Saturday Night Wrestling

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American Wrestling Alliance 
Proudly Presents 
AWA Saturday Night Wrestling

Live from the WKIK Studios 
Dallas, Texas 
May 22, 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 footage from the Mizusawa/Keening match
with the Asian giant standing over the downed Keening who just kicked
out of a pin attempt.]

BW:  The timekeeper just told me we're past the seven minute mark. 
We've got less than three minutes to go in the time limit for this
match, daddy!

GM:  What's it gonna take?  What's it gonna take to put Keening down for
a three count?

[A seemingly-furious Mizusawa reaches down, grabbing Keening by the
throat, yanking him up to his feet...]

BW:  This.

[And grabbing with the other hand, the giant powers Keening up into a
military press, holding him high above the ring...]

GM:  Oh my stars.

BW:  Hope you enjoy the view, Keening!

GM:  Mizusawa's got him up!  He's got him high!  He's got him-

[He spins Keening a bit and THROWS him down to violent impact with the
MAMMOTH Slam!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

BW:  Nighty night, Boy Scout!

[The giant immediately drops down this time, even going so far as to
hook a leg as the referee starts the count.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREEEEEE!!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Ladies and gentlemen... here is your winner, moving on in the Lady
Luck Challenge...

MAMMOTH... MIZUUUUSAAAWAAAA!

[The crowd jeers as Louis Matsui jumps up and down outside the ring,
celebrating the win for his charge...

...and then screaming at the downed Keening.]

GM:  Matsui's such a poor winner.  His man won the match and now he's
laying the badmouth on Jason Keening.  Unbelievable.

[Climbing into the ring, Matsui continues to shout at Keening...

...and then draws the ire of the fans as he buries a boot into the
ribcage of the downed Keening!]

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

[Matsui is still running his mouth as he lays in another stiff kick to
the ribs...

...when suddenly the crowd lights up at the sight of Michael Keening and
Juan Vasquez charging out of the locker room, diving into the ring where
Louis Matsui has exited.

But Mizusawa has not.]

GM:  Uh oh.

[Michael Keening drops to a knee next to his brother, checking his
condition.  Vasquez does the same, keeping an eye on the giant who is
glaring right at him.]

GM:  This could get ugly in a hurry.  This could- now what do YOU want?!

[A ranting and raving Louis Matsui approaches the desk.]

LM:  I WANNA DRAW THE CARD!  I WANNA SEE WHO'S NEXT!

GM:  Alright, fine... draw the card...

[But before Matsui can do that, the Chairman, Big Jim Watkins makes his
appearance in the aisle to some cheers from the crowd.  Looking at the
action in the ring, he shakes his head as he approaches the desk.]

GM:  Mr. Watkins, I don't think you're scheduled to be-

JW:  I know, I know, Gordon.  But heck, I saw all this fighting go on
out here and I just couldn't resist.  This is a heck of a show we've got
goin' on!

GM:  Well, yes, it is but-

LM:  BUT it's time for me to draw our next card so if you'd please
excuse-

[Watkins shakes his head, placing one of his paw-like hands over the
deck of cars.]

JW:  No, no... I'm afraid I can't let you do that.

[Matsui is fit to be tied at this point.]

LM:  AND WHY NOT?!  We won the match!  We get to pick-

[Watkins raises a large hand.]

JW:  Yes, you won.  And yes, you do get to pick the next card...

...usually.

[The crowd starts to buzz.]

JW:  But you know the way Big Jim thinks, right?  When people want to
fight?  We let 'em fight.  And when people want to SEE people fight, we
REALLY let 'em fight.

The last time I checked - those two boys standing up in the ring... they
want to fight.

[Cheer!]

JW:  And correct me if I'm wrong, Dallas... but I think you want to SEE
them fight!

[BIG CHEER!  Watkins nods and thumbs through the deck of cards.]

JW:  Lessee... ah yeah, here we go...

[Watkins pulls out a card and slaps it down on the desk.]

JW:  Nine of hearts.  Juan Vasquez.  

[Watkins grins at the crowd's roar.]

JW:  Let's hook 'em up.

[Matsui eyes Watkins up and down... and then slowly nods his head.]

JW:  Good.  We're in agreement.  But we do have some changes to make to
the match.

LM:  Wait a second!  I didn't agree to-

[Watkins raises the big hand again.]

JW:  These changes are being forced by WKIK.  I have been informed by
building management that they will not allow a steel cage match to
happen here in the Studios due to size issues.

Therefore, the steel cage portion of the match will not happen.

[The crowd boos a bit at this news.]

JW:  So, here's what I got for ya...

Two out of three falls works for me.  First fall, Texas Bullrope... I
like it.

[Watkins holds up a second finger.]

JW:  Second fall will be a Street Fight.  Anything goes.

[And finally, a third.]

JW:  And the third, you get your I Quit match.

[Watkins extends his hand to Matsui.]

JW:  We got a deal?

[Matsui eyes Watkins for a moment...

...and then shakes his hand.]

LM:  Deal.

[The camera cuts to the ring where Juan Vasquez and MAMMOTH Mizusawa are
standing in the ring, glaring at one another from across the ring as we
slowly fade to backstage to footage marked "EARLIER TONIGHT!" where
Jason Dane is standing by with Louis Matsui and his charge, MAMMOTH
Mizusawa, who is dressed for his match, in a black singlet, knee pads
and boots. He also has a coil of thick rope, with a large brass cowbell,
slung over his shoulder. Instead of his usual suit and tie, Matsui has
his suit jacket on, a shirt and no tie. He is wearing a pair of blue
jeans and sitting atop his head is a black Stetson. As always, he has a
wide smile on his face.]

JD: Louis Matsui, the ridiculousness of your get-up aside, tonight we
finally get to see MAMMOTH Mizusawa step in the ring one-on-one against
Juan-

LM: [Interupting.] I don't know if I misheard, Jason, but did Ronald
Jamieson call me a wannabe Ronnie Jamieson two weeks ago?

JD: Em, I don't remember. He might have. But tonight-

LM: See, Dane, if I were a wannabe anything, why would I want to be a
fat, ugly piece of trash like him?  Sure, he's got his boy, Devastation,
who is like a one-man gang or something, but my client is a one-man army
and, by pro-wrestling logic, army always trumps gang. Lucky for Won-Won,
though, I'm in a good mood, so I'm not going to have my monster hunt
those two down, pick him up and shove him right up Devastation's
devastating derriere like the-

JD:  Easy there, Mr. Matsui.  This is a family show!

[Matsui grimaces and then nods.]

JD:  I don't understand.  You're in a good mood?

LM: I am in such a good mood that I'm not even going to take offense and
slap Gordon Myers's smug face for trying to rile me up by purposely
using the C word.

JD: You mean ca-

LM: [Raising his eyebrow warningly.] Jay-

JD: Okay, fine, but tonight MAMMOTH Mizusawa is possibly facing his
biggest challenge to date against Juan Vasquez, and you're in a good
mood?

LM: Yeah. It's what we asked for, isn't it? My client against Vasquez in
a Best Two out of Three Falls match-

JD: With James Watkins changing the rules...

LM: Just a little bit, Jay-Dee. See, Watkins had his hands tied, but
he's a smart man making the best of what he had and, ultimately, giving
MAMMOTH Mizusawa and me what we've wanted from the very beginning.
Vasquez got our message loud and clear, we've got his attention, and
he's threatened to show us what being a monster really means. But, I
think, tonight, what we'll see is, first, a good ol' Texas-style
lynching and my client dragging Vasquez's lifeless body around the ring;
second, we get to see MAMMOTH Mizusawa pound Vasquez to the ground some
more in a street fight. And, as unlikely as it is, if we do go into the
third fall, there is no way in Hell Vasquez can get my client to say "I
quit" because this man does not know the meaning of the word quit. I
mean, seriously, Jay Dee, he doesn't; his
English still isn't that good.

[Jason Dane looks at the monster, as if expecting him to say something,
but Mizusawa only looks at him quizically.]

JD: So... It looks like you've got it all worked out, then. And you're
fine with this? Even though it isn't taking place at Memorial Day
Mayhem?

LM: Fo' shizzle, Jay Dizzle! In fact, I think I like it better this way.
See, what happens tonight could have MAJOR implications on the Memorial
Day Rumble. After tonight, Juan Vasquez will probably NOT make it to
Memorial Day Mayhem. That means one less person for my client to toss
out in the Rumble and the odds just keep getting better for us. Beating
Vasquez tonight means we make a good case for moving up the ranks, hell,
it makes a good case for making Mizusawa the number one contender to the
National title. Beating Vasquez tonight means we only need one more win
in the Lady Luck Challenge to win us a shot at the champion. One way or
another, Jay Dee, MAMMOTH Mizusawa is making his claim for the top spot.

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

MM: YEEE-HAW!!!

[Louis Matsui flashes a wide grin, shrugs and walks off, followed by
Mizusawa, leaving Jason Dane looking slightly bewildered as we fade to
another piece of footage marked "EARLIER TONIGHT!"  This too features
Jason Dane but this time, he is standing with Juan Vasquez. Juan is
dressed in a charcoal gray hoodie, a white dress shirt, and a solid
silver necktie.  Dane turns to Vasquez and immediately begins to speak.]

JD: I'm sure the question's been running around in everyone's mind...so,
I have to ask you, Juan...

"How do you defeat a man like MAMMOTH Mizusawa?"

JV: We'd all like to know the answer to that question, wouldn't we?

[A chuckle from the former AWA National champion.]

JV: Well Jason, that ain't exactly the most important concern in my mind
right now, because there's something else that I feel I need to address.
Something that's been bothering a whole lot recently. 

[Juan's expression becomes more serious.]

JV: Louis Matsui's been flappin' his gums for a good long while now
about how his boy's going to end my career...

[He holds up a hand and stops to correct himself.]

JV: No. Sorry...my mistake. Not just _end_ my career...but do it
"easily." 

[Juan rolls his eyes, clearly not amused.]

JV: Thirteen years, Matsui. I've been wrestling for _thirteen_ years.
I've seen and done anything and everything a man possibly could in this
sport and I'll tell you right now...

...that is without a doubt, the _stupidest_ damn thing I've ever heard!

[He holds out his hands, searching for words to express his disbelief.]

JV: How long have you and your boy been in wrestling, Matsui? How long
has MAMMOTH Mizusawa been battling inside a ring?

[He dismisses his own question with a wave of his hand.]

JV: Whatever the number, amigo...it ain't been enough. Not by a
longshot. 'Cause it's obvious you got no clue what the hell you've
gotten yourselves into.

[Juan loosens his necktie just a bit.]

JV: I don't care if Mizusawa put down Tumaffi! I don't care if he
dominated Zaire! I don't give a damn if every man that's crossed his
path has been destroyed and sent away! The fact is, MAMMOTH Mizusawa
didn't challenge me to a wrestling match...he challenged me to a
fight...

...for my _career._

[He stops and smiles to himself, shaking his head at the audacity of
such a statment.]

JV: You want my career? Come and get it.

You want that bounty on my head? Just try and take it. 

Because tonight, I ain't fighting for the AWA. I ain't fighting to
protect the wrestling world from the Southern Syndicate. I'm
fighting...for _myself._ 

You don't get the hero. 

You don't get the savior. 

You don't even get the wrestler of the year. 

[Juan leans in and speaks slowly, making sure Mizusawa and Matsui
understand his every word.]

JV: You get a man fighting for his career. For his livelihood. For his
right to stay in the sport that he lives, breathes and loves beyond
anyone's comprehension. 

You're fighting to put an end to thirteen years worth of blood and
sacrifice. The legacies of Michigan, St. Louis and Los Angeles...of each
and every man I've ever faced inside a wrestling ring. Thirteen years
worth of conquering and overcoming every single impossible odd, hopeless
situation and insurmountable obstacle that ever stood in my way.  

And you...you think your greed for a $25,000 bounty compares? 

[He laughs.]

JV: Ever since you and your boy came to the AWA, Matsui, you've been
demanding competition. You've been searching for an opponent willing to
take MAMMOTH to his limits and beyond. Well, I'm sorry Louis...

...I ain't gonna' be able to provide that for your boy.

[A smirk.]

JV: Because this ain't gonna' be a competition at all.

[The smile quickly disappears from his face.]

JV: That ring's gonna' be a crime scene...and your boy's gonna' be the
victim.

[Juan turns his attention back to Jason Dane, repeating his question
from earlier.]

JV: "How do you defeat a man like MAMMOTH Mizusawa?"

[Juan turns to the camera with a deadly serious expression on his face.
There's no smirk, no cockiness and no bravado. He says his words quietly
and with terrifying intensity.]

JV: Make him wrestle Juan Vasquez.

[And with that, we skip the usual opening credits and come right up into
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.

And MAMMOTH Mizusawa is standing dead-center in the middle of it with a
Texas Bullrope complete with cowbell dangling from his wrist.  The voice
of Gordon Myers fills your eardrums.]

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.  We've been
waiting for this match for nearly six months now!  MAMMOTH Mizusawa and
Louis Matsui won the right to take on whoever they wanted and whatever
match they wanted with their victory back at SuperClash - and tonight,
at long last, they go for it inside the Lady Luck Challenge, Bucky!

BW:  Two out of three falls!  And if that ain't enough, the first fall
is a Texas Bullrope match!  The second fall is a Street Fight!  And if
we get to a third fall, it's I Quit, daddy!  THIS is how you get ready
for Memorial Day Mayhem!

GM:  We are just over one week away from one of the biggest nights on
the AWA calendar and tonight, this is a supercard in its own right!  Not
only do we have the big showdown between Mizusawa and Vasquez but later
tonight, we will see the return of the former AWA National Champion,
Marcus Broussard, to the American Wrestling Alliance when he teams up
with former World Champion Todd Michaelson to meet the former AWA
National Tag Team Champions Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman!

BW:  That's a whole lot of former champions in one ring, Gordo.

GM:  Only in the AWA can you see two matches of this magnitude just days
before the big Memorial Day event, fans, and without anything further,
let's go up to Melissa for the introductions!

[We fade to the ring where Mizusawa is already standing, towering behind
a nervous-looking Ms. Cannon.]

MC:  The following...

[She looks over her shoulder at Mizusawa who glares down at her.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for the best TWO OUT OF THREE
FALLS!

[BIG CHEER!]

MC:  The first fall will be conduct-

[Mizusawa suddenly reaches over the much-smaller Cannon, grabbing the
mic out of her hand and yanking it free.  She scampers aside as the
Asian giant glares towards the entryway.]

"VAAAAAASSSSQUEZ!"

[The gutteral roar sends the crowd into a frenzy before Mizusawa throws
the mic aside, waving towards the entrance...

...where Juan Vasquez appears!]

GM:  There he is!  The Number One contender to the National Title and
the man who has one more shot to get another title match coming up in
eight days, fans!  Juan Vasquez is the man with everything at stake at
Memorial Day Mayhem!

BW:  Which makes it even crazier that he's in this match tonight.  Jim
Watkins did him no favors for sure.

[Vasquez storms from the entryway towards the ring, diving under the
bottom rope before springing to his feet.  Referee Mickey Meekly quickly
dashes between the squaring-off opponents, looking to secure Vasquez to
the bullrope.]

GM:  You can see that big, thick rope being tied to the wrist of Juan
Vasquez now and once it is, he will be bound to the giant.  

[The cowbell clatters as it swings back and forth while Vasquez is
getting connected to the rope, still staring at the giant who is just
waiting for his moment to strike.]

GM:  Melissa didn't get a chance to say the rules in this one but you
have to drag your opponent around the ring and touch all four corners in
succession to win the Bullrope match.

BW:  It's a modification of the traditional Texas Bullrope rules and-


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[The crowd roars as the bell rings and both men's hands shoot out,
grabbing the rope in a tug of war...

...which is not good news for Vasquez as he gets yanked out of the
corner, just barely ducking under a clothesline attempt by the giant. 
Spinning around, Vasquez uncorks a right hand on the big man.]

GM:  Vasquez avoids the clothesline and he's-

[A second right hand connects.  And a third connects as well, knocking
Mizusawa back a step.  Trying to seize the moment, Vasquez dashes to the
corner, slapping the top turnbuckle.]

GM:  That's one!  Vasquez got to one!

[He spins, looking to get to the second...

...but Mizusawa yanks the rope with one hand, pulling Vasquez down to
the mat and breaking his momentum.]

GM:  Ohhh.  

BW:  And there you see it, Gordo.  You see the advantage that Mizusawa
has in a match like this.

GM:  You're right, Bucky.  I asked Jim Watkins why they had decided to
use the four corners set of rules for this Bullrope match and he said
that Louis Matsui had specifically requested them.  I think we just saw
why.

BW:  The man is a genius.  He knows there's no way that Vasquez can drag
the giant around the ring but Mizusawa can do exactly that - possibly at
will!

GM:  But remember, this is a two out of three falls affair.  Mizusawa is
a big, big man.  He will be looking to end this fall quickly because
he's got at least one big battle left in the second fall and possibly
two if they get into that "I Quit" match.

BW:  Can you imagine what it would take to get Mizusawa to say "I Quit"?

GM:  I cannot.

[Vasquez scrambles back to his feet, staring out at the floor where
Matsui is loudly cackling, shouting "DIDJA SEE THAT, GORDO?!"]

BW:  That was for your benefit.

GM:  Apparently.

[Mizusawa slaps himself across the chest, waving Vasquez forward.  The
former National Champion slowly edges forward...

...and then leaps up, throwing a forearm into the head of Mizusawa as
his weight catches the giant in the chest, knocking him a couple steps
back to the corner where Vasquez continues to batter him with rights and
lefts in the buckles.  He promptly hops up on the middle rope, not
pausing for a moment before raining down right hands to the count of the
crowd.]

"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THREE!"
"FO-"

[But Mizusawa simply reaches up and pushes Vasquez down, knocking him
down to a knee...

...where a rushing kneelift sends Vasquez down to the mat in a heap.]

GM:  Good grief!

BW:  The giant laid him out, daddy!

GM:  Vasquez went down hard off that kneelift.

[Grabbing the rope with both hands, Mizusawa hauls Vasquez off the mat
by pulling him up.]

BW:  Mizusawa is reeling Vasquez in like a tiny minnow, Gordo.

[As soon as Vasquez gets to his feet, he pulls the opposite way, trying
to stay away from the giant, trying to maintain distance between himself
and Mizusawa as the Asian giant slowly drags him closer.]

GM:  Vasquez is no match power-wise for Mizusawa and he knows it!

[Vasquez is gritting his teeth, yanking backwards with all of his
weight...

...but with one last mighty tug, Mizusawa yanks him towards him and
takes him down with a massive clothesline!]

GM:  Ohhh!

BW:  I love it, Gordo!  We've NEVER seen Vasquez manhandled like this
and now we know exactly why he ducked this match for so long.  We know
exactly why he ducked the giant.

GM:  Louis Matsui looks like he thinks they've already won this thing,
dancing around with that silly cowboy hat.

BW:  Why is it not silly when Bobby Taylor's out here in it?

GM:  Are you really comparing Louis Matsui to Bobby Taylor?

[Matsui shouts some instructions to his charge who simply nods, reaching
down to haul Vasquez up by the hair.  He pushes Vasquez back to the
corner, rearing back with his massive hand...

...and smashing it down across the chest of Vasquez, sending an echoing
"CRAAACK!" through the building!]

GM:  Goodness.

BW:  That'll snap a sternum, daddy!  It's like getting hit with a frying
pan!

GM:  He's not done with him either...

[Mizusawa rears back again... and drills him an overhead chop again.]

GM:  OHHHH!

[Grabbing Vasquez by the back of the head, Mizusawa hauls him away from
the corner, firing him across the ring...

...and throwing him down to the mat from waaaay up high with a
backdrop.]

GM:  Down goes Vasquez again!

[Mizusawa grabs some slack on the bullrope, wrapping the braided rope
around his massive hand...

...and drags Vasquez up to his knees.]

GM:  Uh oh... this can't be good for Juan Vasquez...

[With a sneer, Mizusawa SMASHES his rope-wrapped fist into the forehead
of Vasquez, allowing him to slump down to the canvas after the blow. 
The camera cuts to a smirking Louis Matsui who shouts "AGAIN!  AGAIN!"]

GM:  Matsui wants another one...

[The giant hauls Vasquez back up onto his knees, wrapping his hand in
the rope once more...

...and DRIVES the fist into the forehead again!]

GM:  Ohhh!

BW:  And that rope could easily split someone open.  I went up there
before the show and felt that rope.  It feels like a solid piece of rock
as tightly as it's wrapped, Gordo!

GM:  Mizusawa is just having his way with Vasquez at this point.

BW:  Somewhere in this building, the Southern Syndicate is LOVING this.

[With Vasquez down on the mat, Mizusawa slowly walks across the ring and
slaps the top turnbuckle.]

GM:  That's one!  He hits the first corner!

[Matsui shouts at the giant, ordering him to keep going.  The giant
turns to the side, slowly walking across the ring where he hits the
second corner.]

GM:  Two!

BW:  He's halfway there, Gordo.

GM:  Two of the buckles have been hit and the giant's going for a third
one.

[Vasquez crawls up to a knee as the giant approaches the third corner,
grabbing the rope with both hands and yanking hard, trying to prevent
the giant from getting there...

...but the giant simply keeps walking, yanking Vasquez down to all fours
as he hits the third buckle.]

GM:  He's just too big for him!  Vasquez can't stop him!

[The giant turns to head for the fourth corner, looking to finish the
match...

...when Juan Vasquez grabs the rope with both hands, rushing to cut off
the giant's path!]

GM:  Vasquez is trying to stop him!

[The Number One contender throws a right hand, trying to cut him off...

...but the giant simply reaches out and shoves him aside, walking past
him towards the corner!]

GM:  He's gonna get there!  He's gonna win the Bullrope-

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  VASQUEZ GOT THE ROPE AROUND HIS NECK!!

[The crowd explodes for the fan favorite as he loops the rope around the
throat of Mizusawa, pulling backwards on it, strangling the air out of
him and cutting off his effort to get to the fourth corner.]

GM:  Vasquez stopped him!  The referee is waving it off - Mizusawa will
have to start over!

BW:  But it's just a matter of time now, Gordo.  We saw how easily the
giant can do it and it's just a matter of time before he beats Vasquez
down to the mat to finish this thing.

GM:  Vasquez is trying to cut some of the air out of the giant.  Maybe
trying to take some of the wind out of his sails.

[The giant reaches up, grabbing the rope with both hands...

...and shows off his power, pushing the rope away from his throat and
shoving it back over his head, knocking Vasquez a few steps back. 
Mizusawa reaches out, wrapping his hand around Vasquez' throat and
shoving him back to the buckles.]

GM:  Back to the corner again...

[Mizusawa turns his back, pushing his wide back into Vasquez' chest,
stepping out of the buckles...

...and DRIVING backwards, smashing Vasquez into the corner!]

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

BW:  Vasquez is completely outmatched in this.  He needs to change his
gameplan on the fly and he needs to do it quickly or we won't even have
a second fall in this one.

GM:  Mizusawa steps out again...

[And with a loud "HOOOOOF!" he drives all his weight back into the chest
again!]

GM:  And just in case anyone has forgotten, that's 420 pounds being
driven into the chest of Juan Vasquez!

[With Mizusawa leaning against Vasquez, Louis Matsui climbs up on the
apron, reaching over the ropes to grab the Texas Bullrope.  He pulls it
over Vasquez' windpipe, dragging backwards against the throat, causing
Vasquez to flail back and forth, trying to free himself.]

GM:  Matsui's choking him with the rope!

BW:  It's no DQ, Gordo.

GM:  It certainly is but what business does he have- look at this,
Bucky!  He's got Mizusawa pushing the air out of Vasquez' chest and now
he's choking him with that rope!

[Mizusawa turns around, pushing aside the protesting referee as Matsui
pulls back hard on the Bullrope, completely exposing the chest of
Vasquez...]

"SMAAACK!!!"

GM: An open-hand slap to the chest of Vasquez...

"SMAAAAAACK!!!"

GM: Mongolian chop!

"SMAAAAAAAAACK!!!!!!"

GM: And a knife edge chop lights up Vasquez's chest!

[Mizusawa steps back, while Matsui lets go of the rope and steps off the
apron, but the giant is not done as he charges towards Vasquez...]

"SMAAAAAAAAACK!!!!!!"

GM:  RUNNING BOOT TO THE FACE!!  GOOD GRIEF!!

[Vasquez slumps down to a seated position in the corner, barely moving
as Mizusawa glares down at him for a moment before slapping the top
turnbuckle.]

GM:  There's one!

[Mizusawa plants a boot in the chest of Vasquez before turning his back,
walking to the adjacent corner.]

GM:  Mizusawa hits the second buckle, dragging Vasquez on the canvas
behind him.

BW:  Vasquez isn't even moving!  This is it, Gordo!

GM:  He's heading for the third corner and Juan Vasquez still hasn't
responded.  You could be right, Bucky.  This might be the end of this
first fall right here.

[Mizusawa slaps the third corner to the applause of Louis Matsui before
slowly turning to walk towards the fourth corner...]

GM:  Vasquez is up to a knee...

[Frantically, the Los Angeles native wraps the bullrope around his arm,
trying to cut down the slack for the giant.]

GM:  He's trying to prevent him from getting to the fourth corner...

BW:  Good luck with that.

GM:  Vasquez is fighting it... trying to keep-

[Mizusawa inches closer, pulling Vasquez closer to the corner...

...and the Number One contender springs into action, charging across the
ring, leaping up to the middle rope, and springing back with a dropkick
to the jaw that cuts off the streak!]

GM:  He cuts him off!  Vasquez breaks the momentum and the referee waves
it off!  

BW:  Vasquez is hanging on by the skin of his teeth in this one, Gordo.

GM:  He certainly is and-

[Grabbing the rope, Vasquez stretches it out between his hands and
rushes forward, smashing the Bullrope into the windpipe of the giant!]

GM:  Ohh!  A clothesline with the Bullrope!

[Vasquez grabs the slack of the rope again, this time clutching the
cowbell in his hands...

...and CRACKS it down over the massive skull of the giant!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

[And for the first time in the match, Mizusawa looks dazed by the steel
bell being smashed over his head.  He staggers but does not topple as
Vasquez looks slightly awed...

...and then crawls between the legs of the giant.]

GM:  Where in the world is-

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

[The crowd reacts as Vasquez YANKS the bullrope hard, driving the coiled
rope up into the groin of the giant!]

GM:  HE GOT HIM RIGHT THERE!

BW:  Low blow by Vasquez!  Why aren't you irate?!

GM:  Like you said, there's no DQs in this one, Bucky!  Anything goes
tonight in this one!

[With Mizusawa doubled up, Vasquez crawls back through the legs to the
other side, grabbing the cowbell again...

...and SMASHES it down on the back of Mizusawa's skull, knocking him
down to a knee!]

GM:  Good grief!  What a shot by Vasquez!

[Vasquez pumps a fist in triumph before turning to move to the closest
turnbuckle, slapping it with his hand as the crowd shouts "ONE!"]

GM:  Juan Vasquez is trying to seize the moment here.  For the first
time in this one, he's got Mizusawa in trouble and Vasquez is trying to
get to those corners!

BW:  You talked about Mizusawa being a big man and wanting to end this
match early but it's Juan Vasquez who is sprinting around the ring right
now trying to end this beating he's taking.

GM:  Vasquez hits the second corner!  He's halfway there!

[But at this point, a shouting Matsui has managed to get Mizusawa to
shake the cobwebs and grab the rope with both hands, pulling against
Vasquez who is struggling to get to the third corner...

...so Vasquez gives up, sprinting towards Mizusawa!]

GM:  LOOK OUT!!

[The giant straightens up, picking the charging Vasquez up off the mat,
standing tall...

...and DRIVING him down in a side slam!]

GM:  OHHHHH!  Vasquez gets CRUSHED into the canvas!

[Mizusawa stays kneeling for a moment, still trying to shake off the
effects of the cowbell blows to the head.  Matsui shouts orders to his
man from out on the floor as the giant slowly regains his feet.  He nods
at Matsui, reaching down to haul Vasquez off the mat by the hair.]

GM:  I thought the giant might go for the win right there but-

[A backhand chop knocks Vasquez back into the ropes where the giant
slowly approaches.  He puts one hand on Vasquez' chest to keep him in
place before blasting him with an overhand chop across the torso.]

GM:  Goodness.  Another brutal shot by Mizusawa.

[The giant takes a step back, looking at Vasquez who is clinging to the
top rope with his right arm, trying to stay standing...

...and waving Mizusawa to "bring it on!" with his left arm to the roar
of the crowd.]

BW:  He's crazier than I thought, Gordo.

GM:  Juan Vasquez wants more!  He's daring the giant to bring more
offense!

[An annoyed Mizusawa moves back in, throwing a hooking right hand to the
ribcage of Vasquez followed quickly by a left to the other side of the
body.  He steps back again...

...and again has Vasquez waving for more.]

GM:  Juan Vasquez may have snapped mentally, Bucky.

BW:  Why would you taunt the giant like this?

[Mizusawa storms in again, reaching overhead to bring both arms crashing
down on the shoulders and neck of Vasquez in a huge Mongolian Chop that
knocks Vasquez down to a knee.  The giant pauses a moment...

...and delivers a second blow, knocking Vasquez down to the canvas.]

BW:  Tell him you want more now, Vasquez!

GM:  I think that'll be the end of that.  Juan Vasquez just got laid out
with two massive Mongolian Chops and I don't know if he'll be getting up
anytime soon.

[A pair of boots to the ribs by Mizusawa sends Vasquez rolling under the
ropes to the floor...

...where a rapidly-approaching Louis Matsui joins in, delivering a
punt-style kick to the ribcage!]

GM:  Oh, come on!

[Matsui stands over the downed Vasquez, shouting at him, "YOU WANT MORE,
HUH?!  YOU WANT MORE OF THIS?!" before delivering another kick to the
ribs that knocks Vasquez onto all fours...

...where he lunges forward, taking Matsui off his feet!]

GM:  OHHHH!  HE'S GOT MATSUI DOWN!  HE'S GOT MATSUI!

[Vasquez throws a pair of right hands at Matsui before scrambling to his
feet as Mizusawa steps over the ropes to come out after him.]

GM:  Here comes the giant!

BW:  That's not gonna work though.  He went over the top and Vasquez
went under the ropes!  The Bullrope is wrapped around the ropes right
now, Gordo!

[Seeing exactly that, Vasquez pulls hard on the rope with both hands,
catching an off-balance Mizusawa by surprise and SMASHING his back into
the ring apron!]

GM:  OHHHH!

[With Mizusawa dazed, Vasquez rolls under the ropes into the ring,
climbing back to his feet where he grabs the top rope with both hands,
slingshotting over the ropes...

...where the giant snatches him out of the sky!]

GM:  CAUGHT!  MIZUSAWA CAUGHT HIM!

[The Asian giant stands tall with Vasquez held across his body for a
moment...

...and then bellyflops down to the barely-padded concrete floor,
crushing Vasquez between his 420 pounds and the ground!]

GM:  OHHHHHHH!  That's it, Bucky.  That's gotta be it.

[With a furious Matsui regaining his feet, clutching his jaw, he shouts
for the giant to get back in the ring and end the match.  Grabbing
Vasquez by the hair, Mizusawa hauls him up onto the apron, dumping him
over the ropes before climbing in himself.  He promptly hits the closest
buckle while Vasquez writhes in pain on the canvas.]

GM:  That's one.

[Looking back to make sure Vasquez is still down, Mizusawa marches
across the ring and slaps the second buckle.]

GM:  We've got two.  At the halfway point now.

[Matsui shouts at his giant to pick up the pace as Mizusawa moves a
little quicker to the third corner where he slaps the top buckle.]

GM:  That's three!

[Vasquez is still completely out of it as Mizusawa storms to the fourth
corner, pausing to look back at his downed opponent...

...and then slaps the buckle.]


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Your winner of the first fall... MAMMOTH MIZUSAWA!


GM:  Mizusawa has won the Texas Bullrope match!

BW:  He's up one to zero in this Best of Three Falls match.  And from
what I understand, they get a sixty second rest period between falls to-

GM:  Wait a second!

[A still-fuming Matsui screams something in Japanese to Mizusawa who
suddenly looks just as outraged as his manager, yanking the still
barely-moving Vasquez off the mat, hoisting him up into a military
press...

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

GM:  OHHHH!  There's no need for that!  No call for that at all!

BW:  Vasquez brought this on himself!  He put his hands on Matsui and
Matsui's not about to tolerate that at all, Gordo!

GM:  Matsui attacked Vasquez first!  Juan Vasquez was defending himself,
Bucky, and you know it!

[Matsui stands on the apron, still shouting to Mizusawa who nods his
head, dragging a limp Vasquez off the mat again, shoving him back to the
ropes where Matsui somehow manages to get Vasquez' arms tied up in the
ropes as Mizusawa grabs the cowbell...]

GM:  NO!

[Winding up with the metal weapon, Mizusawa storms forward with it and
DRILLS Vasquez between the eyes with it!]

GM:  GAHHH!  What a shot!

[The giant backs off, glaring at the trapped Vasquez who now has a
trickle of blood coming from his forehead.  Matsui shouts "AGAIN!" to
his giant who delivers a second crushing shot with the cowbell, leaving
a steady stream of blood pouring from the skull.]

GM:  We need to get some help out here.  This isn't a match anymore! 
This is just a brutal assault by this lunatic Matsui and his unleashed
giant!

BW:  And I'm guessing we won't see a handshake for good competition in
this one, Gordo.

GM:  Very funny.

[A third cowbell shot lands on the skull of Vasquez, completely
splitting him open as Matsui creeps up, delivering a few flailing blows
of his own to the skull of Vasquez.  A shout in Japanese to Mizusawa
sees the giant unhook himself from the Bullrope, leaving it tied to
Vasquez only.  Dragging Vasquez off the ropes, Mizusawa loops the
braided rope around the Number One contender's throat, turning away so
that they are back-to-back...

...and leans over, picking Vasquez off the mat!]

GM:  Hangman!  He's got Vasquez up in a hangman with that damned
Bullrope wrapped around his throat!

[Vasquez is flailing his arms and legs, kicking at the legs of Mizusawa
as the giant strangles the air out of his opponent's body.  The referee
is right on the scene, shouting at the giant to break up the assault as
Matsui shouts orders to his man.]

GM:  They're trying to take out Juan Vasquez right now!  This is a
blatant attempt to take out Juan Vasquez... out of this match, out of
the Rumble, heck, maybe out of wrestling altogether!

BW:  He's turning purple!

GM:  Get some help out here right now, damn it!  We need to get-

[Suddenly, the Chairman of the Championship Committee, Jim Watkins,
emerges from the locker room alongside Sweet Daddy Williams, Eric
Preston, the Keenings, and a handful of others.  The show of force is
enough for Mizusawa to abandon the strangling of the bloodied Vasquez,
allowing him to drop down to the mat as he takes up a defensive pose.]

GM:  Look at that!

BW:  He's faced down with a half dozen guys - maybe more - and he
doesn't turn and run, Gordo!  Mizusawa is ready to start the Rumble
tonight!

GM:  Well, this match is over... that's for sure.

[The Keenings help Juan Vasquez, bloody and gasping for air, from the
ring where Jim Watkins kneels down next to him to check on him.]

GM:  Jim Watkins is out here to check on Vasquez.

BW:  Gotta make sure the Golden Boy is okay.  

GM:  Would you stop?  Give me a break.  Vasquez can barely breathe out
here and fans, this is certainly not what we had in mind coming into
tonight's show.  This two out of three falls match was supposed to be
our headline match for the night but after what we just saw-

[Suddenly, Vasquez breaks free of the grip of Jason Keening, trying to
get back into the ring but Eric Preston and Sweet Daddy Williams cut him
off, pushing him back to the floor.]

GM:  Vasquez is trying to get back in there!

[Vasquez struggles against the men trying to help him, shouting a few
choice off-color words in the direction of Matsui and Mizusawa.  Matsui
looks a bit surprised, standing behind his giant.]

GM:  I can't believe it.  Juan Vasquez is busted open.  He just got
strangled within an inch of his life with that Bullrope.  He took a
powerslam on the floor and a MAMMOTH Slam inside the ring - and yet he
still wants to fight!  I can't believ- wait a second... Jim Watkins is
coming back over here now...

[Watkins stops to talk to Vasquez for a moment... and then with a nod,
continues on to the desk.]

GM:  Mr. Watkins, what's going on?

JW:  Gordon, I came out here ready to call this match off.  Mizusawa won
the first fall and I was going to award him the whole match because I
didn't think Juan would be able to continue after that post-bell attack.

[Watkins shakes his head.]

JW:  But never let it be said that Juan Vasquez isn't one of the
toughest son of a guns I've ever seen in this business.

[Big cheer!]

JW:  Not only is Juan saying he's able to continue...

...but he's DEMANDING that he continue!

[BIGGER CHEER!]

JW:  Now, now... I'm going to let that happen.  I'm going to let this
match continue...

BUT... not yet.

[The crowd buzzes with confusion.]

JW:  Juan wants to keep the fight going?  Fine.  Let's hook 'em up.  But
we're going to give Juan more than that one minute rest period.  He's
gonna get about sixty minutes to rest!  I'm sendin' both of these mean
ol' hosses back to the locker room... and I'm puttin' armed guards on
their doors to make sure they STAY there until match time! 

So, we're gonna get a Street Fight tonight!  And heck, we just might get
an "I Quit" match too!

[Big cheer!]

JW:  This is gonna be a heck of a night, Gordon.

GM:  It certainly is.  So, fans, the two out of three falls match will
continue... after an intermission?

BW:  That's not right!  It's not fair to Mizusawa!  He's got Vasquez
beaten up, bloody, and ready to be beaten for the second straight fall
and now the AWA's golden boy is gonna get an hour to rest!  It's just
not fair!

GM:  Fair or not, that's how it's gonna go down so let's take a quick
break and get right back to the action, fans!  Don't you dare go away!

[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 to Saturday Night Wrestling, fans.  What an exciting
night this has been so far and don't forget, we've only just begun. 
Later tonight, the rest of that two out of three falls match will
happen!

BW:  Don't change the channel because after the beating that Vasquez
took, it could be a real blink and ya miss it kinda thing.

GM:  I wouldn't bet on that.  In addition, we've got that big tag team
match later tonight with Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman being
challenged by Todd Michaelson and making his return to the AWA, Marcus
Broussard! 

[Big cheer!]

GM:  That's right.  You do not want to miss that.  And at this time, we
are about to go up to the ring for more action but before we- wait a
second...
fans, one of the producers just told me that we have a live hand-held
camera feed to cut to.  I have no idea what this is all about.

BW: That's weird.  We like to keep it out in the open, in front of the
fans here in the AWA.  Who would-

[We cut to the unmistakable wobble of a handheld camcorder.  Clearly,
not one of the professional cameramen employed by the AWA.  Whomever is
filming this is in the parking lot... the same wrestler's parking lot we
saw about one month ago.  And the man in view is one of the same men who
was in this parking lot on that night; James Monosso.  The tall,
broad-shouldered veteran glares through his stringy black hair.  He is
wearing his small pale-green "PROPERTY OF STATE MENTAL INSTITUTION"
T-Shirt as well as black jeans and black boots.  There is a baleful
frown stretching across his face as he speaks to us in a gruff voice.]

JM: Eric Preston, thank you.

Thank you for helping me making my point.  You made our match a Falls
Count Anywhere match.  That's the kind of match I wanted; the kind of
match I like best.  The kind of match that exposes the lies.  The lies
about sportsmanship and fair play and justice and hope... those lies.  

After all, haven't any of you wondered... "Why is it that in wrestling,
we can hit people with chairs and have a job the next day?"  In the NFL,
if someone snuck brass knuckles in his pants and used them on a
quarterback, what would happen?  In baseball, if the manager distracted
the umpire during a pitch so the pitcher could hit the batter in the
face, how do you think that would play out?  In basketball, if Kobe
Bryant ran on the court during a game between Cleveland and Orlando, and
elbowed LeBron James into the pole under the basket, what do you suppose
would happen?  None of that would be tolerated.  Because they aren't
wrestling.  Only in wrestling can we have total anarchy, with everyone
free to destroy anyone.  Oh, sure, there are fines.  Sometimes
suspensions.  But it never lasts.  Those are just there to preserve the
lie, Eric.  The lie that we compete in a civilized sport.  The lie that
we're treated like athletes, the lie that we're treated like human
beings, the lie that the rules matter in the end, and the lie that
anyone wins in the end.  

No, Eric.  Wrestling is chaos.  Anarchy.  A Falls Count Anywhere match
strips away the illusions.  EVERY match is a Falls Count Anywhere match,
if you want it to be.  The people in charge love it.  Love the blood,
love the pain, love the chaos, love the violence... it all means more
money for them.  The referees are chosen because they are the stupidest
people on Earth that can still count to three.  They have to fail a
yearly eye exam and be unable to understand basic causality.  Do you
understand basic causality, Eric?  You can't have an effect without a
cause.  That's why I'm here, you know.

[Apparently, by 'here' he means the parking lot.  He heads towards a
car.  A pink Cadillac.  Bucky's pink Cadillac.]

JM: Why, look at this car.  Terrible condition.  All of the dents in the
trunk and the side.  Do you think these dents just happened, Eric? 
No... no, they were caused.  By you.  By your head, mostly.  Each and
every one of these dents is matched, isn't it Eric?  You have a bump on
your head for each one.  Each except that one.  That one put a bump
here.  

[James points at his own forehead.]

JM: So tonight, Eric, we're going to learn a lesson in causality.  I
want you to see just what can be caused in a Falls Count Anywhere match.
 When we stop pretending to be in a sport, and everyone sees wrestling
for what it really is: a little slice of hell on Earth.  I'm going to
give you the grand tour of the place, Eric.  I'm going to show you, and
everyone watching, the horrible things that can happen to you in a Falls
Count Anywhere match.  Every place is a potential deathtrap for the
imaginative, Eric.  I'm not book smart, you see.  I admit that.  I'm not
wise, no... after all, I bought all the lies when I was a young man, and
had to learn the hard way how wrestling destroys your life.  But
imaginiative?  Oh, yes, Eric... oh, yes.  

Take Bucky's Cadillac, for example.  Oh, we bashed each other into the
frame, sure.  But what could have happened had we ended up somewhere
else?  What if, instead of the trunk, we ended up here at the door?

[Monosso walks towards the door of the Cadillac.  As he does, he picks
up a generic crash test dummy from the ground.]

JM: Say hello to my helper tonight.  I call him Alric Pierceston. 
Alric, you're fighting me in a Falls Count Anywhere match.  Uh, oh,
we're near the door.

"CRAAAAAAASH!"

[James winds up, and spikes the dummy through the driver's side window
of Bucky's car!  Glass shatters, but Monosso quickly turns back to the
camera, his hand still grasping the dummy's head.]

JM: Oh, no... THAT wasn't the bad part.

[As he says that, he pushes down.  The neck of the dummy intersects the
sharp, jagged glass on the bottom of the window... and is pushed right
into it.]

JM: THAT was.

[Monosso tries to pull 'Alric' out, but the dummy's neck is now wedged
into the broken glass.  He shrugs and leaves it there.]

JM: The parking lot is full of glass.  And tanks of gasoline.  And
moving two-thousand-pound objects suitable for ramming.  And there's the
chain link fence, which is like a cheese grater for flesh.  And... the
list goes on and on.  I can kill a man dozens of ways out here, Eric. 
And it's legal.  Oh, they'd shut down the AWA and send me back to the
asylum.  But that would keep all of Todd's 'kids' out of trouble, now
wouldn't it?  Maybe the sacrifice is worth it.  Maybe not.  

Maybe... we'll find out on Memorial Day.

[With that we cut back inside the WKIK Studios where our announcers are
standing.]

BW:  Did he... did you... my car!

GM:  James Monosso is in the parking lot sending a message to Eric
Preston!  Teaching him a lesson and... well, Bucky, your car was the
first lesson!

BW:  MY CAR!

GM:  Bucky... breathe, Bucky.  Oh boy.  Fans, let's go up to the ring.

[Up in the ring, Melissa is standing alongside a long black-haired young
wrestler with a somewhat scruffy mustache and beard.  He has long black
trunks and boots, and a mischevious glint in his eyes.  He's also
wearing a neon green foam cowboy hat for some reason.]

MC:  This contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute time
limit.  Introducing first, already in the ring from Jamestown,
California... weighing 221 pounds... Kyle Houlder!

[The young grappler waves at the camera, smirking.]

GM: That young man better get serious in a hurry.

BW:  ...

GM:  Bucky, do I need to call Dr. Ponavitch for you?

[The deep reverb of a steel bass guitar opens to a southern-rock
inspired riff based on "The Theme From The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly"
by Enrico Morricone.  The fans cheer as the broad-shouldered figure of
Brent Maverick storms out into the studio in full power-walk.  The
veteran with the tousled dark-brown hair, five o' clock shadow, and
untrimmed mustache is wearing knee-length rust-red trunks with an
Arizona Sun logo near the waistband, red leather Western-style boots,
black tape wristbands, brown leather work gloves with the fingers cut
off, and a red leather sleeveless vest.  Maverick slides into the ring,
and paces in his corner as Melissa gives the introduction.]

MC:  And his opponent... from Tucson, Arizona... weighing 241 pounds...

BRENNNNT MAAAAAVERICK!

[Maverick ditches his vest and turns to face his young opponent, who is
pretending to ride a horse and wave his goofy foam hat like a rodeo
cowboy.  The Arizonan just stops in mid-stride and stares with a narrow
gaze as Houlder proceeds to pretend to rock out to Brent's music, which
stops in mid-chord.]

GM:  Bucky, say something.

BW:  My car.

GM:  Something else.

BW:  Fine.  I'm a professional.  I'm the Announcer Of The Year, by God! 
This kid better get serious REAL fast, Gordo.  When you're fresh outta
wrestlin' school, ya don't play games with an established veteran.  This
kid might get hurt.

GM: We'll see just how much restraint Brent Maverick has left in him
after being assaulted in cowardly fashion by Shane taylor and Kevin
Slater two wee-

BW: COWARDLY?  They went face-ta-face with him, daddy!  They gave him
every opportunity ta let it slide!  He hit them first! Whaddya mean,
cowardly?!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM: Two-on-one is always cowardly.  Maverick waiting for Kyle Houlder to
turn and face him.

[Eventually, he does, which was probably his first mistake.  Maverick
throws a looping overhand right hook to Houlder's left eye, flooring the
youngster with a loud sound.  And no, it wasn't a sound like flesh
smacking flesh... it was a sound like fist connecting with bone.  The
fans "oooh" in sympathy for the youngster.]

BW: OUCH.  That sounded like one of Soup Kitchen Samson's punches!

GM: Houlder's still conscious, so he didn't punch as hard as Samson, but
then again, no one really does.  Maverick wasting no time, pouncing on
the rookie and kneeing him in the face!  And again!  Maverick is
extremely aggressive, and he won't give young Kyle a moment to breathe!

BW: Too aggressive.  As our last show proved.

GM: Houlder manages to stand, and fires back, but that's not the way to
go after Maverick, who stuffs a front elbow into his face.  Kyle Houlder
backed up against the ropes now, and Irish-Whip... turned about... OH MY
WORD!

[The crowd pops as Maverick takes Houlder, who is leaning against the
ropes, by the arm and Irish-whips him.  However, Maverick spins the
Irish-Whip around to send Kyle chest-first into the ropes he was just
leaning against, and blasts him in the back of the head with a
clothesline as he rebounds backwards!  Houlder's lower body keeps going
as his upper body is hammered downwards, and he ends up doing a
faceplant in painful-looking fashion.]

BW: I think you can pin him now.

GM: I think you're right.  A clothesline to the back of the head, which
the Japanese call the enzuilariato, I'm told.

BW: Waitaminute!  Since when did you know fancy names for moves?

GM: I've had to study the Japanese terminology, with Nenshou in town. 
Honestly, I think I prefer the American technical terms.

[In the meantime, Maverick has picked up Kyle Houlder, and popped him
one in the forehead to send him sprawling to the center of the ring. 
Brent runs to the ropes, jumps, and executes a corkscrew elbowdrop onto
the dazed Californian.]

GM: Corkscrew elbow!  That's one you don't see often, and a cover...
this should do it.  One, two... no!  Houlder is tougher than he appears!

BW: Sometimes it's smarter not to show off your toughness.  As Brent
Maverick'll learn first hand if Shane and The Outlaw get ahold of him.

GM: Kevin Slater is NOT The Outlaw.  He is trying to steal that
sobriquet.

BW: So?  Outlaws steal things!  Duh!  If he can do it, that proves he
earned it!

GM: ...actually, I can't fault that reasoning.  We'll find out on
Memorial Day.

[Maverick scoops up Houlder, hammers him in the gut with a right hand,
and sends him to the ropes.  A rushing clothesline is ducked, and on the
return trip Kyle Houlder manages to fire off a jumping bootscrape, using
his bootlaces to rake Maverick's eyes!]

GM: Well!  An illegal tactic, but the unorthodox move has given young
Kyle Houlder an opportunity!  Let's see what he does with it.

BW: Jumping back elbow!  Gordo, ya think Slater an' Shane wore Maverick
down two weeks ago?

GM: No, I think this young man managed to show a little bit of
resourcefulness... though he's wasting it right now!

[Indeed he is.  Kyle decides to mock Maverick with a little more fake
horse-riding.  He then turns around and eats a lefthanded uppercut that
sends him head-over-heels to the canvas!  The crowd cheers the
comeuppance of the disrespetful youngster.]

BW: Give that kid some brain cells and maybe he'll be good in a few
years, but I think Maverick just knocked whatever brain cells he had out
through his nostrils!

GM: I concur.  Maverick scooping him up... he has him in the slam
position, and now where is he... OH!  Brutal!

BW: Oklahoma Stampede?

[That's what it looks like... Maverick runs to the turnbuckle with
Houlder in his clutches and rams his back into the top turnbuckle.  He
then reverses direction and runs at the opposite turnbuckle, ramming
Houlder's back in there.  Finally, he runs back towards the center,
shifting Houlder over his shoulder into powerslam position.  But instead
of powerslamming him, he runs to the opposite turnbuckle again and
tosses him chest-first into the corner!  Houlder rebounds, staggering as
Maverick rebounds off the ropes adjacent to that corner, and absolutely
plasters poor Kyle with a Western lariat that flips the poor kid all the
way over!]

BW: HOLY CRACKER BARREL, DADDY, HE DARN NEAR KILLED THE KID!

GM: I believe that was a 'statement' maneuver.  No need for the Acey
Deucy tonight... one, two, three.


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC: THE WINNER OF THE MATCH...

    ...BRENT MAVERICK!


GM: Brent Maverick with the dominant win, and now coming over to the
interview area.

[Brent gets his hand raised by the referee, and salutes the fans with an
outstretched finger before heading to where Gordon and Bucky stand at
the desk.]

GM: Brent Maverick, last week, it looks like Kevin Slater and Shane
Taylor were out to remove you from the equation by any means necessary. 
And they very nearly did just that.

BM: Close.  But close don't cut bait.  

There's still some fight left in that locker room, Myers.  There's three
types back there.  Those that posse up an' play th' numbers game ta git
all of what they want, those that fight ag'inst it, an' those that don't
care one way or another.  That first group... an' it ain't just
Waterson's boys, it's Slater an' Whiner, too... that first group almost
beat th' second group down ta havin' no hope left.  Almost... it was
real close.  But as I just said, close don't cut bait.  Folk're sick of
th' free rides people give themselves with numbers.

See, if a man goes out an' does people dirty?  I don't really care. 
We're all grown men in this business.

[Maverick rolls his eyes at the ring, where his immature opponent is
finally peeling himself off the canvas.]

BM: ...or should be, anyway.  We're all grown men, an' a one-on-one
encounter ain't never 'unfair'.  If someone cheats ya, it means ya
shouldn'ta let th' fight be close enough for that ta happen.  It all
comes down ta th' fact that it's a fight... rules are fine, but ya
cain't take for granted that they'll be enforced.  So one opponent, or
one-ta-one odds for a team?  No excuses.  Whoever wins proved it.

Kevin Slater, lemme ask ya somethin'.  When was th' last time ya ever
proved anythin'?

GM: I'm not sure I follow.

BM: Bucky Wilde, I'll make my point by ask you this: does beatin' a man
down under any circumstances prove you're better?  No matter how?

[Bucky grins and nods vehemently.]

BW: Of COURSE it does, daddy!  The point is ta win!  Winnin' makes ya
better!

BM: So what if Gordon Myers pinned Kevin Slater?

[Hearing that ridiculous statement, especially delivered with a straight
face, causes Bucky to crack up.  Poor Gordon, however, goes white with
fear.]

GM: That's not possible, Brent.

BM: But if it happened?

BW: Ha ha... sure, sure, if it happened.  An' if th' moon fell ta Earth,
it'd make a big mess.  But that ain't likely either.

BM: True.  So what if I found Kevin Slater in the back, beat his head in
with a crowbar until he was in a coma, dragged him out here, an' THEN
Gordon pinned him?  Or that grade-school kid over there in the second
row?  Or that ninety-pound scrawny kid holdin' the boom?  Or you, Bucky
Wilde?  Would that make alla you better than Kevin Slater?

BW: ...uhhhh.

BM: Kevin Slater must think so, because he's callin' himself by Bobby
Taylor's name when he ain't never really fought the man!  He suckered
Grant Stone inta doin' his work, an' now he's got Shane Whiner
desperately lookin' fer a handicap match.  But he ain't provin' nothin'
that way!  Kevin Slater oughta be thankin' me for givin' him a chance ta
show he's a man, an' not some cowardly jackass who cain't handle his
business one-on-one!

Not like we don't already know th' answer.  He showed it again two weeks
ago.  I expect he'll probably hire someone else on Memorial Day, or have
someone wreck my car, or Bobby Taylor's car, or some dang fool thing. 
Th' best result he can hope for by doin' things HIS way?  Bobby Taylor
gets hurt, Brent Maverick gets hurt, an' Kevin Slater's STILL a joke.

I don' care if ya call yerself an Outlaw, Slater; but if ya wanna call
yerself a MAN?  Do it our way.

[With that, Maverick storms off to the cheers of the fans.]

BW: Hm.  That made me think, Gordo.

GM: Indeed.  Strong words for Kevin Slater, as well as Shane Taylor. 
Brent Maverick claiming that their methods are defeating their purpose,
basically.  

BW: No, no, that ain't it.  I'm thinkin'... when MAMMOTH crushes Juan
Vasquez next time?  I wonder if I can talk Louis Matsui inta lettin' me
go pin him?!  I mean, then I'll be Announcer Of The Year AND a better
man than the Wrestler Of The Year!

GM: Maybe they'll give you the next match against Mizusawa, then.

BW: *urk*  Forget I asked!

GM: In any case, the tag team match at Memorial Day Mayhem: Taylor and
Maverick against Taylor and Slater... I have a feeling that something
unpredictable may happen there.  What lengths will Shane Taylor and
Kevin Slater stoop to to get their way?  Will Bobby Taylor really be
able to coexist with Brent Maverick?  There's a lot of tension, and
we're just two weeks from seeing how that combustible situation decides
to combust.  And ladies and gentlemen, I'm being told that the Southern
Syndicate just arrived here at the building.  Let's take a look...

[We cut to footage taped moments ago in the parking lot with a long
black stretch limo pulling into view.  After a moment, a tuxedoed driver
leaps out and opens the door.  One by one, the members of the Southern
Syndicate emerge...

...well, almost all of them.  It's Ben Waterson out first, grinning
widely as he shouts, "It's gonna be a good night, boys!"  Calisto
Dufresne and Adrian Freeman are the next ones out, Dufresne giving his
partner a high-five as they head towards the building.  

The last one out of the car is the National Champion, "Hotshot" Stevie
Scott, who steps out with the title belt over his shoulder.  He shakes
the hand of Ben Waterson who says, "After you, champ" as the duo walks a
few steps behind their partners-in-crime.

Fade to black.

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

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

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

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

JD:  Hello, Mr. iPhone.

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

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

JD:  Well, actually I did.

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

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

[Thankfully, a voiceover starts.]

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

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

[Fade back to black...

And as we come back to live action, "Gimme Back My Bullets" by Lynyrd
Skynyrd kicks in over the PA to a HUGE heel pop from the fans in
attendance in the WKIK Studios.  And in what is perhaps a bit of a
surprise, ALL the members of the Southern Syndicate make their way
toward Myers and Wilde at the announce table.

The group's manager, "Agent to the Stars" Ben Waterson.  Dressed to the
nines in a charcoal suit, he smirks as he leads his clients toward the
table.

Brian Von Braun follows a few steps behind Ben Waterson.  BVB is decked
out in a pair of black dress slacks, a green button-down shirt left
opened showing off a black t-shirt with a dragon design underneath the
button-down.  Completing the attire is a black, leather jacket with a
top rocker reading "Southern" and a bottom rocker reading "Syndicate" on
the back.  Between the two rockers is a patch which reads "Associate
Only".  BVB also carries a cane with a silver skull at the top.  BVB
ignores the trash-talking fans on his way past them.

Behind Von Braun strolls the former AWA National Tag Team Champions,
"Ladykiller" Calisto Dufresne and his partner in crime, "Subzero" Adrian
Freeman.  Dufresne is clad in a yellow Lacoste polo shirt that's two
sizes too small to emphasize his physique and a pair of designer blue
jeans.  His long blonde hair hangs past his shoulders and a pair of
Rayban Aviator sunglasses hide his eyes, but his cocky smirk is on
display for all.  Adrian Freeman is already dressed for his later match,
wearing his wrestling trunks under a blue button-up shirt.  His brown
hair has recently been shaved short.

Raphael and Simon Rhodes follow... or more specifically, Simon follows
and occasionally turns around to make sure his brother is still
following him.  Raphael does not look very happy, dressed in a
Manchester City F.C. T-shirt and jeans with a hole in the right knee,
along with a flat cap on his head.  Simon is equally slovenly, wearing a
Wigan Warriors replica kit jersey and also wearing jeans with a giant
gash down the left shin.

And bringing up the rear, the AWA National Heavyweight Title in his left
hand, decked out in a navy three-piece suit and sunglasses, as usual, is
"Hotshot" Stevie Scott.  He takes a spot standing to the right of
Waterson as Myers approaches from the left with the microphone in hand.]

GM: Mr. Waterson, this is a bit of an unscheduled visit.  We have _you_
down for interview time, but not the entire Southern Syndicate.

ATTSBW: Myers, how many times do I have to tell you?  The Southern
Syndicate does WHAT we want, WHEN we want, HOW we want.  It doesn't
matter if it's you, Jim Watkins, Todd Michaelson, or Barack Obama
himself... NO ONE is going to keep us from that.

Now let's get one thing clear right off the bat.  There's been a lot of
talk...inaccurate I might add...that the Southern Syndicate is having
internal problems.  There's talk that we're falling apart at the seams,
that the time of our demise is just a few more weeks away.

Myers, what I want you and all the people who seem to think we're on the
verge of collapse to do...is look at this group of individuals.  Right
now, take a look at them!  Does this LOOK like a group that's falling
apart?  Does it, Bucky?

BW: Not in the least, Ben.

[Waterson continues, obviously not intending on getting Myers' opinion.]

ATTSBW: Look at us!  We've got the rightful AWA National Tag Team
Champions, the career killers, Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman, who
in just a few short moments will be sending Todd Michaelson back where
he belongs...behind a desk, pushing papers and making terrible business
decisions.

We've got England's baddest brothers, the tandem who will soon be
sending the Ghost Dancers back to Canada or wherever the hell they like
to spend their time.

And we've got the AWA National Champion, the man who has turned back
challenger after challenger, the man who has made Juan Vasquez look like
a two-bit nobody...the Saturday Night Delight himself, "Hotshot" Stevie
Scott.

[BVB looks at the camera, he turns and points "Associate Only" patch on
the back of his jacket.  He mouths "Only an Associate" to the camera.]

ATTSBW:  The truth of the matter is, there IS no stronger force in
professional wrestling than the group of men you're looking at right
here.  And if there is any doubt in anyone's mind, we're about to spend
the rest of the month of May reminding the world that when you talk
about the Southern Syndicate, you're talking about the BEST.

[Waterson steps back as Myers turns toward Stevie.]

GM: Speaking of the month of May, it comes to a close with Memorial Day
Mayhem, and you, Stevie Scott, have to defend your AWA National Title
against a man who made a very impassioned speech two weeks ago right
here on this program.  Of course I am talking about your former partner,
Sweet Daddy Williams.

[The champion pauses, slowly removing his sunglasses and putting them
into the pocket of his shirt inside his jacket.]

HSS: Williams...two weeks ago, I came out here in front of God and all
the witnesses in the WKIK studios and in their living rooms watching on
television...I came here and I gave you an out.  I gave you a "get out
of jail free" card, out of the kindness and the goodness of my heart.  I
gave you the escape you needed to save yourself from the humiliation of
the worst beating of your long and unstoried career.

But you, my fat former friend...did not take it.

[Stevie shakes his head.]

HSS: Instead, you came out here and you went on and on about how Billy
Bob over there in the front row can't pay his bills...how Jenny Lynn
sitting at home in her double-wide just wants to buy her kids pizza on a
Friday night...how 50 grand would mean the world to so many people out
there struggling to get by.

Williams...I can't argue with that.

But that's not my problem.

[Bit of a heel pop there.]

HSS: I didn't make Juan Vasquez put up 50 thousand dollars so you could
face me.  I didn't make _you_ accept the 50 thousand dollars so you
could get in the ring with the greatest wrestler that has ever graced
the canvas in an AWA ring.  I didn't make you, Williams.

_You_ did.

You come out here, and you talk about these people.  You talk about how
much they mean to you, how they drive you, how you're getting into the
ring with me for them.

You, my fat former friend...are also a big, fat _liar_!

[Heel pop!]

HSS: You might have the wool pulled over their eyes, big man, but mine? 
No way.  Because you see, these people?  They see you for 15 minutes
every two weeks on television.  Maybe a couple more hours during the
week during promotional visits.  But me?  I ran with you for _months_. 
Spent waaaaay too many hours in cars, in restaurants, in bars, in locker
rooms, in hotel rooms with you.  They don't know you, Sweet Daddy.

But I do.

You say this isn't about revenge for, quote, stabbing you in the back? 
I know better, Sweet Daddy.  I know what your ego is _really_ like.  I
know that deep down, you're not in this for the fans.  I know that
you're in this for one person, and that person is Sweet Daddy Williams.

I figured that out one year ago, when I was in the ER after being
attacked by Velikov and Sudakov on a night where we were supposed to get
a shot at the tag team titles.  I figured that out when you, my supposed
partner and best friend, left me to be taken there _alone_, so you could
go get _another_ partner and cash in the title shot that _I_ earned for
us.

That's the night I figured out what kind of a piece of _gutter_ _slime_
you really are, Williams!

[Heel pop!]

HSS: That's the night I figured out all this talk you make of loving the
fans and doing it for them was nothing more than a steaming pile of
lies.  That's the night I figured out that all the times I listened to
you tell me how we did what we did for the people...

...was just your way of trying to keep your gravy train from leaving the
station.

That's the funny thing about lies, Williams.  You can hide them for a
while, but eventually...eventually, they find you out.

It's just too bad that all these people who adore you can't figure that
out.

[Yep, more heel poppage.]

HSS: Now, don't misunderstand something.  All these people in here
tonight, all the people watching at home, all the people who come to our
shows all throughout the south...I appreciate them.  I do.

["Yeah, right" pop!  BVB shakes his head and looks out to the crowd
yelling, "He only likes that instead of buyin' a six pack of PBR, y'all
decided to pay his electric bill this month!"]

HSS: But whether they like me or they don't like me?  I could care less.
 Because they don't win matches for me.  They don't make me the number
one wrestler in the business today.  _I_ do that.  Ben Waterson does
that.  The Southern Syndicate does that.

That's the difference between you and me, Williams.  Because I'm willing
to admit that it _is_ about me.  I'm willing to admit that I'm in this
sport to be the _best_...to win _championships_...to get _paid_ to live
the lifestyle that I enjoy today.

But you?  You, Sweet Daddy, choose to _hide_ behind the fans.

[Another heel pop!]

HSS: You may have them fooled, big man, but not me.  You're coming after
me for one reason and one reason only.  You want revenge.  You want my
title.  You want my paycheck.  And you want it...

...for YOU.

Not for THEM.

[Stevie points at the crowd with those last three words.]

HSS: Oh, you _say_ you're doing it for the people, but all that does? 
All that does is give you an _excuse_ when I whip your fat ass from
corner to corner and make you beg me for mercy.  Because then?  It's
only the people you let down.

That way, you don't have to own up to the fact that you, after all those
_years_...after all those _miles_...after all those _matches_ in every
dirt-stained arena you could find with every B-rate promotion that would
book you on their card...

...you don't have to own up to the fact that YOU...STILL...SUCK!

[HUGE heel pop!]

HSS: That way, your ego doesn't get quite as bruised because,
hey...you're in it for the people and even if you lose, you can dance
around, blow smoke up their collective butts and they'll still love you.
 And it hides the fact that you are a _disgrace_ to all the _true_
athletes that have graced this ring.

Athletes like Raphael and Simon Rhodes...athletes like Calisto Dufresne
and Adrian Freeman...athletes like Brian Von Braun...even athletes like
Ben Waterson.

That way, you don't have to look in the mirror, face yourself and allow
_your_ huge ego to be bruised.

[Stevie pauses, letting the accusations sink in, I suppose.]

HSS: That's why I gave you a chance to get out of this match.  You claim
to know me well, Sweet Daddy, and maybe you do.  Maybe you do.  But
don't forget that I know _you_ well, too.  _I_ know what you're in this
for, and you and I _both_ know that you're just not good enough to get
it.  Never _have_ been, and never _will_ be.

You and I _both_ know who the driving force behind Sweet Heat was.  You
and I _both_ know why we were as successful as we were, why you got
bigger paydays for those six months than you ever got in your career. 
You and I _both_ know it was because of ME.

Two weeks ago, I gave you a chance.  A chance to get out, a chance to
save face, a chance to avoid the humiliation that you've long had coming
to you.

I gave you chance to get out, Williams, and you didn't take it.

So instead?

[Stevie pauses, laughing softly.]

HSS: I'm going to _put_ you out.

[There is a brief pause, as Myers looks over to Raphael Rhodes, looking
away from the group.]

GM: There you can see why the rumors of tensions amongst the ranks
currently exist, from the body language of Raphael Rhodes.

SR: No, mate, listen.  Me brother's a very proud man, and what happened
at the end of Saturday Night Wrestlin' last week didn't sit right with
him.  But you know what?  We sat down like men and settled it out... you
see, Myers, the spirit of competition can get to you!  That's what
happened, and there ain't much more to be said about that.

[Raphael goes to say something but Simon holds his hand up and, for
once, Raphael Rhodes shows restraint.  BVB shakes his head.]

SR: All that battle royale proved was that the only thing that can stop
us is ourselves.  But what's done is done, mate, and we got bigger fish
out there to worry about.  Ghost Dancers... you got us at Memorial Day
Mayhem.  This all started because you can't handle the fact that both of
you are bleedin' miserable failures in life.  You couldn't handle that
me brother used you as an example, Jason Keening.  But let me make
somethin' crystal for you, chav...

[Simon flashes a devious grin.]

SR: You ain't gettin' in there with a couple of greenies.  You're
gettin' in there with the two toughest men to ever lace up boots.  And
you got us in an elimination match... what's goin' to happen when your
brother gets beat?  We ain't makin' no bones about it... we're goin'
after Michael first and knockin' him out, because we want to savor the
punishment we're goin' to lay down on you.  We're goin' to enjoy takin'
apart a Hall of Famer, bit by bit, until there ain't nothin' left of
you.

[Simon pats Raphael on the shoulder.]

SR: Because, you see, if you hadn't said what you said about the
Rumble... you might've left with just a few broken bones and hurt pride.
 But you think you're goin' in there to help Vasquez?  Sonny, you're
goin' to be real bleedin' lucky if you leave Memorial Day Mayhem
_alive_, much less make it to the Rumble without debilitatin' injuries. 
So you say what you wa-...

[BVB steps in and grabs Myers' hand, pulling the mic towards himself and
away from Simon Rhodes.]

BVB:  ... Ya're done.

[The Rhodes Brothers and BVB start a staredown, the tension between
Brian Von Braun and Raphael Rhodes even more evident.  BVB breaks the
stare first and looks at Gordon Myers.]

BVB:  Ron Houston.  "Special Enforcer" fer tha Rumble.  Rob Magnum.  Ron
Houston's buddy.  Ya know, Ron?  You deserved that slap.

[BVB pauses, licks his lips to moisten them.]

BVB:  Ya're _afraid_.  Ya're a _coward_.  Ya hide behind yer injury an'
use it as an excuse ta not have ta step inta tha ring an' take tha
beatin' yer owed.

[He points the skull on his cane at the camera for added emphasis.]

BVB:  Ya're the Special Enforcer.  Nothin' more than a glorified referee
who's gonna do whatever he can ta make sure Juan Vasquez gets his hand
raised at tha end of tha match.  For added bonus, ya dragged out a
broken rassler who ain't seen a good day since 1999 ta try ta tip tha
balance further in yer favor.

[BVB shakes his head and waves his cane from side to side.]

BVB:  Ain't gonna happen.  Not on my watch.  Not while I'm in tha
Rumble.  Rob Magnum?  Before ya start talkin' championships an'
accomplishments, stuff it.  Ain't none of that is gonna matter over
Memorial Day Weekend.  This ain't 1999.  Ya're lon' past yer heyday, old
timer.

[Dufresne steps in as Von Braun hands the microphone to him.  He takes a
long, hard look at Raphael Rhodes through his sunglasses, but his lips
creep upward in a smile as he begins.]

CD: First things first.  What happened last week... What's got the
internet buzzing - not that any of you idiots here get the internet in
your trailers - with ridiculous rumors... It's much ado about nothing. 
Sometimes when you've got such elite-level athletes competing at once,
the instinct to win kicks in and that's all that you see.

So, Raph... No worries.  I forgive you, man.

[Dufresne smiles, very proud of himself for forgiving Rhodes (not that
he apologized, mind you) for slapping him two weeks ago.]

AF: I'm sure if the same thing happened between Vasquez and the rest of
his nancy-boy crew they'd spend months and months boring us all with a
tiff over it.  But see, we in the Southern Syndicate are adults, and we
can settle these... misunderstandings quickly and peacefully. 
Unfortunately, tonight we have to settle another problem in the long and
violent way.

CD:  Tonight is a special night for me personally because tonight my
illustrious career comes full circle in a way.  Tonight, Adrian and I
get to step in the ring against the guy who gave me my first paycheck in
this business, Todd Michaelson. 

A couple of years back in Los Angeles, Michaelson decided to find a
group of young guys who had talent and a desire to wrestle.  He taught
them the ropes, as they say.  Most of these guys work down at the local
YMCA at this point, but there was one guy in particular who was head and
shoulders above the rest.  He had charisma.  He had the statuesque body
of a Greek god.  He wrestled circles around the competition in the ring.
 A man who could hold a promotion up proudly upon his shoulders.  A
prodigal son, if you will.  The one and only champion that promotion
ever knew.  That man, of course...

[Dufresne bows to the crowd.]

CD: ...was me. 

And Todd, I know it's been a few years since I added a few zeros to your
bank account, but you have to know in your heart of hearts... That
getting in the ring with me...

[A deep sigh.]

CD: ...is one of the worst mistakes of your mistake-ridden life.  This
ain't the M-DOJO, my friend.  This is for real.

AF: And of course, Todd Michealson is one of the AWA brain trust who
kept me on the undercard for months while talentless hacks hogged the
limelight.  With his eye for talent it's no wonder the Combat Corner has
yet to produce anything but curtain jerkers.  He even managed to drag
one of his golden boys, Marcus Broussard, out of the hospital for
another go around with the best tag team in wrestling.

CD: You're right, Adrian, as usual.  Who could forget about Marcus
Broussard? 

[A bit of a snicker.]

CD: Aww, who am I kidding?  The world forgot about Marcus Broussard the
moment he dropped the gold.  Especially now that we have a real champion
that we can be proud of in Stevie Scott.  Broussard, I'm thinking that
you might have wanted a little tune-up match before you decided to get
in the ring with the two of us.  I think City Jack is available
somewhere.

[Cheap heel pop!]

AF: Let's face it, Marcus: you couldn't beat us when you were teaming
with Rogers, who while terrible is not yet a member of the AARP.  What
makes you think you can do it tagging with a bag of bones?
 
CD: But I certainly appreciate you two has-beens giving me a tune-up for
the cake walk that will be my match against Soup Bone Samson in two
weeks.  I think right now he's out punching slabs of meat somewhere, but
I digress.  They call you the San Jose Shark, right?  Well you know what
happens when there's blood in the water.  All the sharks come to feed. 
The only problem for you tonight, Broussard...

[Cue dramatic pause.]

CD: ...is that blood is going to be your own.

AF:  It's not often we go up against opponents who come pre-broken.  I
wouldn't be surprised if the two of you break your backs stepping into
the ring.  But I hope you don't.  I want to do it myself.

[A grinning Waterson steps back in.]

ATTSBW: There you have it, Myers.  The Southern Syndicate is MORE than
focused and ready to take on the challenges that lie ahead in the next
few weeks.  Michaelson...you heard Calisto and Adrian and what they have
in store for you.  The rightful National Tag Team champions are going to
make you regret ever trying to step up against me and the Southern
Syndicate.

Keenings...I hope you're not counting on internal strife in the Southern
Syndicate to be your ticket out of the beating you've got coming to you
from a set of brothers FAR superior to yourselves.  There only problem
Raph and Simon have is with you two, and if you haven't learned
yet...those two are all about taking their problems out.

Houston...you've been a thorn in our side long enough, and now you've
got the Rocket City Badboy on your tail.  Just remember, Ron, when you
play with fire?  You're going to get burned eventually.

And lastly, Sweet Tooth Williams...like the champ said, you should have
walked away when you had the chance.  Come Memorial Day Mayhem, I can
promise you this.

You're going to wish you had.

[Ben grins again.]

ATTSBW:  Michaelson... Broussard... Keenings... Houston... Magnum...
Williams... and don't you dare dream for a second that I've forgotten
about you, Jack Snyder... all of you... you know the drill.

Consider.  Yourselves.  Warned.

[And with that, the entire Southern Syndicate walks away in unison,
leaving Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde behind.]

GM:  Those guys are unbelievable.

BW:  My thoughts exactly!

GM:  But somehow I think we have entirely different meanings, Bucky. 
Fans, let's go up to the ring.

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

MC:  Ladies and gentlemen, this match is scheduled for one fall! 
Already in the ring, accompanied by Vladimir Velikov.... 

... BARON VON KLAUS!

[Boo!  You suck, weird foreigner with a weird build!]

MC:  And his opponent...

[It's about then that the still somewhat unfamiliar AC/DC's "Spoiling
for a Fight" rattles over the house speakers, queuing the entrance of
AWA newcomer "All American" Aaron Anderson.  The tall, athletic young
man bounds out without pause.  His hand is outstretched before the fans
even are, hoping for a high five from whomever might give it to him.]

MC:  Introducing now, from St. Cloud, Minnesota, weighing in at
255lbs... 

"THE ALL AMERICAN" AARON ANDERSON!

[Dressed in green tights with black kneepads and boots, Anderson's gear
choice doesn't cut a shocking picture, but regardless his energy is a
presence as he continues to jog around the ring, giving the obligatory
"COME ON!" and a fist pump before stopping, ONE HOPPING up onto the
apron and with as much ease and barely a hand on the ropes, bounds right
over the top rope and into the ring.  He turns, smiling as he climbs to
the second rope, raising his hands once more.  Youthful exhuberance, you
gotta love it.]

GM:  Ladies and gentlemen, we are joined at ringside by Todd Michaelson
for this match, a contest that was interrupted some weeks ago by the
massive Devastation.  

BW:  What the in the blazing heck are you doing out here anyways?  You
have a match TONIGHT but are out here for this kid!

TM:  I am out here for a simple reason, gentlemen.  We at the AWA Combat
Corner will support our students and show the love they deserve no
matter the circumstances.  Besides, have you seen what's going on lately
in the AWA?  It's chaos!  You even mentioned Devastation running in on
his last contest.  And who the heck knows when the Southern Syndicate
might show up and try to send a message through another one of my kids. 
Maybe being at ringside I can deter some of that and let this kid show
what he can do.

GM:  Todd, Aaron Anderson was the first graduate of the Combat Corner,
but let's face it.  He hasn't lived up to his hype in his AWA tenure
thus far.

BW:  Come on now!  Let's be honest and call him the failure he is!

TM:  Guys, I can't disagree.  Aaron hasn't lived up to his potential,
not at all.  But... he IS a talented kid, let's see what he can do here.

[As Von Klauss and Velikov discuss their strategy, the referee calls for
the bell, starting the contest.  Anderson comes in, Von Klaus ducking
out of the ropes.  STALL!]

GM:  Tell us about Aaron Anderson, Todd, as this match gets underway.

TM:  What is there to say?  He's a Division II champion, from St. Cloud
University.  He has a solid, solid amateur base...

BW:  ...BUT this is the pros and this kid has to learn how to really go
now!

[Again Anderson comes in for the tie up, Klauss ducking out between the
ropes once more, much to the ire of the crowd.  Anderson begs the
official to get him in the fight, turning his back and leaving the
opening!]

GM:  Eye poke by Von Klauss!  A dirty tactic by the ring veteran!  

[And he continues, putting Anderson against the ropes, sending him
across the ring with an Irish whip only to be taken down by a shoulder
block!]

GM:  Big tackle by Anderson!

[Klauss scrambles up, Anderson hitting the ropes and levelling Klauss a
second time!  Then a third!  POP!  Klauss IMMEDIATELY leaves the ring,
swinging his arm in circles as Velikov comes over to comfort his
charge.]

GM:  Impressive power by The All American, taking down Von Klauss three
times in a row.

BW:  BUT falling to a simple eye poke before that.

[Von Klauss slowly enters back in, waving Aaron Anderson back.  Anderson
complies, letting the German competitor into the ring, the two circling.
 Anderson, ever eager, starts clapping overhead, getting the crowd into
it... and he keeps clapping until the crowd starts clapping with him!]

GM:  Lock up in the middle of the ring, Anderson slips behind into a
waistlock!

TM:  And quite seamlessly.  Remember, this guy is an All American
wrestler.  His technique is absolutely superb.  There is a reason he
flew through our program so well.  His base is just so strong, he just
needed to learn the differences between pro and amateur.

[And he learns a quick lesson, leaving Von Klauss to close to the edge
of the ring, allowing him to get a foot on the ropes and get the break
from the hold.]

BW:  Rookie mistake, yet again!  

GM:  Lock up again here and Anderson takes the side headlock!

[And almost immediately sent off the ropes, ducking a Von Klauss swing
and lifting Klauss... taking him down!]

GM:  Go behind and take down!  Great technique!

TM:  But he makes a big mistake in letting Von Klauss get back up.  Why
not keep him grounded?  

[Von Klauss takes the moment to escape, crawling away!  The crowd yells
at Anderson to turn around, and he does... grabbing him by the ankle and
pulling him back into the ring!]

GM:  Baron Von Klauss is not getting away this time!

[But, of course, Velikov is right up onto the apron, distracting the All
American.  Foolishly he goes after him, only for Velikov to hop off and
Von Klauss to jump him from behind!]

BW:  ANOTHER rookie mistake!  This kid can be All American, all
athletic, whatever, but this many rookie mistakes is going to cost
anyone.

TM:  It's true.  He needs to learn the ring, be aware and know there are
two guys out here.  He can't be falling for this trick, but he'll learn.
 He's just lucky it's someone like Von Klauss in there and not the
Southern Syndicate or Devastation.

GM:  Another forearm to the spine by Von Klauss, stunning Anderson!

[Backing away, Von Klauss backs off and charges... but Anderson moves
out of the way, sending Von Klauss over the ropes...

...and right onto Velikov!  POP!]

GM:  There is some quick  thinking!

TM:  Come on kid... come on... ahhh!

[The source of frustration?  Anderson being a bit over eager and heading
outside after them!]

BW:  You need to learn this kid, Todd.  You were quite the cheater and
cheapskate back in the day.  You don't teach your students all the
"tricks" of the trade?

TM:  How about I come over there and trick your trade upside your head?

BW:  You're too used to callin' matches with your ol' lady.

GM:  Come on guys!  

[Aaron Anderson steps out, backing off a stunned Velikov before rolling
the Baron into the ring.   Velikov sneaks up, a happy go lucky kid
yelling at Anderson in warning.  The All American turns, backs off the
Russian again and high fives the kid.  He slips in...

...and gets jumped!]

GM:  The Baron right there, stomping the heck out of Aaron Anderson,
keeping the rookie on the mat!

TM:  Aaron is doing the right thing though, backing off and trying to
get up.  Keep your hands up kid.  Get to a corner and fight back.

[As if he heard it...]

GM:  He's following your directions perfectly, Todd.  Up in the corner,
hands up...

[And blocks a punch, firing back with his own... then blocks and fires
back, then blocks and fires back...

...then takes an eye rake, Baron drawing more heat from the gathered
crowd!]

BW:  EYE RAKE ACROSS THE TOP ROPE!  Classic! 

[And then turns Anderson around, raking his back before choking him
against the middle rope!]

BW:  Vintage Baron Von Klauss

TM:  Please.  Don't.

GM:  Oh wait here, Klauss is backing off and...OH!  AND VELIKOV TAKES
OVER!

[By pulling down on Anderson's head, pressing him into the rope!  The
crowd gets on him, Velikov backing away, arms up, as the referee turns
back to watch.  Von Klauss gets back on him with a series of forearms to
the back before throwing him into the corner and pressing a hand against
his throat!  MORE HEAT!]

GM:  You can't fight if you can't breathe, but this is outright
cheating!

[The referee admonishes him, Klauss backing off only to lay a rough boot
to the stomach, followed by a shoulder block.]

BW:  Baron Von Klauss taking control here on the young Aaron Anderson. 
This punk is getting what's coming to him!

TM:  He's unorthodox, but it's keeping him on top here.

[A snap mare follows, Klauss standing over him, cranking his thick neck
to one side, hand on chin and head.]

GM:  Baron Von Klauss slowing it down, wearing down The All American,
catching his breath... and drawing the ire of these fans!  Look at him! 
He's yelling at our fine fans!

BW:  They should be cheering him, that's why! 

[Anderson strains in agony, trying to break Von Klauss' grip.  The Baron
releases quickly, dropping an elbow to the bridge of Anderson's nose,
then going right back to the crank!]

GM:  He very well could have broken the All American's nose with that
shot!

TM:  And went right back to the neck.  This might be a really smart
move.  The neck is very important in wrestling.  Bridges, throwing,
everything.  

[Anderson strains, muscles flexing as he tries to get back into the
fight.  Then he stomps... and stomps... and keeps stomping a single
foot, the crowd getting along.  Kids start stomping, parents start
clapping.  Anderson puts a defiant fist up, shaking as he tries to get
to a better base.]

GM:  "The All American" Aaron Anderson trying to get the fans behind him
here, trying to get back into this fight!

[And they keep cheering and stomping and clapping and once they are at
their height... elbow to the stomach!  Another elbow... and a third!]

GM:  Aaron Anderson is breaking away... 

[BOOO!]

BW:  Or not!

GM:  The Baron pulls him right down by his hair!

[And, rubbing his stomach, smirks, before hitting the rope, leaping up
for a knee drop...

...and hitting nothing but mat!]

GM:  Anderson moves!

[And gets up... with a big clothesline on The Baron!]

TM:  The kid's coming back!

GM:  A second clothesline flattens Baron Von Klauss who stumbles back
up...

[And over!]



"THUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"



GM:  OVERHEAD BELLY TO BELLY SUPLEX!

[And the cover!]

GM:  ONE!  TWO!

[And Baron kicks out, Velikov ready to get in and aid his charge. 
Anderson rolls away, getting up and cutting both arms through the air
with a very audible "It's over!"!]

TM:  Double underhook... here comes a little something I showed this
kid!

GM:  Billion Dollar... VELIKOV UP ON THE APRON!

[And without a pause, Anderson turns around and DECKS Velikov right off
the apron to one of the biggest pops of the match... only to be rolled
up from behind by Klauss!]

GM:  HE HAS THE TIGHTS!  ONE!  TWO!  THRE--EEEEALMOST!

[POP!]

GM:  AARON ANDERSON KICKS OUT DESPITE HIS TIGHTS BEING PULLED!

BW:  I saw nothing!

TM:  Come on, Bucky, that's just ridiculous.

[Von Klauss tries to keep the offense going with a knee to the stomach. 
He goes to send Anderson off the ropes again, only Anderson ducks under
the arm, spins, grabs it and pulls Klauss down...]

GM:  DOUBLE UNDERHOOK...

"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"

[BIG POP!]

TM:  BILLION DOLLAR BOMB, DADDY!

BW:  HEEEEY!

GM:  THAT IS IT!  ONE!  TWO!  THREE! 

"DING DING DING!"

MC:  HERE IS YOUR WINNER... 

....THE ALL AMERICAN AAAAAROOOOON ANDDDERRRRRRRRSOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNN

[The crowd applauds the young man as he gets up, The Baron rolling away
and out.  The All American pumps his fist to the crowd in his own moment
of thanks...

...before turning and taking the mic!]

BW:  Oh, your kid has fire!

[Anderson is breathing somewhat heavy.  Not super heavy, but the guy is
tired.]

AA:  It's time for the real Aaron Anderson to step up.  It's time for
the _REAL_ AARON ANDERSON to step up in the AWA, take his spot and show
you people that I belong here!  You people have supported me despite
being a giant disappointment.  Todd has supported me.  The AWA
management has supported me.  It's time for me to pay that back to you
people!

[He pauses, looking quite seriously towards the hard cam.]

AA:  It's time for Aaron Anderson, The All American, the first graduate
of the Combat Corner to stand up, to step up...

...AND THROW DEVASTATION OVER THE TOP ROPE IN THE MEMORIAL DAY RUMBLE!

[POP IN SUPPORT!  Anderson spikes the mic and exits the ring, arms
raised in triumph.]

BW:  Did I hear that right?  Did the Championship Committee actually
give a spot in the Rumble to this punk kid?

TM:  You'd better believe it and I'm going to be right there in Houston
to support him in his effort to win the whole thing.  Aaron and Eric are
both in the Rumble and it could be a big night for the Combat Corner!

GM:  Aaron Anderson is the twenty-eighth entry into the Rumble - two
more to go that I understand we'll find out about later tonight in the
Control Center.  Todd, thanks for joining us out here and good luck
later tonight against the Southern Syndicate.

BW:  You're gonna need it.

TM:  Thanks, Gordon.

GM:  And fans, I understand we are going to cut back to James Monosso
yet again...

[Again, the feed cuts to the handheld camcorder.  James Monosso is in
the studio's production control room.  There are quite a few people
working here, observing monitor feeds.  Well, they're supposed to be. 
At the moment, they're all standing and watching in horror as the
two-hundred eighty pound psychopath has commandeered the room.  And no
one's dumb enough to argue the point.]

JM: The production control room, Eric.  It looks harmless enough,
doesn't it?  After all, even I'm not crazy enough to destroy the place. 
If I did, the show would go black and I'd be talking for nothing, right?
 But on Memorial Day, we'll have the nice outdoor remote broadcast
setup.  The stuff they have to rent for big events because this studio
doesn't have it.  We won't really need the production control room.  Oh,
sure, if we break this place up, there'll be nobody feeding lies to
Myers and Wilde to spread to the people.  I might shed a tear over that,
but probably not.  We might end up here, Eric.  And if we do... well,
Alric had something in his throat, so I've enlisted my helper E. Rick
Poorston to show you what might happen to you in here.

[James wanders over to some wires on the floor.  He then addresses
another crash test dummy, this one laying on a particularly large cable,
directly.]

JM: Tell me, E. Rick: did you know that a live broadcast antenna
requires a constant power flow of... oh, I dunno... LOTS of volts?

[No answer.]

JM: Good thing we TAPE this show, huh?

[WIth that, James grabs the dummy's 'finger' and stuffs it in a large
socket, in a metal box on the floor.  Nothing happens.]

JM: Oh, right.  Electricity doesn't work that way.  

[He then takes three steps over to the water cooler in the corner, picks
up the bottle, and over the protesting shouts of the entire control room
assemblage, chucks it at the dummy.  There are some loud pops and a
bright white flash.  A couple of the screens go out.]

JM: Well, E. Rick is made of plastic.  He'll be fine.  You, on the other
hand, Eric... you will NOT be fine.  You'd probably die.  Well, really,
the shock wouldn't be prolonged enough.  That was just the broadcast
tower's power supply.  I didn't even go near the studio building
power... this time.

On Memorial Day though?  ANYTHING is a weapon.

[James glowers at the shouting technicians as he says 'anything'... they
grow much quieter then.  We cut back to the studio.]

GM:  Somebody needs to get control of that man!

BW:  You volunteering?

GM:  Of course not.  But he's in the Control Room, Bucky!  What's to
stop him from cutting off our live feed next time?  We got lucky there
and he hit the wrong power supply but we could have easily just been
taken off the air!  We need to get someone in there to-

[And just like, we abruptly cut to commercial.

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

"Fans, it's that time of year again!  As the AWA hits the summer months,
we're going on the road!  No longer staying in the Lone Star State, the
months of 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!

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

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

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

[And with that, we fade back up to live action where Gordon and Bucky
are standing.]

GM:  Fans, I apologize for that but as I unfortunately had predicted,
James Monosso hit the wrong button in our Control Room and off the air
we went.  I've been told that security has escorted him out of the
production area though so hopefully we have no further interruptions
from that maniac.
At this time, I'd like to bring in Vernon Riley who is on the cusp of
what I can only describe as a holy war with the "Prince of Darkness"
Anton Layton.

[Riley walks into the scene, wearing a burnt orange Texas Longhorns
shirt, blue jeans, boots, and a black cowboy hat.  The Amarillo native
takes a spot to the right of Myers and wastes no time in beginning his
interview time.]

VR: Ya know, Gawdahn...I've been in this business for a long time.  I've
been through the highs and the lows, the peaks and the valleys if ya
will.  I've stood across the ring from many a man...from some of the
roughest, toughest SOB's that professional wrestling has ever seen.

But none of 'em, Gawdahn...and you know this as well as I do...none of
'em are as crazy as that nutjob Anton Layton.

[Myers nods in agreement while Riley points at the camera.]

VR: Layton...you and me, we've been around the block a time or two
before.  We've both acknowledged out past in public, right here on AWA
Saturday Night.  This ain't our first tango together, you know what I'm
saying, Gawdahn?

And you've come back...you've followed me all the way to Texas...for
another shot at the Workin' Man.  Another chance to redeem yourself for
what happened to you down in Florida ten years ago.  You come out here
talkin' crazy talk like always, 'bout your master and circles and tales
of pain, blues, and agony comin' to pass.

[The "Working Man" pauses.]

VR: Gawdahn, you know that old sayin'.  You can't teach an old dog new
tricks.  Well, Layton, it don't take but one look at you to know you're
an old dog, and it don't take but one look at what you been throwin' my
way to know you ain't got no new tricks up your sleeve.

But you never know what the Workin' Man's got up his, you understand
what I'm saying?

So you want to do this again, Layton?  Then by all means...LET'S DO
THIS!

[The fired-up Riley draws a pop from the crowd.]

VR: Don't bring none of your flunkies, you understand?  Don't bring no
more of your masked men to try to do your work for you, you hear?  Let's
do this the old-fashioned way...the way two men are supposed to do it,
daddy!  Let's get you and me in that ring, and _once and for
all_...let's settle this score that you ain't been able to let go for
over a decade.

Me and you, jack.  Me and you.  Let's put this to rest.  You name the
_time_...you name the _place_...and ol' Vern will be there, you
understand?  The Working Man will be there, ready to get funky just like
old times, daddy!

And Gawdahn...you know how funky Big Vern can get!

[Riley slaps Myers on the shoulder before walking away, leaving Myers
smiling in the wake of his promo.]

GM:  Fans, Vernon Riley is not a man who backs down from a fight.

BW:  But do you know how funky he can get?

GM:  I do.  Indeed I do.  Fans, let's go backstage to Jason Dane who is
standing by with the men who won a shot at the National Tag Team Titles
two weeks ago and they will receive that shot on the 4th of July, Rough
N Ready!  Jason?

[Cut to backstage, where we find the members of Rough N Ready standing
alongside Jason Dane. Dave Cooper wears a blue polo shirt and jeans,
Eric Matthew Somers wears a black T-shirt and jeans, while Sarah Sharpe
is dressed in her usual attire of leather jacket, white shirt and
jeans.]

JD: Last time on Saturday Night Wrestling, you guys earned a shot at the
National Tag Team Titles.  Dave and Eric, how do you feel about finally
getting the opportunity you have been waiting to have for some time?

DC: Jason, I have something to get off my chest and-

[Sarah puts up a hand.]

SS: Dave... hold on... you really shouldn't go through with this.

DC: Sarah, this needs to be said and I am going to say it. I have
nothing more to add on that note.

[Sarah just shakes her head as Dave sighs.]

DC: To the point, Jason... Eric and I have been waiting for far too long
to secure ourselves a title shot. We took on whoever the AWA sent our
way, and certainly, we had to deal with our fair share of troublemakers
crossing our paths. Then, along came the point system to determine who
would get a title shot. We face The Bishop Boys for the first time, all
hell breaks loose, and then we find ourselves sitting on the sidelines
because the Championship Committee says we can't face each other in
another tag match, and on top of that, we don't get any other
opportunity to earn that final point.

[Eric isn't saying anything, but he just nods as Dave speaks, a serious
expression on his face.]

DC: So then we finally get that second match with the Bishops, we come
out on top and we secure that final point. Then we don't get the title
shot right away... and hey, we were patient. We could have easily
insisted that Bailey Fitzgerald and Corey Lawson wait their turn for a
non-title shot, but we never said a word about it.

[Sarah, meanwhile, is just shaking her head, not looking happy about
Dave's rant.]

DC: Now we declare we are going to exercise our right to that title
shot, then we end up with travel issues. And who ends up getting the
title shot that was promised to us?

The very same men we beat to get that shot... the Bishop Boys. They
essentially leapfrogged us to get that title shot.

JD: Hold on, Dave... I can understand you being unhappy about missing
out on that title shot, but certainly you realize that Jim Watkins did
what he did because you had travel issues and the fans had been promised
a tag team title defense.

DC: They were promised a title defense with Rough N Ready as the
challengers. You know that, Jason.

But hey, we would have been fine if Watkins has simply told us that
we'll get the first crack at the Bishop Boys... instead, we get told we
have to go through a battle royale with the rest of the roster in order
to get that shot.

[He takes a deep breath. Eric, meanwhile, hasn't changed his expression
while Sarah just sighs.]

DC: So we win that, but what's going to happen if we have yet another
issue that prevents us from making a show? Is Watkins just going to keep
giving the shot to somebody else and then tell us we have to prove
ourselves again?

Jason, you know that Eric and I have proven ourselves many times. We've
been patient for our time to come, but now, I am losing patience.

So I am telling Jim Watkins what Eric and I want...we want our title
shot at the Fourth of July event guaranteed. If anything keeps us from
making the show, then either postpone the darn match until the next show
or declare the next shot after that goes to us, period.

No more making us jump through hoops that whoever is in charge happens
to set in front of us. I've had enough.

That's all I have to say. Let's go, Eric.

[Eric says nothing, but merely follows Dave in walking off camera. Sarah
remains behind as Jason turns to her.]

JD: Sarah, what about what Dave just had to say?

SS: [sighing] Jason, there is not a lot for me to say, except... Jim
Watkins, I'm sorry you had to hear that...

[Sarah trails off as a trio walks into view - Cousin Bo and the Bishops.
 
Bo looks all business, newspaper in hand. As usual, Duane Henry wears
his belt around his waist while Cletus Lee lets his dangle from his
clenched right hand. Jason winces at a potentially chaotic situation.]

JD:  Gentlemen, you are certainly not scheduled to be back here right
now.  This is Rough N Ready's time...

[Bo looks around for Somers and Cooper, gesturing at Dane.]

JD:  Okay, fine.  They're gone... but... well... still.  We don't need
any problems.

CB: Don't worry, Dane.  That's not why we came out here.

JD: [puzzled] So why _are_ you here?

CB: Well, first of all, I wanted to congratulate Cooper and Somers on
their victory in the tag team battle royal two weeks ago but apparently
they didn't want to stick around to hear that.  Look, I don't think they
needed to prove to anybody that they were ready and deserving of a shot
at the gold, but they went out and got the job done anyway.

[The Bishops nod in agreement as Sarah looks surprised at the show of
respect.]

CB: Now, in just over a month's time, we meet in the ring one more time.
I'm sure the Championship Committee is grinding their teeth over this,
but, hey, there's nothing they can do about it.

[Bo smiles.]

CB: The titles are ours, Rough N Ready have clearly defined themselves
as the top contenders. I'm pretty sure the fans want to see us go
toe-to-toe one more time.

So, it's like ol' Jim Watkins likes to say. Let's hook 'em up!

[The Bishops look at each other and nod, Duane Henry beaming.]

CB: There's one more battle left in this long-standing war, and come
hell or high water, on July 5th, we're gonna fight like there's no
tomorrow. There's just one problem. I don't know what the heck happened
with your boys about a month ago, but in order for this to happen, we've
all gotta actually SHOW UP.

[Ouch. Sarah starts to speak up in response but Bo waves her off.]

CB: Nobody knows better than us that with Ben Waterson around, things
don't always go the way they should. Whether or not he had something to
do with your flight situation, I don't know, but it damn sure fits his
profile.

[Everyone seems to agree with this.]

CB: It's that very distinct possibility that drew me out here to talk to
you. Now, I'm gonna admit something to you that you maybe don't expect.
The three of us, we don't like you or your boys. We never have and we
never will. We're never gonna be on each others' Christmas card list.
But...

[Bo holds up a finger for emphasis.]

CB: Believe it or not, we do RESPECT you.

[Sarah arches an eyebrow as Bo looks to his cousins to back his
statement up. Cletus Lee nods ever so slightly, as does Duane Henry.]

DHB:  Yup, 's true.

CB: And it's because of that fact that we want to make a deal with
y'all. Until we make it to Memphis on July 5th, we will watch your back
and make sure no funny business goes down before then. In return, all we
ask is that you do the same for us.

[Bo lets that sink in to Sarah.]

CB: I know, I know, you have every reason in the world not to trust me.
There's been a lot of bad blood between us. I'm not asking you to agree
with me right now, all I'm asking is that you think about it. We both
have a lot to prove. For us, personally, we need to prove that we
deserve these titles. We've heard the grumbling from the locker room. A
lot of people think we just lucked into the opportunity we got. Yeah,
maybe luck played a small part in it, but you can't tell me we didn't
put all of our blood and sweat into making this happen. We didn't just
wander in off the streets and get handed everything on a silver platter.
We FOUGHT our way to the top of this company.

[Bo pauses.]

CB: And you? You've been fighting for this moment from the very
beginning of this company's existence. You've cut through every single
team that's been thrown your way. You've been the measuring stick for
tag teams in the AWA. Any team that couldn't hack it, you've sent
packing. The only thing that's eluded you are these belts. And in order
to get them?

[Bo points at his cousins.]

CB: You're gonna have to go through the ONE team you couldn't drive
away. And you never will. But in order to prove that, in order to ensure
that the better team truly does win, we've both gotta make it there in
top condition. So, do me a favor, and you just think about that offer
I'm giving. This is your only chance at ensuring the road to the match
goes smoothly.

[Bo backs away and stares at Sarah for a second, before leaving with his
cousins.]

JD:  Sarah?  Any thoughts?

[Sarah turns to look at Dane for a moment and curtly shakes her head
before walking out of view.]

JD:  Sarah Sharpe and Rough N Ready just got an offer they just might
not be able to refuse.  Gordon, Bucky... back to you...

[We cut back to ringside.]

GM:  Thanks, Jason!  A very interesting confrontation right there,
Bucky.

BW:  The Bishops went from stone cold killers to wanting to hold hands
and sing folk songs?  Makes me friggin' sick.  

GM:  That being said, I-

[The opening chords of Beck's "Farewell Ride" slowly creep over the PA
and the crowd jolts out of their seats. A moment passes and not one, but
_two_ men step out from the back. One is clad in a black cowboy hat and
full length trenchcoat with the Confederate Flag emblazoned across the
back. The big southern brawlers head hangs buried. His frame immediately
recognizable.

He's a former Rumble Winner.

A former National Champion.

And currently is employed as the AWA's one and only Special Enforcer.

Ron Houston.]

GM: We've got Houston! We've got Magnum! These two friends have been
through a lot together over the years, Bucky. Some might call this their
swan song. Houston's retired, Magnum's final match is in a few short
days. But I'd say it's one heckuva night to see these two in an AWA
arena.

BW: That's a little light in the loafers of you, Gordo. Who asks for a
"warm up match" before their final match, by the way?

GM: Somebody who wants to leave this industry on top, that's who!

[Sure enough, standing next to Houston is the Detroit, Michigan native.
The man with No Worries.. Rob Magnum. The lumbering Magnum slowly lurks
behind Houston, stalking his way down towards the ring at a measured
pace. His attire consists of a sleeveless black t-shirt reading
"Southern Comfort" across the front, and a pair of black leather pants.
Magnum slowly climbs the ring steps and steps over the top ropes into
the center of the ring. Right past a possibly frightened Ernie Hoover.]

MC: Ladies and Gentlemen.. please join me in welcoming at this time..
from Detroit, Michigan.. weighing in at 347 pounds..

"No Worries"..

Roooobbbb Mmmaagggnuuuummmm!

[Houston claps from ringside as Magnum nods appreciatively at the
audience. The wrestling great raising one hand to the crowd as Ernie
Hoover stands in the corner. The bell rings.]

"Ding! Ding! Ding!"

BW: Maybe we'll get to see good ol' Ernie Hoover end Magnum's final
hurrah a bit early, free up a spot for a more deserving Rumble
participant.

GM: There are _few_ more deserving to take advantage of the Open Door
policy than Rob Magnum, Bucky.

[Hoover comes storming out of the corner charges right at Magnum.. who
simply lifts a big boot into the air.]

BW: Ouch.

GM: Big boot by Magnum!

BW: Hoover bounced like a foot off the mat!

GM: Slight exhaggeration, but point taken. That big boot was vicious,
Bucky. Magnum yanks Hoover off the mat and grabs him by his left arm
and yanks.. short arm clothesline.

[Magnum doesn't let go of Hoover's left arm, yanking him right back
off the mat where he fluidly scoops him up and charges across the
ring.]

BW: POWAHSLAM!

GM: Magnum pulling out the big powermoves here early on and Ernie
Hoover is in la-la land! And look at Ron Houston, he's cheering on his
friend from ringside.

BW: Shouldn't he be off special enforcer'ing something?

[Sure enough, we see Houston leaning intently on the side of the ring,
cheering on Magnum with a big ol' Athens smile from ear to ear.]

GM: Magnum with an irish whip into the corner.. he charges.. NOBODY
HOME!

[Hoover staggers out of the corner and Magnum turns. Ernie reaches up
and fires a series of rights into Magnum's skull before yanking the
big man's arm.]

BW: Uh oh.

GM: Magnum doesn't even _budge_.. reversal.. Hoover goes for the
right.. right into a big ol' sidewalk slam!

[Magnum drags a thumb across his throat casually. He slowly reaches
down and places Hoover in a standing headscissor, lifting him up over
his shoulder in a crucifix position. Magnum falls forward.]

[BIG FINISHER POP!]

GM: SOUTHERN COMFORT!!! This one is academic, Bucky. One! Two! Three!

[POP!]

MC: The winner of this match.. at a time of one minute thirty four
seconds..

"NO WORRIES" ROB MAGNUM!

[Magnum drops down and rolls out of the ring, he walks over to Houston
who pats his shoulder encouragingly. The weary veteran nodding to his
friend in appreciation as Houston walks slowly behind Magnum towards
Gordon and Bucky. Gordon approaches the duo.]

GM: Mr. Magnum.. on behalf of the AWA fans, it's a pleasure to see you
in the ring again.. albeit however short your return may be. So tell
me.. after all this time, after all these years.. after everything
you've been through.. how does it feel knowing that the end of your
great career is near?

RM: So this is how it feels? How it ends? I've always wondering how my
career could end.. but that day always seemed so far away. Never close
enough to tough. Sometimes, I'd shut my eyes.. Gordon, and it's nineteen
ninety seven again. I close them tight, I clench them shut as hard as I
can and I can breathe it.. feel it.. it's almost tangible.  It's like I
can go there anytime I want. Like I can be the man I always was.
Sometimes it feels, or felt, like time could stand still.

[Magnum looks down.]

RM:  Then I open them up and it's _not_ nineteen ninety seven. I'm not
the
same man I was. My knees hurt. My back hurts. Somtimes it's tough to get
out of bed.. not because I'm tired.. but because I'm too sore to lift my
arms, or my head, or my legs, or whatever it is that may be hurting on
that particular day. Time hasn't stood still, I look in the mirror and
the circles under my eyes have grown darker. Much much darker. And the
creases in my face have worn much deeper. The scars looming deeper from
my skin starting to loosen up. Almost like the scars are growing worse.
Like the memories of how I got them want to dig down as close to the
bone as possible just to make sure I never forget.

You asked how it feels.. know my career is almost done.. know that I
have one more fight left in me then the lights go out of the long
story of Rob Magnum?

Well.. it feels right.

It feels like home.

GM: What are your expectations going into the Rumble?

RM: To finish what I started over thirteen years ago. To show the
world that while the man I always was may not have been perfect. And
regrets..

[Magnum chuckles.]

RM:  .. I have a few.

But _that_ man was one of the best to ever step into a ring. One of
the _very_ best to ever do so. All the regrets in the world over what
I've done, don't change the cold hard _fact_ that he ran over
everything set before his path. That he could take the unfathomable
and set it before you like it was the easiest damn thing in the world.

My expecations are, to for one night, bring that man back to the world.

To leave with my head held high.. and give everybody something to
remember me by.

[Magnum looks directly at Gordon.]

RM:  To restore my honor, something I lost many many years ago.

Down at the bottom of a hole in the wall town.

Down at the bottom of a bottle.

[Houston pats Magnum's shoulder.]

RM:  I'm sorry, this is tough for me.

Hardest part of this whole thing.. is still goodbye.

[Magnum slowly begins to walk away, Houston following after him.. when
suddenly Brian Von Braun cuts both men's path off.. standing in front of
them.  Brian Von Braun's eyes are wide, his face fresh with five o'clock
shadow.  His attire is still the same.  He walks over past Houston and
Magnum, yanking Myers' mic from him.]

BVB:  I jus' don't believe this.

[BVB shakes his head, his eyes closed.  His face contorts into a look
of disgust.  He finishes shaking his head and points an accusatory
finger at Houston.]

BVB:  Ya bring out a broken-down rassler, Ron.  Ya bring out a man who
wants one las' shot at glory.  An' ya're givin' it ta [points at Magnum]
_him_.

[BVB scoffs, side-glancing at the audience as if they can't believe
this "travesty" either.  He looks at Rob Magnum.]

BVB:  So what waterin' hole did Ron drag ya out of, Rob?  Did he find
ya swappin' stories with Dave Bryant about nineteen ninety-eight and
what coulda been had ya not turned yer back on 'im?

[The crowd boos at that remark.]

BVB:  Or were y'all two swappin' stories at tha local AA meetin' as
y'all were tryin' ta figure out how ta get past tha first step of that
twelve step program?

[Another round of boos.  BVB grins at his own remark.  His grin
quickly disappears as he points at finger at Magnum.]

BVB:  _You_ don't matter, anymore.

[BVB pauses.  More crowd boos.]

BVB:  Ya wanna step inta tha Rumble fer yer last chance at glory?
Fine.  Don't come out here an' get all teary-eyed an' try ta jerk a
few tears outta these people 'cause, [mocking Magnum] "I done stuff I
ain't proud of.  Will ya please forgive me?"

[BVB shakes his head.]

BVB:  No one cares about a broken-down "No Worries" Rob Magnum.  Jus'
like they don't care about a drunken, has-been "Cold Blooded" Chris
Courtade.  An' they don't care 'bout Mark Langseth steppin' back inta
tha ring 'cause Langseth needs some quick cash 'cause tha real estate
market went south few years back.

Same with anyone else that was somebody years ago.  Like tha rest of
these liver-needin', Black Velvet drinkin' [finger quotes] "legends"?

Ya gonna talk 'bout tha [finger quotes] "good ol' days", recitin' them
like they was yer favorite poem.  I'm tired of hearin' 'bout it.

[BVB points at Magnum.]

BVB:  Ya wanna make an impression?  Start a new chapter, Rob.  Tha
Rocket City Badboy will tell ya how it starts...

[BVB pauses for a moment looking at the crowd, waiting for their
reaction.  Rob Magnum keeps his eyes locked on BVB for a moment as the
crowd cheers.  Magnum looks away for a moment to the crowd.

BVB quickly rears back and... SLAP!

Magnum's face slowly turns back towards Von Braun. A look of disbelief
flashes across his face as Houston.. smiles?]

RH: Ah may not be able ta retaliate..

[Houston motions towards Magnum with the nod of his head.]

RH:  .. don't mean he can't though.

[Von Braun's eyes widen as the massive Magnum slowly lumbers after
him, Von Braun quickly exiting with Magnum in pursuit. The camera
turns back towards Ron Houston. The smile evaporates as he looks down
at his clenched fists.. a look of frustration slowly lingering. And we
cut away 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 the parking lot of the WKIK Studios, hours before
the show starts, as helpfully pointed out by the "EARLIER TODAY"
reminder in the bottom right hand corner. Fans are standing in line for
Saturday Night Wrestling, most of them excited and wearing AWA apparel.
A few look like they've put in their time at the local tavern, and
they're REALLY excited for the show! The camera spots Jason Dane coming
through the crowd, holding a wireless microphone and talking with the
fans.]

JD: Hello everyone, we're hours before Saturday Night Wrestling here in
Dallas, Texas, and the fans are abuzz as they make their way into the
studio. So much great action tonight as we make our way to Memorial Day
Mayhem, and one of the matches that has really grabbed the audiences
attention is the tag team match featuring the return of Marcus
Broussard!

[The crowd cheers at the mention of the revered San Jose Shark, as Dane
makes his way to a youngish man in his late 20s, wearing a plain AWA
t-shirt and cargo shorts.]

JD: What do you think of Broussard's return, sir, are you excited?

Guy: Oh man, I'm totally excited for it. Marcus was the reason I started
watching AWA every week, the guy is awesome! He's gonna get it done
tonight.

JD: Are you glad he's back?

Guy: Oh, absolutely. AWA just isn't the same without him.

JD: Thanks for your comments.

[Jason now makes his way to a teenager wearing a wifebeater and a Texas
Longhorns hat.]

JD: And you, what do you think about the return of Marcus Broussard?

Teenager: It's about damn time, man! I can't believe he let Stevie Scott
run all over AWA and not do nothin' about it! Especially after he got
put out by Dufresne and them a while back. If I was Vasquez or Todd, I'd
be pissed it took him so long!

JD: So you think he should have come back sooner?

Teenager: No doubt about it.

JD: Alright, alright, sounds good. Thanks for your time. You, young
lady, what's your name?

[Dane wanders over to a little girl, no more than ten years old,
standing next to her Dad and wearing an oversized Sweet Daddy Williams
shirt.]

Girl: Bianca!

JD: What do you think about Marcus Broussard coming back!

Bianca: I love him, he's the best!

JD: And what do you think about Ben Waterson?

Bianca: We hate him. My Daddy says he's an assh-

JD: Whoa, whoa, whoa there young lady!

[Jason can't help but chuckle, even as his eyes go wide.]

JD: So your Dad doesn't like him either, huh?

Bianca: No! We hope Marcus and Todd win tonight.

JD: Sir, is that true?

[Dane holds the microphone at Bianca's father, still mortified his
daughter was about to curse at Jason Dane.]

Man: Yeah, we're excited to see Marcus back. He's one of our favorites,
isn't that right sweetie?

[The little girl shouts "YEAH!" off camera.]

Man: We're glad to see him back, that's for sure.

JD: What about you, what do you think?

[Dane is speaking now to a guy in an old EMWC Broussard t-shirt, jeans
and holding a bottle.]

Guy: It's gonna be great to see Marcus back, and it's gonna be even
better to see him slap around that punk Waterson! Shark, welcome back
man, we need ya!

[A few of the beer soaked rowdies hear the man speak and can't contain
themselves anymore, yelling out and screaming, then starting a small
"SHARK! SHARK! SHARK!" chant that doesn't go anywhere. But the mugging
for camera time and the excited yelling doesn't stop as Dane addresses
the camera once more.]

JD: As you can see guys, the people are ready for the return of Marcus
Broussard, and they're ready to see Todd Michaelson get some payback.
It's going to be an electric atmosphere tonight! Back to you!

[Cut back inside the building.]

GM:  Thanks, Jason.  It's certainly an electrifying atmosphere inside
the building right now as this whole place is eagerly anticipating the
return of Marcus Broussard to the AWA rings as well as the rest of the
Vasquez/Mizusawa match.  But coming up next, the Ghost Dancers are
scheduled to take on the Rhodes Brothers at Memorial Day Mayhem in an
Elimination Match but first they'll be competing here tonight...

BW: And boring us to tears in the process!

GM: Bucky, please!  Jason Keening came very close to defeating MAMMOTH
Misuzawa on the last show and the Ghost Dancers were also part of that
six-man tag match where Michael Keening pinned Simon Rhodes!

BW: In a despicable display of prejudicial bias shown by Ron Houston and
that incompetent referee, Michael Meekly!  It's a conspiracy to take
down the Southern Syndicate... and Jason Keening's entry into the Rumble
Match to help Juan Vasquez just proves it!

GM: Well you may not be a fan of the Ghost Dancers but lots of people
are so let's turn it over to Melissa Cannon for the introductions...

[The camera pans over to the ring where Melissa is standing.]

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

[A few scattered fans cheer unenthusiastically as Sawyer, a thin young
man, hops up onto the middle turnbuckle in one corner and raises his
arms in the air.  Behind him, Coates is a surly-looking African-American
man who merely nods his head.]

MC:  And their opponents...

[The crowd surges to its feet and begins to cheer in recognition as the
distant wailing of an air raid siren can be heard over the P.A.
loudspeakers.  After a moment, Disturbed's "Indestructible" begins
playing with the deafening fury of crunching guitars as two figures step
into view through the entrance curtains.  On the left is the familiar
squat, powerful form of Jason Keening while beside him is his older
brother, Michael Keening, slender yet muscular.  Upon sighting the pair,
the fans cheering grows louder.]

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

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

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

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

GM: The fans making their appreciation known for The Ghost Dancers in a
very loud way.

BW: Uneducated sheep!  They wouldn't know a talented tag team like the
Rhodes Brothers even if it walked up and slapped them in the face!

"DING! DING! DING!"

GM:  There's the bell and it looks like Jason Keening will be starting
off for The Ghost Dancers while Allan Coates steps in for his team.

[Michael Keening slaps his younger brother on the shoulder before
stepping out onto the apron while Jason begins warily circling around
Coates, both men having their arms and hands outstretched.  After a
moment, the two surge together and while Coates is taller than Jason
Keening, he's also more than sixty pounds lighter which is why he finds
himself forced backward into one corner.]

GM: Collar-and-elbow tieup by Coates and Jason but the Ghost Dancer
definitely has an advantage in the strength department.

BW: That's because he's built like an ugly little troll!  Face looks
like one too!

GM: Jason Keening stands six feet tall which isn't enormous by wrestling
standards.  But he weighs a good 290 pounds of solid muscle and while I
wouldn't describe him the same way Bucky just did, he is a veritable
fireplug of flesh and bone.

[Coates raises his arms releasing his grip on the shorter Keening. 
Jason releases his hold and makes a clean break as he backs away.]

GM: Some fair play and sportsmanship being displayed by Keening.

BW: Pfft!  Boy Scout!!

[Coates tries to take advantage and catch the Ghost Dancer off guard by
charging out of the corner with an arm outstretched for an attempted
clothesline.  But Jason ducks out of the way and trips up the taller man
forcing him down to the canvas.]

GM: Drop toehold by Jason Keening and... he's got the legs...

[Rising quickly behind Coates, Jason grabs the taller man's legs and
crosses them around one of his own before dropping forward onto his
victim's back so that he can grab one arm and pull it across the face.]

GM: STF!  Keening's got Coates trapped in an STF already!

[The referee drops down to check on Coates who grimaces in pain but
refuses to submit.  Jason Keening hauls back on the taller man's arm to
exert more pressure on the neck but a boot to the back of his head
breaks his grip.]

GM: Oh!  Sawyer with the save as he rushes in and begins stomping on
Jason Keening!

[Sawyer saves his partner as the STF is broken but he remains in the
ring too long, stomping on Jason Keening's back, as he doesn't notice
Michael Keening rushing into the ring as well.]

GM: Michael Keening's in to lend a hand... AND A POWERFUL DROPKICK SENDS
STEVE SAWYER FLYING OUT OF THE RING!!

[Sawyer flies backward from the force of the blow and tumbles over the
top rope and down to the arena floor.  The crowd cheers as Michael
Keening rises and begins yelling angrily down at Sawyer as the referee
escorts him out of the ring.]

GM: Coates rescued from that STF by his partner but Steve Sawyer paid a
heavy price for his intervention.

BW: Don't worry, the Rhodes Brothers will be a LOT faster and smoother
than that come Memorial Day Mayhem!

[After his older brother is escorted back to their corner, Jason Keening
rises and grabs Coates by the back of the head.  But as he pulls the
African-American veteran to his feet, Coates catches him by surprise
with a fist to the jaw that snaps Jason's head back.]

GM:  Uppercut by Coates and Jason Keening didn't see that coming!

[Coates bends down and scoops the younger Ghost Dancer up, demonstrating
some impressive strength of his own as he hoists the 290-pound Keening
upward before hurling him down onto the canvas.]

*WHAM!*

GM: Big bodyslam by Coates!

[Not allowing his opponent any breathing room, Coates then attempts to
drop an elbow onto Jason Keening's sternum... but hits nothing but
canvas when the Ghost Dancer quickly rolls out of the way.]

GM: Attempted elbowdrop by Coates but Jason Keening avoided it.

[Coates clutches his elbow and grimaces in pain as Jason Keening rises
to his feet, his fists clenched.  But as Keening advances on Coates, the
taller man begs off and scurries back into his own corner where he slaps
the shoulder of Steve Sawyer.]

GM: Steve Sawyer tagged in now but he just got back onto the apron and
still looks a little woozy after being dropkicked out of the ring by
Michael Keening.

[Gamely, Sawyer steps into the ring and charges toward Jason Keening but
gets halted in his tracks when a beefy forearm slams into the bottom of
his chin.]

GM: Ooh!  And a powerful European uppercut stuns Steve Sawyer!

[Jason Keening wraps both arms around Sawyer's body and hurls him up and
over to send him flying halfway across the ring.]

GM: Beautiful belly-to-belly suplex by Jason Keening and that was some
of the power and strength that even MAMMOTH Misuzawa felt two weeks ago!

BW: Lot of good it did!  I'm still smiling from seeing this putz left
staring up at the lights after a MAMMOTH Slam!!

[With Sawyer momentarily dazed, Jason Keening steps into his team's
corner and slaps hands with his older brother.  Michael Keening deftly
hops onto the top turnbuckle and as Sawyer rises to his feet, the former
Banshee launches himself into the air and takes down his target with an
outstretched arm.]

GM: Flying clothesline by Michael Keening and a beauty!

[Grabbing an arm, Michael Keening hauls Sawyer back to his feet but is
surprised when Sawyer buries a knee into the older Ghost Dancer's
stomach, doubling him over.]

GM: Kneelift by Sawyer... who's now stepping out between the ropes.

[Michael Keening holds his midsection but looks up as Sawyer stands on
the ring apron and grabs the top rope with both hands.]

GM: Sawyer trying to mount some offense...

[Sawyer leaps into the air, landing on the top rope which bends beneath
his weight before flexing back and sending him flying into the ring...
only to bent in half as the soles of Michael Keening's boots are driven
into his ribcage in mid-air!]

*THWACK!*

GM: HOLY COW!  STEVE SAWYER ATTEMPTED A CROSSBODY BLOCK... BUT MICHAEL
KEENING JUST DROPKICKED HIM RIGHT OUT OF THE SKY!!

BW: OK, I'll admit it... even I think that looked impressive.

[A doubled-up Sawyer clutches his ribs and writhes on the canvas as
Michael Keening rushes over to his corner and slaps hands with Jason.]

GM: Jason Keening now the legal man but Michael's staying in the ring
for a moment.

[The Keening brothers advance on Steve Sawyer and each one grabs an arm
and drapes it across the back of their necks while grabbing the side of
Sawyer's trunks.  Lifting him up into the air, the Ghost Dancers hold
Sawyer upside down for a moment before falling backward and dropping him
onto the canvas.]

*THUMP!*

GM: Double-vertical suplex by the Ghost Dancers as they demonstrate a
little tag team coordination.

[Michael Keening steps out onto the apron in his corner as Jason Keening
hauls the visibly winded Sawyer upright and then slams his own forehead
into the top of his victim's head.]

GM: Ouch!  And a nasty headbutt by Jason Keening.  Followed by a quick
tag as the Ghost Dancers are maintaining control of this match.

[After slapping hands with Michael, Jason moves around behind the dazed
Sawyer and ducks down to lift him up onto his shoulders.  In their
corner, Michael has climbed onto the top turnbuckle as Jason turns to
face his brother with Sawyer perched on his shoulders.]

GM: THEY'RE GOING FOR THE DREAM CATCHER!

[Emitting an ear-piercing warcry, Michael leaps off the top turnbuckle
and nails a flying spinning leg lariat onto Sawyer, knocking him off
Jason's shoulders to slam down onto the mat!]

*WHAM!!!*

GM: THEY GOT HIM!

[Michael drops down onto Sawyer and hooks the leg.  From the opposite
corner, Coates charges into the ring to break up the pin attempt but
Jason Keening is still there and he bowls the taller man over with a
powerful running clothesline.]

GM: Jason blocks the attempted interference and here's the pin...  One! 
Two!  Three!

"DING!  DING!  DING!"

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

[The crowd cheers enthusiastically as Michael Keening rises and receives
a bearhug from his younger brother.]

GM: The Ghost Dancers dominating Sawyer and Coates here tonight...

BW: Pfft!  Beating up a couple of scrubs proves nothing.  The Rhodes
Brothers are going to ELIMINATE these sanctimonious choirboys!

[From there, we hear rustling of microphones, a fading voice shouting
"what are you doing?!", and suddenly, the unmistakable voice of Raphael
Rhodes.]

RR: These two think they got us?  These two think they're so bleedin'
tough?  These two think they're goin' to take us out?  It ain't
happenin', mate!

[More rustling, as the camera has panned over to the announce position
to find Raphael Rhodes about to rampage his way to the ring, with his
brother Simon holding him back.  The microphones on the cameras pick up
Simon's voice, muffled... ]

SR: It ain't worth it, Raph!  It ain't worth it!  Save it for Mayhem!

[Simon is having a very hard time controlling his brother, whereas a
swarm of undercard wrestlers and security seems to do a much better job.
 They drag away Raphael, kicking and yelling... ]

RR: I'll kill you two!  I'll kill the whole bleedin' Keening family if I
have to!  I'll kill all of you!

[Raphael is finally dragged off-screen, when Simon takes the microphone
from a clearly rattled Gordon Myers.]

SR: I... I don't know, mate.  I'm sorry.

[Simon hands the microphone back to Myers, as the Keenings stand in
center ring, absolutely bewildered by what's happening at ringside.]

GM:  Fans, this is... good grief.  This night is going crazy!  This
whole thing is out of control.  What in the world is Memorial Day Mayhem
going to be like, Bucky?

BW:  Crazy?  Out of control?

GM:  That sounds about right.  And speaking of crazy...

BW:  Oh no you didn't!

GM:  Let's hear from James Monosso!

[For the third time, the live feed of James Monosso's camcorder cuts in.
 This time, we're in the boiler room.  Oh, it's practically cliche by
now.  Dark spooky dusty grimy room with the boiler furnace and
maintenance equipment.  Monosso is standing next to the furnace.]

JM: I'm pretty sure you can imagine some of the stuff that could happen
in here.  You did see Nightmare On Elm Street, didn't you?  It doesn't
really take a genius to know what a furnace can do.  But there's so much
more hidden in all these utility rooms.  People leave things laying
around in places where they don't expect a fight to take place.

[The demented Monosso approaches a gun-metal grey cabinet and opens it. 
He starts listing off the objects he sees.]

JM: Power drill.  Bottle of hydrocloric acid.  Hammer, nails.  Lots of
easy stuff, Eric.  Real easy.  This room is too easy, wouldn't you say? 
Surely you can avoid a boiler room.  That's why the room I really want
to talk about is just next door.

[A few long strides away is the door, and through the door is... the
prop storeroom.  It's where they keep the pieces to the WKIK newsroom
set when the AWA is using the studio floor, and where the ring goes when
the newsroom set is up.  There are a variety of props and set pieces
here.]

JM: Nothing in here but harmless plyboard facades for the news team. 
Isn't that right, Eric?  Or let's ask an expert... how about I ask my
helper Crie Notserp?  Crie, what could possibly go horribly wrong in the
prop storeroom?

[You guessed it, another dummy.  This one is propped up in the
newscaster's chair.  James snatches a nearby lighting rig... a seven
foot tall pole-and-tripod with a light on top, and wields it like a
polearm.  He brings it up... and uses it to push on a counterweight
attached to the stage lighting fly system.  The counterweight is thus
drawn down, and the lighting rig it's attached to drawn upwards. 
Unfortunately for 'Crie', the cable attached to the rig is looped around
his neck.  The dummy is hung awkwardly, with a tremendous amount of
pressure on the neck.  The head pops off in fairly short order.]

JM: You know, they have all kinds of stage stuff all over the
building... even out there in the studio where we fight every week. 
Lighting fixtures that get hot enough to boil an egg... or your eyeball
fluids.  All kinds of counterweights in the rigging that could fall and
smash your head like a watermelon at a Gallagher concert.  It doesn't
take much.  Just someone bent enough to THINK these things.  To spend
all of his time thinking of these things.  Someone who has seen some of
these things.  Maybe even done some of these things... who knows?  

Come Memorial Day, Eric... YOU'LL know.  Or your next of kin will. 
Either or.  I really don't care if you survive our match or not, because
I guarantee you won't survive our match without experiencing some act of
casual violence that would make the devil cry.  And all of Michealson's
'kids'... and all of you kids at home... will see first-hand what this
sport really is: human sacrifice.

[And we fade to black.

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then fade back up to...]

#REACH OUT AND TOUCH FAITH#

[Oh crud.]

BW: Bom-bahhhssss, bay-bee!

[Swoosh! "Personal Jesus" by Depeche Mode. The curtains jolt to the side
as noneother than "Hollywood" Larry Doyles comes creeping out. His face
painted with a scowl. He's frumpy. Frumpy, I say! His attire, however,
seems to lack the same "frumpiness". Doyle is dressed from head to toe
in a glossy gold tuxedo. His left foot.. gold loafer. His right.. gold
boot. Doyle steps out and surveys the audience, as if silently lecturing
them. Behind him are the Blonde Bombers themselves, Baldwin and Nova.
They're attire consists of khakis and white collared shirts. They walk
over to Gordon and Bucky.. ever the Blonde Gods. Doyle rips the mic
right out from under Gordon Myers' grill.]

[BOOOO!]

LD: To all you.. 

[Deep inhale.]

LD:  .. ungrateful, slovenly, pigfaced, neanderthal, shewolf, pudgy,
dirty.. rotten.. fleabag.. 

[Doyle exhales.]

LD:  .. fat, bald, blind, dumb.. _IDIOTS_.. 

[BOOOO!]

LD:  .. I only have to say one thing.. you can all _cram_. _IT_!

[Doyle hops.. he skips.. he jumps wit da boos.]

LD:  You have the _nerve_.. scratch that.. the _audacity_ to scum it up
and cheer on those two "Rock n' Rollers" who come galluping in here from
Cleveland like the trash they are and _cheat_ the Bombers out of their
rightful title shot. You applaud 'em and laud 'em with your adoration
simply because they pump their fists and jump up and down hugging and
bromancing each other until I wanna _puke_. 

PUKE, I SAY!

[Doyle mockingly sticks a finger in his mouth like he's gagging
himself.]

LD:  Give. Me. A. Break!

[Doyle circles around behind Baldwin and Nova, who continue to stand
there all Blonde Gody-like.]

LD:  The only good thing that eeeevvvarrrr eeevvvvarrrrr _eeevvarrrrrrr_
came out of Cleveland was yours truly, Larry Doyle, his feet kicking
underneath him furiously as he ran for the city border. _Worst_ fifteen
minutes of my _life_ were the fifteen I spent escaping that hillbilly
mecca they call home. 

[Doyle grins.]

LD:  Two words for ya..

Worst.

City.

Evvvarrrr!

[Three words. But who's countin' anywho.]

LD:  But, like always, Gordon Myers here is getting us wwaaayy off
topicio. 

[Doyle gives Myers "the glare", to which Myers incredulously just
stares.. having done no such thing.]

LD:  The point at hand.. the _only_ thing that brought the Bombers and I
to this cesspool tonight.. was the Rockstar Express.

[POP! Doyle waves his hand.]

LD:  Oh.. pleeeeassseee! The Rockstar Express are _dead men_. You can
whoop it up and cheer all you want, but it doesn't change the fact that
Baldwin and Nova are going to wipe their slimy little Clevelander faces
from this federation within two weeks time. That's right, baby! We've
had _enough_ of them running amuck and breaking every rule the late
great Jim Watkins has set into place. Sure he's not late.. or great..
BUT STILL! We've had enough of them coming out here, week in and out,
and sticking their pugnosed little faces in Da Bombers business.

Sooooo.. it's time we stood up.. stepped up.. and put 'em back into
their place.. which is in the ground!

[Pats Baldwin and Nova on their tanned shoulders.]

LD:  THAT'S RIGHT.. DA GROUND, BAY-BEE!

Get me the Rockstar Express! Get 'em out here! Right here. Right now.
Rockstars.. the Blonde Bombers are laying down da'..

... chhalllllennngggeeee!

Memorial Day May-hhemm.. Bombers verse Rockstar Express.. it's time to
meet your end, bay-bees!

[Doyle wriggles around in his pockets.]

LD:  But of course.. as always.. we have demands. 

[Wry smile. The Bombers nod in approval.]

LD:  Well.. in this case, we'll make an exception. We have one demand.
And it's on this little itty witty piece of paper. A _list_ if you will.
Well.. um.. not a list so much.  BUT YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT I MEAN,
DANGNABBIT!

[Bink. A scrap piece of paper comes flyin' into da air! Doyle shoves it
in Gordon Myers' face along with a microphone. Myers stares at the piece
of paper. Stares at Doyle. Then back to the paper.]

LD:  Read it, Myers!

GM: Top billing..?

[Doyle yanks the mic back.]

LD: THAT'S RIGHT, BAY-BEE! TOP BILLING! You two idiots _obviously_ got a
bone to pick with Da Bombers and the feeling is 100%, grade A, bonafide,
ratified, stupified.. _mutual_. So at Memorial Day Mayhem.. we'll give
you the match you most _undoubtedly_ want, but you two idiots'll have to
be entering this here ring rrrriiiiggggght before the Bombers are
willing to grace it with our presence.

[Scoffs.]

LD:  Curtainjerkers. 

[Doyle wags his index finger towards the entrance.]

LD:  So the gauntlet is laid.. and we don't wanna wait.. get us the
Rockstar Express! Get em out here, rightthissecond! We want a flippin'
rooty tooty answer.. or we. Ain't. Leavin'!

[And without a wait, Marty Morgan and Scotty Storm, the Rockstar
Express, walk through the curtain to a huge cheer.  The boys are all
grins at the reaction as they stride towards the announce area.  Morgan
doesn't waste a second to snatch the mic away from Doyle, pointing a
finger at the manager who backs off behind his men.]

MM:  Larry Doyle, you loud-mouthed moron...

[Big cheer!]

MM:  Let me make this reaaaaaal clear to ya.  When you come out here and
lay down a challenge to the Rockstar Express, it don't matter what else
you say after that.

We don't care if you want to enter the ring first, last, or sometime
after the building closes for the night.

We don't care if you want to enter the ring last... the building last...
the city last... the state last... heck, we don't care if you want to
get one of the last space shuttle rides on outta here and enter the
atmosphere last, baby...

[Another cheer.]

MM:  The fact is... you want the Rockstars at Mayhem?

[Doyle nods his head, shouting something thankfully unheard.]

MM:  You got us!

[BIG CHEER!]

MM:  And I'm gonna do all these fantastic AWA fans the biggest favor I
could ever possibly do and NOT hand this mic back to you.

[Another cheer!]

MM:  Gordon, if you don't mind, I've always wanted to do this... 

[Gordon chuckles.]

MM:  Let's go up to Melissa!

[And up to Melissa we go, Larry Doyle tantruming all the while.]

MC:  The following contest is set for one fall with a ten minute time
limit. Introducing first... in the ring at this time hailing from
Toronto, Canada. Standing 6 feet 2 inches tall and weighing in at
240lbs. Here is….

"SUPER DUPER" BOB COOOOOPER!

[Bob waves to the crowd. The older looking gentlemen wears generic dark
blue trunks, white knee pads and one white elbow pad on his right arm.
He sports ‘salt and pepper’ normal cut hair and beard.]

MC: And his opponent...

["Riddles of Steel" thunders through the arena as the crowd gives a
mixed reaction.]

MC: Accompanied by his manager, Ronnie Jamieson. Standing 6'4 and
weighing in at 295 pounds... Here is…

DEVASTATION!

GM:  Devastation, who will be in the Rumble in only a few short days...

BW:  Ronnie tells me his charge is in tremendous shape, Gordo.  You know
he's the second largest man in the AWA behind Mizusawa.

GM:  He... is?

BW:  Well, that's what Ronnie said.  I believe him.

GM:  I see.

["Riddles of Steel" blares signaling the arrival of only one man,
Devastation. The crowd is somewhat mixed as Ronnie Jamieson steps out
first. The short, porky manager is decked out in a top notch black suit
while the little hair he has left on his head is pulled back in a small
ponytail. He smiles smugly at the crowd then chuckles as the mammoth of
a man known as Devastation steps out from the curtains.]

BW:  Well, he wasn’t lying!

GM: Devastation looks even bigger then the last time we saw him, Bucky. 
Is that possible?

BW: He looks more cut, Gordo.  Ronnie told me his man has been on a
strict diet since being named in the Rumble. It looks to be paying off.

[Devastation is leaner, still big as a house but with more muscle
definition everywhere. The wrecking machine’s lower half is decked out
in simple black wrestling pants with ‘Devastation’ running down each
side in red and black-biker style wrestling boots that end just under
the knees. His chiselled upper body is exposed, his wrists wrapped in
black athletic tape along with the tips of his fingers.  Black, slim
leather arm bands are wrapped around mountains for biceps, black and red
face paint styled for intimidation and a red Mohawk just make him even
scarier. He screams at the top of his lungs and smacks his chest like a
gorilla, following Ronnie Jamieson down to the ring while glaring at the
crowd who try and touch him.]

GM:  Good grief.  And he seems even more intense on top of everything
else.

[Once at ringside, Ronnie talks to his charge then smacks him on a
massive shoulder. Devastation power walks up the steps and dips through
the ropes. The big man walks to center ring, cranes back his neck and
yells again while flexing his whole upper body. He smacks his biceps
with opposite hands, getting the blood flowing before walking to his
corner and grabbing the top rope and stretching. He paces back and forth
in his corner.]

"DING! DING! DING!"

GM: Here we go!

[Devastation meets Bob mid-ring and drives a boot in his gut then
pummels him down with rapid forearm smashes.]

GM: Devastation looks like he’s cutting a tree down in there.  Look at
the impact of those forearms as he is holding nothing back!

BW: The big man is turning it up a notch, Gordo.  He wants to send a
clear message to everyone in AWA that he is for real!

[Devastation stands over his downed opponent, reaching up to smash his
own chest with his fists before yanking him up by the hair.  Holding the
hair, he delivers three crushing headbutts before wrapping his massive
arms around the opponent's waist, hoisting him up and over with a belly
to belly throw.]

GM:  Good grief!  Pure power on display right there, Bucky.

BW:  One of the strongest men in the AWA for sure.  Who's gonna outpower
this guy in the Rumble?  Who?

[Devastation stalks his prey, as his victim holds his lower back and
grimaces in pain.  He clutches at the ropes and tries to pick himself up
off the mat.  As he gets to his feet, Devastation measures him and
drives three big knees in his rib cage before taking him over with a hip
toss.]

GM:  Down he goes to the mat agai- look out here!

[Devastation begins driving boots down on Cooper’s upper body, not
caring where they land before putting his foot across his throat and
putting on pressure, choking him out.]
 
GM:  Devastation has that big ol' boot across Cooper’s throat and he's
choking the life out of him.  Come on, ref, do something!

BW:  What can he do? I mean look at Devastation!  Why don’t you go up
there and tell him to stop, Gordo?

GM:  I’d rather not, Bucky.  But there is no need for this - none at
all...

[The ref does the only thing he can and counts to four before
Devastation releases the hold then power walks at the poor ref, who
bails out of the ring and warns Devastation from outside that he will DQ
him.  Devastation scowls at the ref a moment longer then focuses back on
Cooper, who is just getting up.  Devastation drives a forearm into his
back, then wraps a big arm around his neck from behind and drops him
with a reverse DDT!]

BW:  Well, that’s it. Put a fork him in, he’s done!

GM:  My stars, what impact! He could have broken his neck right there.
Oh  come on!  There is no need for this!

[Devastation picks up Bob and raises him over his head with ease in a
Gorilla Press position. He presses Bob a few times before suddenly
dropping him across his massive shoulders and taking him over with a
Death Valley Driver - all in one swift motion!]

GM:  That finisher of his is just sick, Bucky!  Just sick!

BW:  Has to be one of the deadliest finishers in AWA, you definitely
don’t remember what happened after that!

[Devastation cranks back his head and roars as he smacks his chest. He
walks around looking at his handy work before putting a boot on his
chest….]

GM: Hey, what the heck are you… give me my mic back!

[Ronnie Jamieson rips the mic out of Gordon Myers' hand.  In the ring
the ref slides into position to make the count.]

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

"NO! STOP!"

[Devastation looks confused as he takes his foot off Bob Cooper and
stares at Ronnie Jamieson.]

RJ: Everybody knows you can pin this goof, big man. But let’s show them
all right here, right now, just a few ways that you are going to
eliminate 29 other idiots and win the Rumble!

[Devastation nods and picks Bob Cooper up by the hair.  He grabs the
sides of Cooper’s face with his massive paws, lifts him in the air and
rag dolls him back and forth, before launching him over the top rope.]

GM:  OHHH!  Over the ropes and down to the floor!

[Devastation shakes the ropes and yells at the top of his lungs.  He
smacks his chest and ‘HUFFS’ at the crowd as they show it’s displeasure.
The ref begins to count…]
 
1…
 
2…
 
3…
 
4…
 
5…
 
[Ronnie Jamieson drops Myers' mic and walks back to ringside. The porky
manager grabs Cooper by the back of the hair and trunks and tosses him
back in the ring.] 

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

[Jamieson points at Cooper then yells at Devastation.]

"THAT’S ONE WAY!  SHOW THEM ANOTHER WAY, BIG MAN!"

[Devastation quickly pounces on Bob Cooper, driving big boots down
across the back of the neck and lower back. He grabs Cooper and lifts
him on his feet with ease.]

GM:  Ronnie Jamieson looking to send a clear message here tonight - a
clear message that Devastation has been training.  That Devastation has
been put through the ringer so to speak and he is ready for the Rumble.

BW:  Looks like were going to see another way Devastation is going to
win the Rumble.

[Devastation has thrown Bob Cooper into the turnbuckle with big impact.
The big man stands in the opposite corner before running across the ring
and squashing Cooper with a big splash. Cooper wobbles out of the corner
holding the top rope for leverage.]

GM:  Corner to corner splash by the big man - he's measuring him and...

[The big man lunges forward, smashing Cooper with a huge lariat that
sends him sprawling over the ropes to the floor.  He immediately raises
his arms up to the sky, smashing his chest as his manager rushes to
work, pulling Cooper up once more and rolling him under the bottom
rope.]

"ONE MORE TIME, BIG MAN!  SHOW THEM ONE MORE WAY YOU CAN ELIMINATE ANY
GOOF IN THE RUMBLE!"

[Devastation nods and picks up Cooper who is all but out of it.
Devastation doesn’t even bother hitting Cooper. He simply picks him up
over his head, presses him in the air, walks towards the ropes and
launches him over the ropes to the floor!]

GM:  OHHHHH!  COME ON!!  There's no call for that, Bucky!  None at all! 
He's got... that's a disgusting display of disregard for another human
being, Bucky!  Bob Cooper could be injured... he could be crippled...
who knows?  Is he even moving?

BW:  Ronnie Jamieson told me earlier that he wanted to make a point
tonight, Gordo.  He wanted everyone to see exactly what they're in for
in nine days and I think he did exactly that!

[Bob Cooper lies motionless on the thinly-padded concrete, unmoving.
Devastation walks around in the ring, smacking his chest and continuing
to ‘bark’ at the crowd. Ronnie claps in delight as the ref just stands
by the ropes in the ring, dumbfounded.]

"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, IDIOT?  COUNT THAT WASTE OF SPACE OUT!"

[The ref seems to shake himself out of his daze. He looks disgusted as
he begins his count... and very quickly hits ten to end the match.]

MC: THE WINNER OF THIS MATCH - BY REFEREEE COUNTOUT…

DEVA-STAT-ION!

[Ronnie, who is now in the ring raises his charge's arm in the air
smiling devilishly. Ronnie chirps at the crowd then heads out of the
ring with Devastation in tow.]

GM: Oh great, they are coming over here…

BW: Where else would they go, Gordo? I think you and Ronnie are going to
be good friends.

[Ronnie and Devastation enter the studio area alongside Bucky and
Gordon. Ronnie smirks at the booing crowd as a disgusted Gordon Myers
shakes his head.]

GM: Ronnie, did you get your point across? Are you happy with what you
did tonight? You could have seriously injured that man out there!

[Ronnie chuckles then sneers at Gordon]

RJ: To answer your question Gordon, no I didn’t get my point across
[smacks Devastation on the bicep] but HE did!

[Ronnie laughs as Gordon and Bucky look disgusted. Devastation stares
out at the crowd, a nasty half smirk on his face.]

RJ: I hope everybody in the Rumble was taking notice tonight!  I hope
all the goofs in the back seen exactly what is going to happen to them
at the Rumble! Mr. Cooper knew what he was getting into tonight when he
signed the contract. He knew there could be a chance of permanent
injury. It just so happens that Mr. Cooper was the unfortunate punching
bag just before the Rumble!

GM: You had Devastation throw him over the top rope onto that thin
padding!  He could have been seriously hurt!

[Ronnie sneers again]

RJ: Wait a second Gordon, I didn’t ‘make’ Devastation throw Bob into the
first row, that is just where he happened to land after my man, the most
powerful man in AWA today Gordon, threw him! I simply asked him to show
everybody, just a few different ways twenty nine other men will be
eliminated!  So before you run your trap Gordon, get your facts
straight.

GM: But you ordered-

RJ:  Let me get one thing straight ,Gordon. I don’t ‘tell’, and I don’t
‘order’ Devastation. He does what he wants! I simply am guiding this big
man. You people seem to think that Devastation is all brawn, no brains.
You people have this narrow minded view of this monster! Well he will
show you at the Rumble that he is indeed smart! That he can think for
himself and it will be proven when he is standing tall in that ring, the
winner of the Rumble!

BW: Devastation… you have anything to add?

[Devastation glares at Bucky for a moment, and then stares at the mic.
He engulfs Bucky’s hand as he brings the mic closer to his jaw… pausing
before pushing it away as Ronnie laughs and Bucky turns pale…]

RJ: Devastation does his talking in the ring, Bucky! Just like tonight!
Just like last week and the week before that and the week before that!
He has NOTHING to say to these ungrateful nitwits! They are not worthy!
The only thing these people are worthy of is watching as Devastation
DESTROYS all their heroes and has his hand raised in victory! We want
that National Title! We want to rule the AWA and it all starts at
Memorial Day Mayhem!

[motions at Devastation.]

RJ: Let’s go big man. Gordon’s cheap cologne is getting to me.

[Ronnie and Devastation walk off set. Bucky sniffs at Gordon’s neck then
recoils with a disgusted look on his face.]

GM: What?

BW: He was right... that cologne does smell cheap.

GM: Give me a break.  Fans, let's go to the Control Center!

[We fade backstage to Jason Dane in front of the now-familiar bank of
television monitors.]

JD:  Welcome to the Control Center, fans, for all the news and goings-on
as we are now just NINE days away from Memorial Day Mayhem - one of the
biggest events on the AWA calendar.  Let's run this thing down...

May 31st... the Arena Theater in Houston, Texas...

We've got the big tag team grudge match - Bobby Taylor and Brent
Maverick - the Outlaws for lack of a better name taking on the team of
those two Benedict Arnolds, Kevin Slater and Shane Taylor.

Calisto Dufresne will have his work cut out for him as Soup Bone Samson
will be in Houston looking to get some vengeance for his good friend,
City Jack.

We've got the elimination tag team match - Jason & Michael Keening
taking on Raphael & Simon Rhodes... and with the mood that Raphael
Rhodes has been in lately, the Keenings may have quite the fight on
their hands.  Now, remember... this is an elimination tag match... both
members of the other team have to be eliminated before you can be
declared the winner.

It's gonna be FALLS COUNT ANYWHERE for the very first time in AWA
history when James Monosso collides with Eric Preston.  That one will be
wild and out of control, fans, and may not be fit for young children to
witness.

The National Title is on the line against fifty thousand dollars of Juan
Vasquez' money as "Hotshot" Stevie Scott defends the gold against his
former best friend, Sweet Daddy Williams.  The very definition of a
grudge match, fans.

Plus, moments ago you heard the challenge - the Blonde Bombers with
Larry Doyle are looking for payback for some of the embarrassment
they've suffered recently at the hands of the Rockstar Express.  And
Marty Morgan and Scotty Storm have got no problem with that.  They're in
and we'll see that match as well at Mayhem.

And of course, the Main Event will be that 30 Man Rumble with the winner
getting a National Title shot... 28 names are entered... take a look at
who is in so far...

[A graphic comes up showing the 28 men one by one with their names
listed underneath:

		Devastation
		Raphael Rhodes
		Simon Rhodes
		Calisto Dufresne
		Adrian Freeman
		Brian Von Braun
		Vernon Riley
		Shane Destiny
		Cletus Lee Bishop
		Duane Henry Bishop
		Anton Layton
		Vladimir Velikov
		Jack Snyder
		Juan Vasquez
		Bailey Fitzgerald
		Corey Lawson
		Scola
		Mafu
		Takeharu Watanabe
		MAMMOTH Mizusawa
		Brent Maverick
		Colt Daniels
		El Super Gecko
		Jason Keening
		Eric Preston
		James Monosso
		Rob Magnum
		Aaron Anderson
		
The camera shot cuts back to Dane.]

JD:  Before we announce the final two participants in the Rumble, let's
hear from one of the twenty-eight men already entered into the fray - El
Super Gecko!

[We cut out of the Control Center to a shot of a masked and covered from
head to toe El Super Gecko, who must be sweating buckets even under the
shade of a palm tree in the hot Tijuana sun. But he still looks every
bit like the Gecko that "terrorized" the Mighty IIWF in the mid 90's, as
he playfully swats his hand at the camera like an aged cobra's head.]

ESG: Hssss! Finally, after 12 long years, El Super Gecko has returned to
avenge himself! A whole new generation will know this truth:
you...CANNOT...hurt...the lizzzzzard!

[El Super Gecko throws a few feeble kicks and chops at the camera. Fade
back to the Control Center where Dane shakes his head.]

JD:  Some... strong words... from El Super Gecko.  Now, let's get down
to business... two spots left after Aaron Anderson claimed the
twenty-seventh earlier tonight.  Two spots left to battle for a shot at
the National Title.  Who will fill them?

Let's take a look...

[The scene fades into a shot of a powerfully built man, standing in
front of an AWA banner. It's a face familiar to long-time fans of the
AWA's predecessor, PWR and followers of the wrestling territories of the
deep south.

"Classy!" Kendrick Lane.

Lane doesn't look to have aged a single day since his last appearance on
television. His long blonde hair is slicked back and tied into a
ponytail and his goatee is as neatly trimmed as it ever was. His
clothing is as eccentric as ever, as he's dressed in an electric blue
and white bowling shirt and purple slacks. However, his demeanor is a
far cry from his usual energetic, boastful, in-your-face craziness. He
wears a very serious expression on his face as he begins to speak.] 

KL: It was about two months ago, when I saw him in the hospital.

City Jack.

[A deep sigh.]

KL: I'm just about the last person he ever expected to see, but I felt
like I owed it to him. I'm not going to stand here and blow smoke up
your cornhole, folks. Me and City Jack have never been friends. We've
been enemies ever since I've stepped into a wrestling ring and I'll
admit it, I don't like him one bit. 

[He slowly shakes his head, still holding onto the anger he holds for
City Jack from wars fought in the past.]

KL: We've had our share of differences, but seeing a proud man like that
laying in that hospital bed was the saddest and most pitiful thing I've
ever seen. It shook me, folks. It shook me up like nothing ever before.

[Lane looks up, staring straight into the camera.]

KL: What Calisto Dufrense did was unforgivable. Absolutely unforgivable.
 
[Suddenly, Lane's eyes open wide as a familiar crazed look forms on his
face.]

KL: DUFRENSE!

[He points a finger directly at the camera.]

KL: You impotent son of Bolivian circus midget! You twinkle-toed,
flagpole-sitting lady of the night! You raging he-she three hormonal
shots short of full womanhood!

I'm coming for you!

I'M GONNA TEAR OUT BOTH OF YOUR DANG EYES, YOU NANCY BOY!!! 

[Just as quickly, the rage leaves him and he composes himself...]

KL: *Ahem*

[...as much he can, anyhow.]

KL: Soup Bone Samson might have the first shot at you on Memorial Day,
but at the Rumble, you're mine, boy! The Syndicate can suck on a lemon!
They don't matter! Vasquez doesn't matter! Stevie Scott's big fat wife
don't matter! The title shot doesn't matter!

You're mine!

[He slowly runs his thumb across his throat, making his intentions
clear.]

KL: And when I get my hands on him, Lane-iacs...you better bet your
sweet bippy that what I'm going to do to him isn't going to be classy.

[An absolutely demented grin forms.]

KL: It's not going to be classy at all.

[Fade back to the Control Center.]

JD:  Alright.  Kendrick Lane is in the Rumble at Number 29!  Lane has
made a name for himself throughout the Southern wrestling scene for
years and despite his very clear goal in the Rumble next weekend, you
know he could make a big impact in that big, big match.

And speaking of big impacts, Jim Watkins came out before the show
started tonight to announce the final man in the Rumble... let's go to
this pre-taped footage for quite the surprise entry...

[We cut to footage marked "EARLIER TODAY" where Jim Watkins is standing
alongside Gordon Myers.]

GM: Joining me at this time, Mr. Jim Watkins!

JW: Thanks, Gordon.  I wanted to come out here tonight because I just
wanted everyone to know that a few days ago, I received a phone call
from a very... interesting person.  Someone that mentioned that they had
been watching the AWA for a long time now with keen interest, and saw
that there was an open spot available in the Rumble at Memorial Day
Mayhem, and they were just itching to take that spot.

[Watkins rubs his chin.]

JW: And I have to tell you, Gordon... I may not be too keen on this
guy's sense of dress, but he really wants to be in this thing and I
think he'd be an interesting wild card to throw into the Rumble.  So I'd
like to announce the newest entrant to the Rumble... Michelle Bailey!

[The crowd lets out a surprised pop, clearly not expecting that name.]

GM: Michelle Bailey!  That's certainly a name wrestling fans haven't
heard in a long while, and a unique persona to boot!

JW: You aren't kidding there, Gordon.  But that's not all!  Once I
confirmed him for the match, well, this guy hopped on a plane out here
to Dallas, and I figured I'd like it if he came out here these fans just
what he told me on the telephone.  So let's bring him out!

[And, right on cue, the camera pans over to the entrance way, where
Michelle Bailey emerges a few moments later, a giant grin plastered
across his face.  Bailey doesn't exactly look like the typical AWA
wrestler, with shoulder-length blond hair and black eye makeup, sporting
a black tank top and blue plaid skirt, along with black tights with
white stars underneath.  He walks over and offers a dainty handshake to
Jim Watkins, who wearily accepts and leaves the frame thereafter. 
Bailey then proceeds to hug Gordon Myers to the surprise of the crowd!]

GM: Well, uh, it's certainly good to see you too!

MB: Oh Gordon!  It's been so long, and I've seen you on TV!  You're
lookin' really sharp!

[Bailey playfully pulls on the lapels of Myers' suit jacket.]

MB: A real dignified gentleman!

GM: Thank you, but we have to know... what brings you here to the
Rumble?

MB: It's actually a pretty long, but awesome story, so here goes, okay? 
You see, I started watchin' the AWA a long while ago because I knew some
of the best wrestling was here.  I just figured that, you know, I kind
of wore out my welcome?  I mean, I've been around so long and figured
nobody was wantin' to see me anymore!  So I took a few years off, did a
couple of small shows here or there, but I saw the list of talent in
that Rumble, and oh my gosh!

[Bailey gasps.]

MB: It's like it's a family reunion for me!  I mean, I know so many
people in that match!  And everyone's been coming out and saying just
what they want to do in the Rumble... Stevie Scott's got all his guys in
there, trying to eliminate contenders.  Juan Vasquez wants another shot
at the belt.  Shane Destiny, my BFF, he's in there and he's wantin' the
National title.  The Rhodes boys are in there, and I've known Raph since
he was a tiny little guy!  It's really pretty amazing... but I saw Jason
Keening come out and say to you that he really wanted to help Juan
Vasquez, and I got to thinkin'... what about bringing Michelle Bailey
back into the picture?

[The crowd lets out a cheer!]

MB: Hang on a sec, guys, I _totally_ didn't say I was out there to help
Juan.  I mean, Juan and I got a lot of history.  I haven't forgotten
what he did to me a few years back, wearin' that ugly Ribera Kid mask
and puttin' me through hell.  I know he said he's changed, but those
memories are still there... and so's that icky scar, ugh.

[Bailey pauses, touching an index finger to his bottom lip
thoughtfully.]

MB: But, you know what?  Stevie Scott and I, we don't get along all that
well either!  Stevie's been a thorn in my side for almost ten years now,
one I never really got to pluck out.  We've been tearin' up rings from
Knoxville to Michigan, and there's never really been a conclusion to
what we've had.  So it might be nice to springboard right into a title
shot by winnin' that Rumble, wouldn't it?

[Bailey grins, the crowd still approving of anyone taking out Stevie
Scott.]

MB: Then there's the Rhodes brothers, who've really been kind of lost. 
But I know their uncle Jeremy put me through pain too, in training and
in the ring.  So maybe it'd be nice to take them out too.  And there's
my bestest buddy ever, Shane Destiny.  You know, Gordon, Shane's a good
friend, but he's been out here braggin' and carryin' on about how great
he is.  He's held a lot of titles, right?

GM: Right...

MB: Been on pay-per-views, been around the world, right?

GM: That's true...

MB: There's just one accolade that he's missing.  He's _never_ beaten
me.  And I can pretty much guarantee, now that I'm in the Rumble, he's
lookin' for that one braggin' point he's never had.  And then there's
Brian Von Braun... I've known his family for a real long time, and he's
always been the little jerk that could never live up.  So, Gordon, what
do you think you can expect from Michelle Bailey in the Rumble?

GM: I'm not quite sure, to be honest.

MB: ... and that's the way I like it.

[Bailey hugs Myers again!]

MB: It's so good seein' you again!  Call me, 'kay?

[With that, Bailey hops off, Myers clearly looking flustered as we fade
back to the Control Center.]

JD:  And there you have it, fans.  Michelle Bailey is the 30th man...
err... person in the Rumble!  And you heard what Bailey had to say... no
one knows for sure exactly what he... they... will do in the Rumble
itself.  It's going to be a wild night in Houston... and quite frankly,
it WILL be Memorial Day MAYHEM!  For the Control Center, I'm Jason Dane
and we'll see you in Houston!

[We cut from the Control Center 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 fade back up to the Combat Corner, right in the middle of a sparring
session between Todd Michaelson and Eric Preston. The camera watches as
Preston twists Todd with an armwringer, and Todd reverses by twisting up
and under and simultaneously buries a knee to the solarplexus. The young
Preston doubles over from the knee and Todd instantly laces both arms
for the infamous Billion Dollar Bomb. A Combat Corner official yells
time just as Todd readies to deliver the blow, and both men disentangle.
As they pound fists and walk to their respective corner, the cameraman
speaks up.]

Cameraman: Guys, we're here to get a few comments for Saturday Night. Do
you have a minute?

[Preston looks at Todd who nods his head, and Eric follows.]

EP: Sure thing.

Cameraman: Great. Eric, how do you think Todd's going to fare on
Saturday Night?

EP: I think he'll do just fine. Even before this came up, he's been here
at the Combat Corner working out with the new guys every day. He keeps
himself in phenomenal shape, and obviously he's still got a few tricks
up his sleeve. He'll be alright.

Cameraman: Todd, how do you feel?

TM:  I'd be lying if I told you I felt like a 21 year old but if you're
asking me if I have enough to put down two punks like Dufresne and
Freeman?

[Todd grins.]

TM:  I guess we'll all find out together, won't we?

Cameraman: Todd, we all know now about your close relationship with
Marcus Broussard, your partner for Saturday Night. Has he been in the
ring at all since we last saw him, do you think there will be any ring
rust?

[Michaelson goes to answer, but he's cut off by Preston, who directs his
thoughts to Todd, not the camera.]

EP: Wait, wait, wait, wait, we need to back up a minute. There's
something you need to answer for me, Todd. How come you picked someone
else to be your partner, why didn't you pick _me_ to team up with you?
You know I've got all the respect in the world for Marcus, but those
weren't his brothers that Waterson attacked.

This is as personal for me as it is for you, Todd. I should be out there
defending the Combat Corner, not Marcus. It doesn't mean anything for
him, he's just doing you a favor. Those are my friends and my classmates
the Syndicate attacked, that's my family they put out of wrestling for
good.

[Todd looks at Preston for a long moment with a grin.]

TM:  That's what I love 'bout you, kid.  You're always looking to take
the fight to someone.  Whether it was Juan Vasquez way back the first
night when anyone noticed ya... whether it was that big brawl a few
months ago... or even with this Monosso character, you're always ready
for a fight.

But that's the problem right now, kid.  You've GOT a fight on your
hands.

[Preston waves a hand dismissively.]

TM:  I mean it, kid.  Don't take that nutcase lightly.  I looked into
his eyes... I saw what's going through his head.  He's not right,
Eric... he's not... he's not there.

He's the kind of guy who would not blink if confronted with the chance
to end your career before it really gets going.

I looked into his eyes, Eric... I saw the monster inside.

[Preston starts to protest but Todd raises a hand.]

TM:  Now, I know you can handle him.  But you need to be focused on him.
 Falls Count Anywhere?  Trust me.  Anytime you take a fight out of the
ring, anything can happen.  And you need every bit of focus you've got
to handle that. 

Plus, these Syndicate guys?  They're dirty.  They're not crazy...
they're just dirty.  And mean.  And vicious.  They're the guys who'd end
a career because it makes them laugh or because they think they'd get a
bump in their paycheck.

I need someone who can play that game.

[Todd shrugs.]

TM:  And thankfully, that's not you, kid.  But Marcus?  That's another
story.  So, don't worry about it, Eric.  I'll take care of my business
on Saturday Night and then I'll be right there in the building in
Houston, backstage watching when you take care of yours.  Deal?

[A disappointed Preston nods, reaching over to high-five his teacher as
we fade back to the WKIK Studios.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, to Saturday Night Wrestling and I have to say
that we're already OVERTIME here tonight on SNW.  WKIK has given us
permission to go as long as they can let us go because we still have a
lot to go here tonight.  Our thanks to our broadcast partner for being
so understanding.  Now, we just heard from Eric Preston... but for the
final time tonight, I hope, let's hear once more from James Monosso!

[Yet again, the crazily wavering handheld camcorder emerges, drawing a
sharp contrast to the relatively slick production of the WKIK cameras. 
It's hard to tell where we are now, as it's dark.]

JM: Are you afraid of the dark, Eric?

There's lots of dark places in the bowels of buildings.  One wrong turn,
and you end up in some place where the lights are out.  It's a big
building, you know.  Isn't that right, Ierc?  Oh, you can't see him, but
Ierc Reptons is my new helper.  My last helper, sad to say, but I think
you get the point by now, Eric.  In the ring, they try and give us a
'competitive environment'.  With the rules, they try and give us a
'competitive environment'.  But once that illusion of safety is gone,
Eric... you're in the dark.  You don't know where we'll fight.  You
don't know what... environmental hazards... you might encounter.  You
have no earthly idea what kind of potentially fatal situations you'll
find yourself in.  Neither do I.  We're both in the dark... and for the
first time in many years, I'm smiling.  I can't wait.  This is how
children feel on Christmas morning when they're still being fed the lies
about fat men giving them toys, not to mention the lies about love and
fairness and hope.  

Do you know why, Eric?  Because the dark is nothing to be afraid of.  I
think even you know that.  No, the dark is nothing to fear.  It's the
horrors lurking IN the dark you should be afraid of.  

And in this horror film?  I AM THE MONSTER.

[A door is kicked open right in front of us, and a dummy suddenly shoved
through it with an Irish-whip.  It skips on a lightly gravelled flat
concrete surface, and disappears... over the edge of the WKIK studios
roof, only ten feet away.]

JM:  One wrong step in the dark, Eric... one wrong step in the dark. 
That's how it ends.  That's the only way it ever ends.  That's the only
way it CAN end.

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

[One last time, we cut back to the studio.]

GM:  That man is... well, as Todd Michaelson said, he saw the monster
inside and I just can't think of a better way to describe him, Bucky.

BW:  Monster, maniac, lunatic - call him what you will but I have a
feeling in nine days, we'll be calling him the winner.

GM:  We'll see about that.  Fans, we've been talking about it all night
- the return of Marcus Broussard!  This is gonna be something else.  The
time for hype is over so let's go up to Melissa for this big tag team
showdown!

[Fade to the ring where Melissa is standing.]

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

["Sharp Dressed Man" by ZZ Top starts up to a big shower of boos from
the AWA faithful.]

MC:  They are accompanied to the ring by their manager, Ben Waterson...
they are the "Ladykiller" Calisto Dufresne and "Subzero" Adrian Freeman!

[Dufresne, Freeman, and Waterson swiftly make their way through the
curtain, ready for a fight as they make their way up the ringsteps. 
Waterson is giving advice to both men as the music starts to fade out.]

MC:  And their opponents...

["Super Bon Bon" by Soul Coughing starts up to a HUUUUUGE cheer!]

MC:  They are the team of Todd Michaelson and making his AWA return...
MARCUS... BROUUUUSSAAAAAARD!

[The cheers intensify as all eyes turn towards the entryway, waiting to
see the arrival of Michaelson and Broussard.  The anticipation builds
for a moment as the curtain shifts...

...and then the crowd EXPLODES as the curtain parts.

But the cheers quickly die down as the crowd realizes that Todd
Michaelson has walked into the building alone...

...and in street clothes.]

GM:  What in the world...?

BW:  I knew it!  I knew Marcus wouldn't team with that idiot!

GM:  What are you talking about?

BW:  I know Marcus Broussard pretty well and I knew he wouldn't lower
himself to associating with Michaelson and those Combat Corner rejects.

GM:  Give me a break!  I know he- wait a second...

[A disappointed - and kind of angry - looking Michaelson strides over to
the announce area.]

GM:  Todd... what in the world is going on?

[Michaelson's looking down as he leans over the mic.]

TM:  I don't know what to say, Gordon.

BW:  Start by admitting you lied!  Start by admitting that Marcus wants
no part of dealing with you and your moron students!

[Todd slowly looks up, burning a hole through Bucky as he grabs the
mic.]

TM:  You want the truth, Bucky?  

You're right.

[The crowd buzzes with confusion.]

TM:  I lied.

[The buzzing grows louder.]

TM:  I didn't know I was lying though.  I really didn't.  No, I didn't
ask Marcus to be my partner before I announced it.  But I've known him
for a long, long time and I thought I could consider him a friend.  I
thought I could consider him someone who would drop everything and come
to help me if I needed it.

I was wrong.

[Michaelson gestures up to the ring.]

TM:  I've got no partner.  You win.  Ring the bell and raise their
hands, Mickey.

[Mickey Meekly looks confused.]

TM:  You heard me.  Ring the bell.  They win.

[Meekly shrugs, calling for the bell and raising the hands of Dufresne
and Freeman who are cackling all the while.]

TM:  This is one of the worst moments of my career.  One of the most
humiliating moments of my career... and Marcus Broussard, this falls
squarely on your shoulders.

You make me sick.

[The crowd "oooohs."]

TM:  You're not the man I thought you were.  I know you were hurt by
those Southern Syndicate jackals.  I know Stevie and his boys busted you
up pretty well.  You've been sitting at home, trying to heal up.  But I
know you're ready, Marcus.  I know you're ready to come back.

But you're afraid.  

You sit home and you watch Stevie Scott and the Southern Syndicate run
wild over this entire company!  They put you out... they put Sudakov
out... they put your friend Adam Rogers out... they put Ron Houston
out... they've put person after person out and you... the guy who this
place revolved around for a year...

You can't even be bothered to give a damn?

[Michaelson shakes his head.]

TM:  You're a coward, Marcus.  You're a damn coward and you make me
sick.  You let me down tonight.  You let these people down.  And at the
end of the day, you let the entire AWA down.

And I don't think you even care.

[With that, a disappointed Michaelson simply walks off camera, heading
back through the curtain as Waterson, Dufresne, and Freeman taunt him
from inside the ring.]

GM:  Fans, a shocking... and disappointing... turn of events here on
Saturday Night.  We'll be right back with more action - don't you dare
go away.

[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.  More precisely, we're in the
parking lot of the WKIK Studios where the cameraman is being dragged.]

"Hurry up!  Ain't got time for you to be draggin' tail out here, son."

[The camera's lens is pointed mostly at the ground, occasionally
swinging up to show various vehicles so we know it's the parking lot.]

GM:  Fans, welcome back - and someone has procured one of our cameramen
and are forcing them out there into the parking lot.  I haven't been
able to tell who it is as of yet.

BW:  Maybe it's Monosso.

GM:  It certainly could be but- wait a second!

[The cameraman is released by his dragger and finally straightens up,
turning the camera to face him...]

GM:  It's Sweet Daddy Williams!

[The crowd inside the WKIK Studios cheers as Williams stands before the
cameraman, right in front of the long, black limo that the Southern
Syndicate arrived in earlier...

...gripping a tire iron in his hand.]

SDW:  STEEEEVIE!

[Williams is all fired-up, white knuckles gripping the metal tool in his
right hand.  He points to the camera with the tire iron.]

SDW:  You!  You say it's not your problem that someone can't feed their
family?  You say it's not your problem that someone can't pay their
heating bill?  You say it's not your problem that someone may spend
twenty bucks to see you tonight and then lose their job on Monday?

Not your problem...

[Williams shakes his head.]

SDW:  Not your problem?

[Suddenly, he spins around, slamming the tire iron into one of the limo
windows, shattering it.]

SDW:  NOT YOUR PROBLEM?!

[Williams swings again, this time smashing it into the door, leaving a
nasty dent on it.]

SDW:  NOT!  YOUR!  PROBLEM?!

[The fiery fan favorite goes wild, swinging the tire iron as quickly as
he can, smashing it into an open spot on the side of the limo - windows,
doors, roof, whatever.  He continues to shout "NOT YOUR PROBLEM?" as he
does so, finally winding up standing at the front of the car.]

SDW:  The fact is, old friend... people having hard lives these days is
EVERYONE'S problem and the fact that you don't realize that just proves
how right I am aboutcha...

You may not need fifty thousand dollars to pay your mortgage... to put
food on your family's table back home... to pay college tuition for your
kids... that may not be... _your_ problem...

[Williams spins around, spiking the tire iron through the front
windshield, shattering it in the process.]

SDW:  But this?  Paying for the repairs for this?

[Williams grins.]

SDW:  That _is_ your problem, champ.

And you just found a whole new reason to need fifty grand.

[A smirk.]

SDW:  See you in Houston, Hotshot.

[And Williams walks off, leaving the cameraman behind to pan over the
badly-damaged limo...

...before we slowly fade back to ringside.]

GM:  My stars!

BW:  He should be arrested!  Sweet Daddy Williams should be arrested for
the destruction of private property, Gordo!  There is no call for that! 
He's got the match with Stevie - he'll get his chance to beat the
champ... but there's no call for this!

GM:  Sweet Daddy Williams wanted Stevie Scott to understand what it felt
like to need fifty thousand dollars... and I think the champ may have
gotten the message, Bucky!

BW:  This is awful.  I hope Stevie takes that fifty grand out of
Williams' fat hide!

GM:  And speaking of Memorial Day Mayhem grudge matches, there may be
none bigger... no grudge more intense... than the one between this man,
"The Outlaw" Bobby Taylor and his former friend Kevin Slater.  Bobby,
this match has been a long time in the making... over two years
really... your thoughts?

["The Outlaw" Bobby Taylor walks into view, standing tall in a plain
black t-shirt and jeans.]

BT:  First off, Gordon, I want to thank Brent Maverick.

[Cheer!]

BT:  That's right.  For someone I don't know any better than a stranger
off the street, Brent Maverick has come to the AWA and he's stood up
right by my side and said he wasn't gonna let anyone jump my back.  He
got beat up for it, he turned down money offered to abandon me... and
yet he still is gonna be there in nine days, Gordon.

[Taylor nods.]

BT:  He don't owe me nothin' but after Mayhem, you can bet I owe him
one.

[Taylor pulls off his Stetson hat, placing it on the announce desk.]

BT:  But Kevin Slater... I owe you one already.

I owe you one for tormenting me with that whole Man With The Money
garbage - for all our friends and families that you screwed with over
that deal.  And I owe you one for twisting my little brother's brain and
getting him in your corner.

[Taylor nods again.]

BT:  You better believe I owe you one, Kevin.

Two on two?  This isn't how this one was supposed to go down.  We didn't
need to involve anyone else in our business.  At the end, it should be
you and me... one on one... two people who know each other better than
their own damn families do... bleeding, sweating, breaking bones... 

Until one man is left standing.

[The Outlaw shrugs.]

BT:  Not gonna happen.  Not like that.  But with Brent Maverick - an
Outlaw in his own right - by my side, I've still got the shot to show
you that if your whole reason for coming back was to get at me...

...you made the wrong decision.

[And with that, Taylor picks up his hat and walks away.]

GM:  Fans, we'll be right back for the rest of our Main Event!

[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 Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde
are standing.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans!  We are just moments away from the continuation
of our Main Event but before that, let's get some words from the man who
will face Calisto Dufresne in nine days.  Our cameras went with him as
he went to visit the man who he will try to avenge at Memorial Day
Mayhem, City Jack... let's hear from Soup Bone Samson!

[We cut to footage marked "EARLIER THIS WEEK."  We are in a hospital
where Soup Bone Samson, dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans is standing
in front of a hospital room door that we can only assume is City
Jack's.]

SBS:  Dufresne, do you hear that tickin', boy?  Do ya hear it?

[Samson grins.]

SBS:  It means your time is up.  All the time you spent runnin' and
duckin', divin' and dodgin'... just prayin' that no one would be able to
get their hands on ya for what ya done... all that time is up.  It's
gone.  It's over.

And now?  Now it's time for your day of reckoning, son.

Nine days.  Nine days left for you to enjoy being in one piece.

[Samson's gaze turns cold.]

SBS:  Nine days left for you to enjoy having both your legs to walk down
the street like the limbertail you are.

Nine days left for you to enjoy having both arms to wrap around whatever
two-bit tramp is willin' to give you the time of days.

Nine days left for you to enjoy having two eyes to... well, to do much
of anything with.

[Samson points to an eye.]

SBS:  You remember, right?  I told you to take my eye and all you've
done is run your mouth.  You've got one chance, boy... one chance in
Houston to take this out of my damned head before I lay you to waste.  

You better use it.

[Samson nods.]

SBS:  Jack here?  Jack says he ain't gonna watch what I do to you in
nine days.  He says he can't bear to watch the game at all anymore.  He
can't watch you runnin' 'round like you own the joint with your pack of
dogs.  

He can't stand watchin' you make your jokes at his expense.

[A shake of the head.]

SBS:  So it comes down to this, Dufresne.  Me.  You.  And this ol' dog
is determined to sink his teeth into your eye socket and rip out
whatever I get my teeth on.

An eye for an eye?

[One more nod.]

SBS:  I wouldn't have it any other way.

[Samson turns to head into the hospital room.  The cameraman starts to
follow when the old veteran puts his hand back to block his path.]

SBS:  This is as far as you go.  That mangy dog don't deserve to see
what's behind this door.

[The cameraman stays back as the door opens, revealing just a glimpse of
what's beyond it before Samson walks through the doorway and we fade
back to the announce team.]

GM:  Now THAT'S a man who is ready for Memorial Day Mayhem, Bucky.

BW:  He's ready - I'll give him that.  But that doesn't mean he can do
all the things he thinks he can do.  Calisto Dufresne is the present and
future of this sport.  You know as well as I do that Soup Bone Samson is
the past.  And in my book, the future trumps the past in nine days,
daddy.

GM:  We'll see about that.  Fans, earlier tonight, we started that big
showdown - that two out of three falls match - between MAMMOTH Mizusawa
and Juan Vasquez.  Vasquez lost the first fall - the Texas Bullrope
match - and was battered and bloodied after the match.  Jim Watkins...
well, I guess you can say he paused the match, delaying the final two
falls until... right now!  Let's bring these two out here and finish
this thing!

[The crowd jeers as Louis Matsui and MAMMOTH Mizusawa come through the
curtain.  Matsui is pointing to his man who has his arms held high
overhead...

...and both are completely oblivious as Juan Vasquez comes tearing
through the curtain behind them, steel chair in hand.  He winds
waaaaaaay back...]

GM:  NO!


"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"


[The crowd EXPLODES into a roar as Mizusawa is smashed across the broad
back with the steel chair, knocking him down to his knees as Vasquez,
his head and ribs both heavily bandaged, thrusts the chair high into the
air to show it to the fans.]

GM:  Good god!

BW:  DQ!  Ring the bell!

GM:  This is the Street Fight!  There's no DQ here!  No countout and no
disqualification, Bucky!

BW:  The match hasn't even started yet!

GM:  It started at the beginning of the show!  Mizusawa's got a one to
nothing lead in the match and Vasquez just showed he's willing to do
whatever it takes to not have that go to two and oh.

[Vasquez throws the chair aside, grabbing the downed Mizusawa by the
back of the head and holding him still for a pair of right hands to the
side of the head.  A threatened right hand in Louis Matsui's direction
is enough to get Matsui scrambling out of the way as Vasquez rears back
and delivers a big boot to the chin of the kneeling giant!]

GM:  Vasquez is all over him!  He's fired up and listen to these fans!

"VAS-QUEZ!"  "VAS-QUEZ!"  "VAS-QUEZ!"

BW:  These idiots don't know what they're screaming about, Gordo.  They
would scream for a piece of bacon if you held it over their heads.

GM:  Would you stop?

[Grabbing the giant by the hair with both hands, Juan drags him off his
knees and over near the announce area.]

GM:  Uh oh.

BW:  I'm gettin' outta here, Gordo!

[Bucky does indeed do exactly that as we see him rushing to the side as
Vasquez blasts Mizusawa with a chop across the chest.]

GM:  Vasquez lights him up with that chop...

[With the giant staggered a bit, Vasquez jumps up on the wooden podium
that the announcers use...

...and hurls himself off in a flying clothesline, this time knocking the
giant all the way down to the floor!]

GM:  OHHHHH!  HE FLOORS THE GIANT!!

BW:  Matsui's lost his mind!  He's screaming at Mizusawa to get up!

GM:  I guess he's got his competition now, Bucky!

[Down on the floor, Vasquez crawls over the downed Mizusawa, taking an
MMA-style mount to throw fists at the big man...

...when suddenly Louis Matsui approaches, grabbing Vasquez by the hair
and dragging him off of the giant!]

GM:  Oh, come on!

BW:  There's no DQ!  You said it yourself!  Besides, Matsui's just
evening the odds after Vasquez jumped his man to start the second fall!

GM:  You've got an answer for everything.

[Vasquez wrenches himself free of Matsui, again rearing back a right
hand that sends Matsui scampering away.]

GM:  Vasquez needs to stay focused on the giant.  He can't let Matsui's
interference get to him.  He needs to stay on top of Mizusawa - he
absolutely can't let the big man get up as we saw in the first fall of
this match.

[The fan favorite, shaking his head, turns back towards Mizusawa who has
managed to get back to a knee.  Vasquez stops him there though, hooking
a loose side headlock and throwing fist after fist after fist into the
temple of the big man...

...who wraps his massive arms around the waist of Vasquez, hoisting him
with ease off the floor.]

GM:  Oh my!  He's got him up!  What's he gonna do with him?

[Absolutely nothing as a barrage of right hands from Vasquez breaks the
big man's grip, forcing him to put Vasquez back down on the floor where
he grabs the giant by the back of the head, moving towards the
podium...]

GM:  Uh oh - look out!

[Vasquez attempts to slam the giant's face into the podium...

...but the big man's massive hands lock on the wood, blocking the
attempt.]

GM:  He blocked it!  He blocked the-

[Mizusawa reaches up with his left hand, grabbing Vasquez by the back of
the head and DRIVING his face into the podium.]

GM:  OHH!  Facefirst to the wood!

[Vasquez stays with his torso hanging over the podium...

...which allows Mizusawa to smash a heavy overhead overarm down across
the taped ribs!]

GM:  Good grief!  What a shot that was!

[With a push, the giant stretches Vasquez out over the podium, facing up
towards the lights as Mizusawa winds up and delivers another
rib-cracking forearm smash to the body.  Matsui slinks closer, shouting
something in Japanese.  Mizusawa places a hand on the upper leg of
Vasquez with one on his upper body, bending Vasquez back...

...and delivers a massive headbutt to the torso!]

GM:  Ohhh!

[A shove sends Vasquez sprawling down to the floor, rolling a few feet
away from the giant who simply swipes his hand to the side, sending the
podium down to the floor.  The giant stands over the downed Vasquez who
continues to try and crawl away.]

GM:  Vasquez is trying to escape the big man's path... and you can't
blame him for that, can you?

[Matsui shouts to the giant again who nods before moving to grab the
fallen podium, easily picking it up off the ground.]

GM:  What the-?!  What's he gonna do with THAT?!

[The giant steps closer, still holding the podium high as Vasquez uses
the bottom rope to drag himself off the floor.  Mizusawa moves in, the
podium now pressed overhead...

...but at the moment before Mizusawa smashes him with the heavy wooden
podium, Vasquez lashes out with a boot to the gut, causing the giant to
set the podium down on the floor.]

GM:  Whew.  Too close.

[Grabbing two hands full of Mizusawa's hair, Vasquez DROPS down to his
knees, SMASHING the giant's face into the downed wooden podium and
sending him stumbling backwards!]

GM:  OHHHH!

[With the giant dazed, Vasquez grabs him by the arm and executes an
Irish whip...

...which sends the giant chestfirst into the steel ringpost before he
slumps down to his knees on the floor!]

GM:  Look at that!  The giant's down again!

BW:  Whew.  Are they done?

GM:  Welcome back, Bucky.  I thought the next time I'd see you would be
in Houston.

BW:  Excuse me for not risking my health to stand here and call the
match for these idiots!

GM:  It's called professionalism, Bucky.  Look it up!  And while you're
at it, look at Mizusawa!

BW:  He's winded, Gordo.  He looks a little sloppy out there.  I don't
think he's ever been in a match this long and even with the break, he
looks a little winded.

GM:  How in the world does he expect to survive the sixty minutes of the
Rumble?

BW:  The luck of the draw will play a big part in whether or not
Mizusawa is the man who wins the Rumble, Gordo.  Guaranteed.

GM:  Well, if this comes down to a battle of stamina, you know Vasquez
has it locked up.

BW:  This is a Street Fight.  I don't expect it to last long.

[With the giant down on his knees up against the ringpost, Vasquez
staggers over to his abandoned steel chair, the crimson of his early
headwound starting to stain the white bandages wrapped around his
skull.]

GM:  Vasquez has got the chair again and I don't like the looks of this!

[Matsui rushes to his man's side as Vasquez goes to get the steel chair,
slowly walking back towards the downed giant.  The manager is chattering
as fast he can, trying to help Mizusawa off the floor as Vasquez
approaches.]

GM:  Whoa!

[The crowd gasps as Vasquez takes a short swing at Matsui with the steel
chair who scampers away, just avoiding getting his head taken off.  Down
on the mat, Mizusawa is up on a knee right in front of the ringpost...

...and Vasquez winds up with the chair overhead!]

GM:  He's gonna crown him!  He's gonna-

[Vasquez lets loose a big swing with the chair, aimed at the skull of
the giant...

...who simply lifts a powerful hand, blocking the swing!]

GM:  What?!  How?!

[Mizusawa gets to his feet, still blocking the chair and delivers a knee
into the body of Vasquez, breaking his grip on the chair.  He tosses the
chair aside before scooping Vasquez up...

...and SLAMMING him down on the thinly-padded concrete!]

GM:  OHHHHHHH!

[Vasquez immediately cries out in pain, clutching his lower back and
writhing in agony on the floor as Mizusawa stands over him, glaring
coldly down at his prey.  He reaches down with one hand, grabbing
Vasquez around the throat and yanking him up to his feet before hurling
him under the ropes into the ring.]

GM:  Vasquez is in the ring... and here comes the giant after him...

[The big man swings a leg over the top rope, following with the other to
step into the ring.  Vasquez is crawling away, trying to get a breather
as the giant stalks towards him.]

GM:  Mizusawa is on the warpath and referee Michael Meekly is asking
Vasquez if he wants him to stop the match.  I don't think there's much
chance of that happening, Bucky.

BW:  Probably not.  Vasquez is too proud and too much of a moron like
these other morons in the crowd to know that he should call it a night
and try to heal up for the Rumble in nine days.  The Rumble is WAY more
important than this match and Vasquez should realize that.

[Mizusawa reaches down, grabbing Vasquez by the rib-tape and physically
yanking him back up to his feet.  He uses the same tape to throw Vasquez
chestfirst into the closest set of buckles.  The big man moves in,
grabbing the tape with both hands and ripping it apart, throwing the
torn tape down to the mat and leaving the injured ribs completely
exposed.]

GM:  Uh oh.

BW:  Say goodnight, Vasquez!

[Leaning over, Mizusawa grabs the middle rope, pausing for a moment...

...and DRIVES his shoulder into the kidneys of Vasquez, sending another
cry of pain out of the Number One contender.]

GM:  This is getting tough to watch.

[A second shoulder drive to the torso draws jeers from the crowd with
Matsui screaming, "SHADDUP!  SHADDUP, ALL OF YA!" out on the floor which
gets even more boos just before Mizusawa slams home another shoulder to
the torso.]

GM:  Good grief.  Michael Meekly may need to stop this thing.

[Pulling Vasquez out of the corner, Mizusawa spins him around and wraps
his massive arms around the torso of Vasquez, powering him up into a
bearhug,]

BW:  This is it!  Ring the bell, daddy!

GM:  It's not over yet!

[Vasquez cries out in pain as Mizusawa's tree-trunk arms squeeze his
torso, putting obscene amount of pressure on his ribs and back.  Vasquez
screams "NO!" at the referee's request for a submission.]

BW:  Gordo, this isn't even the "I Quit" match yet and Mizusawa's still
taking him apart with this bearhug!

GM:  At this stage, there won't be the "I Quit" fall, Bucky.

BW:  Now we're on the same page!  I like it when you agree with me,
Gordo.

[With a loud scream of his own, Mizusawa ragdolls Vasquez back and
forth, showing off his incredible power.  Outside the ring, Matsui is
shouting, "QUIT!  QUIT, YOU SONUVA-" before Vasquez screams, "NOOO!" in
response.]

GM:  He won't give up!  Vasquez won't quit!

[Mizusawa suddenly charges forward, sandwiching Vasquez in the corner
while still in the bearhug!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHH!

BW:  Again!  Do it again!

[Instead, Mizusawa backs all the way across the ring, dragging a thumb
across his throat...

...and charges across, lumbering across with all his weight.]

GM:  HERE...HE....COMES!

[But at the last possible moment, Vasquez lunges to the side, avoiding
the big corner splash!]

GM:  HE MISSED!  HE MISSED THE AVALANCHE IN THE CORNER!!

[Mizusawa stumbles backwards out of the corner to the middle of the
ring.  Vasquez quickly hits the ropes, bouncing back off...]

GM:  CLOTHESLI-

[But Vasquez runs right into a hand wrapped around his throat! 
Clutching him around the windpipe, Mizusawa takes a deep heavy breath
before hoisting Vasquez up, pressing him overhead...]

GM:  MAMMOTH SLAM!!  HE'S GOING FOR THE MAMMOTH SLAM!!

[Trapped in the military press, Vasquez starts to wriggle and shake,
somehow slipping out of the slam attempt...

...and kicks Mizusawa right in the family jewels!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHH!  LOW BLOW BY VASQUEZ!!

[The low kick stuns Mizusawa, causing him to stumble backwards...

...where he falls back into the ropes, his arms getting tangled between
the top and middle ropes!]

GM:  He's trapped!  He's trapped in the ropes!

[Vasquez pops up for a knee...

...and grins.]

GM:  He's trapped!  Mizusawa is helpless and Vasquez knows it!

[Matsui is going nuts outside the ring, screaming at the official to
free his man from the ropes but the referee waves him off as Vasquez
slowly approaches, getting close to look dead in the eyes of the giant
who knows he's in trouble.]

GM:  What's he gonna do?!  Listen to these fans!

[The place is going nuts as Vasquez looks down at the trapped giant...

...and rears his right arm as far back as he can, throwing it forward
with the greatest force he can possibly manage!]


"WHAAAAAP!"


GM:  OHHHH!  WHAT A RIGHT CROSS BY VASQUEZ!!

BW:  I've NEVER seen him throw a punch like that in the AWA, Gordo!

GM:  Neither have I!  That was Soup Bone Samson worthy right there!

[Mizusawa, his head having snapped back from the impact of the punch,
has one leg just dangling below him as the other tries to fight against
the ropes.  Vasquez points a finger at the trapped giant, shaking his
head at him...

...and throws ANOTHER HUGE RIGHT HAND!!]


"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAP!"


GM:  GOOD GRIEF, BUCKY!!

[The impact of the blow snaps Mizusawa's head to the side, both legs
dangling uselessly beneath him.]

GM:  Mizusawa can't block these!  He's got no defense!

[And Louis Matsui is screaming at anyone who'll listen, not daring to
get close enough to Vasquez to try and release his man from the ropes
himself.]

GM:  This crowd is on their feet!  Listen, Bucky, listen!

BW:  I hear 'em!  Can't hear anything but these friggin' loons!

[Vasquez hears 'em too, looking around at the deafening crowd, pointing
to them all as he makes a full circle.  Suddenly, he holds up one
finger...]

"ONE MORE?!"

[HUGE ROAR!]

"ONE MORE?!

[HUGER ROAR!]

GM:  These fans want another one!  They want another right hand!

[And slowly, a chant starts up...]

"ONE!  MORE!"   "ONE!  MORE!"   "ONE!  MORE!"

[Vasquez nods his head, spitting on his clenched right hand before
rearing back...

...and letting it fly!]


"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!"


[The impact of the punch actually knocks Vasquez clear off his feet
where he slumps down to the mat, exhausted from the effort it took to
throw the haymaker...

...and right next to him, Mizusawa goes limp, slipping free from the
ropes and sliding down in a heap on the canvas.]

GM:  MY STARS IN HEAVEN, WHAT A RIGHT HAND!!

[Mizusawa rolls under the ropes, falling limply to the floor where he
lands on his back.  Matsui rushes to his side, pulling his head off the
mat to reveal a trickle of blood coming from the giant's mouth.]

GM:  HE BLEEDS!  THE GIANT BLEEDS!

[Vasquez crawls from the ring, dropping down to the floor.  His sudden
arrival chases off Matsui who flees the scene.  Vasquez drops to a knee,
digging under the ring...

...and throws out a toolbox.]

GM:  What the...

BW:  Look at all the stuff in there - a wrench, a hammer, a
screwdriver... is that a roll of tape?

[The former National Champion grabs the empty toolbox, picking it up and
hoisting it high overhead as Mizusawa pushes off the floor, taking a
knee...

...but Matsui rushes to his man's aid, grabbing the toolbox out of his
hands.  An irate Vasquez has had enough, rushing after Matsui who is
running for his life.]

GM:  Vasquez is after him!  Vasquez is after him!

[But Matsui is several feet ahead, sprinting for his life as Vasquez is
in hot pursuit...

...and leads him right to a staggered Mizusawa who grabs him around the
throat with both hands!]

GM:  TUSK CRUSHER!  TUSK CRUSHER ON THE FLOOR!

[Mizusawa hoists him up but Vasquez throws his knee at the peak of the
lift, cracking the giant in the face, forcing the big man to put him
back down, grabbing him by the back of the head, leaping up, and
SMASHING his face into the downed metal toolbox!]

GM:  OHHHHHHH!

[A dazed Vasquez rolls away from the giant, waving for the referee to
start a ten count.]

GM:  Vasquez wants a ten count and Michael Meekly's gonna oblige!

[Meekly's count hits three as Matsui stands faaaaar away, screaming at
his man.  The crowd is roaring, counting along with the official as the
count hits four... then five... then six...

...but at the count of seven, Mizusawa stumbles to his feet, seemingly
barely able to stand.  A frustrated Vasquez grabs him, shoving him back
under the ropes into the ring.]

GM:  Back inside the ring now.  Vasquez may have decided it'll be easier
to get a three count than a ten count.

BW:  That's brilliant.

GM:  Mizusawa's down - where's Vasquez going?

[The crowd buzzes as Vasquez walks back towards the entryway...

...and roars as the fan favorite picks up the fallen steel chair, his
first weapon in the Street Fight, holding it high in the air.  Nodding
his head, Vasquez slides the chair into the ring, rolling under the
ropes.]

GM:  Vasquez is in and he's not alone!  He's got that steel chair!

[Grabbing Mizusawa by the wrist, he hauls him over to the buckles,
leaning him against the corner.  The crowd buzzes as he goes back to the
steel chair, picking it up...

...and placing it against the face of the seated Mizusawa.]

GM:  Oh no.

BW:  Matsui!  Louis!  Grab the chair!

[But there's no time or chance for Matsui to do that as Vasquez slams
his own knee into the chair, driving the steel into the face of the
giant!]

GM:  OHHHH!

[Vasquez nods to the roaring crowd...

...and does it again!]

GM:  Good grief!

BW:  Stop him!  Stop him now!

[Vasquez winds up the knee, now banged up a bit from being slammed into
steel...

...and SLAMS it in again!]

GM:  Another one!  Three times with that knee into the chair!  Mizusawa
keeps having that steel chair slammed into his face!

[Vasquez pumps a fist to the roaring crowd and drives his knee in
again... and again!]

GM:  FIVE!  FIVE KNEES DRIVING THAT STEEL INTO THE FACE!!

[With Mizusawa down, Vasquez backs across the ring, hobbling a bit as he
does so...

...and then breaks into a limping sprint, wincing as he pushes off the
mat into the air...]



"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!"



GM:  OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

[The crowd goes nuts for what they just saw - Vasquez leaping into the
air and delivering a dropkick to the steel chair, driving it into the
face of the giant once more!]

GM:  GOOD GOD IN HEAVEN!!

[Vasquez grabs the chair, throwing it out of the corner to the middle of
the ring as a motionless Mizusawa slumps down to the mat, flat on his
back.]

GM:  Look at that!  We've never seen the giant like that!

[Vasquez throws himself across the prone giant.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!!  THREE- WHAT THE?!

[The crowd EXPLODES in a shocked reaction as Mizusawa kicks out of the
pinfall just before three.]

GM:  You've gotta be kidding me!

[Vasquez looks just as surprised as the fans, holding up three fingers
to the official who shakes his head, holding up two in response.]

GM:  That was a three count, wasn't it?

BW:  Not according to Michael Meekly!

GM:  I can't believe Mizusawa got out of that... I simply can't believe
he got out of it...

[An angry Vasquez delivers a boot to the ribcage.  A second one sends
Mizusawa rolling out of the corner.  Vasquez storms to the middle of the
ring, snatching the steel chair off the canvas, walking towards the
ropes where he throws the seat down on the back of his prone opponent.]

GM:  This is... my stars, what is he doing?

BW:  What has gotten into Juan Vasquez?!

GM:  He wants this win - he wants this momentum going into the Rumble so
badly!

[Vasquez positions the chair so that it rests mostly on the back of the
giant's head, pushing his face down into the canvas.]

GM:  I don't understand.

[Vasquez walks to the corner, stepping up to the middle rope...

...and points at the downed giant.]

GM:  Oh, you've gotta be kidding me.

BW:  This can't happen!

GM:  Vasquez is on the second rope!  Vasquez is looking- DOOOOOOWN!

[The Number One contender leaps from his perch, tucking his legs into
his body and SMASHING backfirst down across the steel chair, driving
Mizusawa's face into the canvas!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

BW:  Tommy Stephens never did no senton like that, daddy!

GM:  He certainly didn't and Juan Vasquez... I think that took as much
out of Vasquez as it did out of Mizusawa!

BW:  No way.  There's no way, Gordo.

[The referee checks on both men...

...and starts a double count.]

GM:  Meekly's counting them both!  He's going to count them both out!

[Vasquez is down on the canvas, clutching his injured back in pain as
Mizusawa lies absolutely motionless just a few feet away.]

GM:  The count is up to four...

[The crowd starts to count along, sensing the end is near.]

"FIVE!"


"SIX!"

[Just before the count of seven, Vasquez rolls onto his chest,
elbowcrawling towards the ropes just inch by inch.  Mizusawa has managed
to roll to his back, a stream of blood now coming from the back of his
head as well.]

GM:  The count is up to seven! 

BW:  What happens if they both get counted out?

GM:  I'm not sure.  Mizusawa won the first fall.  I would imagine he
would be declared the winner, Bucky.  One fall to zero?  It's an odd
scenario but I would think that would be the answer.

BW:  Eight!  He just hit eight!

[The crowd is roaring, almost deafening as they cheer on Vasquez who
inches closer and closer to the ropes...

...and with great effort, he reaches up to grab the middle rope.]

BW:  No way!  No way!

[The count hits nine as Vasquez puts every bit of effort he has into
pulling himself off the mat...

...and gets up right around the same time the referee signals for the
bell.]

GM:  Did he make it?  Did he get up in time?


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Ladies and gentlemen... referee Michael Meekly has ruled that
NEITHER MAN was able to beat the ten count!

[The crowd explodes in jeers.  Leaning on the ropes, Vasquez buries his
head in his hands, shaking his head back and forth.]

MC:  As a result, the referee has declared that-

[Suddenly, the words of Melissa Cannon are cut off as Juan Vasquez
snatches the mic from her hand.]

"NO!"

[Cannon backs off, hands raised.]

"THIS IS... (breathes heavily)... this ain't happenin'... not like
this..."

[Vasquez is obviously very upset, shaking his head back and forth as he
looks up in the ring where Louis Matsui is tending to his client.]

"I got up... these people saw it... you all saw it..."

[Suddenly, Vasquez violently throws the mic down on the mat, moving to
the timekeeper's table...

...and snatching the metal ringbell off the table to the surprise of the
crowd!]

BW:  Now what the heck is he doing with that, Gordo?  This match is
over!

GM:  I don't know.  Obviously, Juan Vasquez is very upset... very
frustrated by what we just saw...

[Vasquez rolls under the ropes, clutching the metal ringbell to his
chest as he gets off the mat...

...and moves straight towards MAMMOTH Mizusawa who is finally up to a
knee.  Throwing the ringbell down, Vasquez throws punch after punch -
much weaker than before - into the skull of the giant who simply falls
to the mat, rolling under the ropes to the floor.]

GM:  The giant got out of there.  I think he's had enough of this.

BW:  Can you blame him?  Vasquez has snapped!

GM:  Well, I don't know if I- wait a second!

[The crowd buzzes with confusion as Vasquez grabs the discarded ringbell
and heads to the corner, quickly scaling the ropes with the bell gripped
in his hand...]

GM:  Are you kidding me?  Get him down from there!  Get him-

[Perched on the top with the ringbell in his hands, Vasquez hurls
himself off the top...

...onto Louis Matsui who threw himself in front of his man just before
contact!]

GM:  WHOA!

BW:  Oh no!

GM:  I can't believe it!  Louis Matsui just threw himself in front of
his meal ticket!  He risked his own body to save Mizusawa! 

BW:  Vasquez just tried to crack his damn skull!

GM:  He may have done exactly that to Matsui!  Matsui is out!

[The camera catches a shot of Louis Matsui, prone on the floor with the
ringbell sitting a few feet away from him.  An angry Vasquez looks
surprised, glaring down at Matsui...

...and getting grabbed from behind by an angry giant!]

GM:  This isn't over!  This one's not done yet!

[Mizusawa throws a headbutt to the back of Vasquez' skull, stunning him
as he drags him away from the downed Matsui.  Spinning him around, he
grabs Vasquez by the throat with both hands...

...and THROWS him into the steel bleachers, sending AWA fans
scrambling!]

GM:  OHHH!  Get them out of there!  They're in there amongst the fans
and-

[Vasquez lashes out with a kick from a prone position, catching Mizusawa
on the chin and staggering him back.  Pushing up to his feet with the
help of some fans, Vasquez stands a few rows deep on the bleachers...

...and LEAPS out of them, tackling Mizusawa around the chest, throwing
rights and lefts as they stumbles into the ring apron.]

GM:  We've got a fight on our hands!  We may need some help out-

[Ask and ye shall receive a swarm of AWA officials and security team
members...

...the first of which to arrive gets dispatched by a right hand from
Vasquez, knocking him flat.]

GM:  Whoa!

BW:  There'll be a fine for that, Gordo!

GM:  You're probably- ohhh!

[Mizusawa doubles up the fine by smashing two security team member's
skulls together in a noggin knocker.  The fight continues, spilling
through the protesting officials and security... all of which are
protesting a little bit less now to avoid more physical assaults.]

GM:  Uh oh...

BW:  I'm out of here!

[The crowd roars as a series of punches from Vasquez sends Mizusawa
stumbling into view of the camera positioned near the announce podium -
at least where the announce podium used to be.  Vasquez shoves down an
AWA official who gets a little too close, making some space between
himself and Mizusawa as he charges towards the giant...

...and gets caught, hoisted off the floor by the giant who spins like a
top...]

GM:  NOOOOOOOOOOO!

[And the giant LUNGES forward with Vasquez, sending his injured back
SMASHING into the AWA Saturday Night Wrestling backdrop, knocking the
large wooden set over, sending it toppling down to the exposed concrete
as the television monitor shatters, a few sparks shooting up from it.

Vasquez lies motionless amongst the wreckage of the now-destroyed set,
flat on his back as the giant stands over him, looking down at the
broken and splintered wooden set, tendrils of smoke drifting up from the
shattered television...

...and lets loose the most blood-chilling roar ever heard.

Fade to black.]