS:  You got it.  Put that camera on my face.

[The camera zooms in on Samson's aged face.]

SBS:  Listen to me, Ladykiller.  On a night where one of my best friends
took time out of his hospital bed to say goodbye to his friends... his
fans... the business he loves... on that night, you decide you're a damn
comedian.

Is he a comedian, Gordon?

GM:  Not in the slightest.

SBS:  But he thinks he's funny.  You think you're REAL funny, boy.  Out
here with your schtick, trying to get people to laugh at you mocking my
friend.  Your Syndicate boys might laugh.

But look at my face, Dufresne.  Do you see me laughing, son?

[Samson stays silent for a moment, the camera tight on his face.]

SBS:  Time's tickin' closer, Dufresne.  Time is tickin' closer.  I told
you I was gonna wait til the right time and the right place before I
unlocked the gate and let my fists fly on ya.

Tonight?  That clock sped up.

[And with that, Samson walks out of view as the camera pulls back to
show Gordon and Bucky.]

GM:  Wow.  Soup Bone Samson has his eyes set on Calisto Dufresne and I
think he's not gonna stop until he gets payback for his good friend,
City Jack.

BW:  And I'm not a big Samson fan but I would not want to stand across
the ring from that man when he's in that mood.

GM:  Fans, we'll be right back after this break.

[Fade to black...]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And now, it can be yours!"

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

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

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

...and then back up. 

As we return from commercial, Queen's "We Are The Champions" plays and
instead of the usual shot of the announce table, we get a full-screen
graphic - a graphic that reads "Southern Syndicate" in large letters
with both "s" filled in with parts of the rebel flag.  The graphic
dissolves away and the music fades, as we now find ourselves looking at
the announce table where Myers and Wilde are joined by "Hotshot" Stevie
Scott and "Agent to the Stars" Ben Waterson, both of whom are grinning
like Eddie Van Gibson.]

GM: Welcome back to AWA Saturday Night, fans, and at this time we are
joined by the new AWA National Champion and his manager, "Hotshot"
Stevie Scott and Ben Waterson.

ATTSBW: You mean _still_ the AWA National Champion, Gordon Myers,
because as we all know, the champ never lost the title to begin with.

[Gordon looks like he is about to respond, but doesn't.  Waterson,
sensing Myers' frustration, pats him on the shoulder.]

ATTSBW: I know, Gordon, it's been hard on you in particular, ever since
you called out for a *ahem*..._hero_...to take down the Southern
Syndicate.
What you didn't realize _then_, but I hope you and all these people out
here realize _now_, is that it's going to take a helluva lot more than a
mere _hero_ to put a stop to the Southern Syndicate.  And, quite
frankly, there's certainly no one, no _groups_ of someones in the AWA
that can fill those shoes.

[Waterson grins.]

ATTSBW: But that's not a problem that the Southern Syndicate needs to
worry about.  We've finally finished up dealing with a problem that's
been stuck in our collective craw for months, so now...we think it's
time for some celebrating.

[The "Agent to the Stars" steps aside as the National Champion steps up
to replace him beside Myers.]

HSS: Gordon...MYERS!

[Stevie turns away toward the crowd with what is probably the biggest
STEVIEGRIN~! we've seen to date.]

HSS: Whoooooo, baby!

We have, once again, proven to the entire _wrestling_ _world_...just why
the Southern Syndicate is the most elite group of wrestlers in the
business today.

[The Hotshot picks up the AWA National Title from the table and holds it
up toward the camera.]

HSS: You see this right here?  What this means is I'm the _best_. 
Whether you claim I lost it or I didn't...all that garbage with Juan
Vasquez that happened at the second anniversary show _doesn't_ _matter_!
 Because once again, as I stand here before God and all you as witnesses
tonight, I _am_ the AWA...National.  Heavyweight.  Champion.

Vasquez...I don't ever want to let it be said that you are not a great
competitor.  But I also don't ever want to let it be said that you are a
_better_ _man_...than Stevie Scott.

[Based on the heel pop, the fans in attendance don't agree with that
last statement.]

HSS: That's why I'm standing here tonight as the cream of the crop in
the American Wrestling Association.  That's why I can afford...

[Stevie, still holding the gold belt, lifts his right arm into the air
and reveals a gold watch on his wrist.]

HSS: ...a $25,000 Rolex watch like this one.  24-karat gold, diamonds
all around the face.  I can afford it because I'm the _champion_.  When
you're the _best_ at what you do, you get _paid_ like the best, brother.
 And I don't have to work for multiple companies to be able to afford
the best things money can by, either.

[The champion places the belt back down on the table, as Waterson keeps
on grinning and nodding in the background.]

HSS: You put up a strong fight, Vasquez.  I'll be the first to admit it.
 But in the end, brother...you just weren't good enough to get the best
of Stevie Scott.  And because you bit off more than you could chew...

...no more chances.

No more chances for you to take this big gold belt off of my waist. 
People want to accuse me of having a huge ego, but the ironic thing
about it all?  It was _your_ ego that ended up costing you more.

People want to say I'm _arrogant_...people want to say I'm
_cocky_...well, it's not arrogance if you can back it up.  And that's
exactly what I can do.  Time after _time_...week after _week_...month
after _month_...when Stevie Scott says he's going to do something?  You
can...GUARANTEE...that it's going to happen exactly like I say it will.

[And suddenly, the crowd breaks into cheers as the rather rotund Sweet
Daddy Williams emerges from the locker room area, dressed in his street
clothes of blue jeans, a black t-shirt that reads "Death Or Glory"
across the front, and black and silver bandana wrapped around his head. 
As he approaches, Ben Waterson and Stevie Scott take a visible pair of
steps back, the former shouting at Williams "This isn't your time!" 
Williams shakes his head as he nears, lifting his arms to beg off.]

SDW:  Nah, nah, nah... that ain't what ah'm here for, baby.

[Williams points a finger right at the National Championship belt.]

SDW:  Ah'm here for that!

[Big cheer!  Scott looks surprised.]

SDW:  You see this here shirt, Hotshot?

[Williams slaps his own chest.]

SDW:  It says Death Or Glory... I wear this shirt at least once a week
'cause I needs to.  I needs ta do it so I can rememmmmber....

[The Sweet Daddy points to the crowd.]

SDW:  I need ta remember what you did, Stevie... what you did to all
these beautiful people...

[Big cheer!]

SDW:  And what ya did to me.

The 4th of July last year, baby... it seems soooo long ago now.  But it
was less than a year ago that you hitched your wagon to this piece of
trash guttersnake right here...

[Another big cheer as Williams gestures to an irritated Waterson.]

SDW:  Soon those other guttersnakes were right there in the trash with
ya... Rhodes, Freeman, and that son of a-

[Williams spits on the floor in anger over what Dufresne did to his
friend City Jack.]

SDW:  But ah'm not here for Dufresne.  Soup Bone's got that one covered,
baby.  Ah'm not here for Freeman... his day'll come too.  Ah'm not here
for Rhodes... Jason and Mike got him.

Ah'm here for you!

[Another big cheer!]

SDW:  Ah'm here for you for what ya done to these people... what ya done
to me... what ya done to Juan Vasquez... what ya done to ever single
person who ever believed in ya and lifted yo' sorry tail out of the
trash heap and into the spotlight, baby.

Ah've spent almost an entire year wonderin' what ah'd do when ah got ya
one on one inside the ring.

And at Memorial Day Mayhem, ah'm gonna find out and become the National
Champ at the same time, baby.

[The crowd roars at the thought of seeing the two former best friends
collide for the National Title.  Stevie Scott immediately shakes his
head, shouting something at his former friend that we can't hear.]

SDW:  Don't be like that ... don't be his boy... you owe me this!

[Stevie Scott again shakes his head, then leans over as Waterson
whispers something to him.  The Hotshot nods, gesturing for Waterson to
speak.]

ATTSBW:  Sweet Daddy Williams... these people love you, you know that?

[The crowd roars, proving Waterson's statement as the Sweet Daddy
grins.]

ATTSBW:  But like I've always said... getting cheered doesn't get you
gold.

[The cheers turn to boos.]

ATTSBW:  You want a shot at the champ?  Join the club.  You want a shot
at the National Title?  Get to the back of line, fat man.

[Williams starts towards Waterson but opts not to as Waterson ducks
behind the champion.]

ATTSBW:  The way we look at it... there's a Top 10 contenders that the
champion is obligated to face and there are FIVE names on that list
above you.  Hell, I don't even know how you GOT on that list.  It must
be some kind of a welfare state around here.

[The two Southern Syndicate members chuckle at Waterson's joke as a
fuming Williams glares at them.]

ATTSBW:  So, Sweet Daddy Williams... why don't you get back down to the
ring... shake yourself around to make these idiots cheer... and enjoy
it.  Because that's the only thing you're going to get out of this
business.  Fat and drunk women cheering for you and wanting to...

[Waterson puts on his best mocking accent.]

ATTSBW:  ...sit on Sweet Daddy's lap taaaaanight.  Let's go, champ.

[The champion and his manager start to leave when Williams grabs the
mic.]

SDW:  Turn yo' back and run!  Turn yo' back and run... just like ya
always do!

[Scott stops short, turning to face Williams.]

SDW:  Ah never knew ya at all, did ah, Stevie?  Ah guess ah never knew
ya.  See, when we were runnin' together, ah knew you were a player... ah
knew you liked the high life... ah knew you liked the fancy clothes, the
big cars, the beautiful women... ah knew ya wanted to be more than you
were...

And here ya are... livin' the life.

[Scott nods, pointing at his watch again.]

SDW:  But ah never knew you were yella!

[Big cheer!  Scott raises an eyebrow.]

SDW:  Ah never knew you were an out-and-out lowlife coward!

[Another big cheer!  Scott's looking fired up now!]

SDW:  Ah never knew you'd hide behind this piece o' trash's skirt and
not take on the Sweet Daddy when he's standin' here in front of all
these people and callin' ya out!

If ah'm not a contender... if ah'm a never-was... if ah'm such a damn
joke...

[Williams pauses.]

SDW:  Then why ya runnin', Hotshot?

[Scott takes off the title belt, handing it to Waterson as he starts to
remove his suit jacket.]

SDW:  That's it, baby!  That's it!  LET'S NOT WAIT TWO MONTHS!  LET'S DO
IT NOW!

[Williams rips off his bandana, throwing it at Scott who yanks off his
jacket, throwing it down to the ground.  Waterson lunges in front of his
man, holding him back as he talks to him.  Scott's enraged face slowly
starts to settle down...

...and he breaks into a long laugh.  He nods at Waterson, leaning over
to pick up his jacket as Waterson grabs the mic again.]

ATTSBW:  Alright, Williams.  You want a shot at the title?  You want a
shot at the champ?

[The crowd buzzes with anticipation.]

ATTSBW:  You got it!

[Big cheer!]

ATTSBW:  BUT... there's a condition to that...

[Waterson smirks.]

ATTSBW:  Like you said, the Hotshot likes the high life... he likes the
big cars, the fancy clothes, the top shelf women... and to live that
life, the champ needs cash.  Cold, hard cash.

[Another grin.]

ATTSBW:  If you want a shot at the champion at Memorial Day Mayhem,
you've gotta pay for it.  The champ wants a bonus for beating the hell
out of you all over Texas like he should have done last year.

You want the shot?  You put up fifty thousand dollars!

[The crowd buzzes at the challenge.]

ATTSBW:  You hear me, boy?  You want the shot, you put up the cash!  If
you beat the champ, you get the gold and you keep the money.  But if you
lose, then you're footin' the bill for the Southern Syndicate's
post-show party!

[A cackling Waterson shoves the mic back towards Sweet Daddy Williams
who has his head down, shaking it back and forth.  Gordon Myers steps
in.]

GM:  Sweet Daddy... did you hear the-

SDW:  Ah heard 'em, Gordon.

[Nothing further.  Gordon presses.]

GM:  Will you accept the-

[Williams snaps his head up, glaring a hole straight through his former
best friend.]

SDW:  Gordon Myers, nothin' in this here whole wide world would make me
happier than to put up 50 grand and to take that title.

[Williams shakes his head.]

SDW:  But they knew before they laid it down, baby... they knew before
it came off their forked tongues... ah ain't got no fifty thousand
dollars to put up.  The Sweet Daddy comes from a working class family. 
The Sweet Daddy's idea of a dinner out is havin' a pizza down at the
park.  The Sweet Daddy's idea of a night on the town is a six pack
tailgate party and a minor league ballgame, baby.  You knew it,
Hotshot... you knew it all along.

So, no, Gordon Myers... ah can't accept no challenge.

Ah can't buy mah shot at the National Title... ah can't-

[Suddenly, the crowd comes to life with a massive chorus of cheers as we
see Juan Vasquez walk into view! The former National champion is dressed
sharply in a vest, a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his
forearms, and a striped tie. As he walks up alongside Sweet Daddy,
Stevie Scott screams at him, yelling "You had your chance, damnit!" Juan
holds up his hands defensively.]

JV: Woah there, fellas...no need to get your panties inna' bunch! I
ain't here to come cryin' and begging for another shot at the title. I
knew the risk I was taking when I laid down that challenge and I ain't
gonna' go back on my word. Ya' beat me Stevie, and there ain't nothing I
can do about it now.

[A small frown. He seems frustrated by that fact, but doesn't let it
bother him.] 

JV: Sweet Daddy...if anyone knows how much it hurts to get stabbed in
the back by someone you thought was your friend, by someone you thought
was your brother...it's me. Everyone knows that there ain't a person in
the AWA that deserves to get their hands on Stevie Scott more than you.
Stevie's done you wrong more than anyone else here, amigo and the way
they're trying to duck you is just plain disgusting.  

[He turns to Stevie and Waterson.]

JV: Stevie...maybe you're right. Maybe you *are* a better man than me...

[Stevie grins and screams, "Damn right!"]

JV: ...but I'm still I'm a _richer_ one.

[Pop! The crowd seems to sense what Vasquez is implying. Judging by the
way that grin just got wiped off his face, so does Stevie.]

JV: So...while Sweet Daddy doesn't have the money to put up for that
title shot...

[Juan gives a quick glance to Sweet Daddy and Gordon before turning back
to Waterson and Scott with a smirk.]

JV: ...*I* do.

[HUGE POP! Sweet Daddy's eyes open in surprise. Meanwhile, Stevie Scott
and Ben Waterson are livid to say the least.]

ATTSBW: You can't do that, damnit! You can't-

[Juan cuts him off.]

JV: Shut your damn mouth, Waterson! 

[Big pop!]

JV: YOU SAID FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS! THE SAME AS THE ONE I PUT ON YOUR
HEAD! 

I'LL PAY IT! 

I'LL PAY IT!

[He leans in a little closer, causing Waterson and Stevie to take a step
back.]

JV: I'LL PAY IT TO SEE SWEET DADDY GET HIS REVENGE!

[HUGE POP! The crowd is worked up in a frenzy, but Juan isn't quite done
yet. He loosens his tie and turns to Sweet Daddy.]

JV: Don't worry about the money. Don't worry about paying me back. Just
do one thing for me.

[Juan extends his hand.]

JV: Just win, baby.

[With the crowd cheering him on, Sweet Daddy looks around tentatively,
before nodding his head and shakes Vasquez's hand 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 come back up to live action where Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde
are standing.]

GM:  Welcome back to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling, fans.  At this
time...we welcome in a newcomer to the AWA but a man that is no stranger
to me, "The Prince of Darkness" Anton Layton.

[The pudgy man with a receding blond hairline walks into the picture. 
He wears simple black trunks and black boots, perhaps so as to not take
attention away from his face which tonight is painted with black streaks
around his eyes and lips.  He begins to speak with a thick Boston
accent.]

"POD"AL: Gordon Myers, I have made it clear as to why my Master has
called me to Texas and the AWA.  It is no secret to you especially that
my Master and I have unfinished business with the Working Man, Vernon
Riley.  And two weeks ago, Gordon, I heard the Working Man himself
speaking with you.  I heard the Working Man say that he was ready for
another war.

BUT ARE YOU, WORKING MAN?

[The sudden yelling causes Myers to jump, startled.  And as quickly as
his voice raised, it lowers again.]

"POD"AL: I am not certain you remember, Vernon Riley.  I am not certain
that you can call to memory all the pain, all the anguish that I brought
forth to you those 10 years ago in Florida.  The pages of time have
turned and as they turn, they have been erased of the sharpness of the
memories that you once had of the bloody battles we had for eight long
months.

So, Working Man, today I come with an olive branch, against the will of
my Master.  But I come with an olive branch, because I am not certain
you remember, Vernon Riley.  So I have decided that I shall help you
remember.  Gordon, roll the tape.

GM: OK, if we can do that, let's cue up the film that Mr. Layton
provided.

[And we do.  The scene is a smallish arena, about 12 rows of seats
visible on each side of the ring.  The apron hanging off the side reads
"Florida Championship Wrestling."  Steel guardrails surround the ring,
and inside it we see Vernon Riley taking on a larger man, probably about
6-foot-7, with a crew cut, wearing a white dress shirt and dark pants.]

"POD"AL: Perhaps this night will help your memory, Working Man.

[Riley has the big man staggering backward after a series of left jabs
followed by an elbowsmash to the top of his head that send him to the
mat.  Riley pulls him up into a standing headlock, drags him into the
corner, and connects on the Riley Roundup running bulldog.]

"POD"AL: Here we see one of your proudest moments in the Sunshine State,
Riley.  Your defeat of Big Bubba Watson to win the FCW title!

[Sure enough, the referee slaps his hand to the mat three times as the
crowd jumps to its feet to cheer Riley's win.  The Texan rises, one hand
in the air in triumph, as the official hands him the gold belt.]

"POD"AL: Yes...yes...remember your celebration!  Remember how it felt
that night to have reached the top of the ladder.  Remember what it felt
like to be the king!

[Almost as quickly as Riley takes the belt and lifts it into the air, a
man clad in black from head to toe emerges through the audience, hopping
the guardrail and sliding into the ring.]

"POD"AL: Now, Working Man...REMEMBER WHEN THAT JOY WAS TAKEN AWAY FROM
YOU!

[The black-clad individual climbs into the ring and, before Riley is
aware of his presence, blasts the new champion from behind.]

"POD"AL: Your celebration had not yet begun, Working Man, before you had
the joy ripped from your soul!  Remember, Vernon Riley, the first night
of your eight months of HELL!

[The masked man continues his attack, tossing an exhausted Riley over
the top rope to the floor.  Quickly he joins him outside the ring,
grabbing a nearby cable on the floor and wrapping it around Riley's
throat.  After a few seconds, he releases the cable and instead grabs a
chair, bashing it across the back of Riley's skull.]

"POD"AL: Shall we view more, Working Man?  Shall I continue this
reminder of the pain, the anguish you experienced that night?

STOP THE TAPE!

[And the tape stops, taking us back to the table where Layton's evil
grin is the first thing we notice.  Trust me.  It's creepy.]

"POD"AL: I shall share no more with you tonight, Vernon Riley.  Instead,
I will let your own memory, your own psyche play the remainder of that
night on the television screen in your mind.

The pain that night, Working Man!  The pain you felt was REAL!  And now,
ten years later...

IT SHALL BE REAL AGAIN!

[Evil cackle~!]

"POD"AL: Oh yes...OH YES!  It shall be real again!

[Still cackling, Layton abruptly walks away from the table, leaving
Myers and Wilde staring at each other in stunned disbelief.]

BW:  That guy is... just talking to that guy makes me feel sorry for
Vernon Riley.

GM:  Don't.  Riley's as tough as they come and if he has to chase Layton
out of another state, he'll do exactly that.

BW:  We'll see about that.

GM:  We certainly will.  Now, fans, we still have the Combat Corner
Showcase as well as the National Tag Team Title Match still to come
tonight but for now, let's go up to the ring!

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

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit.  Introducing first... from Vero Beach, Florida... Jason
Ball!

[Ball raises both arms to a mixed reaction.]

MC:  And his opponent... 

[The opening chords of an a slow-paced, Southern rock-style theme begins
to play over the PA.  It's forceful, full of 70's-era-sounding electric
guitars and piano, and incorporates "The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly"
theme into something more modern.  

Brent Maverick emerges from the back, and the fans cheer.  He wears
rust-red colored knee-length trunks with a small golden Arizona Sun logo
on the upper right-hand side.  His footwear of choice is reddish brown
leather 'western' style boots with an engraved eagle motif along the
front sides.  A reddish-brown leather vest and wrist tape completes his
attire. 

Maverick storms down the aisle towards the ring.  His eyes lock on the
ring and do not waver, as he bee-lines for ringside at a pretty good
clip.  The ring announcer does her duty:]

MC:  From Tucson, Arizona... weighing in at 240 pounds...

BRENNNNNT MAAAAAAVERICK!

[Maverick slides underneath the bottom rope, moving like a torpedo.  He
hops up, removes his vest, and begins pacing like the proverbial caged
animal.]


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[Maverick charges across the ring at the bell, flooring Jason Ball with
a running forearm smash.]

GM:  Whoa, my!  A lightning fast start by Maverick!

BW:  You'd be all outraged if it wasn't one of your favorites.  Is this
what we have to look forward to at Memorial Day Mayhem?

GM:  Boy, I hope so.  I can't wait to see Kevin Slater and Shane Taylor
get what they have coming to them.

[A few stomps to the head and upper body has Ball rolling under the
ropes immediately.  The Arizonan crawls out on the apron, leaping off
with a forearm smash across the back of the neck.  Maverick quickly
hooks a side headlock, jabbing his thumb into the opponent's throat and
leaving him gasping on the mat.]

GM:  Out on the floor is not where you want to be with Brent Maverick. 
This man'll take the fight to you like no one else.  And when you
imagine what he'll do side-by-side with Bobby Taylor...

BW:  It's gonna be a wild one at Mayhem, daddy.

[Grabbing the gasping Ball by the hair, Maverick shoves him under the
ropes into the ring.  He quickly crawls in after him, climbing to his
feet.  He catches Ball as he gets up as well...

...and HURLS him across the ring with a massive biel throw!]

GM:  OHHHH!  Nice display of power right there by Brent Maverick and-

[As Ball scampers up, Maverick charges across the ring and BLITZES Ball
with a running double axehandle to the face!]

GM:  Good grief!  What a shot!

[Maverick stands over the downed Ball, stomping and kicking Ball to the
chest for a few moments before he reaches down, hauling Ball off the mat
again.]

GM:  Irish whip... ohh!  Chest-first HARD to the buckles...

[And a charging Maverick BLASTS Ball in the back of the head with a
running clothesline!]

GM:  Down goes Ball again!  Maverick's just in total control of this
one.

BW:  It won't be this easy come Memorial Day Mayhem.  I guarantee you
that.  Kevin Slater, Shane Taylor... they're going to have this guy down
on the mat in a second.

GM:  Do you really believe that?

[Maverick pulls Ball off the mat, hoisting him up in a fireman's carry. 
He holds him there for a moment, gets a running start...

...and DRIVES Ball skullfirst into the canvas!]

GM:  ACEY DUECY!!

[With Ball down, Maverick reaches back to hook a leg.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREE!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Your winner of the match... BRENNNNNT MAAAAAVERICK!


[Maverick retakes his feet, holding both arms in the air in celebration
as the fans cheer.]

GM:  Brent Maverick, welcome to the AWA!  And boy oh boy, I can't wait
to see him in the ring at Memorial Day Mayhem!  Fans, don't go away -
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 back up to the announce area where Gordon and Bucky are
standing.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans.  It's been an exciting night of AWA action but
we're not done yet.  We've still got our big tag team title Main Event
with Bailey Fitzgerald and Corey Lawson challenging for the gold against
Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman plus in just moments, we've got the
Combat Corner Showcase!

BW:  Two of Michaelson's flunkies slapping each other 'round and 'round.
 I can't wait.

GM:  I'm sensing some sarcasm there, Bucky.

BW:  Nothin' gets past you, Gordo.

GM:  Two of the Combat Corner's finest squaring off in a kind of...
final examination... so to speak.  Todd Michaelson, the Combat Corner's
head trainer, I'm told, has scheduled these two men to compete here
tonight in hopes that one - or both - of them will be ready for
graduation.  And I'm told that Todd Michaelson was scheduled to be at
ringside for this but has been delayed.  He's en route to the building
but... well, I guess he'll have to watch it back later 'cause it's
showtime here on Saturday Night!  Good luck to both of these young men,
right, Bucky?

BW:  Break a leg... literally.

GM:  Oh, brother... let's go up to Melissa!

[We fade to the ring where Melissa is standing.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit and is a Combat Corner Showcase!

[Big cheer!]

MC:  Introducing first... from Tocula, Mexico... weighing in at 246
pounds...

PEDRO PEREZ JUUUUUUNIOR!

[Perez throws a white-wristbanded arm into the air to a cheer as he
shouts to the crowd.]

MC:  And his opponent... in the corner to my left... weighing in at 205
pounds... from Los Angeles, California...

JACKSON MARRRRRTIN!

[Martin throws both arms to the air to some cheers.]

GM:  These two men tried to compete in this match last time but they
were assaulted right after the bell by the-

BW:  SYNDICATE!

GM:  Exactly.

BW:  No, you idiot.  SYNDICATE!

[And sure enough, in a repeat of two weeks ago, Calisto Dufresne, Adrian
Freeman, Raphael Rhodes, Simon Rhodes, and Stevie Scott come charging
down the aisle, diving under the ropes into the ring.]

GM:  Oh, come on!

[Stevie Scott is the first to lash out, catching a shocked Jackson
Martin with the Heatseeker on the chin, knocking him flat.  Perez Jr.
gets overwhelmed by the sheer numbers on the other side of the ring,
absorbing  a four-on-one beatdown in the corner.  Ben Waterson brings up
the rear, shouting instructions to the men in the ring...

...when suddenly Brian Von Braun comes charging from the locker room,
steel chair in hand!]

GM:  Wait a second!

BW:  Brian!  No!

GM:  Von Braun's got a chair!  He's in the ring!

[Von Braun takes an offensive pose, holding the chair ready to strike at
any given moment...

...and then simply opens it up, taking a seat inside the ring.  He
points and laughs at Martin as the Rhodes brothers stomp him into the
canvas.  Nearby, Adrian Freeman hits the half nelson backbreaker on
Perez Jr., leaving him easy prey for Dufresne to drop knee after knee
into his head.]

GM:  This is just terrible.  How can the National Champion and the
National Tag Team Champions be involved with-

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  KEENINGS!!

[Jason and Michael Keening come charging from the locker room again...

...but Brian Von Braun quickly folds up the chair, wildly swinging it at
Michael Keening who ducks out of the way just in time.  A few feet away,
Jason Keening reaches under the ropes, hauling Simon Rhodes out of the
ring and teeing off with a right hand!]

GM:  The Keenings got Simon out of there and look at Von Braun!  He's a
madman in there swinging that chair like that!  He's gonna hurt
somebody!

[Seeing his brother in trouble, Raphael Rhodes exits the ring, leaping
off onto Michael Keening to trade right hands out on the floor.  With
the numbers still in their favor, Calisto Dufresne executes the Wham Bam
Thank You Ma'am DDT on Jackson Martin!]

GM:  OHHH!  WHAT A DDT!

[With Martin laid out, the champions turn their focus onto Perez Jr,
launching a brutal assault on him, punching and kicking on the canvas as
Stevie Scott shouts "PICK HIM UP!"]

GM:  What in the world is-

[A big cheer goes up as "All American" Aaron Anderson comes charging
from the locker room.]

GM:  It's Aaron Anderson!  Trying to save his old Combat Corner partners
and-



"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"



GM:  OHHHHHHHH!

[The crowd boos with disgust as Brian Von Braun uncorks a nasty
chairshot across the arm of Aaron Anderson, sending Anderson falling off
the apron to the floor!  Von Braun thrusts the chair into the air,
celebrating as Dufresne yanks Perez Jr. off the mat, shoving him towards
Stevie Scott.]

GM:  What's he- oh my god.

[The crowd is roaring with disgust as the Hotshot drags Perez Jr. into a
standing headscissors.  The National Champion reaches underneath Perez
Jr's waist...

...and hoists him high into the air, pausing for one and all to see...

...and then sits down, SPIKING Perez Jr. headfirst into the canvas with
his lethal piledriver!  The crowd falls silent at the sight of Perez
Jr's head being compressed into the canvas.  The announcers go silent as
well as the Hotshot jumps to his feet, glaring down at the motionless
Combat Corner trainee.

Suddenly, Juan Vasquez, Soup Bone Samson, and Sweet Daddy Williams come
charging from the locker room, sending the Southern Syndicate fleeing
for their lives.

The fan favorites make a circle around the fallen rookie, Vasquez
holding people back as he screams for a medic.  The AWA medical team,
led by Dr. Bob Ponavitch, come charging from the locker room as well. 
The medical team hits the ring quickly, immediately rushing to the
downed Pedro Perez Jr's side.

The camera holds for a little while, watching silently as the young
rookie is loaded onto a stretcher... and fades to black.

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then back up to live action to the ringside announce area where
Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde are standing.]

GM:  Fans, perhaps some unfortunate timing there with the Combat Corner
commercial airing after what we just saw.  But these kids... these kids
LIVE that commercial.  They've dreamed of fame... of glory... of
wrestling on television for their friends and family to see.  They've
dreamed of being professional wrestlers.  And to see the Southern
Syndicate... those snakes in the grass... assault these two... so, so
violently in this case.  It's just disturbing.  We've talked in the past
about-

[Suddenly, a distraught Todd Michaelson breaks into view, snatching the
mic away from Gordon Myers.]

TM:  WAAAATERSON!

[Michaelson violently kicks over the announce podium.]

TM:  Get that damn camera... get closer, damn it!

[The camera zooms in.]

TM:  Waterson, you piece of... look into my eyes!  LOOK RIGHT HERE!

[Michaelson points to his eyes.]

TM:  We've known each other a long time, Waterson.  And you've seen me
like this before.  The last time you saw my eyes like this... some
maniac had thrown a fireball in my wife's face.

And now?  Now it's my children.

These kids are MY kids, Waterson.  They're like my own flesh and blood.

ALL THEY WANTED TO DO WAS WRESTLE!

[Michaelson rubs a hand across his face, shaking his head.]

TM:  And you took that away from them.  You took away their chance to
compete.  You took away their dreams.  Hell, Pete... they... he may
never WALK again, you bastard!

[Michaelson spits with rage, pulling the camera closer.]

TM:  And for what?  

[Pause.]

TM:  FOR WHAT?!  So you could feel big and bad?  So you could try and
intimidate someone?  

You don't intimidate me, Waterson.  Neither do your boys.

You want to take away my kids' dreams?

[Michaelson nods.]

TM:  You want to take away MY dreams, Waterson?

Then I want a shot at yours.

[The crowd starts to buzz.]

TM:  These people may not know it but I do.  You're a wrestler... you
WERE a wrestler at least.  You used to be a fighter.  So, be a man,
Waterson.  Stand up and show the world how big and bad you really are
and don't hide behind your boys.

[A cheer starts to grow.]

TM:  I know you're back there.  I know you're listening.  And you know I
don't quit.  I will come out here every week and say this until I get
what I want.

I wasn't happy with what you and your boys were doing but it was none of
my business so I let it go.

But now?  Now, you've made it my business.

[Pause.]

TM:  Ben Waterson, I want you... in THAT ring.

[Big cheer!]

TM:  And believe me... what you and your boys just did?  That's
nothing...

NOTHING!

Compared to what I'm going to do to you.

[Michaelson nods at the cheering crowd.]

TM:  Consider.  Yourself.  Warned.

[An a furious Michaelson storms away from the announcers who are left
surprised.]

GM:  Fans, I- wow!  Todd Michaelson has challenged Ben Waterson!  One on
one!  Do you believe that, Bucky?

BW:  Mr. Waterson's not a wrestler!

GM:  He was once before and if Todd Michaelson gets his way, he may be
again!  Fans, we need to clean things up a bit... we'll be right back!

[Fade to black.

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

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

That's right!  You heard me right!

This year, the AWA will be in Oklahoma, Louisiana, Tennessee, and
Alabama with more to be announced!

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

[And with that, we fade back to live action where a production team
member is just finishing up getting the podium back in place.]

GM:  Well, fans... it's been a crazy night here as we just witnessed...
and it's almost time for our Main Event!  We've been talking about it
all night but Bailey Fitzgerald and Corey Lawson, with two wins over the
champions under their belts, will be taking on Dufresne and Freeman and-

[The crowd boos vociferously as Shane Destiny, sporting a old P*WIN
track jacket, black T-shirt, and blue jeans walks out of the entrance. 
He walks over to Myers, not even giving Myers a chance to talk.]

SD: I know what you're going to say, Gordon.  I know you're excited to
talk to the man who ran Pure X from the AWA.  I know you're thrilled to
even be in my presence right now!  I told you people... I bring back the
Destiny Strangle, and I end _careers_.  Pure X is just another example.

GM: Well, that wasn't exactly what I had in mind to ask you at first...

SD: I don't care what you had in mind, Gordon, but you might as well ask
it.

[Myers takes a pause to take in a brief sigh.]

GM: Well, you've obviously expressed how happy you are with Pure X
announcing his departure from the AWA, but how can you be so callous?

SD: Easy!  Look, take it from me, I know about family problems.  If I
wasn't going to get the happy family reunion, then nobody is going to
get one as long as I'm around.  And you know what?  Why did it take so
long for that broken-down geezer Mark Langseth to admit that Pure X was
his nephew, huh?  Was he ashamed of him?  I mean, I'd be ashamed if my
nephew was Pure X, so I can understand.  But wasn't it so touching,
hearing Langseth practically start sobbing because I beat his
nothing-happening nephew?

GM: I don't quite see it that way...

SD: Oh, come on.  Even you, with all of your bias, knew Pure X was beat
once he was in the Destiny Strangle.  Langseth must know that wrestling
talent runs in the family, and since he has so little talent, then he
_knew_ Pure X didn't stand a chance of getting out of there, so he threw
in the towel.  You know what else runs in the family, Myers?  Being a
crybaby!  That's all old Uncle Mark did during his career, right?  He
went and cried to the doctor, "please, Doc, don't let me go out there
and get killed by Shane Destiny!"  Why else would Pure X take his ball
and go home?

GM: Look, enough, okay?  You've said enough.

SD: I'll be the judge of that one, Myers.  Let me make something
clear... Pure X, Uncle Mark, you name a Langseth and I'll break them
down.  They're both out and on the shelf, so... 

[The crowd explodes into cheers as Mark Langseth appears from the tunnel
and promptly DRILLS a surprised Destiny with a right hand that knocks
him backwards into Bucky and Gordon.]

GM:  Wha-

[Langseth dives forward, tackling Destiny off his feet and knocking him
down to the mat.  The Hall of Famer rears back and throws right hand
after right hand after right hand at Destiny, tearing into him...

...and soon, AWA security is on the scene, dragging Langseth off the
downed Destiny!  Destiny scrambles back to his feet, shoving Gordon
Myers aside as he grabs the downed mic.]

"I'LL END YOU, LANGSETH!!  I'LL END YOUR CAREER FOR THIS!!"

[Breaking away from security, Langseth rushes forward, tackling Destiny
backwards again.  This time, Destiny hooks a front facelock and rains
down forearms on the back of his attacker.

The security officers rush in again, pulling and dragging, ripping and
tearing.  Finally, they pull Destiny backwards and Langseth a few steps
in the other direction.  Langseth snatches up a mic.]

"The doctors stole my shot at you before but not this time, you sonuva-"

[Thankfully for the WKIK censors, Langseth's words get cut off as he
breaks away from security again, throwing right and lefts at Destiny who
ducks behind a security guard who absorbs most of the blows from the
former World Champion...

...as we fade to black.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And now, it can be yours!"

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

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

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

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

GM:  Fans... man oh man... I don't know what's gotten into some of these
guys tonight, Bucky.

BW:  I hope ol' Watkins is watching this.  He needs to get some control
over the AWA and he needs to do it sooner rather than later, Gordo.

GM:  I know Jim Watkins personally.  Give him a few days on the job and
we'll see what he can do.  And one of the things he did already tonight
was to call an audible when it came to the National Tag Team Title
match.  Rough N Ready missed the show tonight due to travel issues but
the new Chairman was ready and gave the shot to Bailey Fitzgerald and
Corey Lawson!  We're just moments away from that match and at this time,
the challengers are about to join us!

[Parting the curtain on cure, the duo enter into plain sight.  Both men
are already dressed ready for action, both in their customary wrestling
garb.  Fitzgerald sports a pair of royal blue tights with a florescent
green and orange design cascading down each pant leg. Lawson, meanwhile,
dons his usual lime green tights with black bandannas tied off at the
knees and wrists.  The fan favorites eagerly make their way toward a
grinning Gordon Myers, who speaks before his guests even reach the set.]

GM: Guys, the two of you asked for your shot and as a result of what we
saw go down earlier, tonight you've been given just that! What are your
thoughts going into tonight's bout, this your third time in the ring
with Adrian Freeman and Calisto Dufresne?

[Bailey offers no hesitation, leaning in to reach the now outstretched
mic.]

BF: There's no hiding the excitement here tonight.  You can hear these
fans the same way we can.  Just listen to this place!!

[Fitzgerald turns his head sideways, lending his right ear to the crowd.
 In turn, the AWA fans scream their support!]

BF: They're ready, Gordon.  They're ready the same way we are every time
we step foot between those ropes.  And tonight, you can bet the farm
we'll be anticipating each and every curve ball the Southern Syndicate
tries to toss us.

[Lawson emphatically nods his approval.]

BF: The same way we were prepared when they tried to undercut us in
Laredo.  Just like we proved to Waterson we were more than his golden
boys could handle in the return match.

[He scoffs.]

BF: It may not be anything a slew of guys want to admit to, but in the
last three-plus months, Corey and myself have proven we belong. And not
only have we proven we're in the conversation of who's earned the shot
against Freeman and Dufresne, but we've shown that conversation starts
and _ends_...

[Fitzgerald jets a thumb south toward the floor below.]

BF:  ...Right here.

[A brief pause as Fitzgerald collects his thoughts.]

BF: By no means do we mean any disrespect to the other teams whose names
were tossed around.  But Rough N' Ready, the Bishops... guys, we can
hash over the point system till we're all blue in the face.  At the end
of the day, there's only one team walking those hallowed halls who can
lay claim to besting the champs - not once, but twice - and that team is
standing here, front line and center.

[Pop!]

BF: And when we hit that ring tonight like two burning balls of fire,
we're not going to give a passing thought to whose spot we've taken or
whose toes we're stepping on.  The simple fact remains, the team whose
fought and clawed their way to the top from day number one, and the team
whose _earned_ their shot at the big prize here tonight is right --

[But before Fitzgerald can complete his sentence with the word "here"
and a motion toward he and Corey Lawson, he is blindsided!]

GM:  What the-?!

[The crowd roars with shock at the sight of the massive Samoan, Scola,
drilling Fitzgerald with a running clothesline, knocking him down to the
floor.  Corey Lawson rushes to defend his partner when a hard thrust
kick under the chin appears out of nowhere, knocking him flat.  Mafu
emerges from off-camera, barking in another language at the downed
Lawson.]

GM:  What are you two-

[A hard look from Scola backs Gordon Myers away as the crazed Mafu drags
Lawson off the floor, pulling him into the ring and firing him under the
bottom rope.  Mafu rolls under the ropes, springing to his feet where he
immediately leaps straight up in the air...

...and comes CRASHING down with a headbutt right on the skull of Lawson!

Back by the announce area, Scola pulls Fitzgerald off the floor, pulling
him towards the ring where he smashes him facefirst into the ring apron
before rolling in to join his partner.]

GM:  We've got a sneak attack by the... I can't believe it... by the
Samoans!

BW:  Never trust a Samoan, Gordo!

GM:  There's no sign of Werewolf Gregorson but- ohhh!

[The crowd roars along with Gordon as Scola floors Lawson with a leaping
shoulder block on the rebounding Lawson.  Scola plants his fists in the
chest of Lawson, pressing himself up off the mat and howling at a
protesting ringside official.]

GM:  These two have lost it!  What brought this on?!

[A shrieking Mafu pulls Lawson off the mat by the hair, hurling him
towards the ropes.  On the rebound, he flips Lawson backwards in a
backdrop...

...right into Scola's waiting arms who catches Lawson and DRIVES him
down to the mat with a thunderous powerbomb!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHH!

BW:  Good lord, Gordo!  

GM:  And they're STILL not done!

[Grabbing Lawson by the foot, Mafu drags him towards the corner.]

GM:  Fitzgerald's up on the apron!  Trying to help his- 

[But Scola rushes forward, unleashing anothing leaping shoulder block...

...this one sending Fitzgerald sailing through the air, crashing down on
the concrete floor in a heap!]

GM:   OHHH GOD!

BW:  He cleared the padding!  Fitzgerald cleared the padding and hit the
concrete floor!

GM:  He's done!  He's not getting up from that!

[A sneering Scola quickly scales the ropes, sitting down on the top
turnbuckle as his partner starts to climb as well.  Scola hooks him in a
front facelock, hoisting him up...

...and then dropping him straight down in a full body splash!]

GM:  SAMOAN SUPER SPLASH!!

[Mafu rolls off the downed Lawson, holding his own ribs in pain as Scola
stands on the second rope, screaming in triumph at the sight of the
downed Lawson and Fitzgerald...

...when suddenly Werewolf Gregorson appears out of nowhere!]

GM:  Wait a second!

[A seemingly-irate Gregorson is standing on the floor, screaming up at
the Samoans inside the ring.  The Samoans show absolutely no reaction as
Gregorson shouts, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" at them.  Scola and Mafu slowly
exit the ring...

...and simply walk right past Gregorson towards the locker room area,
not saying a word to their manager.]

GM:  What in the world just happened, Bucky?

BW:  Fitzgerald and Lawson got their tails kicked again!

GM:  But... did Gregorson know?  I don't think he knew!

BW:  I don't know but... what about the title match?  They're done for!

GM:  Fitzgerald's down!  Lawson's down!  You're right!  What about the
National Tag Team Title Match?

[And with the AWA medical team on the scene to help Fitzgerald and
Lawson, we fade to black.

And then fade back up a moment later on video of the first Memorial Day
Mayhem event.  We see Mark Shaw hoisting Marcus Broussard high into the
air for a crucifix powerbomb, walking out of the corner when his knee
buckles, allowing Broussard to drop down to the canvas behind him.
Seizing the moment, Broussard hooks him in a waistlock, charging
forward, smashing Shaw's face into an exposed metal turnbuckle, and
rolling back into a reverse rolling cradle, throwing himself into a
picture-perfect bridge as the referee dives to the mat, slapping the
canvas three times.]

MC:  Ladies and gentlemen... after twenty-eight minutes and six seconds
of hard-fought action... your winner of the match...

And the FIRST AWA NATIONAL CHAMPION...

MAAAAAARRRRCUS BROUUUUUSSARRRRRRD!

[The shot freezes on Broussard with the title belt held high, confetti
falling from the sky as a voiceover sounds out.]

"The first year saw the crowning of a champion."

[The footage picks back up as we see a shot of Ron Houston standing on
the ring apron, reaching over the ropes to hoist Adam Rogers upon his
shoulders for a Fade To Black...

...when suddenly Stevie Scott lashes out with the Heatseeker, catching
Houston squarely on the chin, knocking both men off the apron to the
floor.]

GM:  OH MY STARS!  STEVIE SCOTT HAS DONE IT!  STEVIE SCOTT HAS DONE IT!
STEVIE SCOTT HAS DONE IT!

[The Hotshot falls to his knees in the middle of the ring, pumping both
fists in triumph as he lets loose a wail of victory with the crowd
roaring in celebration as the shot holds and a voiceover picks up
again.]

"The second year saw the start of a new era."

[The footage fades out to a Memorial Day Mayhem logo.]

"On May 31st, 2010, the AWA does it again.

Memorial Day Mayhem is coming.

But what will this year bring?"

[The logo and voice fade out together.

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

GM:  Fans, we are back... and I have no idea what's going on.

BW:  Heheh.

GM:  We were scheduled for our National Tag Team Title match right now
but we've had TWO sets of challengers get taken out of the picture
tonight.  Rough N Ready is not in the building.  Fitzgerald and Lawson
just got assaulted by the Samoans and... well, what else can happen here
tonight?

BW:  Do you really want to ask that question?

GM:  Maybe not but... well, I have no idea what else to do.  We haven't
been informed if we have another match to go on instead.  I'm assuming
the champions are-

[Suddenly, the opening riffs of ZZ Top's "Sharp Dressed Man" come
blaring throughout the WKIK Studios as the crowd erupts in a chorus of
boos for the National Tag Team Champions, "Ladykiller" Calisto Dufresne
and "Subzero" Adrian Freeman.  Dufresne is clad in the same garb as
earlier; a pair of light brown slacks and a green, striped collared
shirt that is impeccably pressed.  His blonde hair hangs down past his
shoulders and his championship belt is carried over his right shoulder. 
Adrian Freeman is still dressed to wrestle, although he's thrown a white
and blue striped polo shirt on.

Dufresne stands at the entrance portal, soaking in the jeers of the AWA
faithful for a few moments while Freeman marches with purpose towards
the ring.  The two men reach the ring area and climb inside the ring
where two microphones are waiting on the mat.  They reach down and pick
them up, with Freeman having the first word...]

AF: You know, I knew the other teams her were incompetent, but I didn't
think they'd all take each other out before they even got into the ring.
 I mean, honestly, being champions is just too easy.  It's a little
disappointing.  I mean, Somers and Cooper, after spending months
growling about how you're going to get us, you can't bother to catch an
early flight?  Are you serious?

CD: "Travel delays."  That's what ole' Rough N Ready experienced is it?

[A chuckle.]

CD: I think what they experienced were some serious second thoughts. 
They probably sat down and watched some tape of what Adrian and I are
capable of doing to anyone who stands in our way and thought to
themselves "Maybe calling out the best tag team in the history of
wrestling isn't such a great idea after all."  That's probably the first
sensible thing to go through those rednecks' minds in years.

AF: That makes sense.  Chubby and the fossil may have been good enough
to beat the War Pigs and the Bishop Boys, but they don't stand a chance
against a team of actual wrestlers instead of corn-fed thugs.  Honestly,
I think they should be fired from the AWA.  The Syndicate has received
nothing but flack and fines from the head office, but at least we show
up every night.

CD: And then you've got those two cannibals trying to get in the ring
with us too.  Frankly, I'm not certain that they've had the proper
medical screening necessary to compete in this sport.  Who knows what
kind of weird diseases they've picked up from eating their young.  Not
that you inbreds sitting in the stands are any strangers to weird
diseases...

[Cheap heel pop!]

AF: Good one.  And it's just another example of the morons here in the
stands.  I mean... you cheered those guys!  How did you get outsmarted
by Samoans? 

[Freeman chuckles to himself.]

AF:  But let's not worry about them.  We should worry about our title
match tonight against...

[Freeman can't contain himself and breaks out laughing, struggling to
get the words out.]

AF: ...Fitzlawson and *snicker* Gerald.

CD: Ah, yes.  Who could forget Bailey Fitzgerald and Corey Lawson?  The
boy wonders.  You two can stare at the footage of what you consider
victories over us all you want.  But at the end of the day, when you lay
your heads down at night next to one another in that hotel room with one
twin bed that you share...

[Ooh, buuurrrn.]

CD: ...you know in your heart of hearts that those...

[Oh yeah, he used fingers as quotation marks.]

CD:..."victories" are tainted.  You can admit to yourselves when you
stare in the mirror that you just can't even be in the same room with
us... let alone actually hang with us in the ring.  Believe me when I
tell you that those two freaks did you a favor by laying you out. 
Because at the end of the day, we would've done much, _much_ worse.

AF: If what I hear from the back is true, those two muppets aren't even
going to get to the ring tonight.  I thought they were tough kids who
could survive anything, but I guess that splash jarred some sense into
them and they'll take any excuse to get out of this match.

CD: Well, I guess that's that.  Another victory in the books for the
National Tag Team Champs.  Call it a forfeit if you want, but there's
nobody left that wants a chance to get sent packing after facing the two
of us.  Chalk up another one for the good guys.

[Dufresne smirks and bows to the crowd, but is stopped mid bow as Jim
Watkins walks through the curtain, heading over to the announce desk
where he's handed a mic.]

JW:  Not so fast, boys.

[Dufresne and Freeman freeze in their tracks, looking out at the new
Chairman of the Championship Committee.  He fishes a handkerchief out of
his pocket, wiping his brow.]

JW:  Whew.  It's been a rough first night.

[Watkins chuckles a bit.]

JW:  I mean, I knew the AWA was tough... I knew it was a place where you
either fight or get outta town... but I didn't realize just how badly
y'all wanted to fight until tonight.

Well, believe me... in the weeks and months to come, you'll get all the
chances to fight that you can handle.

[A cheer from the crowd.]

JW:  And that brings me to you two.

[Watkins points to the ring.]

JW:  Y'all come out here and talk about a forfeit.

[Watkins shakes his head.]

JW:  That may be how Ross let things go 'round these parts... but not
me.

[Cheer!  Dufresne looks agitated.]

JW:  Last I heard, the Championship Committee told you boys and all
these people out here that pay all of our salaries that you two were
gonna be puttin' those shiny gold belts on the line tonight.

[Big cheer!]

JW:  They said these people get to see a title match... and what the
Committee and these people want... it's my job to give 'em.

[The cheers are getting louder.]

JW:  Now, I wish Rough N Ready were here... but they're not.  I wish
Fitzgerald and Lawson... I wish those boys could go too... but they
can't.  

But the way I figure it... if those boys can't go... 

[Watkins cracks a grin.]

JW:  We'll just have to find someone else who can.

[Dufresne and Freeman look suspicious...

...and then flat out PISSED as "Nothin' To Lose" by Rebel Meets Rebel
kicks in to a HUUUUUGE reaction!]

GM:  OH MY STARS!

BW:  NO!  NO!  NO!  NOT THEM!

[The crowd ROARS even louder as the curtain parts.  Duane Henry and
Cletus Lee Bishop come TEARING through the curtain, heading straight for
the ring with a jubilant Cousin Bo charging right behind them!  Duane
Henry and Cletus Lee both dive under the bottom rope just as the
champions rush to assault them.  Referee Michael Meekly comes rushing
from the locker room as well, sliding headfirst into the ring as
Dufresne drops elbow after elbow on the back of Duane Henry's head and
neck.]

GM:  The Bishops get the title shot!

BW:  That's not fair!  The champs weren't ready for them!  The champs
didn't know that-


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM:  It's official!  We're in a title match, fans!

[Freeman's barrage of stomps and kicks is enough to slow Cletus Lee but
it's nowhere near enough to stop him as the big man slowly gets to his
feet, glaring at Freeman as the Australian continues to throw forearms
and elbows at the big redneck...

...until Cletus Lee simply reaches out with one hand, slapping it around
the throat of one-half of the National Tag Team Champions!]

GM:  CHOKE!!

[Using his grip on the throat, Cletus Lee quickly powers Freeman up off
the mat into a military press, shoving him high in the sky...

...and then drops down to a knee, bringing the Australian crashing down
on the bent knee!]

GM:  OHHH!

[Cletus Lee gets back to his feet, turning his attention across the ring
where Calisto Dufresne has Duane Henry pinned in the corner, throwing
haymakers as quickly as he can, trying to keep the Arkansas fireball
from getting on track.  Dufresne peppers him with jabs, then grabs the
wrist, whipping him towards the oncoming Cletus Lee...

...who hoists his brother up into a military press as well, throwing him
right back towards Dufresne!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

BW:  STOP SAYING THAT!

GM:  I can't help it!  What power on display by Cletus Lee!  

[Duane Henry slowly rises to his feet, looking at his brother who just
managed to wipe out both members of the National Tag Team Champions.  He
reaches down with both hands, hauling Dufresne off the mat to his feet.]

GM:  Oh!  Duane Henry shoves him back to the corner...

"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!

[The big chop knocks the wind out of Dufresne, making him grab the top
rope to keep on his feet.  Duane Henry winds up, throwing another chop
and another.  He grabs Dufresne by the arm, firing him across to the
opposite side of the ring.]

GM:  Dufresne hits the corner...

[With his brother backed to the corner, Cletus Lee grabs him by the
wrist, executing a big whip that sends Duane Henry charging into a huge
big splash in the corner!]

GM:  OHHH!

[Cletus Lee charges in after Duane Henry...

...and SMASHES Dufresne in the corner as well!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

BW:  STOP IT!  STOP IT!  STOP IT!

GM:  Dufresne is staggered!  Dufresne is dazed!

[With the Ladykiller propped up against the ropes, Cletus Lee throws a
hefty clothesline that toppled Dufresne over the ropes and sends him
crashing down in a heap on the floor!]

GM:  OVER THE TOP TO THE FLOOR!!  GOOD GOD!!

[Cletus Lee smacks himself in the chest a few times, moving across the
ring towards Adrian Freeman who is huddled in the corner.  The crowd
breaks into jeers as Ben Waterson appears in the entryway, clinging to
the metal suitcase that brings up bad memories for AWA fans everywhere.]

GM:  Waterson's out here and he's not alone!

[That's true.  In addition to the steel briefcase, he's also got the
Rhodes brothers, Brian Von Braun, and the National Champion walking with
him.]

GM:  The Southern Syndicate is out here as well and after what we've
seen from them here tonight, they've got a lot of nerve, Bucky!

BW:  Hey!  The tag titles are in danger and Waterson knows it!

GM:  Cousin Bo shouts a word of warning to his cousins... now they know
what they've got out here as well...

[Cletus Lee promptly abandons his pursuit of Adrian Freeman, turning
towards the new enemies out on the floor as Duane Henry shouts something
at his brother.]

GM:  What did he just say?

BW:  I'm not sure but-

[Suddenly, Duane Henry breaks into a full sprint towards his brother...

...who ducks down, HURLING Duane Henry through the air in a backdrop
onto the entirety of the Southern Syndicate, wiping out everyone in
sight!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHHH!

BW:  Damn it, Gordon!  I'm gettin' sick of- 

GM:  Look out!

[With the referee distracted by the mess outside the ring, Adrian
Freeman slips up behind Cletus Lee...

...and DRIVES the metal suitcase into the upper back of the big man!]

GM:  OHH!  WHAT A SHOT!!

[But Cletus Lee sends the crowd into a frenzy as he slowly turns around,
staring stoically at Adrian Freeman...

...and then breaks into a slight grin, shaking his head back and forth
slowly at Freeman who winds up again, this time backing a few steps
towards the ropes to get a running start!]

GM:  HEADSHO- 

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  COUSIN BO SNATCHES THE CASE!!

[Indeed he does, ripping the case out of Freeman's hands just before he
blasts Cletus Lee over the skull with it.  A stunned Freeman spins
around, taking a swing at Cousin Bo as Bo drops off the apron...

...and gets CREEEEEEAMED with a charging big boot to the jaw!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHHHHHHH MY STARS!!!

[The crowd goes absolutely nuts as Duane Henry gets to his feet outside
the ring...

...and is getting overwhelmed by the Southern Syndicate outside the
ring!]

GM:  Wait a second!  Duane Henry's getting assaulted by all of the
Southern Sundicate!  He's getting attacked by the Rhodes, Von Braun, the
National Champion... everyone!

[And suddenly, the WKIK Studio audience loses their minds!]

GM:  LOOK OUT!!  HERE COMES THE CAVALRY!!

[Sweet Daddy Williams, Soup Bone Samson, Juan Vasquez, the Keenings -
all hit the ringside area with a flurry, throwing fists at anyone in
sight.  The big brawl at ringside is going crazy...

...when suddenly Duane Henry emerges from the pile, climbing up on the
apron and giving his brother a shout.]

GM:  Cletus Lee's got Freeman back up and-

[Suddenly, Calisto Dufresne makes a break for it, climbing the ropes,
and sloppily hurling himself off...

...only to get caught in a chokehold once more!]

GM:  CLETUS LEE'S GOT 'EM!  HE'S GOT 'EM BOTH!!

[Cletus Lee quickly turns a full 360, showing them both off...

...and hoists them high before DRIVING them down hard to the canvas in a
thunderous double chokeslam!]

GM:  CHOOOOOOKESLAM!

[The crowd roars as Cletus Lee throws his arms apart, a rare show of
emotion for him as he nods to his shouting brother.  Pulling Dufresne
off the mat, Cletus Lee tosses him in the direction of the incoming
Duane Henry who scoops him up into a torture rack.]

BW:  BEN!!  BEN, GET IN THERE!!

[But the brawl outside the ring has almost everyone enveloped in chaos.]

BW:  BEN!!  YOU GOTTA STOP HIM!

[Duane Henry turns a full 360 to show off the trapped Dufresne. 
Suddenly, Cletus Lee breaks into a sprint, bouncing off the ropes...

...and DRIVING his boot into the skull of Calisto Dufresne which sends
him spinning out of the backbreaker into a sitout powerbomb!]

GM:  DOC ALLAN'S MIRACLE HEADACHE ELIXIR!

[Breaking out of the pile, Waterson makes a lunge for the ring as
Michael Meekly drops down to count.  Waterson gets up on the apron...]

GM:  ONE!!!  TWO!!!

[But Cousin Bo is quicker, racing down the apron and TACKLING Waterson
off the apron and into the pile!]

GM:  THREEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM:  THEY DID IT!!  THEY DID IT!!  WE'VE GOT NEW TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS!!

BW:  This is... this is horrible!

[Duane Henry springs to his feet, falling into an embrace with Cletus
Lee with a roaring crowd celebrating right along with them!]

MC:  Here are your winners....

...and NEW AWA NATIONAL TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS...

THE BISHOP BOOOOOOOOOYS!

[The announcement drives the crowd crazier - and then just a tad louder
as the belts are handed over to Cletus Lee and Duane Henry!]

GM:  NEW CHAMPIONS!  THE BISHOP BOYS, THE REDNECK WRECKING CREW, HAVE
STRUCK GOLD TONIGHT IN DALLAS, TEXAS!!  FANS, WE'RE OUT OF TIME!  WE'VE
GOTTA GO!  WE'LL SEE YOU NEXT TIME!!  WHAT A NIGHT!

[The camera holds on the ring where the Bishop Boys are joined by Cousin
Bo, celebrating their victory together with the gold title belts held
high in the air...

...as we fade to black.]