The Main Event

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American Wrestling Alliance 
Proudly Presents 
THE MAIN EVENT!

Live from the Moody Coliseum 
University Park, Texas 
March 13, 2010
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[As the closing notes to the Andy Griffith Show theme fades into
nothing, the viewing audience is greeted by a quick but subtle
synthisized drumbeat in the background as Juan Vasquez appears on the
screen in front of an AWA backdrop.]

"Tonight, I finally get my rematch, Stevie. For months, you and your
boys in the Syndicate have beaten me, bloodied me, and done everything
in your power to run me outta' the AWA. You've insulted me and
embarrassed me. You called me "spineless" and "gutless"...you called me
a "desperate" man. But by the end of the night, there's only one thing
you'll be calling me, boys."

[A smirk.]

"Champion."

[We crossfade to a shot of "Hotshot" Stevie Scott, the AWA National
Champion, standing in front of a blue backdrop.]

"For six months, Vasquez, you've been waiting for this night.  Begging,
pleading, clawing, fighting for one more shot at the National Title
right here.

[Scott slaps the belt draped over his shoulder.]

"But if I hold this belt at the end of the night, I make history.  The
longest reign in AWA history.

[Big grin.]

"Now what in the world makes you think I'll let you stand between me and
the history books?"

[Crossfade from the champ to a shot of Bailey Fitzgerald and Corey
Lawson, looking eager to get to the ring.]

CL:  The time ie here and the time has come.  We've been living off one
big win for three months now and tonight, we get the chance to show that
we're no fluke... we're for real.

BF:  That's right, Corey.  Dufresne and Freeman... there's a long list
of tag teams lookin' to get their hands on you and those belts.  The
Samoans, the Bishops, Rough N Read but don't you... don't you dare
forget about us...

[A little bit of disdain takes over his voice.]

BF:  Champs.

[The scenes blend as we fade to the National Tag Team Champions, Calisto
Dufresne and Adrian Freeman, sitting in a classy restaurant dressed to
the nines.  Both have a glass of champagne in front of them and the same
irritating smirk on their face.]

CD: As you can see, Adrian and I are hard at work, preparing for the
tough road ahead of us at the 2nd Anniversary Show.  We've spent
countless hours in the gym, studying film...

[A pause.]

CD: ...Who am I kidding?  We're the National Tag Team Champs.  We're the
number one tag team in the world.  The last thing we need to do is spend
time preparing for two nobodies.

AF: This match is about clearing some things up.  For one thing, we want
to get rid of the misconception that those two twerps Fitzgerald and
Lawson are anywhere near our league.  And we're also going to send a
message to anyone who thinks that just because there are bounties flying
around the Southern Syndicate can be defeated.  It took a lot of work to
get to the top of this mountain and we will not be thrown off.

CD: Fitzgerald... Lawson... I hope you enjoyed the ride, boys.  Because
your fifteen minutes is about up.

[Crossfade to Shane Destiny, wringing his hands.]

SD: You want one last ride, Langseth?  I can accommodate you, but I will
only take you two places... the hospital...

[Pause.]

SD:  ...or the morgue.

[Fade to the Keenings, fired up and ready for a fight.]

JK:  The Rhodes brothers fit just perfectly in that Southern
Syndicate... they're willing to do whatever it takes to get a win.

[Michael Keening rubs his jaw.]

MK:  Something we found out very clearly two weeks ago.

JK:  That's right.  But tonight, we're ready for it.  And Simon Rhodes,
they tell me it's your first singles match in the AWA tonight.

[Keening applauds.]

JK:  Welcome to the big time.  It's a big moment for you...

[A grin.]

JK:  ...and I'm gonna spoil it.

[Crossfade to the Rhodes brothers, Simon and Raphael, staring at the
camera.]

SR: Jason Keening, you ain't gettin' nothin' that you ain't see before
tonight.

RR: Yeah... but there ain't nothin' you can do to stop it!

[Both Rhodes laugh as the synth drums kick up and explode into the
sounds of Animotion's "Obsession."  As the music starts, three words pop
up in red, white, and blue font on the screen.

THE

MAIN

EVENT!

The title image fades away to a barrage of still photo shots of the
participants in the night's matches - Juan Vasquez, Stevie Scott,
Fitzgerald and Lawson, Dufresne and Freeman, Mark Langseth, Shane
Destiny, Jason Keening, and finally Simon Rhodes - into one giant
collage of photos that freeze for a moment before shattering into
pieces.

As the pieces fall apart to reveal a screaming giant crowd jammed into
the Moody Coliseum as the voice of Gordon Myers is heard over the
cheers.]

GM:  Hello everybody and welcome to University Park, Texas!  We are live
in the Moody Coliseum on the campus of SMU where over seven thousand
fans - a have joined us for yet another great AWA event!  It's our
Second Anniversary Show - and that means it's time for THE MAIN EVENT,
Bucky!

[The camera shot dissolves to reveal Gordon and Bucky standing on a
raised announce platform quite a distance away from the wrestling ring
that can be seen in the background sporting red, white, and blue ropes.
Gordon's in a traditional black suit with red tie and Bucky... well,
Bucky's quite non-traditional in a red sportcoat with silver glittery
text on the back that reads, "TWO-TIME AOTY!"]

BW:  That's right, daddy!  There ain't no one in wrestling who throws a
birthday party like the AWA!  Last year was crazy but that ain't nothin'
compared to what we're gettin' here tonight in University Park, Gordo!

GM:  For the second year in a row, we're honored to be here in the Moody
Coliseum on the campus of SMU for our Anniversary event and you said it,
Bucky, this going to be a wild night.  We've got four big matches on
slate for tonight.  Simon Rhodes steps into an AWA ring as a singles
wrestler for the very first time when he takes on Jason Keening!

BW:  The old goody two-shoes is going to find out firsthand that he
ain't got nothin' left in the tank and that it's time to wander down the
street and find the closest retirement village to shack up in, daddy!

GM:  The National Tag Team Titles will NOT be on the line but the champs
will be in action as Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman meet the team
that beat them in the first round of the Stampede Cup, Corey Lawson and
Bailey Fitzgerald!

BW:  Those two punks, Fitzgerald and Lawson, have been runnin' all over
the AWA bragging about that fluke they picked up - that Christmas gift
they were given by the wrestling gods.  Tonight, the champs show them
that they're nothing now and never will be.

GM:  A Hall of Famer collides with a man who could be a future Hall of
Famer when Mark Langseth climbs into the ring with Shane Destiny!

BW:  Don't be so sure about that, Gordo.  Mark Langseth was hurt and
hurt bad by the Destiny Strangle two weeks ago and I'll be surprised if
he even SHOWS UP here tonight!

GM:  We'll see about that.  And of course, we've got our National Title
match when Stevie Scott defends the gold against the man he's been
ducking since SuperClash, the Number One Contender, Juan Vasquez!

BW:  Ducking?!  Ducking?!  The Southern Syndicate ducks no one, daddy! 
Vasquez has done everything he can to force this rematch - bounties,
brawls, bloodying the champ - well, tonight he's got it.  And I think
it's his last chance, Gordo.

GM:  His last chance it may well be and that just makes me think he'll
be more focused than ever in his chance to become the National Champion,
Bucky.

BW:  Like you said, Gordo, we'll see about that.

GM:  Yes we will but that's not all.  We've also got City Jack here
tonight - here to address the AWA fans with a very special announcement.
 I know everyone's looking forward to that.

BW:  I know I am because I have it on good authority that he's hangin'
up the boots, Gordo.  After all these years, the fat man's goin' home!

GM:  We'll have all of that plus much more throughout-

BW:  Hold on, Gordo.  I know you're not forgetting the REAL Main Event
here tonight.  No disrespect to the champ but the real reason everyone
is tuned in here tonight... you know it, Gordo... come on...

GM:  Ah yes, Bucky will be back in the ring for another edition of-

BW:  THE CALL OF THE WILDE, DADDY!

GM:  Correct.

BW:  One year ago saw the debut of The Call and I introduced Shane
Destiny, the biggest Free Agent signing in AWA history, to the entire
world.  Since then, I brought back Kevin Slater... I brought in Mark
Langseth... and tonight, well, you'll just have to wait and see.

GM:  We are LIVE here in prime time tonight on WKIK and we are ready to
go.  Right now, let's go backstage to the parking lot area where I
understand Ben Waterson has just arrived!  Jason Dane, take it away!

[We fade to the backstage area where we find Jason Dane who promptly
sticks the mic in the face of an oncoming "Agent To The Stars" Ben
Waterson who, although dressed to the nines, looks pretty irritated.]

JD:  Mr. Waterson, the Southern Syndicate has quite the night on their
plates here at the Second Anniversary Show.  Dufresne and Freeman are-

ATTSBW:  The National Tag Team Champions essentially have the night off.
 Although, they do have to take a few minutes to show the world that the
Stampede Cup and those nine to five geeks like all of those idiots in
this building, Lawson and Fitzgerald - they've got to show everyone how
big of a fluke those two are.

JD:  Do you think you all are taking them too-

ATTSBW:  Too lightly?  I think the question you should be asking is
whether or not the rest of the AWA is taking them too seriously.  They
get one fluke win over the champs and suddenly, they're the best tag
team walking Planet Earth?

JD:  Well, they did beat-

ATTSBW:  The Right Proper Thugs, yes... I saw that too.  And you
remember what happened to them right after that, right?

JD:  Okay, then... what about the Rhodes brothers?  You know that
they've-

ATTSBW:  These Keenings are out of hand, Dane.  They have been for
years.  Jason and Michael Keening are everything that's wrong with
professional wrestling.

JD:  What?!  How can you say-

ATTSBW:  All this sportsmanship crap.  All of this shaking hands and
kissing babies.  Jason Keening makes a Boy Scout look edgy.  And don't
even mention Michael Keening to me.  Everyone fawns all over him like
he's something special because he flips around the ring and he made a
name for himself beating up some people in Japan.  What has he done
lately, Dane?  Tell me that.

JD:  Well, he beat-

ATTSBW:  That's what I thought!  Nothing!  Now, they both may be good
wrestlers... I'll give them that.  But the fact is, they're past their
prime, Dane.  LONG past their prime.  And if anyone knows how to finish
off people past their prime, it's the Southern Syndicate.  Raphael
Rhodes is going to bend them, break them, and make them quit.  And when
I say quit, I'm not talking about just the match, Dane... I'm talking
about quitting professional wrestling for good.  It's Raphael's mission
in life at the moment to erase the Keenings from the pro wrestling
history books.

JD:  And Simon?

ATTSBW:  Simon Rhodes is an associate of the Southern Syndicate - not a
member.  If you want to know what he has in store for the Keenings, I
suggest you go ask him yourself.

JD:  I see.  And what about Jack Snyd-

ATTSBW:  Jack Snyder is an afterthought.  A slight miscalculation on my
part that made him matter to anyone at all.  I don't have time to deal
with him tonight but I can assure you, he WILL be dealt with in the
weeks to come.

[Waterson points to a red welt left behind by Snyder's big punch two
weeks ago.]

ATTSBW:  I don't forgive and I don't forget, Snyder.

[The Agent To The Stars looks at Dane expectantly.]

JD:  Well, I guess that just leaves one thing to talk about.

ATTSBW:  Is that right?

JD:  After what happened on Awards Night... after what we saw Juan
Vasquez do to the National Champion, Stevie Scott... you MUST know that
the entire wrestling world believes that this is Vasquez' night.  This
is his chance to become the National Champion.

[Waterson pauses, stroking his chin.]

ATTSBW:  It occurs to me that the "entire wrestling world" may need a
history lesson, Dane.  Because the Southern Syndicate's reputation
seemed to me to be pretty clear... but if the "entire wrestling world"
thinks Vasquez stands an ice cube's shot in Hell of becoming the
champion tonight, perhaps I need to play teacher here.

Juan Vasquez, apparently all the beatings we've given you over the past
few months has knocked something loose in your head because you also
seem to have forgotten what the Southern Syndicate is all about.

We're about breaking careers and sweeping the pieces into the street,
Vasquez.

[Waterson pauses again, lifting a finger.]

ATTSBW:  Kolya Sudakov was the most dominant champion this company had
seen.  He was one of the most feared men in the entire wrestling
industry.  His legacy of beaten opponents, battered victims, and broken
challengers is the kind of legacy that most men in this business only
DREAM of being able to have.

In one night, the Southern Syndicate broke him in half and sent him
crying home to the Kremlin.

[Another finger is raised.]

ATTSBW:  Ron Houston was a former National Champion.  The big, tough,
bad brawler who liked to kick tail and take names.  He beat the
tarnation out of so many men, they had to go out and get you, Vasquez,
just to give him a challenge.  He had the entire world in his hands,
ready to become a legend.

In one night, the Southern Syndicate shattered his reputation, destroyed
his legacy, and send him crawling for the door.

[Another finger is raised.]

ATTSBW:  Marcus Broussard was the centerpiece of this company when it
started.  He was the first National Champion.  He was a man people
called the next big superstar in our industry.  He was a man who
DOMINATED for months around here, defeating all comers with ease.

In one night, the Southern Syndicate put out his spotlight, ended his
domination, and broke his rising stardom like an egg.

Has anyone even HEARD from Broussard since we took him out?

[Dane shakes his head.  Waterson nods, lifting another finger.]

ATTSBW:  Adam Rogers was a global superstar in our industry.  He was the
last man to wear the World Title for the greatest promotion there has
ever been.  He had Main Evented all over the world against the Who's Who
of our industry.  He'd beaten Hall of Famers, World Champions, and the
best and toughest men walking the Earth.

In one night, the Southern Syndicate snapped his neck, put him on a
stretcher, and had him carried out into the streets where he promptly
crawled to Canada.

[Waterson scoffs.]

ATTSBW:  Canada.  You know why people go to wrestle in Canada, Dane?

[Dane shakes his head.]

ATTSBW:  Universal healthcare.

[Dane looks puzzled.]

ATTSBW:  Everyone who goes there is so old and broken down, they'll need
it to keep breathing.  Canada's where wrestlers go to die, Dane, and
that's exactly why you'll find Adam Rogers there.

[He lifts another finger.]

ATTSBW:  The mighty Tumaffi.  The one man that everyone in the AWA
feared.  The irresistable force AND the immovable object all in one.  He
was the man that no one wanted to get in the ring with.  He was the man
that people thought facing meant a guaranteed trip to the hospital.  He
was the man who all others cowered at the feet of.

In one night, the Southern Syndicate smashed his face into a million
pieces, making him uglier than he already was if that's possible, and
sent him running into the night, begging to get away from the AWA and
the men who had shown that he was nothing more than a mere mortal.

[Waterson drops his arm, shaking his head.]

ATTSBW:  And that leaves you, Vasquez.  After months of fighting,
brawling, scratching, clawing, breaking, and bleeding, it comes to this.
 You get another chance to step into the ring, one on one, with the
greatest professional wrestler in our sport.

This is the American Wrestling Alliance, Vasquez.  This IS the Major
League of professional wrestling and I don't give a DAMN what you've
managed to do somewhere else.

Tonight, you have to wrestle the greatest professional wrestler walking
the Earth and you have to do so without all your gimmicks and
stipulations you got last time.

[Waterson snorts.]

ATTSBW:  At SuperClash, you had all the odds in your favor and you STILL
couldn't get it done.

What in the HELL makes you think you can do it tonight?

[A smirk.]

ATTSBW:  So, enjoy this night, Vasquez.  Enjoy your moment in the
spotlight.  Enjoy what little time you've got left in the AWA.  Because
when it's all said and done, Stevie Scott, YOUR National Champion, will
be standing over you once again with that big gold belt strapped
securely around his waist.

You'll be defeated.  You'll be broken, bloody, battered, and beaten.

And you... just like Rogers and Tumaffi and all the others before you...
will never step foot in an AWA ring again.

[Waterson walks out of view.]

JD:  There you have it, fans.  A very determined-

[Waterson ducks back into view, leaning over the mic.]

ATTSBW:  Oh, and Vasquez?

Consider.  Yourself.  Warned.

[And with another smirk, Waterson ducks out of view as Dane looks on.]

JD:  Back to ringside to Gordon and Bucky!

[We do indeed fade back to inside the arena where Gordon Myers and Bucky
Wilde are still standing on their elevated platform, the ring awaiting
the night's first match behind them.]

GM:  Thanks, Jason.  Bucky, Ben Waterson seems to have a lot on his mind
here tonight.

BW:  The entire Southern Syndicate's in action here tonight, Gordo.  Of
course the man has a lot on his mind.  Dane's just back there stirring
the pot too like he always does.

GM:  Did you catch what Waterson said about Simon Rhodes?

BW:  Don't you go stirring the pot too, Gordo.

GM:  I'm just surprised that-

BW:  Knock it off, Myers.

GM:  Testy testy.  Fans, we've got both parts of our opening match
standing by!  First, let's go back to Jason Dane who is standing by with
the Keenings and then Mark Stegglet who is with the Rhodes brothers!

[We cut back to the red backdrop where Jason Dane can be seen standing
between Jason and Michael Keening.  Jason is dressed in his wrestling
gear of fringed buckskin pants and high moccasin boots while Michael is
wearing blue jeans and a white T-shirt.]

JD:  History has it's Hatfields and McCoys but here in the AWA, our very
own war of the clans is being waged between the Keenings and the Rhodes.
 It was on the last Saturday Night Wrestling as Raphael Rhodes used a
pair of brass knuckles to knock out Michael Keening and score a tainted
victory.  Tonight, the Keenings have an opportunity to avenge that loss
as Jason Keening takes on Simon Rhodes.  Right now, I'm here with The
Ghost Dancers and Jason, some people are saying that the Rhodes Brothers
have your number.  What do you say to that?

[Keening leans into the microphone and speaks through gritted teeth.]

JK:  I say that the only number the Rhodes are gonna need after tonight
is 9-1-1 or whatever the number is for the local ambulance service!  I'm
tired of these Southern Syndicate pukes shooting their mouths off!  So
I'm gonna have to shut `em up the only way they'll understand... by
putting a boot into their face!!

JD:  You haven't been able to defeat them yet.  After Raphael defeated
your brother, would you say that the Rhodes Brothers have the upper hand
so far?

JK:  They might think that.  They might even claim it.  But the truth is
that they're only delaying the inevitable.  Ever since this all started
with Raphael playing games back at SuperClash, it's all been leading up
to him learning a very, very painful lesson.  Tonight, the lesson gets
learned by his brother but don't think for one minute that either one of
those two cretins have gotten away with anything.  Tonight I'm gonna
show Simon Rhodes just how big a problem he and his brother are facing. 
And I guarantee this... they will not be happy about the results! 
C'mon, Mike!

[And with that, Jason Keening walks out of view as Michael Keening
follows in his wake.  Jason Dane watches them leave before turning back
to the camera.]

JD:  Jason Keening with some fire in his belly.  We'll have to see
whether that works to his advantage or not.  Now let's go over to Mark
who is with the Rhodes boys!

[We fade to another part of the building in front of a blue backdrop
where Simon Rhodes is standing by with Mark Stegglet, dressed for
battle.  He is sporting a red leg-length singlet with a pair of Union
Jack trunks overtop, along with white boots and black kneepads.  Raphael
Rhodes and Ben Waterson are with him, with Raphael psyching his brother
up as Waterson is apparently having quite an animated conversation on
his cell phone.]

MS: Simon Rhodes, tonight, you step foot in the ring for the first time
in singles competition, and you have quite a fierce opponent at that in
Jason Keening.

SR: Yeah, yeah, yeah.  It ain't nothin' to me, Stegglet.  He's bigger,
yeah?  He's got the fans with him, right?  Well, that's what they said
about Michael Keening and me brother, ain't it?  And Raphael put him
right down!

MS: Well, yes, but you had a pretty big hand in that.

SR: What?  I ain't seen nothin' about that...

RR: What are you gettin' at, Stegglet?  I beat him proper, it's your
damage if you don't like it.

SR: Right.  Listen, the Keenings ain't nothin' to us Southern Syndicate
members.  They just wish they-...

[Waterson reaches to pull the microphone towards himself.]

ATTSBW:  I'm going to have to call you back.  Sayonara.

[Waterson ends his call and puts away his phone.  He glances at Raphael
for a moment before turning his attention to Simon Rhodes.  He sighs
before speaking.]

ATTSBW:  Look, Simon, I like you personally... but perhaps you weren't
listening when I spoke to Dane earlier.  You're a talented guy, don't
get me wrong.  But we only have one Rhodes under contract to the
Southern Syndicate, and it's not you.

SR: What?!

RR: That was one of my conditions, Ben!  What do you mean, he ain't with
us?

[Both Rhodes brothers close in on Waterson, anger in their eyes. 
Waterson raises his hands in defense, shaking his head.]

ATTSBW: Wait a second, hold on... Raph, look, it just wasn't going to
fly bringing in a guy sight unseen!  Let's face it, you and Simon are a
heck of a team, but we've already got a tag team... the National Tag
Team Champions to be exact!  On top of that, ever since Simon came to
the AWA, well... he hasn't exactly won a match, has he?

SR: I ain't lost one either!

[Waterson looks a slight bit annoyed.]

ATTSBW: Do you think I can make money off of someone who can only go to
draws?

[He begs off again.]

ATTSBW:  Look, right now, we've classified you with "associate" status,
because we know how much it means to Raphael to have you here.  You beat
Jason Keening tonight though...

[Dramatic pause.]

ATTSBW:  ...and we'll consider upgrading you to full status.

[Raphael Rhodes looks quite upset as he speaks.]

RR: You lied to me, Ben.

[Waterson again shakes his head, patting Raphael on the shoulder.]

ATTSBW: I said I'd bring him in, Raph... I never said he'd be part of
us.  Besides, beating Jason Keening tonight shouldn't be a problem,
right?  Raph had no problem with Michael Keening, right?

[Simon Rhodes nods confidently.]

SR: Bloody right.

[Waterson nods in reply.]

ATTSBW:  So go out there and beat him... and we'll talk.

[Simon nods again, clapping his hands together.]

SR: Got it.

[Simon goes to walk away, but Raphael remains fixed in his glare
directed at Ben Waterson.  Simon grabs his younger brother by the arm.]

SR: Come on, brother.

RR: You're bloody right we'll be talkin', Ben.

[Simon pulls his brother off-screen.  Waterson glares at Stegglet.]

BW: Not a word out of you.

[Waterson walks off-screen in the opposite direction.  Fade back to
Gordon and Bucky.]

GM:  Well, then... a little bit of tension in the ranks of the Southern
Syndicate perhaps?

BW:  No, no, no... stop trying to stir things up.  That sounds like a
fair arrangement to me.  If Simon beats Keening tonight, then...

GM:  They'll talk?

BW:  Right!

GM:  I see.  Raphael Rhodes didn't seem to think it was a fair
arrangement... and Ben Waterson looks like he may have some explaining
to do to both members of the Rhodes brothers before this night is over. 
Fans, let's go up to-

[Suddenly, an old man (literally) appears at the foot of the elevated
platform where our announcers are standing.  He's wearing a red golf
shirt and a pair of khaki pants pulled up to his waistline.  His hair is
gray with some streaks of brown still left.]

GM:  Now what in the world is-

BW:  Hey, I recognize that guy!

GM:  I think I might as... isn't that...?

[The old man starts shouting at Myers, demanding a house mic.]

BW:  Come on up here!

GM:  Bucky, we can't just let anyone-

BW:  This isn't just anyone!  You know that!

[The old man makes his way up the steps to the platform, revealing
himself fully for the first time.]

GM:  Sir, I don't believe you're expected out-

Man:  [interrupting Myers] I want that bounty!  I want that bounty!  I'm
here ta collect that bounty!

[The old man looks around wild-eyed.]

Man:  Who's in charge?  Ya tell 'im Scott Von Braun wants that bounty!

[Yes, it is indeed Scott Von Braun, the eldest member of the Von Braun
wrestling family.]

GM:  Sir, which bounty are you talking about?

[Ignoring Myers, Von Braun continues to rant and rave.]

SVB:  Who's in charge?  Who do I need ta speak to?

GM:  Mr. Von-

SVB:  I'm comin' fer that bounty!

[SVB looks around wildly, going as far as untucking his shirt from his
pants.  He points at Gordon Myers.]

SVB:  I'mma git that bounty!

GM:  Well, I'm not sure what- okay... sir, if you'll go with these
gentlemen...

[Myers gestures to a sea of armed security officers who have now shown
up at the announce position.]

GM:  Sir, the AWA is on lockdown until further notice.  We cannot allow
you to-

[SVB holds up his hand.]

SVB:  Now, jus' hold on a minute.  I'm gonna do this the legit way, Mr.
Myers.  I'm jus' askin' fer a chance.  That's it.  I wanna get those
boys in that there ring an' show 'im old school and hardcore.

[A decent cheer goes up from the crowd who may be starting to tire of
sneak attacks.]

BW:  Sounds fair to me, Gordo.  Lots of guys who need their melon split
for some cash.  Preston... Cooper and Somers... the Keenings... not to
mention Vasquez... who ya after, chief?

[After a pause...]

SVB:  Raphael Rhodes.

[Big cheer from the surprised crowd!]

BW:  Raphael Rhodes?!  But... but...

[Von Braun interrupts.]

SVB:  I been watchin' that boy.  He's runnin' 'round with a chip the
size of Montana on his shoulder.  I reckon, I'm gonna have to whoop him
like his Pappy shoulda.

[And with that, Von Braun steps off the platform, pushing his way
through the crowd until he reaches the barricade.  He quickly climbs
over it, rolling into the ring where he rips off his shirt, throwing it
down to the ground as he continues to shout for Rhodes...

...and Rhodes he shall have.  Two of them in fact.]

GM:  Here comes trouble for Scott Von Braun!

[Raphael is leading the way, looking quite agitated as a grinning Simon
Rhodes follows closely behind.  Ben Waterson is several feet behind
them, shaking his head with amusement at the sight in the ring of a
pacing Scott Von Braun looking for a fight.]

GM:  I don't know what's gotten into Scott Von Braun.  To the best of my
knowledge, he hasn't even been in a wrestling ring in quite some time.

BW:  And when he is, doesn't he usually slap around some midgets?

GM:  Well, he has been known the world over for wrestling midgets, yes.

BW:  I don't think the Rhodes boys qualify.

[Sliding into the ring, Raphael Rhodes gets to his feet, marching
towards Von Braun...

...and promptly rears back and slaps him in the ear with an open hand as
hard as he possibly can, knocking the older man backwards and down to a
knee.  A fierce kick to the face knocks Von Braun flat on his chest down
on the mat where Simon Rhodes dives on top of him, grabbing the back of
his head to slam his face into the canvas!]

GM:  Oh, come on!

[Simon yanks the older man to his feet by the back of the pants, holding
him in a waistlock for a moment.  Raphael grabs him by the
thinning-hair, slamming a headbutt into his skull.]

GM:  Good grief!  What a headbutt by Rhodes and-

[The crowd gasps as Raphael snatches him out of Simon's grasp and
elevates Von Braun into the air, dumping him down on the back of his
head and neck with a German suplex!]

GM:  There is no call for that, Bucky!  Absolutely no call for anything
like th-

[Raphael Rhodes promptly dives upon the downed Von Braun, driving punch
after punch into his aging skull.  Von Braun tries to raise his arms to
block the assault but Rhodes just grabs him by the wrist, grabbing a
finger and forcing it backwards.]

GM:  Ahhh!

BW:  He's trying to break the old man's fingers!  Rhodes has snapped!

[Getting back to his feet, still holding the wrist, Rhodes drives stomp
after stomp into the ribcage of Von Braun.  Yanking the arm straight
out, he leaps into the air, driving his knee down on the bent wrist!]

GM:  Ohh!  Come on!  We need to get some-

[The crowd ERUPTS as Michael and Jason Keening come tearing down the
aisle towards the ring, diving headfirst under the bottom rope...

...which sends the Rhodes brothers sprawling out ot the floor, smirking
at the damage they've managed to do inside the ring where Scott Von
Braun is in a battered heap, clutching his arm.]

GM:  Thank the stars for the Keenings.  Jason and Michael got out here
in a hurry to make the save for Scott Von Braun who certainly was no
match for Raphael Rhodes and Simon Rhodes here tonight.

BW:  What did Simon do?  Raphael slapped him around all on his own!

GM:  But what abou-


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!


[The crowd EXPLODES as Michael Keening grabs the top rope, slingshotting
himself over onto both Rhodes brothers, wiping them both out.  He
quickly gets back up, hurling Simon Rhodes under the ropes.  Referee
Mickey Meekly calls for the bell as two AWA officials roll Scott Von
Braun out of the ring to the floor.]

GM:  Here we go!  This one has started off in a hurry here tonight!

[Jason Keening grabs Simon Rhodes off the canvas, quickly tying up with
him in a collar and elbow, bullying him back towards the ropes.  Keening
promptly connects with a pair of forearms, knocking Rhodes off his feet
and into a seated position in the corner where a trio of stomps find the
mark on Rhodes' chest before the referee forces Keening backwards a few
steps.]

GM:  Jason Keening is all over him to start the match and I don't know
that I've ever seen this much intensity out of Jason Keening.

BW:  He saw his brother lose to Raphael two weeks ago and he doesn't
want the same thing to happen to him.

GM:  I think it goes a little deeper than that.  We know how this story
started.  We know that Raphael Rhodes played Jason Keening for a fool
back at SuperClash... and we know that's exactly why the Keenings are in
the AWA - to get some payback on the Rhodes brothers!

[A fired-up Jason Keening slaps the canvas with both hands, ordering
Rhodes to get off the mat and back to his feet.  With his fists balled
up, Keening shouts "let's do this!"]

GM:  Simon Rhodes slowly back to his feet... he seems a little surprised
by what we just saw from Keening as well...

[Edging out of the corner, Rhodes lunges back into a tieup.  The two men
struggle in the middle, each trying to get an advantage when Rhodes
pulls out a bit, blasting Keening in the side of the face with a hooking
forearm smash.  The blow stuns the larger Keening brother, causing him
to stumble back where a straight right hand catches him squarely in the
face.]

GM:  Ohh!  That's a closed fist, ref.

BW:  I think we'll be seeing a lot of closed fists tonight.  Lots of bad
blood on this show - up and down the card tonight, daddy!

GM:  Another straight right hand from Rhodes.  You can hear Raphael out
on the floor cheering his brother on while Michael Keening has taken up
a spot on the other side of the ring to do the same.

[Pushing the dazed Keening back to the corner, Rhodes shoves back on the
forehead, bending Keening's neck backwards...

...and DRIVES his forearm down across Keening's nose - once, twice,
three times before the referee backs him out.]

GM:  Good grief!

BW:  That's one way to break a man's nose, Gordo.

GM:  It certainly is and Keening drops right down to a knee, checking
his nose.  He very easily could have suffered a broken nose from one of
those forearm smashes.  Very easily.

[With Keening in the corner, Rhodes throws his arms apart, taunting the
downed fan favorite...

...and drives a boot squarely to the face, knocking Keening down to the
canvas where Michael Keening shouts encouragement to him.]

GM:  The fans are certainly behind the Keenings tonight - all over Simon
Rhodes for those blows in the corner.

BW:  I'd bet Mr. Waterson's pretty impressed at this point as well.

[If he is, he's showing no sign of it as he just looks on stoically at
the ring where Simon Rhodes turns towards him, throwing his arms wide
and shouting, "Ya like that one, Ben?" before driving another boot into
the ribcage of the downed Keening.]

GM:  This is almost like... an audition of sorts for Simon Rhodes,
Bucky.

BW:  That's exactly what it is.  And it could be the biggest match of
his life.

GM:  Rhodes is dragging him up now...

[Holding Keening's head with his left hand, Rhodes smashes another
straight right hand home - this time into the left eye of Keening.  A
second blow hits the nose and a third lands squarely on the cheekbone
before Keening slumps down to the mat again.]

GM:  Goodness.  This one's a little hard to watch right now.

BW:  Jason Keening may be some big international superstar but tonight,
he's in the Major League of professional wrestling and he's taking a
pounding from someone who has got something to prove, daddy!

[Rhodes walks around the ring, taunting the ringside fans as well as
Michael Keening who shouts something in response.  Simon Rhodes glares
at Michael Keening as he moves back to the corner...

...and gets greeting with a headbutt to the midsection!  Big cheer!]

GM:  Jason Keening's on a knee!  Trying to fight to his feet!

[Winding up, Keening throws a big right hand to the gut, causing Rhodes
to stumble backwards.  Getting back to his feet, the big man pumps a
fist as he looks to move on the attack...

...and gets caught with a lunging headbutt right on target!]

GM:  Ohh!  Just like his brother, Simon drills him with that headbutt.

[Grabbing Keening around the head and neck, Rhodes snapmares him down to
a seated position on the canvas where he promptly delivers a
spine-rattling kick!]

GM:  Gahh!  Keening may have trouble walking after that one.

[Dropping to a knee himself, Rhodes reaches around to put a finger in
each side of Keening's mouth, yanking his face in opposite directions!]

GM:  Fish hook!  Fish hook!  Get in there, Mr. Meekly!

[The referee is immediately on the scene, starting a quick count that
doesn't help until it hits four when Rhodes releases the fish hook,
allowing Keening to slump down to his back on the canvas yet again.]

GM:  Down goes Keening again, Bucky.

BW:  Do you think Jason Keening might have taken Simon Rhodes too
lightly?  I mean, Keening's Main Evented all over the globe and Rhodes
is in his first singles match here in the AWA.  He may have not expected
a fight like this from Simon.

GM:  I don't know about that but right now, Jason Keening is in a world
of trouble down on the mat.

[Dragging Keening to his feet, Rhodes whips him to the corner where he
promptly charges across, leaving his feet, and driving his knee into the
face of the fan favorite.]

GM:  Ohh!  What a shot that was by Rhodes!

[Keening clings to the top rope, trying to stay on his feet as Rhodes
stands in the middle of the ring, measuring him for his next offensive
move.]

GM:  Rhodes approaches the corner...

[And again, he bends Keening's face back, smashing his forearm down over
and over into the nose once more.  After three blows, he grabs the wrist
for another Irish whip.]

GM:  Corner to corner whip by Rhodes...

[Moving back to the corner, Rhodes pauses for a moment with his back to
the buckles and puts on a full head of steam as he sprints across the
ring, leaping into the air...

...where Keening somehow catches him across his body, promptly flipping
him over his shoulder with breathtaking power, and charges out of the
buckles, DRIVING Rhodes to the canvas with a thunderous powerslam!]

GM:  OHHH!  HE CAUGHT HIM AND HE SLAMMED HIM!!

[Keening promptly drags himself across Rhodes, reaching back to grab a
leg.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!

[But Rhodes fires the shoulder off the canvas at two, breaking the pin
attempt.  Jason Keening promptly gets up off the mat, driving home a few
stomps to the chest before hitting the ropes, bouncing off, and leaving
his feet to score with a leaping kneedrop!]

GM:  HIGH KNEEDROP BY KEENING!!  ONE!!  TWO!!  And again, Rhodes is up
at two!

BW:  First, it was Jason Keening who wouldn't stay down from a pounding
and now it's Simon Rhodes who kicks out of the powerslam AND the
kneedrop, Gordo!

GM:  Both men are incredibly tough.  Keening drags him off the mat
now...

[This time it's Keening who throws a series of hard forearms to the side
of the head, knocking Rhodes back into the ropes.  Grabbing the arm, he
fires him across...

...and levels him with a rushing clothesline!]

GM:  Big clothesline by Keening!  He nearly took Simon Rhodes clear out
of his boots there!


"FIVE MINUTES HAVE GONE BY!  FIVE MINUTES!"


GM:  Five minutes gone in the time limit.  Ten minutes remain in this
fifteen minute time limit match.  Keening's measuring Rhodes... waiting
for him to rise...

[And as Simon Rhodes slowly gets to his feet near the ropes, Keening
rushes forward, connecting with a football tackle that sends Rhodes
flying through the ropes, crashing down to the barely-padded floor with
a thud just a few feet away from his younger brother!]

GM:  OHHH!  Out to the floor goes Simon Rhodes!  Right out there next to
Raphael and Ben Waterson!  So much for that audition, Bucky.

BW:  It's not over yet, Gordo.

GM:  It's certainly not.

[Big cheer!]

GM:  And Jason Keening's going out after Simon Rhodes!

[The crowd roars as Keening drops down to the floor as well, moving
towards Rhodes who is crawling towards the steel security barricade,
trying to drag himself off the floor.]

GM:  And with these two fighting at ringside, I'm very thankful that
we're far away from the ring here tonight on The Main Event, Bucky.

BW:  You can say that again.

GM:  Keening's moving in on-

[The crowd jeers as Simon Rhodes lashes out with his fingers
straightened, jabbing them into the eye of Keening.]

GM:  To the eyes!  He's blinded Keening and-

[Grabbing Keening by the hair, Rhodes whips him spinefirst into the
security railing!]

GM:  OHHHH!  TO THE STEEL GOES KEENING!!

BW:  This is breaking down at here!  The referee needs to get control of
this one.

GM:  He certainly does.  Mickey Meekly's laying a count on both of these
men.  If he hits ten, this match is over for both of these men and-

[Rhodes lays into Keening with boots to the chest followed with some
forearms to the side of the face.  He peels him off the railing by the
hair, dragging him back towards the squared circle, where he slams him
facefirst into the ring apron.]

GM:  Into the apron he goes... Jason Keening has hit the barricade and
now the apron as- Simon Rhodes breaks the count but now where is he
going?

[The crowd buzzes as Rhodes hops up on the apron and then promptly steps
up on the second rope outside the ring, measuring Keening...

...and taking flight, smashing him over the head with a diving double
axehandle!]

GM:  OHHH!  Big hammer blow off the middle rope and down goes Keening
again!

[Outside the ring, Raphael Rhodes applauds his brother's big move,
shouting for him to "finish the git!" as Waterson stands by, looking on
with a slight grin on his face.  On the other side of the ring, Michael
Keening is screaming for his brother to get back up and get the fight
going once more.]

GM:  Rhodes is dragging Keening up off the mat... ohh!  Another headbutt
out there on the floor...

[Grabbing Keening by the head, Rhodes hurls him under the ropes into the
ring.  He quickly rolls in as well, crawling into a lateral press.]

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

[But Keening kicks out at two, bringing cheers from the crowd as well as
from his brother.]

GM:  Jason Keening's out at two and we're not done yet, fans!

[An angry Simon Rhodes grabs Keening by the back of the head, smashing
him over and over with punches to the face.  He throws him back down to
the mat, climbing to his feet.  A shout of "GERMAN!" from Raphael brings
a nod from Simon as he hauls Jason off the mat by the back of the
tights.]

GM:  He's bringing Keening back up again... waistlock!

[The crowd buzzes as the 226 pounder tries to power Keening off the mat
but Jason Keening's having none of it, snaking his leg around Rhodes' to
block the lift.]

GM:  He's blocking it!  Keening's blocking it!

[A sharp back elbow to the side of the head loosens Rhodes' grip and a
second one breaks it up completely.  Grabbing Rhodes by the hair,
Keening rushes forward and SLAMS his head into the top turnbuckle!]

GM:  He sends Rhodes to the buckles!

[Grabbing the rebounding Rhodes by the hair again, Keening charges
across the ring...

...and SMASHES his head into the corner again!]

GM:  Another one!  Another one!  Twice into the top turnbuckle!

[Spinning Rhodes' back into the corner, Keening promptly mounts the
middle rope.]

GM:  He's winding up!


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


[Keening hops down off the middle rope, shouting a whoop to the cheering
fans as Rhodes staggers out of the ropes towards him.]

GM:  Rhodes is dazed and-

BW:  Keening grabs him...

[With his arms wrapped around the waist, Keening powers him up and over,
bridging back in a textbook Northern Lights suplex!]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR- OHHHH!

[This time, it's Rhodes who fires the shoulder up before the three count
and Keening looks a little frustrated as he glances at the referee who
holds up two fingers.]

GM:  Just a two count and Jason Keening's gonna need something big to
put Simon Rhodes down for a three, I think.  Just like Rhodes would need
something big to put Keening down.

BW:  What's it gonna take, Gordo?

GM:  I don't know.  And Jason Keening may not know either but he'd
better figure it out right about now.

[Keening slowly gets to his feet, reaching down to haul Simon Rhodes
back up as well.]

GM:  Keening drags him up...

[Keening shouts out "DRILLBIT DRIVER!" to the cheers of the crowd as he
turns Rhodes to face away from him.  Grabbing the wrists of Rhodes, he
holds them far out, leaning over to hoist Rhodes up so that they're back
to back with Rhodes dangling upside down...]

GM:  HE'S GOT HIM UP!  HE'S GOT-

[But a struggling Rhodes manages to slip free, landing on his knees down
on the mat...

...and promptly THROWING himself at the back of Keening's legs, taking
him off his feet.]

GM:  Ohh!  Desperation tackle by Simon Rhodes to take the legs out!

[A few stiff right hands from his knees follows before Rhodes attempts a
cover.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR- NO!

[Keening breaks up the pin just before three as well, leaving an irate
Rhodes to pummel him from the top.  Shaking his head, Rhodes drags
Keening off the mat, taking him towards the ropes...]

GM:  Irish whip... another leaping kneesmash connects!

[But this time, Rhodes doesn't even pause to attempt a cover, grabbing
Keening by the foot and dragging him out towards the middle of the
ring.]

GM:  What in the world...?

BW:  Rhodes is heading to the corner!

GM:  I can see that but why?!

BW:  The Road To Wigan Pier!

GM:  Are you kidding me?  He's going for that top rope kneedrop!

[Simon Rhodes is a bit slow in his climbing, talking trash to the fans
as well as shouting in Michael Keening's direction as he slowly climbs
the ropes.]

GM:  Up to the middle rope... he's sure taking his time, Bucky...

BW:  He's taken a lot of punishment during this match, Gordo!

GM:  Finally... he finally reaches the top...

[And from his spot on the top rope, Rhodes pauses, looking down into the
ring...

...and LEAPS into the air!]

GM:  KNEEEEEEDRRRRRROOOOOO-

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  HE MISSED!  HE MISSED!

[The crowd explodes as Jason Keening rolls out of the way just in the
nick of time, forcing Simon Rhodes' knee to smash into the canvas
unprotected!]

GM:  Rhodes missed the kneedrop off the top and-


"TEN MINUTES HAVE GONE BY!  FIVE MINUTES REMAIN!"


[Jason Keening pushes up off the mat to his knees, smashing his fists
into the mat!]

GM:  KEENING'S UP!

[Keening, backed by the roaring crowd, gets to his feet.  He nods his
head as he reaches down, grabbing Rhodes off the mat...

...which brings Raphael Rhodes up on the apron!]

GM:  Rhodes is on the apron!

[The referee spins away from the action in the ring to get at Raphael
Rhodes...

...which brings Michael Keening up on the apron as well!]

GM:  Hold on!  This is a singles match, fans!  These two aren't- whoa! 
Whoa!

[The two men tussle for a bit, the referee caught between them...

...which makes him miss Raphael Rhodes throw a set of brass knuckles
into the ring to his brother.]

GM:  The knucks!  The knucks are in!

BW:  Simon's got 'em!  Jason Keening's trying to get Rhodes and his
brother off the apron and he didn't see-

GM:  WHOOOOA!

[The crowd erupts as Michael Keening deadleaps into the air, hooking
Rhodes around the head with his legs, and whipping both of them down to
the floor with a rana!]

GM:  DOWN TO THE FLOOR THEY GO!!!

BW:  And the referee's back in the ring!  Simon's got the knucks in his
tights but he lost the distraction!  He can't use them!  He can't use
the knucks!

[The camera cuts to Ben Waterson as he looks down at the downed Raphael
Rhodes - and then looks inside the ring at Simon Rhodes who has the
knucks tucked into the front of his trunks as he's dragging to his feet
by Keening.]

GM:  Waterson's just watching!

BW:  Ben!  Ben, get the ref to-

GM:  Keening's got Rhodes up on his feet...

[Standing beside Rhodes, Keening buries a knee into the kidneys of the
elder Rhodes brother, causing him to lean backwards which allows Keening
to drape a leg over Rhodes' throat.  Still holding Rhodes' arm to
prevent his escape (or to grab the knucks), Keening leaps into the air,
SMASHING the back of Rhodes' skull into the mat!]

GM:  BLACK AND DECKER DROP!

[Keening throws himself across a prone Rhodes, reaching back to hook the
leg.]

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


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[Keening pushes himself off the downed Rhodes, thrusting both arms into
the air as the crowd roars.]

MC:  Here is your winner...

JAAAAAASON KEEEEEENING!

[Another big roar from the crowd as Keening gets to his feet, his hand
raised by the official as Michael Keening rolls into the ring to join
the celebration with his brother.]

GM:  Jason Keening has done it!  He defeats Simon Rhodes and the score's
all even now, boys!  Rhodes - 1, Keening - 1!  Jason Keening pins him in
the middle of the ring with-

BW:  WITH A LOT OF HELP FROM HIS BROTHER!

GM:  Just like Raphael had a lot of help from HIS brother when he beat
Michael Keening!  But someone who was no help at all...

[The camera cuts to Ben Waterson who doesn't look the least bit ashamed
of his actions.]

GM:  ...is that man right there.  Fans, what a start to this night! 
We'll be right back with more of The Main Event so don't you dare go
away!

[We hold on Ben Waterson's shaking head for a moment before we fade to
black.

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then come back up to live action where the camera has focused in
on someone sitting in the front row.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, and would you look at that?

[The camera zooms in on the man, now holding up his front row ticket for
one and all to see.]

"It's all legal tonight."

[The crowd around this individual cheers wildly.]

GM:  Brent Maverick's in the front row!

BW:  What in the world is he doing here?

GM:  I don't know.  We saw Brent Maverick show up at the crazy Awards
Night edition of Saturday Night Wrestling about a month ago but
afterwards, he refused to tell anyone if he's signed with the AWA.  But
he's here tonight and he's sitting ringside!  Maybe we can get someone
over there to- what in the world?  James Monosso, haven't you learned
that you have to schedule interview time?

[As Gordon complains, the camera cuts back up to the elevated announce
area where the bulky form of James Monosso enters from the left.  The
wild-eyed former asylum inmate is sporting his "PROPERTY OF STATE MENTAL
INSTITUTION" pale green T-Shirt, and a pair of worn, threadbare black
pants.  A tall man with stringy long black hair, a pug nose, and wide
grey eyes.  He's got a disgusted expression on his face as he snatches
Bucky's mic... not that Bucky is going to argue with him.  The fans boo,
as Monosso answers in his gruff voice.]

JM: Haven't you learned that I don't care?

GM: This is an anniversary show, James, we can't have-

JM: Anniversaries are useless.  Who cares?  Yeah, AWA is two years old. 
Two years ago I was in a padded cell getting tased every other day by
wannabe tough guy security guards who listed 'prisoner abuse' as
hobbies.  You wanna know what they did on our anniversaries, Myers?

GM: I don't want to, no.

JM: So why do I care about your anniversary, then?  I'm only interested
in one holiday.  I'm here to talk about Memorial Day.  I'm here to talk
about that holiday where we all remember the people our country killed.

[Uh, oh.  The crowd doesn't like where this is headed.]

GM: That's... that's not what Memorial Day is!  Memorial Day is when we
honor those who died FOR our country!

JM: Oh, it's all FOR our country, Myers.  All you people out there, you
send your sons and daughters to boot camp, and if you're lucky, and
there's no wars going on, they just play dress-up for four years and go
home pretending that they accomplished something.  But when the wars are
on, that's not what they do at boot camp.  They warp their minds, Gordon
Myers.  They brainwash them!  They teach them how to kill, to become
fanatical killing machines who are property of Washington, and even if
they come home, they'll never be the same person they were, ever again! 
You send your kids to the military and they kill them!  And replace them
with soulless monsters!

[No, they REALLY don't like where he went with that.  There is loud
booing, and a couple people throw trash at Monosso.  Gordon is scowling
angrily, but he stays quiet for now.]

JM: Oh, you don't believe me?!  How do you think I know?  HOW DO YOU
THINK I KNOW?!  I've been in and out of an asylum for years!  It's where
they PUT those people!  THEY drive them mad and then THEY have the nerve
to lock them up for it!  AND YOU KNOW WHO THAT REMINDS ME OF?!

GM: I'm sure you'll te-

JM: ERIC PRESTON!

[Now Gordon's simmering anger turns to confusion.]

GM: What?  How does your ridiculous opinion of the military remind you
of Eric Preston?

JM: Eric's a young man.  Very young.  Just left home, didn't you Eric? 
Went to wrestling school, and Todd Michaelson made a wrestler out of
you.  Okay.  Sure.  But you don't have the luxury of peace-time, Eric
Preston.  YOU STARTED A WAR WITH _ME_, YOU LITTLE WRETCH!  And when you
go home to mommy and daddy, you're never gonna be the same.  You're
gonna be a shell of the Eric they used to know.  Haunted.  Tormented. 
BECAUSE YOUR LEGS WON'T WORK AND YOUR FACE WILL LOOK LIKE HAMBURGER! And
they'll wish they sent you to boot camp.  they'll wish they sent you to
go get that government-sponsored lobotomy.  Because at least then they
wouldn't have to support you for the rest of your life!

That's why I want it to happen on Memorial Day!  Eric Preston, you can
consider this your first official challenge.  You and me, on Memorial
Day.  I am going to show EACH.  AND.  EVERY.  ONE.  OF.  YOU...

[Monosso punctuates each word by pointing at a different jeering fan.]

JM: I'LL SHOW YOU WHAT MEMORIAL DAY REALLY MEANS!  I'll show you what it
looks like for a young man to be cut down in the prime of life!  I'll
show you all!  And Eric Preston, when you're a bitter old man in a
wheelchair, with an empty expression in your hollow eyes, crying
yourself to sleep at night about what might have been, I want you to
remember each and every Memorial Day. REMEMBER WHAT YOU COST ME! 
REMEMBER WHAT YOU COST ME!

And tell every young man who wants to be a hero... give them the best
advice experience could give:

Don't.

[The booing continues as Monosso pulls a folded-up contract from his
pocket.]

JM: I'll leave this with you, Myers.  You love heroes, don't you?  You
cried about heroes here on this very show.  You give this to Eric
Preston, because he tried to be a hero when he stopped me from
hamstringing Vasquez.  You give this to the hero!  And then you watch
what happens to heroes.  You watch and see the price of heroism!  And
then when you see what happens to him, you make sure that no one else
ever, EVER tries to be a hero again.  Even you'll know that it's not
worth the cost.

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

[Monosso stuffs the contract in Gordon Myers' jacket pocket, and then
stalks off.  Bucky waves after him, but no, James has totally forgotten
that he has Bucky's microphone.  The Announcer Of The Year sighs,
shoulders slumped a bit as Gordon Myers struggles for the words to
express his feelings.  His hands are shaking, because he's so upset at
what he just heard.]

GM: This... that... that man should have never been released from a
mental asylum!

[Bucky mouths a pretty obvious "ya think?"]

GM: I hope our fans don't put any stock in anything James Monosso says. 
Degrading our great country and practically spitting on our soldiers...
I'm supposed to be impartial, but I hope Eric Preston accepts this
challenge and puts him in his place!

[Bucky mouths an equally obvious "good luck with that".]

GM: We're going to go to commercial and get Bucky his microphone back...
fans, I'm disgusted!  We'll be back!

[The camera holds for a moment on the shocked face of Gordon Myers
before fading to black.

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

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

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

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

JD:  Hello, Mr. iPhone.

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

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

JD:  Well, actually I did.

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

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

[Thankfully, a voiceover starts.]

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

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

[Fade back to black...

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

GM:  Welcome back, fans.. and it has already been an out of control
night of AWA action so far.  Bucky, you got your mic back... hopefully
Monosso didn't cause any damage...

BW:  There's a few teethmarks on it... maybe some saliva damage... but I
think we're okay.

GM:  Fans, the tensions are running very high in this building tonight
all leading up to that big title match in our Main Event with Juan
Vasquez getting his second chance to challenge for the AWA National
Title against "Hotshot" Stevie Scott.  And with the Southern Syndicate
losing in our opener, you've gotta think they-

BW:  Correction, Gordo.  Mr. Waterson made it very clear that Simon
Rhodes is NOT a member of the Southern Syndicate.

GM:  And I think Raphael Rhodes made it very clear that Waterson is
wrong.  But that situation will be settled at another time because right
now, it's time to see the National Tag Team Champions in action!

BW:  Now we're talkin'!

GM:  It was December 25th at The Stampede Cup when Bailey Fitzgerald and
Corey Lawson shocked the world by defeating the National Tag Team
Champions and although Dufresne and Freeman weaseled their way back into
the tournament and ultimately won it, the loss to Fitzgerald and Lawson
seems to have weighed heavily on their minds ever since.  Let's go
backstage where Fitzgerald and Lawson are standing by with comments!

[Fade backstage, where Jason Dane is standing by with the upstart team
of Bailey Fitzgerald and Corey Lawson.  Ready for action, Fitzgerald
sports a pair of long black tights with fluorescent blue and green
stripes interchanging down each pant leg.  He wears no tee, but clutches
a white gym towel slung around the back of his neck.  Lawson, meanwhile,
is sporting white leg-length tights with black tassels, and has black
bandannas tied around his wrists and knees.]

JD: Bailey Fitzgerald, Corey Lawson, in a few short moments, you two
will face off against the National Tag Team Champions, Calisto Dufresne
and Adrian Freeman, in a non-title rematch from the Stampede Cup.  A lot
of people have called that win an upset, but after you two defeated the
Right Proper Thugs in record-setting time a few weeks back, it's looking
more and more like you two are a team to be reckoned with here in the
AWA.

[Lawson sheepishly grins.]

CL: Aww, look man, there ain't nothin' to what we're doin'.  Bailey and
I, we're just fightin' to survive in a world where there's a bunch of
people lookin' to knock us off.  I ain't sayin' we can beat everyone in
the world, but in my time in pro wrestling, the one lesson I've learned
is that it don't matter who it is... all it takes is three seconds to
beat them.

BF: And we're living proof of that.  Off-the-radar hacks like Corey and
myself aren't supposed to be where we're at.  We know that better than
anyone.  Guys like us are supposed to be home watching the Second
Anniversary Show on the boob tube, not featured on the marquee.  And the
knee-jerk reaction to seeing us throw a wrench in the tag team division
the way we've done is to be expected.  But no matter how many times you
visit the video room, Calisto, it's not going to make a bit of
difference.  If Dufresne wants to cling to the fact he - once upon a
time - rolled a shoulder, then we're okay with that.  We're content with
rolling something else entirely of he and his partner's by night's end.

[Fitzgerald cocks his head to the side, sending an array of perspiration
with it.]

BF: And that's their heads.

[Pop!]

JD: Even still, tonight, you guys are coming in as heavy underdogs, and
many say you no longer carry the element of surprise with you.  How does
that make you feel?

CL: Well, listen.  There's a lot of people that have said Bailey and I
ain't in it for the long haul.  That we'd get beat and ran off.  That
we'd get knocked around and give up.  But there ain't an ounce of quit
in us, Jason!  There ain't nothin' that's goin' to stop us from fightin'
until we just can't fight no more.  And let me tell you somethin',
brother... these fans deserve to see the Southern Syndicate taken down.
These fans deserve to see Ben Waterson stompin' around, hootin' and
hollerin' about how it just ain't fair.  Well folks, tonight, we need
you more than ever.  We need your cheers and your support.  Bailey and
I... we got big hearts, and we've got big fight in us... but we _can't_
do it alone.  Cheer for us, and we'll try our dadgummedest to make this
a reality!

BF: It would be real easy for us to be satisfied in hitting that ring
tonight, giving it everything we've got from bell to bell; only to come
up inches short in the end.  We could sit back and hear the talk pour in
about how we went farther than was ever expected of us and exceeded
everyone's expectations.  But you know what happens then?  Waterson and
his dolts continue to go on thinking they're running things, that they
were right every time they added a smirk and eye roll each time our
names were said.  And yeah, maybe it's warranted, maybe they're right. 
Maybe we're not the major players Freeman and Dufresne deem worthy to be
sharing the ring with tonight.  But I'll tell you what we _are_, Jason.

[He pauses, collecting his thoughts.]

BF: We're two guys who've been in this position before.  And proven to
the world we know better than most what to do when the chips are down. 
So go on, Adrian and Calisto - you two go ahead and bet against us.

[Fitzgerald offers a smirk, seemingly as does Lawson.]

BF: Just like y'all did the last time.

JD: Thanks, guys, and good luck tonight.  Let's go up to the ring to
Melissa!

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

MC:  The following contest is a non-title encounter that is scheduled
for one fall with a twenty minute time limit.  Introducing first...

[Neil Young's "Rockin' In The Free World" kicks in to a big cheer from
the Texas fans.]

MC:  At a total combined weight of 427 pounds... they hold one point of
title contention for the National Tag Team Titles... they are the team
of Corey Lawson and Bailey Fitzgerald!

[A big cheer goes up for Lawson and Fitzgerald as they tear into the
arena, each moving to the railing to slap hands with the fans alongside
the barricade.  They're clad in the same attire we saw them in moments
ago and look pretty focused as they head towards the ring.]

GM:  Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman would like nothing more to
derail this lightning express before they really get rolling, Bucky.

BW:  They certainly would... and tonight, they're going to do exactly
that.

GM:  That remains to be seen.

[Fitzgerald and Lawson hit the ring with a flourish, slingshotting over
the ropes in unison to the cheers of the crowd as the music changes over
to ZZ Top's "Sharp Dressed Man."]

GM:  And here come the champions...

[Dufresne and Freeman arrogantly walk into view, each with the title
belt secured around their waists as Ben Waterson walks out behind them.]

MC:  And their opponents... at a total combined weight of 435 pounds...
they are accompanied to the ring by their manager Ben Waterson... they
are the AWA National Tag Team Champions... representing the Southern
Syndicate...

CALISTO DUFRESNE and AAAAADRIAN FREEEEMAN!

[Freeman and Dufresne's eyes are locked on the ring where their
opponents stand as they make their way down the aisle.  Waterson is
giving both men some words as they head towards the ring.]

GM:  At the Stampede Cup, you could tell they were taking their
opponents lightly and paid the price for it.  Tonight, this looks like
an entirely different team.  Their words may act like they're taking
them lightly but their actions and demeanor are far different, Bucky.

BW:  Of course they are.  Fool me once, shame on you.  Fool me twice...
well, the champs don't want to find out if lightning can strike twice
here in the Moody Coliseum, daddy.

[Dufresne and Freeman climb up on the apron to the jeers of the crowd,
stepping through the ropes where Dufresne shouts a few words in the
direction of the opponents before handing his title belt over to the
official.  Freeman does the same, both men backpedaling to the corner
where Waterson has a few more words before the referee orders the match
to begin.]

GM:  There's the bell and this non-title match is underway.  Remember,
it was the champions who made this a non-title showdown.

BW:  Hey, Fitzgerald and Lawson only have one point.  Those are the
Committee's rules, not the Syndicate's.

GM:  A valid point, Bucky.

[This time, the match starts slowly, very unlike the lightning quick
start to the Stampede Cup encounter.  Freeman slowly edges out of the
ring, glaring at Corey Lawson who is starting for his squad.]

GM:  It'll be Freeman and Lawson starting things off here tonight for
their respective teams and... and we've got to take a quick break, fans!
 We'll be right back!

[Lawson is edging out of the corner as we quickly fade to black.

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

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

That's right!  You heard me right!

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

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

[And with that, we fade back to live action where Corey Lawson is
charging off the ropes, leaping into the air to knock Adrian Freeman off
his feet with a cross bodyblock for a quick two count before Freeman
scrambles out.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, and this one's off and runnin'!

[With both men scrambling up, Lawson snares the Australian, scooping him
up and slamming him down before promptly leaping into the air, smashing
his fist into the skull with a leaping fistdrop!]

GM:  Ohhh my!

[Both men scamper up yet again but this time, Lawson leaves his feet
with a picture perfect dropkick on the chin that sends Freeman sailing
backwards to the mat where he promptly crawls back to the corner where
Calisto Dufresne angrily shouts at Corey Lawson.]

GM:  Corey Lawson is a house of fire at the outset of this one, just all
over Adrian Freeman and this crowd has been lit up by this man from
Tennesse, Bucky.

BW:  Lawson's caught him with a few lucky shots so far but it's nothing
the champs can't handle.

GM:  That remains to be seen...

[Dufresne drops to a knee, talking to his partner for a moment, giving
him some encouragement as Waterson shouts at Lawson from the floor. 
Freeman remains seated for a bit, shaking his head as he slowly drags
himself off the mat to his feet.]

GM:  No tag there.  A bit surprising.

BW:  Freeman may have something to prove here tonight.

[Another tieup tangles them up in the middle of the ring where Freeman
promptly jabs a thumb into the eye.  Grabbing Lawson by the back of the
head, he smashes him in the same eye with a forearm.  His next shot is
the point of the elbow into the eye, knocking Lawson down to the canvas
clutching his face.]

GM:  Freeman's going after the eye of Lawson - taking a page out of his
partner's playbook.

BW:  And perhaps sending a message to City Jack who we'll hear from
later tonight - telling him to stay gone.

GM:  Freeman shoves Lawson down on his back...

[And promptly leaps into the air, dropping all his weight down in a
kneedrop on the eye area.]

GM:  Ohh!

[Using his hands to hold Lawson down, Freeman kicks his legs up,
swinging back down with another knee to the face.  Still holding him
down, he kicks up again, smashing the knee into the eye area once
again.]

GM:  Good grief!

[Holding the hair, Freeman throws a few fists to the eye, drawing the
referee's ire before he backs off, holding up his hands to plead his
innocence.]

GM:  An absolutely brutal assault on the face and eye of Corey Lawson
right there by one-half of the National Tag Team Champions.

[Freeman dives back in, planting his boot on the throat of Lawson,
hanging on the ropes to increase the pressure on the choke as the
referee reprimands him again.]

GM:  Come on, referee!

[Marty Meekly is on the scene, laying a count on Freeman who breaks at
four and delivers three hard stomps that send Lawson rolling out to the
floor.  The Australian backs off...

...and spits squarely in the face of Bailey Fitzgerald, bringing the
youngster into the ring to the cheers of the crowd!]

GM:  Here comes Fitzgerald!

[The referee immediately blocks off Fitzgerald, trying to get him out of
the ring...

...which allows Calisto Dufresne to drop down on the floor, grabbing
Lawson by the back of the head, and SLAMMING him facefirst into the
steel ringpost!]

GM:  OHHH!  LAWSON SENT TO THE STEEL!!!

[Corey Lawson crumples to the barely-padded concrete floor like he's
been shot, shooting his hands up to cover his face as Dufresne climbs
back up on the apron, smirking at the jeering crowd.]

GM:  Lawson hit the steel hard and he's laid out on the floor...

[And an arrogant Freeman shouts "Count him" at the referee who starts
another ten count.]

GM:  Meekly starting a count... up to three already... now to four...

[But Lawson uses the ropes to drag himself up, pulling himself up on the
apron at the count of five...

...where Freeman throws a boot through the ropes, catching Lawson
squarely in the chest, knocking him down to a knee on the apron. 
Freeman reaches over the ropes, grabbing a front facelock to haul Lawson
up to his feet.]

GM:  The technician from Australia's gonna bring him in the hard way...

[Hoisting him high into the air, Freeman drops backwards, smashing
Lawson down on the canvas with a vertical suplex before rolling into a
lateral press.]

GM:  Cover off the suplex for one... for two... and that's all!

[Freeman wastes no time in staying on the attack, moving right back to
his feet and bringing Lawson up with him.  A whip sends Lawson to the
ropes and a well-aimed back elbowsmash catches him right in the eye
area, knocking him flat.]

GM:  Perfect execution on the elbowsmash - and down for another pin
attempt.  Freeman gets one... he gets two... and again, that's all as
Corey Lawson fires the left shoulder off the mat.

[The Australian shouts something to his partner who raises his arm as
Freeman hauls Lawson to his feet, approaching the corner, and SMASHING
Lawson's face into the point of Dufresne's elbow.]

GM:  Ohh!  Simple but effective doubleteam by the National Champions. 
And there's the tag right there....

[Dufresne slips into the ring and promptly DRILLS Lawson with a haymaker
to the face that knocks Lawson to a knee.  A big double axehandle smash
knocks him down to both knees.]

GM:  Big shot there by Dufresne - measuring the man...

[And the Ladykiller smashes home another right hand to the eye area...
and another... and another... the clenched fists drawing the ire of the
referee as well as Bailey Fitzgerald, both shouting protests at an
uncaring Dufresne who connects with another right hand.]

GM:  Dufresne may be trying to relive that night against Kentucky's
Pride when they put City Jack on the shelf indefinitely.  We hope to
find out when Jack will return here tonight but... ohhh!  Another shot
to the eye!

[Fitzgerald ducks into the ring to stop the assault but the referee cuts
him off...

...just as Corey Lawson throws a hooking shot to the body that backs
Dufresne away.  A second one sends him spiraling back as Lawson regains
his feet, ready to fight.]

GM:  Lawson's up!  He's gonna-

[But the distracted referee gives Adrian Freeman the chance to dash in
and lower the boom on the back of Lawson's head, knocking him back down
to the mat.  Fitzgerald promptly turns his attention to Freeman who
rushes over, further tying up the referee as Calisto Dufresne drops down
to the mat, choking Lawson with both hands!]

GM:  Come on!  We need to get some control of this thing!

BW:  We?!  I'm not the referee for this match.  Not sure about you.

GM:  Dufresne is blatantly choking Corey Lawson and-

[Finally, the referee breaks away, ordering Dufresne to break the choke.
 He reprimands Dufresne, backing him away as Lawson lies near the
ropes...

...and gets DRILLED with a right forearm across the body from Ben
Waterson!]

GM:  Oh, come on!

BW:  Well, Waterson took a right hand two weeks ago.  Maybe he felt like
giving one back.

GM:  Corey Lawson did nothing to Ben Waterson!  That's just a cheapshot,
right there, Bucky.  And now Dufrense is right back to the choke - using
his boot now on the windpipe of Lawson...

[Breaking again at four, Dufresne hauls Lawson back to his feet,
throwing him down in a thunderous bodyslam before leaving his feet with
a big stomp to the forehead.]

GM:  Dufresne's on the attack now...

[The Ladykiller reaches down again, hauling Lawson up, and firing him
towards the ropes.]

GM:  Lawson to the ropes...

[Dufresne doubles up, attempting a backdrop but Lawson leapfrogs over
it, hitting the far ropes.]

GM:  Leapfrog over the top by Laws- UUUUUUUP!  DOOOOOOWN!

[The crowd jeers wildly as Dufresne hoists the rebounding Lawson high
into the air...

...and dumps him facefirst on the mat in a Flapjack!]

GM:  One-man Flapjack by the Ladykiller - and there's a cover for one...
for two...

[Big cheer!]

GM:  But it's still not enough to keep Lawson down.

[An irate Dufresne drags Lawson off the mat, shouting to Freeman who
lifts a knee between the ropes, allowing the Ladykiller to smash
Lawson's face into the knee before another tag is made.]

GM:  In comes the Australian... big kick to the ribs of Lawson, puts him
back down to a knee...

[Standing over Lawson, Freeman smashes him with an overhead elbow.  A
second one connects as well before Freeman drills him with a headbutt
that actually seems to daze Freeman a bit...

...and allows Lawson to burst off his feet, connecting with a wild right
hand!]

GM:  Bailey Fitzgerald's cheering his partner on!  He hasn't even been
in the ring for this match yet!

BW:  The champs are doing a masterful job of cutting the ring in half. 
Perfect tag team execution tonight on display by the National Tag Team
Champions.

GM:  Lawson with another right hand!  He's got Freeman rocked!

[But Freeman lashes out with a kick to the gut, hooking a front
facelock, and SMASHING Lawson into the canvas skullfirst with a DDT!]

GM:  OHHH!  DDT!

BW:  That'll do it right there.

GM:  Lateral press for one... for two... for thr-

[Big cheer!]

GM:  Shoulder up!  Lawson got the shoulder up!

[Down on the mat, Freeman plants his forearm bone on the face of Lawson,
grinding it back and forth as Lawson kicks his feet, flailing in pain. 
Freeman yanks him up by the hair, revealing a cut forehead.  He smirks
before connecting with a forearm smash that sends Lawson falling back to
the ropes...

...where he throws a boot into the gut of Freeman!  Big cheer!]

GM:  He's fighting back!  The bloodied Corey Lawson is fighting back!

[Freeman approaches, arms pulled back...

...and catches another boot to the gut!]

GM:  Lawson with a second wind perhaps!

[Freeman throws a forearm to the jaw, grabbing the arm.]

GM:  Whip by Freeman...

[A rebounding Lawson ducks a clothesline attempt, hitting the far ropes
to bounce back...

...and leave his feet with a dead-on flying forearm to the jaw!]

GM:  FLYING FOREARM!!  LAWSON CONNECTS!!

[The dazed Lawson throws himself into a cover!]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  OHHH!  DUFRESNE BREAKS UP THE-

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  IN COMES FITZGERALD!!  ALL FOUR MEN ARE IN THE RING!!

[A fired-up Fitzgerald shoves Dufresne back to the netural corner,
hammering him with rights and lefts to the body.  The referee tries to
intervene, trying to get them out of the ring as a still-fresher Freeman
pulls the dazed Lawson off the canvas, whipping him to the ropes
again...

...and taking him down with a running clothesline!]

GM:  Ohh!  Down goes Lawson again!

[Spinning around, Freeman catches Fitzgerald in the back with a knee to
the kidneys.  Holding Fitz by the arms, Freeman sets him up as Dufresne
uncorks a right hand...

...and DRILLS Freeman between the eyes!]

GM:  OHHH!  DOWN GOES FREEMAN!

[Fitzgerald promptly leaps up, dropkicking Dufresne off his feet.  He
rushes over as the Ladykiller bounces off the mat, grabbing him by the
arm to fire him across the ring...

...but has it reversed.]

GM:  Reversal by Dufresne... backdr-

[The crowd EXPLODES as Fitzgerald throws himself over the top in a
picture perfect Sunset Flip - the exact way he beat Dufresne at the
Stampede Cup.]

GM:  SUNSET FLIP!!  SUNSET FLIP!!

[But the referee waves it off, pointing to the bloodied Corey Lawson who
is slowly getting a stream of blood pouring from the wound...

...which allows Adrian Freeman to kick Fitzgerald in the back, breaking
the pin attempt.]

BW:  Excellent officiating there by Marty Meekly!  He knew exactly who
the legal man and he called it perfectly right there.

GM:  You praising an official?  What in the world is going on?

BW:  They rarely do anything right but this is an exception to that.

[Freeman moves back over to Lawson who is leaning against the buckles
and drills an elbow down on the cut forehead as the referee gets both
Dufresne and Fitzgerald back out of the ring.]

GM:  Look at that cut... it must have come from the DDT...

BW:  Blood is just pouring from the wound.  Those pretty white tights
are gonna be covered in crimson real soon, Gordo.

GM:  They certainly are.

[Freeman drags Lawson to his feet, shoving him back to the corner where
he lays in a pair of boots to the body.]

GM:  Ohh!  Big chop by Freeman!

BW:  You coulda heard that outside the building, daddy!

GM:  And another one!  What a shot to the pectorals!

[Grabbing Lawson by the arm, Freeman fires him across the ring to the
oppposite corner, rushing across...

...where Lawson dives out of the way, causing Freeman to smash the back
of his head to the corner!]

GM:  HE MISSED!  HE MISSED!!  LAWSON GOT OUT OF THE WAY IN TIME!!

[And a downed and bleeding Corey Lawson gets to his knees, looking to
crawl to the corner where an impatient Bailey Fitzgerald is waiting for
him.]

GM:  Lawson's crawling!  He's trying to make the tag!

[A dazed Freeman staggers out of the corner, holding the back of his
head.  In the corner, Dufresne and Waterson are screaming Freeman,
trying to get him to move.]

GM:  Freeman's stunned!  He's dazed!  And-

[Lawson LUNGES, slapping the hand of Fitzgerald!]

GM:  TAG!!

[Fitzgerald charges in, rushing to bowl over a dazed Freeman with a
rushing clothesline.  The Buffalo native pumps his fist to the roar of
the crowd, turning back towards the corner...

...and DRILLS Dufresne with a right hand, knocking him off the apron to
the floor!]

GM:  DOWN GOES DUFRESNE!

[Fitzgerald grabs Freeman off the mat, pulling him into a front
facelock, reaching back to hook the leg...

...and takes him over in a fisherman suplex!]

GM:  CRADLE SUPLEX!  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR-

[But a diving Calisto Dufresne breaks up the pin attempt, just barely
getting there in time!]


"TEN MINUTES HAVE GONE BY!  TEN MINUTES REMAIN!"


GM:  We're at the halfway point in this one and-

[The Ladykiller drags Fitzgerald off the mat by the hair, drilling him
with a right hand to the side of the head.  The camera cuts to the floor
where a bloodied Corey Lawson is unmoving.]

GM:  Lawson's out on the floor.  He's bloodied, he's battered, and he's
not moving one bit.  Bucky, this is a two on one for Fitzgerald against
the tag team champions!

BW:  Just the way they like it.

GM:  Dufresne and Freeman with a double team...

[The champions fire Fitzgerald into the ropes with a double whip...

...taking him down with a running double clothesline!]

GM:  Come on, ref!  We've got another two on one!

[Dufresne raises his hands, backing away at the referee's orders, and
stepping out to the apron.  Across the ring, Freeman hauls Fitzgerald
off the mat, driving kicks to the body in the corner.]

GM:  Grabbing the back of Fitzgerald's head... ohhh!

[Freeman uncorks a European uppercut, popping Fitzgerald under the chin,
knocking him back to the corner.  A pair of chops follow, knocking Fitz
down to a knee.]

GM:  Freeman moves in behind him...

[The Australian hooks on a half nelson, quickly hoisting Fitzgerald
up...

...and dumps him down across a bent knee!]

GM:  Half nelson backbreaker!  Ohhh!

[Shoving Fitzgerald off his knee, Freeman applies a lateral press,
reaching back to hook a leg.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!

[The Buffalo native fires the shoulder up at two, breaking the pin.]

GM:  Just a two count there.

[Freeman stays down on his knees, smashing him with forearm after
forearm, then shoves Fitzgerald under the ropes to the floor.]

GM:  Fitzgerald's out on the floor... look at Waterson...

[The crowd jeers as the Agent To The Stars gets up on the apron,
distracting the official as Dufresne drops down to the floor, grabbing
Fitzgerald...

...and HURLING him into the barricade!]

GM:  OHHHH!  INTO THE STEEL!

[He yanks Fitzgerald back up, shoving him into the ring as Freeman drops
into another cover.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR- just a two!

[Getting back to his feet, Freeman slaps the hand of his partner,
bringing the Ladykiller into the match again.]

GM:  In comes Dufresne... dragging Fitzgerald up... he scoops him up-
whoa!  Over the top goes Fitzgerald!

[Hooking his arms around the waist of Dufresne, Fitzgerald races to the
ropes, smashing the Ladykiller's chest into the ropes and rebounding
back in a rolling cradle.]

GM:  Rolling cradle!  He's got one!  He's got two!  He's got-

[Dufresne kicks him off, sending Fitzgerald sailing into the ropes where
he rebounds back again as Dufresne stumbles up to his feet, doubled up
and an easy target as Fitzgerald leaps up for a sunset flip again!]

GM:  SUNSET FLIP FOR ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE- OHHHH!

[The crowd explodes with jeers as "Agent To The Stars" Ben Waterson
yanks the referee out of the ring by the leg...

...and DECKS him!]

GM:  OHHHH!  Waterson knocked Meekly flat!  That's a DQ!

[Out on the floor, a dazed Meekly signals for the bell.]


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[The crowd jeers at the sound of the bell as an irate Waterson rushes
over to the timekeeper, yanking the bell away from him.]

GM:  Oh no.

[Waterson rolls into the ring, holding the bell as Dufresne and Freeman
pummel Fitzgerald in unison.  Freeman grabs Fitzgerald by the hair,
smashing him into the buckles.

Outside the ring, a bloodied Corey Lawson has finally managed to pull
himself up on the apron, trying to intervene to help his partner.]

GM:  Lawson's on the apro- ohh!  Dufresne yanks him over the ropes!  He
can't even put up a fight, Bucky!

BW:  No he can't.  He's in troub- OHHH!

GM:  WATERSON HITS FITZGERALD WITH THE BELL!

[With Freeman holding Fitzgerald's arms back, the manager does exactly
that, knocking the Buffalo native flat.  Freeman quickly stomps him out
to the floor as Dufresne shouts for Waterson to put the bell on the
mat.]

GM:  Oh my god.

BW:  They're gonna finish Lawson off for good!

[The bloodied Corey Lawson, his white tights stained crimson from blood
flow, gets yanked into a front facelock, standing right over the downed
ringbell.]

GM:  Dufresne's going for that DDT on the bell!  He's gonna cave his
skull in, Bucky!

BW:  Freeman's moving to grab the legs - the assisted Wham Bam Thank You
Ma'am!

GM:  He's got the front facelock on and-

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  SECURITY!!

[The crowd roars as Dave Cooper, Eric Matthew Somers, Soup Bone Samson,
and Sweet Daddy Williams come charging down the aisle.  Cooper and
Somers are the first ones there, diving headfirst into the ring...

...which sends the National Tag Team Champions and their manager
scurrying!]

GM:  ROUGH N READY HAS CLEARED THE RING!!  That special security force
for tonight made up of Rough N Ready, Soup Bone Samson, and Sweet Daddy
Williams have cleared the ring and saved Corey Lawson from perhaps
permanent injury!

[Dave Cooper stands on the middle rope, shouting and waving for Dufresne
and Freeman to get back into the ring.]

GM:  Rough N Ready is ready for a fight - and they're ready to cash in
those three points and get their shot at the National Tag Team Titles!

[The camera cuts to Dufresne and Freeman in the aisle mocking the
shouting Cooper - and then back to the ring where Eric Matthew Somers
helps the bloody Lawson off the mat.  Soup Bone Samson and Sweet Daddy
Williams are standing alongside, ready for a fight if it presents
itself.]

GM:  Fitzgerald and Lawson win this one by DQ, getting their second
point in the process, but I'd have to say the war's not over between
these two tag teams.

BW:  Those two, the Samoans, the Bishops, AND Rough N Ready... the
champs are seeing their challengers line up for 'em, daddy!

GM:  Fans, we've got to take another break.  We'll be right back!

[We fade to black...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And now, it can be yours!"

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

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

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

...and then back up to live action backstage to Jason Dane, standing by
with Shane Destiny, who is sporting a pair of black thigh-length tights,
black kneepads and elbowpads, and black boots.  He is also wringing his
hands.]

JD: We are back LIVE on The Main Event, fans, and Shane Destiny,
tonight, you finally get into the ring to answer Mark Langseth's open
challenge, but a lot of people are wondering about your status with Pure
X.  Your comments on his recent statements about you?

SD: Look, Dane... it sounds like someone is bitter that the best night
of his life was negated by the intelligence of the rankings committee. 
He beat a Shane Destiny that didn't have his head on straight.  A mere
fluke, nothing more.

JD: But he beat you twice in th-...

SD: I _said_ it was a _fluke_.  Next question.

JD: Well, uh... tonight, as I mentioned, you face Mark Langseth.  How do
you feel going into a match where many fans see your opponent as your
superior?

SD: I don't care what the fans think.  I spent years caring what the
fans thought about me, and you know what they did for me?  Hmm?  Do you,
Dane?  They stood by me when I was on top of the world, but they
couldn't wait to drive that dagger into my back as soon as I stumbled. 
For the last three years, I've put up with comments from the critics
about my personal life.  I tried to be open, and I tried to be honest,
and all it did was get me mocked and taunted.  So let me ask you this,
Dane... why should I care what these... these _fans_ have to say?

[Dane goes to answer, but Destiny cuts him off.]

SD: The answer to your question is that I shouldn't.  Look at my AWA
tenure thusfar.  It doesn't exactly live up to my reputation, does it? 
And that's for a simple reason... I've been holding back.

JD: And that's why you brought back the Destiny Strangle?

SD: Exactly.  You hurt one guy with your favorite hold, and you start
worrying about how many hospital beds you'll be filling.  But I had an
epiphany a month ago... did anyone care when Tumaffi tried to rip my
throat out?  Did anyone care when Pure X tried to break my ankle?  Did
anyone care when there was a group of people manhandling me when I was
trying to wrestle Stevie Scott?  Not a single person raised a concern. 
And on top of that, I lost my killer instincts... but no more, Dane.

JD: So what do you expect to happen tonight?

SD: I expect Mark Langseth to look in the mirror and wonder if he's
willing to break bones to prove he still wants to be a top star.  I
expect Mark Langseth to look at his reflection and think about if he
could live with himself if he hurts someone badly.  I expect that,
because I did the same thing today, and you want to know what I found? 
I found that I have nothing left.  I found the Shane Destiny that was
hungry, raw, and willing to do anything to get ahead in this sport.  I
found what I was missing all along.

[Destiny stops wringing his hands to glare at Dane.]

SD: And if Mark Langseth doesn't find that in himself, or if he's
unwilling to find it?  Well, Dane... let's just say that words can't
adequately explain what I'm willing to do to him.

[Destiny walks off-screen.]

JD: Wow.  Back to Gordon and Bucky.

[We crossfade back to the elevated announce platform where our
announcers are standing.]

GM:  Did you hear that, Bucky?  Shane Destiny, after using that Destiny
Strangle on Mark Langseth two weeks ago, is threatening to do ever worse
to him here tonight!

BW:  Not gonna happen.

GM:  Well, not if Mark Langseth has anything to say abou-

BW:  No, no, no.  I'm tellin' ya, this match ain't gonna happen, Gordo. 
I told you at the start of the night about an hour ago that Mark
Langseth wasn't going to be cleared to wrestle tonight.

GM:  But Bucky, we've had no- wait a second... I don't believe this...
Mark Stegglet is standing by outside Mark Langseth's locker room and- oh
brother, let's go to Mark!

[We fade back to the locker room area where Mark Stegglet is indeed
standing in front of a door with "MARK LANGSETH" written on a white
placard.]

MS:  Thanks, Gordon!  And...

[A loud series of shouts can be heard from within the room.]

MS:  Well, that pretty much says it all, doesn't it?  A few minutes ago,
AWA ringside doctor Dr. Bob Ponavitch came back here, entered this room,
and moments later we heard-

[A loud CRASH! is heard from behind the door.]

MS:  Whoa, I... well, I don't know exactly what's going on but I-

[Suddenly, the door swings open and a slightly-nervous looking Dr.
Ponavitch emerges.]

MS:  Dr. Ponavitch, what in the world is going on in there?

DBP:  Well, uh... I came back here to let Mark Langseth know that after
further review of his medical records - including the examination done
on him two weeks ago after being injured by Shane Destiny - we could not
in good conscience allow him to compete here tonight.

MS:  What?!

DBP:  His injuries, although not career-threatening, are serious enough
that we do not feel comfortable in sanctioning a match with Mr. Langseth
in it here tonight.  With his history of neck injuries, we-

[The door swings open again, this time revealing Hall of Famer Mark
Langseth.  A stern glare from the former World Champion causes Ponavitch
to scurry away, leaving Mark Stegglet behind.]

MS:  Mr. Langseth, your comments on-

[And with a slam of the door, Langseth issues a firm "no comment." 
Stegglet looks shaken, then shrugs his shoulders.]

MS:  I guess he has nothing to say.  Gordon, Bucky... back to you!

[We again fade back to the announce position.]

BW:  I told you, Gordo!  I told you!

GM:  You certainly did.  Your sources proved to be correct here tonight
in the Moody Coliseum and apparently, the matchup between Mark Langseth
and Shane Destiny will NOT happen here tonight as Langseth has been
deemed unfit to compete.  I don't... well, we need to take another break
but we'll be right back and try to sort this whole thing out...

[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 back up to the ring where Shane Destiny is pacing back and
forth.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans... and during that break, we received word that
the Championship Committee has ordered a new opponent for Shane Destiny
and... well, let's see who it is!

[Shot cuts to backstage reporter Jason Dane standing by Pure X, dress in
his ring gear and a black T-shirt.]

JD: Jason Dane here with the man who will fill in for Mark Langseth in
the match against Shane Destiny, Pure X.

[Pure X nods.]

JD: This is what you ultimately wanted, a match with Shane Destiny for
the next rung in the ladder to the National Championship?

PX: Dane...

[Pure X pauses as he looks at Dane with a bit of a disgusted manner.]

PX: If you think you're inferring that I wanted this match to come to me
like this - by DEFAULT? Because I knew what was going to happened...
happened? That Mark Langseth wasn't physically ready to take on Destiny
and now the AWA scrambled to find someone to face him?

[Pure X shakes his head.]

PX: This isn't what I wanted, no. But I'll take what I can get and prove
to the world that Destiny's not deserving of his spot in the rankings or
even deserving of my time in the ring. He's had his time, his glory, but
now?

[Pure X looks into the camera, determination in his face.]

PX: There's no tricks today, Destiny. There's no third person, there's
no multiple falls. Just you and me in that ring. You, the man
considering at his prime to be the best wrestler in the ring... and me,
the man who is in his prime and IS the best wrestling in the ring TODAY.

JD: But what about the Destiny Strangle, the move that put Mark Langseth
out of this match?

[X looks back at Dane, almost annoyed at the question.]

PX: What about it? How about what about The X? How will Destiny escape
as I tear away at his Achilles tendon? How will continue as he tries to
trash around, unsuccessful, at his own risk of injury? Dane... I know I
can escape the Strangle, but Destiny? I don't think he can't escape what
I've got in store for him tonight.

[With that, Pure X exits the scene as Stabbing Westward's "The Thing I
Hate" starts up to a decent sized reaction.  The cheers increase as Pure
X steps through the curtain into the arena, takes a long look around,
and starts marching down the aisle, eyes locked on a surprised Shane
Destiny.]

GM:  X is on his way to the ring... he's accepting the challenge... and
what a matchup this is going to be!  Two of the top contenders to the
AWA National Title battling it out.

[X rolls under the ropes into the ring, getting to his feet, and
pointing a finger right at Shane Destiny who smirks, waving his spunky
challenger to attack him.  Referee Marty Meekly is immediately on the
scene, stepping between the two men to keep them apart as he tries to
keep control.]

GM:  X backs off... back to the corner... waiting for the bell...

[Meekly has a few words for both men and then calls for the bell.]

GM:  Here we go!

[The two men immediately start moving to their right side, circling each
other around and round the ring, sizing one another up.]

GM:  The two technicians are each looking for an opening here in this
one... trying to perhaps psyche the other man out a little bit.

[Meeting in the middle, Pure X and Destiny tie up in a collar and elbow,
grappling for position in center ring.  They break apart, having reached
a stalemate but immediately come back together, struggling even more
until Pure X pulls Destiny into a side headlock.]

GM:  Headlock in by X...

[Destiny drops to a knee from the pressure, throwing a light forearm to
the rib cage before wrapping his arms around the torso of X, backing him
to the ropes where he promptly fires him off.]

GM:  Destiny sends him to the ropes...

[But a charging Pure X knocks him off his feet with a football tackle,
immediately hitting the adjacent ropes, rebounding off, and ducking
under a thrown chop from Destiny to hit the far ropes.]

GM:  X off the far side... hiplock takeov-

[Pure X spins it around, taking Destiny over with a hiptoss to a big
cheer!]

GM:  Nice counter of the hiptoss there by Pure X!

BW:  Nobody ever said these two can't wrestle, daddy.  Two of the very
best grapplers in the game in there right now.  This should be something
special to see.

[Destiny rolls to the corner, taking a knee to regroup as Pure X walks
back and forth across the middle of the ring, eyeing his opponent the
entire time.  Slowly, Destiny gets back to his feet, edging from the
corner and moving back into the collar and elbow that X moves quickly
into the side headlock.  Destiny again fires X off to the ropes,
immediately dropping down to the mat for a drop toehold but Pure X
deftly pulls his leg out before he can be tripped.]

GM:  Whoa!  Did you see-

[But before Gordon can describe what happened, Pure X comes off the far
ropes, leaving his feet with a high impact cross body block that knocks
Destiny down to the mat where the momentum rolls X out under the ropes
to the floor.]

GM:  Pure X went right out to the floor... quickly trying to get back in
and...

[Destiny gets back to his feet as well, allowing Pure X to duck down,
using the middle rope to slingshot his shoulder into the midsection of
the Las Vegas native.  Straightening up, X slingshots OVER the ropes,
pulling Destiny down in a sunset flip!]

GM:  Sunset flip for one!  For two!

[But Destiny fires the shoulder up as two, scrambling to his feet, but
quickly getting taken right back down with a headlock takeover, X
cranking on the head and neck down on the canvas as Destiny kicks his
feet and flails on the mat.]

GM:  Pure X hanging onto the headlock, trying to wear down Shane Destiny
here.  Trying to take some of the wind out of his sails...

[Destiny quickly gets his feet underneath him, pushing up to his feet
and pushing X clear back to the ropes.]

GM:  Back into the ropes now and-

[Destiny takes the low road with a knee up into the gut before grabbing
the wrist to fire X across, extending his arm for a clothesline.]

GM:  Clothesli- CRUCIFIX!

[Big cheer as X pulls Destiny down to the mat in a crucifix pinning
situation for a two count.  And this time when Destiny kicks out, he
immediately rolls from the ring to try and regroup.]

GM:  And out to the floor goes Destiny!

[The crowd cheers as the rulebreaker paces back and forth on the floor,
glaring up at Pure X who is sitting on the middle rope, inviting his
opponent back into the ring.]

GM:  And you know Pure X wants no part of going out to the floor with
Destiny.

BW:  Not if he can avoid it, no.  This guy is a ring tactician and he
wants to be on the mat as much as possible, daddy.

GM:  Destiny climbs up on the apron, walking back and forth down it...
pointing a finger at Pure X... and now he's back into the ring.  Looking
to get back on the right track in this one.

[The camera zooms in on an angry Destiny, glaring at Pure X before
lunging back into the tieup.  Destiny wastes not a moment before shoving
X back into the ropes, snapping off a hard boot to the gut.]

GM:  Ohh!  Hard shot downstairs by Destiny...


"WHAAAP!"


GM: And then upstairs with a chop!

[Grabbing the wincing Pure X by the wrist, Destiny fires him across the
ring.  On the rebound, Destiny attempts another boot to the gut but has
it caught by Pure X who quickly takes his legs out with a back heel
trip, knocking Destiny down to the mat.]

GM:  He takes him off his feet and- THE X!  THE X!

[But the anklelock doesn't quite get hooked in as Destiny lunges for the
bottom rope, forcing the referee to call for a break.]

GM:  Pure X almost had him there and Destiny knew it!  Shane Destiny
felt the anklelock coming and got out of there in a hurry, Bucky.

[On the break, Destiny drags himself back to the floor, shaking his head
as he walks around the ringside area.  He looks up at the referee,
asking for a timeout.]

GM:  Shane Destiny knows very well that there's no timeouts in the world
of professional wrestling, Bucky.

BW:  Maybe not but Destiny making one for himself.  He breaks the count
when needed but most of the time, he's just relaxing and getting some
much needed time to regroup.

GM:  X wants him in there so badly, he keeps breaking the count.

[The camera cuts to Destiny on the floor, hands on his knees as he
ponders his next move.  The referee's count reaches six again before
Destiny climbs up on the apron.]

GM:  Destiny managed to get several seconds of rest there, back inside
the ring now though.

[The two technicians tie up again, X backing Destiny to the corner.  The
two stay tied up, grappling for position as the referee tries to force a
break, stepping between the two...

...and giving Shane Destiny all the time he needs to uncork a right
hand, catching Pure X squarely on the jaw and knocking him down to all
fours!]

GM:  Ohh!  What a shot by Destiny!

[With X down, Destiny quickly moves into action, driving his elbow down
on the back of X's neck.  Grabbing X by the hair, he holds him in place
as he drives kick after kick after kick into the neck as well.]

GM:  Destiny showing off his gameplan now.  He's going for the neck and
that's the right thing to do if you're going to soften someone up for
the Destiny Strangle, Bucky.

BW:  Absolutely the right thing to do.  The Strangle don't need much in
terms of weakening an opponent for it but any little bit helps, ya know?

GM:  Another big elbow smash driven down on the back of the neck!

[Destiny takes a few steps back before slowly stepping towards the
downed Pure X leaving his feet and dropping a knee down squarely on the
back of the neck!]

GM:  Ohhh!

[And with the hard knee to the back of the neck, Pure X rolls to the
apron where a hard kick to the ribs causes him to fall off the apron to
the floor.]

GM:  Ohh!  And down to the floor goes Pure X!  Shane Destiny puts him
out of the ring hard and-

[The crowd starts to buzz as Destiny steps through the ropes, dropping
down to the floor where Pure X is crawling to his feet.]

GM:  Big right hand by Destiny out on the floor!

[Grabbing X by the hair, Destiny holds him up as he slams forearm after
forearm after forearm into the side of X's face...

...and then HURLS him backwards so that the back of the technician's
head and neck smack into the frame of the ring!]

GM:  OHHHHHH!

BW:  That could do some damage in a hurry.  And that's an ugly, ugly
move, Gordo.  I wouldn't want to get hit with that one.

[A smirking Destiny rolls back into the ring, ordering the referee to
start a ten count on the fallen Pure X out on the floor.]


"FIVE MINUTES GONE BY!  FIVE MINUTES!"


GM:  Five minutes expired in the time limit - and I'm not exactly sure
what the time limit is for this match, Bucky.  We never got any
introductions so we missed that part.

BW:  Obviously it's more than five minutes.

GM:  Obviously.

[The count reaches five on the floor before Pure X uses the ropes to
haul himself back up on the apron...

...where Shane Destiny pulls him all the way vertical before smashing
his jaw with another forearm smash that knocks Pure X all the way back
down to the barely-padded concrete floor!]

GM:  And down to the floor goes Pure X again!

[A smirking Destiny raises his hands in protest as the referee
reprimands him, dusting his hands off as he walks across the ring.]

GM:  The referee's right back over to count again... Destiny's taunting
these fans at ringside who are cheering for Pure X...

BW:  You've gotta give it to Shane Destiny, Gordo.  It's been one year
since he's come into the AWA and he's finally really hitting his stride.
 The #5 contender to the National Title... beat Tumaffi at SuperClash...
Shane Destiny is riding high in the saddle in the American Wrestling
Alliance these days.

GM:  And you have to think if he knocks off Pure X here, he might take
that #4 spot in the Top 10 away from Soup Bone Samson who is inactive
here tonight in University Park.

BW:  Plus, he's already beaten the National Champion!

GM:  Shane Destiny vs Stevie Scott... Shane Destiny vs Juan Vasquez...
either one of 'em would be a Main Event anywhere in the world, fans, and
if this match keeps going Shane Destiny's way, we could very well see
one of those matches in the very near future.

[At the count of seven, Pure X hauls himself back up on the apron
again...

...which sends Shane Destiny charging across the ring, smashing X with a
running forearm that sends him sailing off the apron, through the air,
and INTO the steel barricade at ringside!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHHH!

BW:  That might do it, daddy!

[Destiny immediately backs off, shouting at the official to count as he
mounts the midbuckle on the other side of the ring, throwing his arms
wide and soaking up the jeers of the roaring capacity crowd.]

GM:  Boy, he's sure proud of himself, isn't he?

BW:  Wouldn't you be if you were him?

GM:  The man brought back a submission hold that has hopitalized someone
before so no, I don't think I'd be too proud of that fact, Bucky.

[The camera cuts to the floor where Pure X is flat out in a heap on the
floor, clutching his injured back of the neck as he lies barely moving
on the floor.  He rolls over, trying to get closer to the ring as the
referee continues to count.]

GM:  The count is up to four...

[At the count of five, Pure X rolls to a knee, staring up to the ring
where Shane Destiny is taunting him.  Edging closer, he grabs the ring
apron, pulling himself to his feet and then hooks the bottom rope,
dragging himself under the ropes at the count of eight.]

GM:  Pure X in at eight... really feeling the effects of getting
launched off that apron and into the steel railing.  It's meant to
protect the fans and now we see why.

BW:  Sure doesn't protect the wrestlers.

GM:  Pure X is barely moving right now and-

[The crowd jeers as Destiny pulls X up by the hair, slaps him hard
across the face, and promptly HURLS him through the ropes and back out
on the barely-padded floor!]

GM:  Oh, come on!  What's the excuse for that?

BW:  Who said he needs an excuse?

GM:  You've got the man weakened.  Take him in the ring and try to beat
him.  Don't toss him back out on the floor and try to take the cheap way
out!

BW:  Cheap way?  A win's a win in my book, Gordo.  If he beats Pure X by
countout, he gets the same money if he pins him or makes him submit.  It
may not be as much fun to watch but the check at the pay window will be
the same, daddy.

GM:  I would think Shane Destiny would have more pride than that, Bucky.
 And now what's he doing, stepping up on the middle rope over there by-

[The crowd jeers wildly again as Destiny leans over the ropes and spits
on Pure X's prone form.]

GM:  Disgusting.  Absolutely reprehensible actions by Shane Destiny
right there.  There is absolutely no call for something like that,
Bucky, and I dare you to defend that.

BW:  His mouth was dry?

GM:  Give me a break.

[Destiny backs off as the referee reprimands him, waiting til Pure X
climbs back up on the apron at the count of eight and steps through the
ropes before moving back in.]

GM:  Destiny on the attack once more and-

[Big cheer as Pure X throws a desperation right hand to the midsection.]

GM:  He caught him coming in!

[And as Destiny stumbles back, X catches him with a forearm smash to the
jaw that knocks the Vegas native back to the corner.]

GM:  In the buckles... Irish whi- REVERSED!

[Destiny falls down to the mat from the effort put into the whip, a whip
that sends Pure X rocketing across the ring where the back of his head
and neck SNAP into the buckles!]

GM:  Ohh!  HARD to the corner goes Pure X!

[X collapses out of the corner, making him easy prey for a pin attempt.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  No... just two.  He didn't even hook a leg there,
Bucky.

BW:  I think it was a heat check, Gordo.  Like chucking up a three early
in the shot clock when you're on a hot streak.  He just wanted to see
how far along he was in the match.

GM:  A heat check?  Give me a- ohhh!  He throws X through the ropes to
the floor again!

[But this time, Destiny goes outside the ring after him, dropping down
to his knees beside him and grabbing two hands full of hair...

...and SMASHING X's face into the barely-padded floor!]

GM:  OHHH!  Come on!

BW:  That's just Destiny being nasty now!  I tell ya though... he should
pull up the pads and do that!

GM:  Oh, that would be great, huh?  You'd enjoy that?

BW:  Yes, yes I would.

[Destiny promptly rolls back in again, ordering the referee to count
again.]

GM:  It has become plainly obvious in this one that Destiny has
absolutely no problem with a countout.

[The referee's count reaches three when Pure X pushes up to his feet off
the padded floor...

...which causes Shane Destiny to step out on the apron, measure his man,
and leap off with an elbow drive to the back of the doubled up Pure X's
neck!]

GM:  And right back after the neck, completely taking Pure X off his
feet.

[Grabbing X by the hair, Destiny hurls him under the ropes into the ring
before rolling in himself.]

GM:  Both men back in the ring now... stomp to the back of the neck by
Destiny!

[X rolls over onto his back, his right arm behind his head to hold his
neck which leaves his ribs exposed to a hard kick to the ribcage.]

GM:  Ooof!  What a shot that was!

[Reaching down, Destiny hauls Pure X back up to his feet, doubling him
up to smash a forearm down across the back of the neck.  A hard elbow
follows, knocking Pure X down to a knee.]

GM:  The referee is reprimanding Destiny... trying to get keep him off
the hair and-

[Suddenly, Pure X plucks Destiny down into a small package!]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR- OHHHHH!

[Destiny barely escapes the pin attempt in time, smashing a double
axehandle across the back of the neck as both men scramble to regain
their feet.]

GM:  What a shot!  Big hammer blow to the neck by Destiny.

[A snarling Destiny drags Pure X up again, hooking in a front facelock
as he slowly turns over so the back of X's neck is against his
shoulder...

...and drops down, snapping X's neck in a reverse neckbreaker!]

GM:  Ohhh!

[Destiny immediately applies the lateral press, reaching back for a
leg.]

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

[Pure X fires the shoulder off the mat at about 2 and a half, getting
more cheers from the crowd.]

GM:  Not enough to keep him down yet and-


"TEN MINUTES HAVE EXPIRED!  TEN MINUTES!  FIVE MINUTES REMAIN!"


GM:  And there you go, fans... five minutes left.  A fifteen minute time
limit on this one.

[Having heard the time, Destiny attempts to pick up the pace, yanking
Pure X up again, hooking him around the upper thighs to hoist him up,
and drop him down on a bent knee...

...and immediately floors him with a lunging clothesline!]

GM:  Ohhh!

[Destiny drops down again, hooking the leg.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  TH- OHHH!

BW:  So close!

GM:  He almost had him there for sure!

[An irate Destiny takes the mount, throwing fist after fist after fist
into the side of the head.  He quickly gets up, grabbing Pure X by the
legs to drag him a bit away from the corner.]

GM:  He drags X a little closer to mid-ring...

[And Destiny promptly hops up to the middle rope, standing tall with his
fist raised in the air.]

GM:  FISTDROP!!

[But Pure X rolls aside, causing Destiny to smash his fist into the
canvas.  He pops up screaming, cradling his hand and wrist as Pure X
slowly gets to his feet...

...and grabs Destiny by the back of the trunks, FIRING him shoulderfirst
into the steel ringpost!]

GM:  OHHH!  HE GOES THROUGH THE ROPES AND INTO THE STEEL!!

[X grabs him by the trunks again, hauling him out of the buckles where
he hammerlocks the arm...

...and hoists Destiny up, slamming him down on top of his bent arm!]

GM:  HAMMERLOCK SLAM BY PURE X!!

[Destiny cries out again, yanking his right arm around and grabbing it
with the left.  X promptly grabs the wrist, yanking it straight, and
dropping a knee squarely on the forearm.  Kneeling on the arm, he yanks
the hand up, bending it against the grain!]

GM:  He's trying to bend that arm up!  Maybe looking for a submission!


"FOUR MINUTES REMAIN!"


[X cranks up harder on the arm, screaming at the referee to ask
Destiny.]

GM:  Shane Destiny won't give up!  The referee's right there to check
but Destiny's refusing to give it up!

[Getting back to his feet but still holding the wrist, X drags Destiny
out to the middle of the ring.  He pulls Destiny up by the hair with his
free hand and uses the injured arm to fling Destiny into the ropes.]

GM:  Irish whip...

[When Destiny rebounds, Pure X buries a boot in the gut.]

GM:  X to the ropes again...

[Rebounding off, X hooks Destiny around the head, looking to swing him
over into a neckbreaker...

...but Destiny keeps on swinging with it, grabbing X by the arm, and
YANKING him into a short clothesline with the injured arm!  Destiny
immediately cries out in pain, dropping down to the mat clutching his
arm.]

GM:  Oh my!  Destiny countered the neckbreaker but hurt his arm again in
the process...

[Both men are down on the mat, X clutching his neck as Destiny hangs on
to his arm.]

GM:  Both men are hurting... both men are down...

BW:  We're closing in on just over three minutes left.

GM:  These two men are so evenly matches.  It's just such an excellent
battle every time they step into the ring together.  But this one's not
over yet.  So much on the line for these two... of course, we know Pure
X is trying to climb all the way up the Top 10 to get a shot at the
National Title.  Shane Destiny stands firmly in his way of doing that
though.


"THREE MINUTES REMAIN!  THREE MINUTES!"


[It's Destiny who is the first off the mat, clutching his right wrist as
he wobbles across the ring towards Pure X who is turtled up, both hands
on his neck...]


"Now I've got him!"


[Destiny's boastful declaration seems short-sighted though as Pure X
bursts out of the turtle position, grabbing the arm as he leaps into the
air to scissor the upper arm, falling back to the canvas in a cross
armbreaker attempt!]

GM:  LOOK AT THAT!!

BW:  He's going for the cross armbreaker!  If he straightens out the
arm, it's over!  He'll have no choice but to submit or have his arm
broken, Gordo!

[Gripping his hands together to prevent the submission attempt, Destiny
wisely does a full fiip, breaking the leverage on the armbar as he hooks
one leg in a flipping cradle.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  Just a two.

BW:  He really needed both legs to get the leverage on that one to stand
a chance at getting the pin.  One leg just won't cut it, Gordo.

GM:  It certainly didn't.

[Both men scramble up again, Pure X catching Destiny on the jaw with a
forearm smash that spins him around...

...and allows X to hook Destiny in a crossface chickenwing!]

GM:  CHICKENWING!  CHICKENWI- OHHH!

[The crowd groans as Destiny launches himself backwards, sandwiching
Pure X against the buckles.  A second one breaks X's hold completely,
leaving him clinging to the top rope to stay on his feet.]

GM:  Destiny's moving in on him...

[Winding up with the seldom-used left hand, Destiny throws a pretty
decent chop across the chest of his opponent.  A second one follows as
Destiny piefaces Pure X down to a knee where a well-placed kneesmash to
the chest knocks X down to all fours.  A leaping kneedrop to the back of
the neck follows, smashing X's face into the mat.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR- shoulder up!  Shoulder up again!

[A furious Destiny shouts at the official before dragging Pure X up off
the mat, popping him with his right arm in a forearm smash that seems to
hurt Destiny more than X.]

GM:  That was a mistake in my book, Bucky.


"TWO MINUTES REMAIN!  TWO MINUTES!"


BW:  I guess we'll know in two minutes, Gordo.

[Destiny screams as he kicks Pure X in the gut, doubling him over.  He
uses his injured right arm to apply a front facelock again, slowly
turning him over...

...but the injured arm can't hold a grip and allows X to escape,
reaching back to hook both arms and drag Destiny down to the mat!]

GM:  BACKSLIDE FOR ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE-  OHHHHHHH!

[Destiny just barely fires his left shoulder off the mat in time.]

BW:  And you notice it was the left shoulder that came up, Gordo - the
left shoulder.  I'm not entirely sure how much he's got left in the
right arm at all right now.

GM:  That neckbreaker attempt seemed to be a mistake as well...

[Pure X is the first to his feet this time, dragging Destiny up.  He
grabs the injured arm, throwing Destiny to the buckles and immediately
charging in after him...

...where he SMASHES chestfirst into the corner as Destiny sidesteps. 
The Las Vegas native promptly hooks an inverted facelock, dragging Pure
X to the middle of the ring, and flipping him over to his stomach,
sitting down on the small of the back!]

GM:  DESTINY STRANGLE!!  DESTINY STRANGLE!!


"ONE MINUTE REMAINS!  SIXTY SECONDS!"


[The crowd suddenly ERUPTS as Hall of Famer Mark Langseth comes tearing
down the aisle!]

GM:  What the-?!

BW:  He must have been waiting just beyond the curtain for this moment,
Gordo!  There's no WAY he wasn't waiting!

GM:  Langseth's charging down here and-

[Langseth immediately tries to dive under the ropes upon getting to the
ring but the referee cuts him off.]

GM:  He cuts off Langseth!  The ref won't let him in and-

[Langseth is screaming into the ring at Pure X.]

GM:  He's telling Pure X to quit!  He's BEGGING him to quit, Bucky! 
What in the world is going on with-

[Seeing no response from Pure X to indicate he's about to submit,
Langseth frantically looks around ringside.]

GM:  What is he doing?  What is Mark Langseth going to-

[And without warning, Langseth dashes to the ringside table, picking up
a white towel off it...]

GM:  He's got a- no!

[The Hall of Famer immediately gets up on the apron and flings the white
towel into the ring where it falls on the mat just in front of Destiny
and a trapped Pure X.  The referee looks at the towel, looks at
Langseth, and looks at Pure X...

...and then calls for the bell!]


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[The crowd deflates as Destiny springs up to his feet, just as Mark
Langseth tears into the ring, fists at the ready.  The former World
Champion seems ready to strike at any moment as a smirking Destiny backs
away, stepping through the ropes and out to the apron.]

MC:  Here is your winner... SHAAAAAANE DESTINY!

[Destiny throws both arms up in the air as Langseth drops down on a
knee, placing a hand on Pure X's shoulder as the referee kneels on the
other side, checking on the young competitor.]

GM:  That Destiny Strangle... that damn Destiny Strangle, Bucky.

BW:  Shane Destiny has brought back the kind of weapon that can lead
someone straight to the National Championship, Gordo.  The Destiny
Strangle could pave the way to gold.

GM:  If it paves his path in anything, it'll be in broken bones and
careers.  It took Mark Langseth OUT of this match tonight and what in
the world has it just done to Pure X.  We need to get some help out here
for this kid, I think, Bucky.

BW:  He still hasn't moved.

GM:  He wasn't going to quit.  He refused to quit.  Langseth threw in
the towel on his behalf but that was the ONLY way that Destiny was going
to win with that Strangle.

BW:  I don't believe that for a second, Gordo.  If Pure X didn't quit,
Destiny would have broken him in half.

GM:  I guess we'll never know.  Fans, the medical team is on their way
out to the ring.  We need to take a quick break but we'll be right back
with more of The Main Event!

[The camera holds on the ring where Mark Langseth is staring down at
Pure X, surrounded by medical team members as we fade to black.

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

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

And the FIRST AWA NATIONAL CHAMPION...

MAAAAAARRRRCUS BROUUUUUSSARRRRRRD!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Memorial Day Mayhem is coming.

But what will this year bring?"

[The logo and voice fade out together.

And then we fade back up to live action where we find Gordon and Bucky
standing on the announce platform.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans... during the break, the medical team and Mark
Langseth were able to get Pure X up to his feet and out of the ring.  He
looked... well, he looked shaken up, Bucky.

BW:  Absolutely.  The Destiny Strangle takes a ton out of you no matter
what.  The kid's lucky he can even walk at this point, Gordo.

GM:  I'd have to agree.  We'll try to get an update on his condition
before we go off the air here tonight but right now, we've got more
business to take care of.  And at this time, please welcome my guest,
Eric Preston!

[“Show Me How To Live” by Audioslave plays as Preston ducks into the
WKIK Studios, dressed in black slacks and a light blue pullover. He
raises his left hand to the crowd to acknowledge them and them walks
over to the announce position, where Gordon and Bucky await.]

GM: Eric, you look like you’ve got something on your mind.

EP: Then I must be a lousy poker player, because I certainly do have
something on my mind. These past few weeks Gordon, we have ALL had to
listen and watch as James Monosso has come out here and cried the blues.
About being committed, about living with the rats, about how bad his
life is and how it’s everyone’s fault but his own. I would never wish
that on anyone, and I would never make light of something like that.

But I’ve had just about enough of hearing how James Monosso is living in
some nightmare because I stopped him from claiming the bounty. I’m sick
and tired of hearing how it’s my fault that James Monosso can’t afford a
hotel room because I did my job better than he did. We were ALL looking
to get rich quick, brother, it was chaos everywhere you looked. He’s not
the only one who came up a few dollars short at the end of the day,
Gordon, he wasn’t the only one looking to make an easy grand.

He’s just the only one blaming other people because he couldn’t get the
job done.

[Preston shakes his head, clearly perturbed.]

EP: And I’ll tell you another thing, Gordon, James Monosso was way, way,
WAY over the line in what he said earlier tonight.

GM: I was just about to ask you about that.

EP: I’m not here to tell people what to think or what to feel, and Lord
knows I’ve known some people through out my life who have seen horrible
things in combat, but it comes down to making a choice, Gordon. People
join the military, or don’t join the military, or join the AWA Combat
Corner by making a conscious decision to do so. People are responsible
for the choices they make. That’s the bottom line.

James Monosso, just because you’ve made every wrong choice a man can
make, don’t come out here on TV and run down the men and women who fight
for your ability to make those choices. Don’t come out here on TV and
blame every other person but YOURSELF for the situation you’ve put
yourself in. And don’t ever, don’t EVER come out here on television and
threaten my family with what you’re going to do to me.

If you’ve got a threat to make, if you’re gonna break my legs and turn
my face into raw meat, then tell me to my face. Come on out here and say
where I can look you right in the eye.

[Preston turns to Bucky and holds his hand out, motioning for Bucky to
give him something.]

EP: Your problem, James, is that you’re the kind of guy who says angry
words and then hides behind them. It takes a special kind of coward to
drag our military’s name through the mud. It takes a real tough customer
to run through the crowd swinging at people who put down their hard
earned money to watch the AWA, people who are obviously not trained
professionals. You’re not as crazy as you want people to think Monosso,
I can tell that by the way you make sure no one is ever in the area to
call you on it before you go trying to intimidate people like Gordon and
the fans and the dang ring announcers.

Well I’ll calling you on it, brother. I’m signing this contract, right
here and right now for Memorial Day Mayhem.

[The fans applaud loudly as Eric holds the contract up.]

EP: I know people like you, Monosso, boy do I know people like you.
People like you can’t be reasoned with, they need to have things beaten
into their head. There’s no talking to people like you, just fighting.
And when you find yourself across the ring from me, and I’m beating it
through your thick skull one fist at a time that I’m NOT to blame for
your misfortunes in life, it’ll be the first time you’ve been right in
weeks. Because I _will_ be to blame for that beating you’re taking and
it will be my fault when you get taken down for the one, two, three.

[With that, Eric leans over and signs his name on the paper, then folds
it to give back to Bucky.]

EP: Monosso, I had nothing to do with your problems before Memorial
Mayhem, but I guarantee that I’ll be the cause of all of your problems
after. If you want a battle with me at Memorial Day Mayhem, you’ve got
it, but be careful what you wish for, James.

You’ve got no idea what I’m capable of.

[And with that, Preston storms out of view leaving Gordon and Bucky
behind.]

GM:  You heard the man.  Fans, w're about to go down to the ring for a
specially added attraction!  But before we do, please welcome a very
special guest to the broadcast position - AWA Combat Corner Head Trainer
Todd Michaelson!

[Michaelson steps up on the platform in a red and black Combat Corner
t-shirt and jeans.  He shakes hands with both men before slipping on a
spare headset.]

TM:  Hey guys... really happy to be out here and I'm really looking
forward to this match.

GM:  Let's go down to Melissa!

[Bouncing into the ring, while the two speak, is a fiery dressed masked
competitor, leaping over the top rope.  He jumps to the second
turnbuckle with a fist pump and a head nod.   The luchadore has an old
red outfit with swirling orange and yellows up and down the bodysuit.]

MC:  This next match is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute time
limit!  In the ring now, from Mexico... EL HIJO DEL FIERO!

[A few more cheers than most unknowns get.]

GM:  Another competitor from Mexico here in the ring and he seems quite
popular with the children.

[It's then that 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
245lbs...

"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.]

BW:  Well Todd... your kid here has _failed_ in every facet of his
career.  Came out for one good showing so far?  Wow, what a graduate!

TM:  Listen, we've barely seen what this kid can do.  He didn't come
from a professional wrestling career.  The camera, the glitz, the
glamour, that's all new to him.  With some experience, some TV time...
this kid, Aaron Anderson, is going to be big time.

BW:  But he's been a failure so far.

TM:  ...well, disappointing.

DING DING!

[The bell rung, it begins.  The second generation luchadore shocks
Anderson's hand shake attempt with an arm drag, taking the younger,
bigger man over in a roll.  Athletically, Anderson rolls right to his
feet, turning around.]

GM:  Anderson surprised there, but he is right up to his feet and into a
defensive stance.

TM:  It's his VAST amateur wrestling background kicking in.  It's go
time.

BW:  Going to the pay windah for his fifty bucks?

[El Hijo Del Fiero hits the ropes with a sprint, ducking an Anderson
clothesline, then a back elbow.  The All American attempts a hip toss,
but the luchadore flips out! POP!  He hits the ground running, crossing
perpendicular.  This time Anderson drops down... leap frogs... and
finally hits a big hip toss, sending the luchadore FLYYYYYYYING!]

GM:  Look at that athleticism AND power!  This is the Aaron Anderson you
were bragging about!

[Anderson stalks in, shooting low as Fiero gets up, ducking under and
shooting upwards!]

TM:  A BIG double leg takedown by Anderson... shoots the half!

[With barely a two, Fiero kicks out, trying to get away.  Anderson grabs
him, shifting to a rear waistlock and lifting...]

GM:  And another amateur style slam, taking Fiero's back, spinning out
and into a front facelock!

[From there he rolls, shifting as he does into a pin!]

GM:  ONE!  TWO!

[And Fiero, shocked and a bit frantic, kicks out, getting the ropes.]

TM:  And there's the lack of experience.  He let Fiero get near the
ropes and gave him a break.

BW:  So, Todd, is this where it all goes downhill?  Maybe he'll get all
sad and not show up again.

GM:  OH!  Eyepoke!

[The crowd's cheers for the luchadore turn to scattered boos as he juts
a thumb into the eye of Anderson, blinding the young competitor.  In
come the punches, reeling the bigger man and directing him to the
corner.]

GM:  El Hijo Del Fiero with an Irish whip...

[Or not.]

BW:  He's got the ropes, ref!  Come on, Todd!  What is this?

TM:  Power you haven't seen yet.

GM:  A kick by Fiero to the stomach... and another eye rake!  That will
take away some power.  Irish whip again... Anderson reverses!

[And Hijo doesn't hit the turnbuckles but instead leaps up to the second
and leaps backwards with a turn!]

GM:  FLYING BODY PRESS AND A COVER!  ONE!  TWO!

[With authority, Anderson kicks out, throwing Fiero off.  Immediately
the luchadore gets on him, kicking Anderson in the gut before laying a
dropkick into the face.]

TM:  And, again, and not to hark on it, Aaron Anderson is NOT a seasoned
vet.  I specifically made sure he got this match, against this style of
opponent to see what he can do.  To show him different styles of
wrestling.

[And it comes as EHdF hits the ropes and sprints back.  Anderson, at the
last minute catches him in a side slam position, Fiero spinning around
for a head scissors... only to be countered!]

GM:  BACKBREAKER!  What a counter!  WOW!  What a counter by The All
American to change this match RIGHT back into his favor!

[Shaking off the eye poke, Anderson grabs Fiero around the waist and...]

TM:  HUGE BELLY TO BELLY SUPLEX!

[And perfectly so!]

GM:  Here comes the cover!  ONE!  TWO!

[Fiero kicks out, through with drained ambition.]

TM:  Here comes the pwoer and size advantage right into full play.  You
can see Anderson going right back to his forte, using his wrestling
experience.  Just watch how he pops his hip with that suplex.

GM:  Anderson doing the right thing, pulling up Fiero and putting him
into the corner...

[Anderson turns around, firing up the crowd and charges in... into a
back elbow!]

BW:  Tide turner!

[Fiero quickly hops to the second again and leaps... landing right on
Anderson's shoulders!  Anderson, with a heave, throws Fiero right back
up into the air and onto his feet, grabbing him RIGHT into a
butterfly...]



"THUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"



GM:  BILLION DOLLAR BOMB!  ONE!  TWO!  THREE!


"DING DING DING!"


[THe crowd applauds for the win and the athletic finish to seal it up,
Anderson letting his hand he raised with a smile.]

MC:  Your winner...  "THE ALL AMERICAN" AARON ANDERSON!

TM:  Cat stole your tongue, Bucky?

BW:  We'll see if he even shows up next time.  I still have zero faith
in this kid, stud or not.

GM:  And Bucky, I believe you've got some business to attend to.

BW:  You've got that right, daddy!

[A "CLUNK!" is heard as Wilde gets up from the announce position,
heading towards the ring.]

GM:  Todd, I want to thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule
to come help us out here tonight.  It was a lot of fun and we should do
it again sometime.

TM:  I'm pretty busy in the Corner these days but I'll do what I can.  I
still want to keep an eye on Aaron and Eric - make sure the wrestling
world treats 'em right.

GM:  Well, they both seem to be doing pretty well so far.  But thanks
again, Todd, and... here we go... at this time, AWA fans, let's go up to
the ring for The Call Of The Wilde!

[Cut to the ring where Bucky Wilde is now standing, house mic in hand.]

BW:  Welcome to THE CALL OF THE WILDE!

[Pretty decent sized cheer for the two-time Announcer Of The Year.]

BW:  One year ago, in this building... in this time... I did the very
first Call Of The Wilde.  And when I did it, I promised that it would be
the place for the big announcements... the big scoops... the big
moments.  And right out of the gate, I delivered.  I introduced to the
world the biggest free agent signing in AWA history - Shane Destiny!

[Jeers for Destiny whose actions earlier in the night are still fresh.]

BW:  A couple months later, I did it again when I brought Kevin Slater
BACK to the AWA and got the scoop on The Man With The Money situation.

[More jeers.]

BW:  And then a few months after that, I broke perhaps the biggest news
of them all - the return of Hall of Famer Mark Langseth to professional
wrestling and the scoop that he was coming to the AWA to ply his trade!

[Big cheer!]

BW:  Which brings us to tonight.  Now, there's been a lot of speculation
that I'd dig up some former big name and reveal him to the world here
tonight.

[Bucky shakes his head.]

BW:  Not gonna happen.

There's been a lot of speculation that maybe I was returning to
managing!

[Bucky shakes his head.]

BW:  Not gonna happen.

There's been a lot of speculation that I was bringing someone back to
the AWA - someone like a Marcus Broussard or a Kolya Sudakov.

[Bucky shakes his head.]

BW:  Not gonna happen.

But what IS going to happen is that we've got some big news about the
AWA that the company wanted to announce tonight.  And they knew there
was only ONE place to do it, daddy... right here on The Call.

[Bucky pauses.]

BW:  Right now, please welcome to the ring... my guest for this edition
of The Call of The Wilde...

"THE OUTLAW" BOBBY TAYLOR!

["Big Gun" by AC/DC kicks in to a big cheer from the AWA faithful. 
After a moment, the Outlaw of Professional Wrestling, Bobby Taylor
emerges from the entrance.  He's clad in blue jeans, a black t-shirt
reading "Outlaw" and his trademark black Stetson.  He looks all business
as he makes his way down the aisle to the ring where he climbs the
steps, moving through the ropes into the ring where he shakes Bucky's
hand.]

BW:  Welcome, Bobby.

[A nod from Taylor is the only response Bucky gets.]

BW:  Now, there's a lot of stuff going on in the AWA... and I'm sure
some of the fans are wondering why you're out here.  But the fact is,
you work backstage for the AWA, right?

[Another curt nod.]

BW:  Let's get right to it then... there are tons of rumors about what
the AWA wants to announce tonight.  There's been a lot of talk that the
AWA is planning to run a show in the summer tour in a new area.  Perhaps
something in Florida?

[Taylor doesn't respond.]

BW:  Alright, alright.  I pushed things a bit there.  What about the
rumor that the Championship Committee is considering the creation of a
Television Title - a second singles title to be defended on WKIK on
every Saturday Night Wrestling?

[Still no response.]

BW:  No?  Okay.  Well, speaking of WKIK, I've heard that there have been
some top-level discussions between WKIK and the AWA over the crazy brawl
that broke loose about a month ago.  I hear that we may get KICKED OUT
of the WKIK Studios because of it!

[Wilde shoves the mic under Bobby's mouth and gets no response.]

BW:  Come on, Taylor.  Spill it!

[Still nothing.]

BW:  You're starting to get on my nerves now, son.  I brought you out
here to be my guest... I brought you out here to make headlines... I
brought you- look, okay, fine... here's an easy one... everyone knows
that Stephen Ross is one of the most unpopular men in the company and
he's slowly losing his mind.  I hear the Championship Committee wants
him gone.  True?

[Wilde thrusts the mic forward a little more aggressively this time...

...but gets no response.]

BW:  You know what, Taylor?  Forget it.  I don't care anymore.  This
isn't what I wanted to do here tonight and everyone watching this show
knows it.  My first guest stood me up and you're what I got.  And I...
forget it.  I'm out of here.

[Wilde spins to walk away...

...and has a black gloved hand grab his wrist.  Wilde's eyes go wide as
the crowd cheers.  Taylor slowly pulls the mic towards him.]

BT:  You made a mistake.

[Wilde looks confused.]

BT:  I'm not here tonight as an AWA official.

[Pause.]

BT:  I'm here... as the Outlaw.

[Big cheer!]

BT:  And as the Outlaw, I'm here for one reason.

[Dramatic pause.]

BT:  To challenge Kevin Slater to a match for Memorial Day Mayhem.

[HUGE CHEER!  Bucky suddenly finds his tongue again.]

BW:  After all this time?  After all these months?  I mean, you and
Slater... this has been building up since the AWA first opened!  The Man
With The Money... Luke Steele... Grant Stone... Shane... it all comes
down to this?

[Taylor slowly nods...

...and starts to walk away when suddenly a voice rings out.]

"Not so fast, Bobby."

[The fans explode in jeers as the camera cuts to just beyond the
entrance where the dastardly trio of Kevin Slater, Shane Taylor, and
Kandi Kane have just emerged.  Slater's got the mic in hand.]

KS:  You think it's that easy?

[Slater cracks a big grin.]

KS:  Bucky said it himself.  I came back to this company almost a year
ago with the express intent to get you in the ring.  Time and time
again, you denied that demand.

You tugged at the heartstrings.  You played with the facts.  You rewrote
your own history.

All in attempts to duck me.

[He puts his arm over Shane Taylor's shoulders.]

KS:  But now that your brother has seen the light... now that HE has
seen the error of YOUR ways...

Now you want your shot?

[Slater chuckles.]

KS:  Like I said, not so fast, Bobby.

[And with that, the trio starts to make their way down the aisle.]

GM:  Fans... this could get ugly in a hurry...

[Taylor gestures for Bucky to get out of the ring, tossing his Stetson
aside as his former best friend and his young brother approaches the
ring.]

KS:  Because the way I look at it, Bobby... it's not just me that
deserves a shot at you.

[Slater smirks, gesturing to Shane.]

KS:  It's him too!

[The crowd jeers as Shane Taylor looks a little surprised.]

KS:  So, again, the way I look at it, Bobby... is if you want your shot
at me... if you FINALLY want your shot at me...

You've gotta take HIM on too!

[The jeers pick up as Bobby Taylor looks a little surprised.  He slowly
raises the mic.]

BT:  Like I said before... I'm not here tonight as an AWA official.

[Taylor nods... then points at Slater.]

BT:  I'm also not here as your best friend.

[And then turns to point at Shane.]

BT:  Or your brother.

[Taylor jerks a thumb at himself.]

BT:  I'm here as the Outlaw.

And that means that if I have to drop the two-dollar whore over there on
her neck with an Outlaw's Curse...

[Big cheer!  Kandi Kane looks irate... but scared.]

BT:  And if I have to go find Maniac Jack again and bash a steel chair
over his head...

[Another big cheer!]

BT:  And if I have to go eye to eye with my brother, stare him dead in
the eye, and hit him with a CattleBuster that might put him in a
hospital bed for the rest of his life...

[Huge cheer!]

BT:  If I have to do all that to get to you...

[He points straight at Kevin Slater.]

BT:  ...and to END this once and for all... then that's exactly what I'm
prepared to do.

[The crowd cheers again.  Slater looks surprised but nods his head.]

KS:  Then it's a deal.

[Big cheer!]

KS:  IF... you can make it there...

[And with that, both Slater and Shane Taylor slide under the ropes into
the ring.  Slater rushes forward, eating a right hand from Bobby Taylor
who was ready for him...

...but it gives Shane Taylor time to tackle his brother around the legs,
toppling him down to the mat.  Slater quickly recovers and the two men
start stomping and kicking Bobby Taylor relentlessly.]

GM:  Oh, come on!  This isn't right!  This isn't-

[Without warning, Brent Maverick springs out of his seat in the front
row, charging with a headfirst dive under the bottom rope...

...and starts dishing out right hands to anyone who is standing,
knocking down Kevin Slater, knocking down Shane Taylor, and sending both
men scurrying from the ring!]

GM:  OH YEAH!  BRENT MAVERICK CLEARS THE RING!!

[Slater and Shane beat a retreat, Kandi in tow, back up the aisle as
Maverick helps Bobby to his feet.  Taylor nods his head at his new-found
savior and grabs the mic off the mat.]

BT:  You want a tag match?

[Taylor nods and spits on the canvas.]

BT:  You got one.

WE... will see you on Memorial Day.

[And Taylor spikes the mic on the canvas, leaning forward to shake the
hand of Brent Maverick to the roar of the crowd as Taylor and Maverick
stand tall in the middle of the ring.]

GM:  The Outlaw... and one-half of the Outlaws... together?!

[The camera holds on the ring for a bit longer on Taylor and Maverick
side by side before fading to black.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And now, it can be yours!"

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

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

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

...and then back up to Gordon and Bucky.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans... and what an exciting night of action it's
been here tonight for the AWA's Second Anniversary Show.  We've seen a
lot of great action, some surprises, and we've even found out a couple
of matches for our next big event, Memorial Day Mayhem, coming up in
just over two months' time.  But now... now we have a moment that we...
well, Bucky, I'm afraid it's a moment we wished we didn't have to
present.

BW:  Speak for yourself.

GM:  I will, I will.  Fans, it was all the way back in November at
SuperClash where we saw an Unsanctioned Match between Kentucky's Pride,
at the time the National Tag Team Champions, and the challengers Calisto
Dufresne and Adrian Freeman.  It was a match that many did not want to
see City Jack participate in as he has suffered from various injuries to
his eye over much of 2009.  But he took the match and... well, take a
look...

[We fade to footage marked "SUPERCLASH" where we see City Jack as he
throws Calisto Dufresne down to the mat and yanks him into a seated
position.  He slaps his elbow before dropping down to a knee...

...and SLAMS that elbow into the eye!]

GM:  Payback!  IS!  HELLLLLLL!

[With a roar, Jack raises the arm up, elbow pointed down and repeats the
blow... elbow to the eye... elbow to the eye... elbow to the eye...
elbow to the eye...]

GM:  IT'S EYE FOR AN EYE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RING AT SUPERCLASH!

BW:  You talk about Kentucky's Pride being old school... well, right now
City Jack is going Old Testament, daddy!

GM:  Another one!  And another!  And another!  And another!

[Dufresne's head rolls back limply, unable to defend himself as Dr. Bob
Ponavitch takes a lonnnnnng look from out on the floor...

...when suddenly a lunging Adrian Freeman breaks up the assault!]

GM:  Ohhh!

BW:  Adrian Freeman may have just saved Calisto Dufresne's career!

[With Jack stunned, Freeman dashes towards the ropes...

...only to have Tin Can Rust reach up and yank the top rope down,
sending Freeman toppling over the ropes and out to the barely-padded
concrete floor!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

[Jack gets to his feet slowly, looking out over the crowd.  Nodding his
head to their roars, he slaps his meaty forearm one more time as he
leans over to pull Calisto Dufresne back off his knees...]



"WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH!"



GM:  WHAT THE-?!

[The crowd ERUPTS in a stunned reaction as a giant fireball lights up
the Dallas Memorial Auditorium, sailing out of the hands of Calisto
Dufresne and squarely into the injured eye of City Jack!]

BW:  FIREBALL!  FIREBALL!

[City Jack collapses to the canvas SCREAMING in agony as he clutches at
his eye.  Seizing the moment, Dufresne dives atop Jack, quickly taking
the mount and in a flurry of motion, starts throwing everything he's got
at the eye - fists, hammerfists, elbows - anything that will land.

He's an absolute non-stop sea of activity as he continues to pound and
pummel his arch-rival.]

GM:  He burned him!  He burned City Jack and now-

BW:  And now he's beating the hell out of him, Gordo!  He's beating that
eye right out of his skull!

GM:  Jack's trying to cover up... Jack's trying to protect himself...
he's screaming in agony... my God, I can smell the burned flesh from
here and-


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[The crowd falls silent as the referee leaps up, waving his arms back
and forth.  A stunned Dufresne backs off, looking down in disbelief at
City Jack, fists still balled up and covered in City Jack's blood as we
fade back to live action.]

GM:  Absolutely shocking stuff.  Nearly five months later and I still
can't believe what we saw that night.  We haven't seen City Jack back in
the ring since that night... but tonight, he returns to the AWA to
address his fans.  The outpouring of support for Jack has been
tremendous.  Letters, e-mails, postcards, videos - all in support of
City Jack.  We've had SO many wrestlers inquire about taking advantage
of the AWA's Open Door policy to avenge City Jack.  But Jack's had none
of it.  Jack has begged the AWA to not allow it.  But tonight, City Jack
is here to address his fans... and... well, let's let the man do exactly
that and say exactly what he needs to say.

[The crowd stands as Chet Atkins' playing of "Classical Gas" sounds
throughout the place before City Jack steps through the entrance to a
huge round of cheers and applause. City Jack, dressed in a pair of jeans
and his usual "Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death" black T-shirt, looks
different than when we last saw him. He looks a little bit heavier than
his normal girthy self. Most noticeable, though, is the black eye patch
he wears over his right eye, with a puffiness still surrounding the
whole area, still showing signs of the heinous attack months ago.

But probably most important is that his normally jovial outlook is gone,
replaced by an almost wistful and sorrowful look. Jack stands around the
entrance way, looking on as the crowd continues to cheer for him. Jack
squeezes out a mild smile before slowly walking down the aisle, taking
each step as an opportunity to shake the hands of the fans he pass -
each and every one.

Obviously, it takes a while as City Jack makes his way down to the ring
area and then walking around ringside, greeting every fan he passes.
After being handed a mic, Jack walks up the ring steps and climbs into
the ring. The crowd once again sounds out a loud pop as Jack gets to the
center of the ring.]

CJ: I...


"CIT-Y JACK! CIT-Y JACK! CIT-Y JACK!

"CIT-Y JACK! CIT-Y JACK! CIT-Y JACK!

"CIT-Y JACK! CIT-Y JACK! CIT-Y JACK!"


CJ: Thank ya... Thank ya'll. My friends, thank ya'll...

[The crowd continues their cheers, now a mix of different chants &
cheers. City Jack steps back, looking around and nodding to the fans. He
brings up his arm to starts to wave the fans down.]

CJ: Thank ya and... And as much as I do appreciate the largest of you
all's wonderful greetin's, I ain't here for nothin'. I gotta...

[Jack pauses as the crowd quiets down.]

CJ: I got somethin' that's been rackin' my mind ever since that fateful
day in November... and I...

[City Jack pauses, shaking his head as he rubs at his chin.]

CJ: Gotta realize sometimes in one's life, you gotta... You gotta know
when's the right time to pull it up and... And Just be alright with what
ya got. Just be pleased for a good time, a good run in life, and... and
move on.

[The crowd really quiets down as they see City Jack, remorseful,
continue on.]

CJ: I've been a blessed man. I've had the time o' my life inside and
around these ring ropes. I've done everything I could think of doin' and
then some. A big ol' sob like me, from Liberty, Kentucky, doin' all that
I've done?

[Jack shakes his head.]

CJ: Shoot, I can't even think of better than all that! And I can... I
can proudly say that I... I never had a day I done regret. I never had a
thing I'll wish I had done better cause I've always done it all right...

[City Jack nods as he rubs his nose.]

CJ: So to my fans, from when I started out all way down in Liberty, to
Laredo, to the Grande Isle, to the Carolinas, all the to California,
down all over this here great country, and finally here to Dallas, Texas
-

[The fans roar for Jack & their city.]

CJ: My time in the ring's got me to see all things and meet all sorts of
wonderful people. Friends not only in locker room, but many of you good
hearted fans out there too. My...

[Jack, eyes reddening, lets out a deep sigh.]

CJ: My thanks... To here in the AWA, I want to thank most of them good
men in the back - all ya'll, includin' Dave, Eric, tough ol' son of guns
Soup Bone and Wolfman, my big brother in blubber Sweet Daddy, and
especially my good friend Tin Can Rust.

[The crowd pops for some of the AWA fan favorites mentioned.]

CJ: Hugh, we done run good and I gotta to say sorry I couldn't have kept
it all goin' with the titles... I let ya down, and I'm sorry for it. But
please, whatever ya do from now on in, just be acceptin' of what fate
brings ya.

[City Jack pauses, looking around at the fans as his eyes water a bit.]

CJ: Now... Now...

[Jack again looks around as the fans start to applaud.]

CJ: This here is the hardest part... Hardest danggon part of it all...

[Jack tries to hold back his emotions, realizing that this is the last
time.]

CJ: I done always feared this time... I gotta... Last few feet on my
road of this here career and... I guess... I guess this here is goodb-

[Of course.  The WKIK Studios are suddenly deafened by the opening
guitar riffs of ZZ Top's "Sharp Dressed Man" and the boos begin to rain
down.  This man has been booed a time or two, but never like this.
"Ladykiller" Calisto Dufresne emerges from the entrance portal, clad in
a very crisp Christian Dior suit.  His blonde hair is pulled back into a
tight pony tail, revealing every inch of the cocky look plastered across
his face.  His tag team championship is wrapped around his waist and he
has a microphone in hand.  He pauses a moment as the music dies down,
reveling in the jeers coming his direction from the AWA faithful.  He
finally looks towards the ring and begins to speak.]

CD: Well, well, well.  What is it they say about a bad penny?  It always
seems to turn up.  And since that's about all your career has been
worth, it seems fitting.

[The boos intensify as Dufresne begins to walk towards the ring.]

CD: I heard that you were going to be here this week.  Wasn't quite sure
how you were going to make it here without some sort of seeing eye dog,
but that's what you have ole Rust for, right?  At least now you'll get a
handicapped placard for your trailer.

[Dufresne reaches the ring and begins to climb up the ringsteps.]

CD: You've got nothing to worry about, Jack, don't look so concerned. 
If I wanted to, I could have the whole Southern Syndicate out here to
ground you into dust.  Not that you'd see them coming, but...

[The Ladykiller climbs into the ring as Jack stares at him stoically. 
Dufresne's smirk disappears as he comes face to face with City Jack.]

CD: You knew this day would come, didn't you?  I know I certainly did. 
Since the moment you and I first locked eyes on each other in Los
Angeles, I knew that if you pressed the issue, that I'd send you packing
out of this sport.  And you were too _stupid_ to leave well enough alone
and look where it's left you.

[Dufresne looks Jack up and down, a look of disgust on his face.  The
boos continue on relentlessly.]

CD: It's nothing to be ashamed of, mind you.  Getting beat from pillar
to post by the greatest thing this industry has ever seen is probably
not what you had dreamed about growing up, but your mother didn't dream
of having a fat slob for a son who would end up making nothing out of
himself except to grow old as a cyclops.

[If Dufresne thought he could rattle Jack's cage, it's not working. 
Jack merely stares at him.  As a result, Dufresne's look softens a bit
as he tries a different approach.]

CD: Look, Jack.  I don't mean to come out here and kick a man while he's
down.  Calisto Dufresne would never do a thing like that.  I know you
don't owe me or my legions of fans anything after being thoroughly
destroyed by yours truly, but I came out here to ask you one thing.  One
last favor from one gladiator to another.

[A pause as Dufresne looks quite serious as the fans await the request.]

CD: Just admit I'm the better man.

[The boos come down yet again as City Jack breaks his silence.]

CJ: Now, no...

[City Jack shakes his head as he puts his right arm up.]

CJ: This ain't the time no more... You won, Ca-list-o Dufresne...

[Jack, eyes still tearing, gets a shot of anger running through him.]

CJ: I'll admit that - you won, damnit! You never did become the better
man, but you sure won... You and your dirty, yellow-striped deeds got me
out this here ring and got me from what I done loved, for good!

[Jack, with tears streaming down his plump face, steps back.]

CJ: I don't know how you can be proud of it and certainly no REAL man
would ever take it like the trophy ya done did! Sure, ya won, but you
were and always will be one lowly, lowly pitiful boy while I know I'm
quite proud of who I am...

[City Jack pauses, looking disgusted now by the whole thing.]

CJ: You put this here ol' sob of a horse out of the ring for good, so
just let me go on by now... I ain't got nothin' more for a boy like you
and I sure on don't ever what's left of my sight wasted lookin' upon ya!

[At this point, City Jack turns to make his exit, walking across the
ring towards the ringsteps...

...only to have Calisto Dufresne step directly in his path.]

CD:  I don't think so.  You're not getting out of here that easy.

[Jack tries to sidestep...

...but Dufresne matches his step, blocking the exit.]

CD:  You don't leave this ring.  You don't leave this company.  You
don't leave this business until you admit I'm the better man.

[Jack shakes his head vehemately.]

CD:  No?  You're saying no to me?

[Dufresne jabs a finger into his chest.]

CD:  ADMIT IT!  ADMIT THAT I'M THE BETTER MAN!

[Jack shakes his head again, lifting his arms to beg off.  But Dufresne
jabs him in the chest again.]

CD:  SAY IT!!  SAY IT, YOU SON OF A-

[Jack throws both raised hands forward, shoving Dufresne aside as he
tries to make his exit...

...and gets DRILLED with a well-aimed right hand directly to the
eyepatch!]



"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"



[The crowd's shocked silence is short-lived as Tin Can Rust comes
barreling down the aisle from the locker room.]

GM:  RUST!  GET IN THERE, RUST!

[The former National Tag Team Champion hits the ring like a house of
fire, throwing rights and lefts all over Dufresne who is backing away,
trying to defend himself but being completely overwhelmed by the
outraged Tin Can Rust!]

GM:  GET 'IM, RUST!!  I can't believe what we-  get some help out here!

[City Jack is rolling back and forth on the mat, screaming in pain as he
covers up his injured eye.  On the other side of the ring, Rust has
Dufresne back in the corner and is throwing hooking rights and lefts
into the ribcage of a stunned Dufresne...

...but help quickly arrives as Adrian Freeman comes barreling down the
aisle to the ring, diving under the bottom rope, and sprinting across
the ring where he floors Tin Can Rust with a forearm to the back of the
head.  The jeers intensify as the National Tag Team Champions batter Tin
Can Rust with rights and lefts.]

GM:  This is terrible!  We need some- where is security?!

[Dragging Rust out of the corner, Dufresne hooks Rust in a front
facelock...

...and hoists him horizontal to the mat, SPIKING him skullfirst into the
mat with a Wham Bam Thank You Ma'am!]

GM:  Gahhh!

[Freeman rolls Rust out of the ring to the floor, pushing him out as
Dufresne gets back to his feet...

...and gets blindly tackled by City Jack!]

GM:  YES!  YES!  YES!

[The blinded Jack throws wild rights and lefts at the man who put him on
the shelf and just levelled his partner.]

GM:  JACK'S ALL OVER HIM!!  GET HIM, JACK!

[City Jack continues to throw heavy fists on a shocked Dufresne...

...but a running knee to the back from Freeman knocks Jack off the
downed Dufresne.  Freeman drags Jack off the downed Dufresne, stomping
and kicking him down to the mat!]

GM:  Freeman's all over Jack now too!  I... I can't believe this but I
just received word that Rough N Ready, Samson, and Sweet Daddy are
outside of the building escorting Brent Maverick out of the building! 
He violated the Lockdown when he jumped the railing and-

[Finally, Freeman and Dufresne back away from the downed City Jack,
slowly making their exit.]

GM:  Finally... thank heavens for this... they're walking away and- and
here comes Dr. Ponavitch.

[Dr. Bob Ponavitch gets up from his ringside position, sliding under the
ropes to check on the downed City Jack.  The doctor tries to get Jack to
stop struggling, trying to hold his arms down.]

GM:  We need our medical team out here NOW!  Get them here as quickly as
possible.  If anyone in the back can hear me, we need to get-

[Suddenly, Dufresne breaks away from Freeman, charging back to the ring
where he dives back under the ropes, shoving Ponavitch aside and
dropping to his knees.  Savagely, he rips the eyepatch right off the
injured City Jack, grabbing him by the head where he starts driving his
elbow down into the eye over and over and over!]

GM:  NO!!  NO!!  SOMEBODY STOP HIM!!

[The crowd is roaring, almost riotous as Dufresne continues to pummel
the injured eye.  With a white-hot rage, he digs his fingers into the
eye area itself, ripping and gouging as the crowd roars on its feet with
a fury.]

GM:  We've got - we've got a problem here.

[A wide shot of the arena shows the barricade surging forward on several
sides of the ring.  A particularly rabid fan leaps over the barricade,
heading for the ring...

...but a stiff right hand from Adrian Freeman cuts him off.  The
Australian puts the boots to the fan as a pair of AWA officials swarm
the scene, trying to yank Freeman off the downed fan!]

GM:  We need to get security... medical help... my God...

[The elbows continues to rain down on the injured eye - every once in a
while broken up by Dufresne clawing at the eye, trying to rip the
eyeball out of City Jack's very head...

...when suddenly the crowd EXPLODES in cheers!]

GM:  SECURITY!!

[Rough N Ready, Sweet Daddy Williams, and Soup Bone Samson come tearing
down the aisle.  Dave Cooper's in the lead by quite a bit, sliding
headfirst under the ropes...

...and TACKLING Dufresne clear off his feet, throwing furied right hands
at the Ladykiller!]

GM:  COOPER GOT HIM!!  TEAR HIS- COME ON, DAVE!!

[Dave Cooper is relentlessly battering Dufresne when Freeman reaches
under the ropes, grabbing the Ladykiller by the foot and dragging him
out of the ring to the floor.  A swarm of AWA security follows closely
behind, grabbing Dufresne and Freeman and surrounding them in a circle
as they attempt to get them out of the building.  A second fan hurdles
the barricade, charging the security who quickly knock him aside, trying
to subdue him.  Trash and water bottles sail through the air, bouncing
down all over and around the National Tag Team Champions.

As they drag the champions into the aisleway, a line of security on both
sides of the aisle form up, escorting them down the aisle as fans batter
security from both sides, desperately trying to get at the Ladykiller
and Freeman.  Dufresne's face is still etched with rage, glaring
backwards towards the ring where City Jack is being subdued by Eric
Matthew Somers and Soup Bone Samson as Sweet Daddy Williams is SCREAMING
for medical help.  Dr. Bob Ponavitch is immediately back in the ring,
covering City Jack's head with his jacket... as we fade to black.

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then come back to live action in the locker room area where we
see a waiting ambulance, sirens flashing with Jason Dane standing
nearby.  The scene is eerily similar to five months ago, as Tin Can Rust
watches his good friend City Jack get wheeled out of the arena and into
an ambulance once again. Rust, with a look of a man bordering on
breaking down, shakes his head in disbelief at what he's seeing.

Rust steps forward towards the ambulance as the EMTs prep and talk to
City Jack, who's still in a daze. With Rust continuing to stand there,
the camera pans around to Dane, who stands next to Dr. Bob Ponavitch.]

JD:  Dr. Ponavitch, what did we just witness? How is City Jack? How is
the eye?

[The doctor sighs, shaking his head.]

DBP: It's not good, Jason. The eye - Jack couldn't make out anything in
front of him there. It looks like with the past history he's had, he...

JD: Are you saying City Jack's lost sight out of his right eye?

[The doctor nods before pushing his way past Dane.]

DBP: I'm sorry, but I can't talk now - I'll be sure to answer any
questions you have in a few hours, but now I have to get to the
hospital.

[The doctor rushes past a silent Tin Can Rust and hops into the
ambulance as the siren starts up. The camera shows Rust standing still,
looking on as the doors close on City Jack and the ambulance drives out
of the lot.]

JD: Uh... Tin Can Rust?

[Rust doesn't verbally respond, but rather turns, his normally grim face
with a look of sadness, confusion and anger.]

JD: Rust?

[Tin Can just shuts down, his shoulders slumping.]

TCR: I...

[Rust doesn't bother to finish his thought, instead just walks away, his
hands held to his head as he tries to comprehend what's just happened.]

JD:  Fans, I...

[Dane shrugs.]

JD:  I don't really know what to say.  Let's... uhh... let's go back to
Gordon and Bucky.

[We cut back to the elevated announce position where Gordon and Bucky
both look stunned at what we just saw.]

GM:  Fans...

[Gordon pauses, shaking his head.]

GM:  What we just witnessed is without a doubt, the single most
reprehensible thing I've ever seen done in a wrestling ring.  There
is... there is no place in our business for anything like that.  I am of
the opinion that Calisto Dufresne should be fined... he should be
suspended... he should be barred from wrestling forever.  Bucky, even
you can't defend what we just saw.

BW:  I... well, I can't defend it, no.  If Dufresne wants to finish off
City Jack, he should do it inside the ring.  He should do it inside the
squared circle.  This... well, that wasn't right.  I don't like City
Jack.  I'm not a City Jack fan.  But that crossed the line.

GM:  Our security team is still trying to restore order here inside the
arena.  It... well, it got very interesting there for a while with the
crowd.  They were upset and rightfully so and... well, we're going to
take another break and then come right back for the Main Event.  Don't
go away.

[The camera holds for a moment on the still-stunned face of Gordon Myers
before fading to black.

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

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

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

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

JD:  Hello, Mr. iPhone.

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

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

JD:  Well, actually I did.

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

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

[Thankfully, a voiceover starts.]

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

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

[Fade back to black...

...and then back up to a chubby caucasian man smiling broadly.  His face
glistens with a fine sheen of sweat that seems to ooze out of every pore
like some sort of oil.]

"Greetings to one and all!  My name is Percy Childes, Collector of
Oddities and wrestling manager extraordinare...and today I introduce you
to the future of wrestling in AWA...today you get to learn about the
Walking Enigma...the Silent Assassain...the Originator of Violence
himself!

Now many of you are asking yourselves: Who is Nenshou?

A fair question to be sure...and one that can best be answered by me in
saying: He's a myth!  A ghost!  An avatar of destruction!  He is martial
prowess made flesh.  Simply put he is the single most dangerous man to
ever step foot in a wrestling ring in Japan...and now he's on his way
here."

[That same sickeningly smug smile spreads across his sanctimonious face
as Childes continues.]

"I thought about hiding his debut date...shrouding him in even more
mystery...but then I decided that it would be roundly unfair to the
sacrificial lambs down there in Texas to unleash a horror like Nenshou
on them without any warning.

So get ready.  Make out your wills.

Upgrade your medical insurance.

Nenshou will be here...soon."

[And we fade back to live action with Gordon and Bucky at ringside.]

GM:  Well, fans... it's been an exciting... and shocking... night of
action so far and we've still got our Main Event to come.  Juan Vasquez
gets a second chance to take on Stevie Scott with the AWA National Title
on the line.  He couldn't get the job done at SuperClash but tonight...
will tonight be a different story?

BW:  You heard Ben Waterson say it earlier tonight.  Vasquez had ALL the
odds in his favor at SuperClash... he had ALL the cards stacked in his
favor... and he STILL couldn't get the job done.  There is zero chance
that Juan Vasquez walks out of here tonight with the National Title in
my estimation.

GM:  We shall see about that.  Our broadcast colleagues are standing by
with both champion and challenger right now so let's listen in just
moments before this big title match.

[And backstage we go with Jason Dane and "Hotshot" Stevie Scott, no sign
of Ben Waterson anywhere.  Stevie's ready to go in his ring attire,
holding the AWA National Title over his left shoulder, and still wearing
sunglasses.  Guess it's bright back there]

JD: Thanks, Gordon, I am indeed here with the AWA National Champion,
"Hotshot" Stevie Scott as he prepares for his rematch with Juan Vasquez
tonight two weeks after Stephen Ross surprised the world with the
announcement of this match.

[Stevie's face noticeably contorts with the mention of both those
names.]

HSS: Jason Dane, I don't know which name I'm more sick of...Juan Vasquez
or Stephen Ross.

On one hand, we've got Juan Vasquez, the man that's been chasing me for
months and has nothing to show for it but a lot of losses and generally
embarrassing moments at the hands of the Southern Syndicate.

On the other hand, we've got Stephen Ross, the man who makes the
decisions - and that's a term I use loosely - around here.  A man who,
time after time after time, has done everything within his power to take
this national title off my waist.

And, like Vasquez, he has failed miserably every time.

[Stevie cocks an arrogant half-grin.]

HSS: So now we come to tonight and the match that Ross set up two weeks
ago.

I could come out here and cry conspiracy, but I'm not going to. 
Everyone can already see what's going on, and I'd only be pointing out
the obvious so I'm not going to waste the airtime in doing that.

Instead, I'm only going to say that it's no surprise...to ANYONE...that
the odds are once again stacked in Juan Vasquez's favor tonight as he
challenges me again for the AWA National Title with a special enforcer
at ringside.

Ross...I don't know what your beef is with the Southern Syndicate for
making you more money than you ever dreamed of when you came to this
place.  I don't know if Vasquez has some photos of you that you don't
want made public.  I can't for the LIFE of me understand why you've got
a vendetta against Stevie Scott.

But what I DO know...is this.

[Stevie pauses, removing his sunglasses to stare at the camera.]

HSS: YOU, my friend, are walking a very thin line when it comes to
Stevie Scott and the Southern Syndicate.  Another step in the wrong
direction, and I don't care WHO you are or what position you hold around
here.

One more step in the wrong direction, and you've going to have to deal
with ME.

[Sunglasses back on.]

HSS: Now for you, Vasquez.  Once again, you've weaseled your way into a
title shot that you haven't earned and that you sure as hell don't
deserve.  But by the grace of Stephen Ross, here you are with another
chance to become the AWA National Champion.

I've just got one question for ya, big boy.

Why is tonight going to be any different?

[A pause to let it sink in.]

HSS: Why, Juan, will the outcome be better for you tonight?  You haven't
gotten the job done before...you won't be able to smash a large wooden
plaque over my head...so what makes you think that tonight's going to be
your night?

Let me save you the trouble.  It's NOT.

Just like every other time you've tried to get the best of me, Juan...in
the end, you're going to find out the exact...same...thing.

I AM the better man.

And there's not a damn thing you can do about it.

[And with that, we crossfade to another part of the building where we
find Mark Stegglet in front of an AWA backdrop.]

MS:  Tonight, perhaps the biggest rematch in AWA history occurs, as Juan
Vasquez challenges Stevie Scott for the AWA National Title one more
time! Right now... OH MY GOD!!!

[Suddenly, Stegglet's eyes open wide, as we see Juan Vasquez stepping
into view with a dented steel chair in hand!]


"NEVER USED A FOREIGN OBJECT!?!?! NEVER. USED. A FOREIGN OBJECT!?!?!
YOU'VE GOTTA' BE KIDDING ME!!!"


[Stegglet gets the hell out of Vasquez's way, as he begins to smash that
chair repeatedly into the ground.]


"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"


[Pause.]



"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"



[Juan stops and holds up the chair menacingly in his right hand. He
motions for Stegglet to come back into view. As Dane hesitantly does,
Juan pulls the microphone in Stegglet's hand closer to him.]

JV: Thanksgiving 2009. Raphael Rhodes smashes this very chair into Juan
Vasquez's face and changes AWA history forever. That sound familiar,
Waterson?

[Stegglet is still noticeably shell-shocked. Seeing this, Juan sighs and
gives him an apologetic pat on the back.]

JV: Sorry about that, Mark. But you don't even need to ask me what I'm
thinking right now...I think it's pretty clear what my feelings about
this match are.

[Juan tosses the chair aside.]

JV: When you place a bounty on a man's head, make him the target of
every money-grubbing lunatic in wrestling and torment him for months on
end...it changes him. When you force a man to fight for his life, when
back him into a corner, when you make him desperate...

[He pauses and narrows his eyes.]

JV: It makes him angry.

It makes him _mean._

[Juan closes his eyes and shakes his head. You can almost see that rage
inside him coming to the surface.]

JV: It twists and turns him inside into a kind of ugliness that you
can't even begin to imagine. It brings out something dark in his heart,
amigo...and when you do that to a man...you better be ready to live with
the consequences.

[An uncomfortable pause. The mood has definitely changed.]

JV: Ben Waterson...were ya' born yesterday? Did you really think I was
just gonna' lay down and die after everything you did to me?

[He shakes his head.]

JV: Oh nonono...Juan Vasquez doesn't lay down and die. Juan Vasquez
doesn't quit. Juan Vasquez...

...gets even.

[A savage, almost sadistic grin forms on Juan's face.]

JV: If I was gonna' suffer...if I was gonna' be put through hell...then
I was gonna' make sure I dragged every single last one of your boys to
hell with me.

[A chuckle as Juan points a finger at the camera.]

JV: But I spared *you*, Stevie Scott.

[He nods.]

JV: I kept the mercenaries away from you, champ. I kept a bounty off
your head...'cause I wanted you to see the monster that you and Waterson
created.

[Juan turns his head towards Mark Stegglet, he honestly looks like he
wants to run away about now. Juan smirks and turns his attention back to
the camera.]

JV: I didn't start this war, Stevie.

But tonight?

[A dead serious look appears on his face.]

JV: I'm sure as hell gonna' finish it.

[He doesn't even bother to acknowledge Stegglet as he usually does. Juan
simply walks off camera, leaving a sputtering Stegglet behind him.]

MS: Uh...wow...uh...b-back to you, guys....

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

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a sixty minute
time limit and it is for the AWA NATIONAL TITLE!

[Big cheer!]

MC:  Introducing first... he is the man who will serve tonight as the
OUTSIDE THE RING ENFORCER...

[The crowd buzzes with anticipation.]

MC:  He is a former AWA National Champion...

[Well, that only increases the anticipatory buzzing.]

MC:  FROM ATHENS, GEORGIA...

THE EAST COAST TERROR

RONNNNN HOUUUUUUUSTONNNN!

[The crowd EXPLODES into cheers as Beck's "Farewell Ride" kicks in over
the PA system.  After a moment, Ron Houston emerges from the locker room
area.]

GM:  RON HOUSTON RETURNS TO THE AWA!!

[Houston strides into view, buzzed hair cut with blond stubbled face. 
He's wearing a black t-shirt that reads "Madman" across the front with a
confederate flag across the back.  He's sporting jeans with black boots
as well and is all business as he walks down the aisle towards the
ring.]

GM:  Ron Houston is back AND he's the Enforcer!  And I can't think of a
better person to serve this role, Bucky!

BW:  What?!  Are you serious?!  This guy's got a motive to screw EITHER
of them over, Gordo!

GM:  What do you mean?

BW:  In case you've forgotten, it was Juan Vasquez' debut in the AWA
when he first met Ron Houston in the ring!  And don't even for a second
forget that the Southern Syndicate were the ones who put Houston on the
sidelines this time!

GM:  So, he hates them both equally?

BW:  Well... uhhh... ummm...

GM:  Right.  Couldn't be a better man to be that Enforcer tonight.

[Houston reaches the ring, taking up a spot at ringside as Melissa
continues.]

MC:  And now, first, the challenger...

[The lights in the Auditorium go out, as the opening horns of "They
Reminisce Over You" by Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth begins to play over the
PA system, bringing the crowd into a frenzy.]

MC:  He hails from Los Angeles, California...standing 6'2 and weighing
in at 238 pounds... he is the Number One Contender...

JUUUUUAAAAAAAANNNNNN

VAAASSSSSSQQQUUUUEEEZZZZ!!!!

[Vasquez bursts through the curtain to a huge roar from the AWA crowd. 
He's clad in his usual tracksuit style attire, jogging down the aisle as
he slaps the hands of the ringside fans.]

GM:  This could be Juan Vasquez' last chance to win the National Title,
Bucky.

BW:  I would say it IS his last opportunity, Gordo.

GM:  Juan Vasquez has fought since SuperClash - everything has been
about this moment.  Getting one more shot at the title.  Tonight, he's
got it, and we're about to find out exactly what he's going to do with
it.

[Vasquez climbs up the ringsteps, yanking off the entrance attire to
reveal his ring gear before stepping through the ropes.  With a tug of
the ropes, Vasquez does a little jog around the ring as the music starts
to fade out.]

MC:  And his opponent...

[The sweet sounds of Freddie Mercury's voice fills the air as the sounds
of Queen's "We Are The Champions" starts to play over the PA system.]

MC:  He hails from St. Louis, Missouri... standing 5'11 and weighing in
at 228 pounds... he is accompanied to the ring by his manager, Ben
Waterson... representing the Southern Syndicate... he is the AWA
National Champion...

"HOTSHOT" STEEEEEEEVIE SCOTT!

[As the music hits a crescendo in the first part of the song, "Hotshot"
Stevie Scott emerges from the locker room.  Clad in a blue and white
full-length robe glistening with jewels, he does a slow turn, revealing
"HOTSHOT" written in a scripty glittering font across the back.  He
steps forward and pauses, slowly spreading his arms...]

GM:  There is no lack of confidence in that man right there, the AWA
National Champion.

BW:  And rightfully so.  He is the best wrestler in the world and that
big gold belt proves it.

GM:  It does indeed but in just a few moments, he's going to have pull
out every thing he's got in his bag of tricks in order to remain the
National Champion.

[The Hotshot starts making his way down the aisle, Ben Waterson
following closely behind as they head towards the ring where Juan
Vasquez continues to pace back and forth in the middle of the ring. 
Reaching ringside, Scott looks up in the ring where a fired-up Vasquez
is waiting.  The champion slowly scales the ringsteps, walking along the
apron.  He gestures for the referee to open the ropes...

...but there's no time for that as Vasquez storms him, grabbing him
around the head and neck and throwing the champion over the ropes into
the ring!  Big cheer!  AWA Senior Official Michael Meekly reprimands
Vasquez - but then calls for the bell to start the match!]

GM:  HERE WE GO!  HERE WE GO!

[Vasquez yanks the champion to his feet by the hair, throwing wild right
hands to the head, knocking Stevie back to the buckles.  The challenger
swarms him, throwing rights and lefts as quickly as they'll fly.  The
barrage of blows soon knocks Scott down to a knee where a well-placed
kick catches the Hotshot right in the sternum, knocking the champion
back into the buckles where Vasquez starts raining down stomps on the
champion.  The  crowd is roaring for the challenger as he peels away for
a second, screaming...

...and then charges back in, throwing more stomps and kicks to the prone
form of the Hotshot.]

GM:  He's all over him!  He's all over the champion!  Vasquez is taking
it to him!

[Yanking Scott back to his feet, Vasquez grabs the wrist of the Hotshot
and whips him from corner to corner...

...and charges across the ring, blasting Scott across the chest with a
clothesline!]

GM:  Ohh!  Big running clothesline by Vasquez!

[Grabbing the arm, Vasquez fires him across the ring to the other corner
again.  Leaning back in the buckles, Vasquez lets loose a wild war cry
before sprinting across the ring...

...and leaps into the air, DRIVING his feet right into the chest of
Scott with a running dropkick!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

[Scott staggers out of the buckles, clutching his chest from the impact
of the dropkick...

...and gets floored with a headbutt right between the eyes, knocking the
champion down to the mat.]

GM:  Ohh!  Big headbutt!

BW:  That was about a 1.5 on the Raphael Rhodes scale, daddy!  It
might've floored the champ but Rhodes would have smiled and chopped him
in the throat.

GM:  Stevie's down on the mat - look at him!  He's crawling for his
life!

[The Hotshot certainly is, trying to escape from the ring...

...and Vasquez rushes forward, grabbing the robe from behind, tugging
and pulling on it.]

GM:  HE'S GOING FOR THE ROBE!!

[With Scott trying to flee, Vasquez is pulling and tugging, ripping and
tearing at the fancy robe.]

GM:  The Hotshot pulls himself free... rolling to the floor and leaving
the robe in Vasquez' hands...

BW:  Oh no.  Give that back, Gordo!

[Vasquez stands tall, robe in hands...

...and starts ripping it apart!  Big cheer!]

BW:  No, no, no!  Somebody stop him!

GM:  Haha!  I love it!  He's ripping that robe apart and-

[Outside the ring, Scott and Waterson are huddled up, completely irate
as they scream at Vasquez inside the ring.]

BW:  That robe costs $10,000, Gordo!  Vasquez owes the Southern
Syndicate $10,000!

GM:  I'm sure Juan will be happy to write them a check.

[With the fragments of the robe in his hands, Vasquez throws him down at
a completely-fuming Waterson and Scott.  Livid beyond imagination, Scott
gets back up on the apron, screaming and shouting at Vasquez who simply
walks over...

...and yanks Scott over the ropes using the hair!]

BW:  Hairpull!  Come on, ref!

GM:  The referee is reprimanding Vasquez for the hairpull but I'm not
sure it matters one bit.  The challenger is all over the champion once
again - rights and lefts across the ring, knocking Scott back into the
buckles...

[Grabbing the arm, Vasquez fires Scott across the ring...

...and sprints across at top speed, leaping into the air and SMASHING
both knees squarely into the chest of the Hotshot!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

[Vasquez backs up, winds up, and throws a big chop to the chest.]

GM:  Ohh!  Big chop by Vasquez!

[Winding up again, Vasquez lays into him with another chop.]

GM:  Another one!  He's chopping the skin right off the chest!

[Yanking Scott out of the corner, Vasquez throws forearm after forearm
down on the back of Scott's head and neck, doubling him up...

...and then charges back out, drilling Scott with a running kneelift
that sends Scott sailing through the ropes and out to the floor again! 
Big cheer as Vasquez pumps a fist in triumph!]

GM:  Vasquez clears him out again and-

[Vasquez grabs the top rope with both hands, slingshotting himself over
the top...

...and WIPES out Stevie Scott with a plancha!]

GM:  OHHHHHH!  WHAT A DIVE TO THE FLOOR!!

[The crowd roars as Vasquez climbs to his feet, pumping a fist in
triumph again as the AWA faithful cheers him on.  He drives a few stomps
down on the prone Scott.  Ben Waterson slinks around the ringpost,
looking to move in to help his man...

...but a stern glare from Vasquez with a raised fist stops him short.]


"Get the hell away or I'll kill you, you bastard!"


[The crowd roars for Vasquez' strong words.]

GM:  Whooooa.  Vasquez means business for sure here tonight, Bucky.

BW:  Of course he does.  He means business because he's fighting for the
greatest prize in our sport, Gordo.  He wants the AWA National Title in
the worst possible way.  All the stuff he's been through over the past
six months or so - it'll all be worth it if he wins the gold here
tonight at The Main Event.

[Out on the floor, Vasquez pulls the Hotshot up by the hair, shoving him
under the ropes into the ring.  The challenger climbs up on the ring
apron, ready to get back into the ring...

...when Ben Waterson rushes forward, grabbing Vasquez' leg!]

GM:  Oh, come on!  Come on!

BW:  Vasquez got caught!  He threatened Waterson and Waterson just don't
give a care, daddy!

[Seizing the moment, the Hotshot gets to the ropes, throwing rights and
lefts all over a stuck Vasquez who can't get free of Waterson.  The
blows seem to take effect, causing Vasquez to grab the ropes to stay up
on the apron...

...and a big cheer goes up as Ron Houston swings around the ringpost,
charging Waterson who lets go of Vasquez and making a run for it!]

GM:  Very close right there.  Very close.  Houston almost got his hands
at the weasel at ringside, Ben Waterson.

[Grabbing the top rope, Scott tugs it towards him, slingshotting Vasquez
over the ropes and down to the canvas!]

GM:  And the champion brings the challenger in the hard way.

[The Hotshot immediately goes to work on Vasquez, showing the fire in
his eyes as he stomps and kicks the challenger repeatedly down on the
canvas.  He drops down to the mat, wrapping his hands around the throat
of the challenger to the jeers of the crowd.]

GM:  That's a choke, referee!  That's a blatant choke!

BW:  The referee is there - the ref is calling for the break...

[Scott breaks the choke at four, battering Vasquez with right hands from
a kneeling position on the mat as the fans jeer wildly.]

GM:  These fans are letting the champion have it.  They're letting him
know exactly how they feel about him.

BW:  And I'm sure the champ couldn't care less.  He cares about the AWA
National Title and nothing else.  Stevie Scott will put EVERYTHING on
the line here tonight to keep that title around his waist.  He'll do
absolutely anything and everything to remain the champion here LIVE on
WKIK here tonight.

GM:  Speaking of which, we have gotten permission from WKIK, if
necessary, to stay beyond our two and a half hour time slot.  We thank
them for that and we will be right here with this match - without
commercial interruption - until this match is over, fans.

[Scott hauls the battered Vasquez up to his feet...

...and lights him up with a big knife-edge chop across the chest,
sending Vasquez spinning back into the corner.]

GM:  Good grief!  What a chop by the Hotshot!

[Moving in on the challenger, Scott turns his back to the ropes and
lights him up with yet another big chop to the chest, leaving a red welt
behind.]

GM:  Irish whip by Scott...

[And at the last moment, the Hotshot ducks his head, backdropping
Vasquez through the air, sending him crashing down to the canvas with a
massive backdrop!]

GM:  OHHH!  BIG BACK BODYDROP!!

[The challenger lies flat out on his back in the middle of the ring as
the Hotshot glares down at him... and then cracks a grin.  The National
Champion charges towards Vasquez, leaping into the air, and tucking his
legs up as he smashes backfirst down across the chest of the downed
Vasquez!]

GM:  I don't- have we ever seen that out of the Hotshot?

BW:  I don't think so, daddy!  Stevie drops the senton splash across the
downed Vasquez...

[Stevie rolls up to his feet, glaring down at Vasquez.]


"STEPHENS CAN KISS MY ASS, BABY!"


[The crowd jeers the Hotshot's verbal taunting.]

GM:  The champion with some pointed comments towards Juan Vasquez and
his use of that senton that we've often described as-

[Scott drops down in a lateral press, reaching back to hook a leg.]

GM:  First cover of the match!  ONE!!  TWO!!

[But the challenger is out of the pinning situation at two.  Scott
immediately straightens up, battering the downed Vasquez with rights and
lefts on the mat.  He reaches down, grabbing the hair of the
challenger...

...and SMASHES the back of Vasquez' head into the canvas!  He repeats
the process, driving the skull into the mat over and over as the crowd
jeers.  After three smashes, he releases and goes for another lateral
press.]

GM:  Another cover for one!  For two!  And that's all!

[An irate Scott gets back to his feet, reaching down to haul Vasquez up
to his feet.  He hoists Vasquez up for a bodyslam, leaning in to tie the
challenger to the Tree of Woe.  Scott throws kick after kick to the body
of the trapped Vasquez as the referee shouts at him to back off.]

GM:  Vasquez is trapped!  He's hanging upside down in the corner and-

[Suddenly, Ben Waterson hops up on the apron, shouting at the official
who moves over to get the Agent To The Stars down.  With the referee
distracted, the Hotshot steps up to the middle rope, smirking at the
crowd...

...and leaps off the ropes, smashing his elbow squarely into the groin
of Vasquez!]

GM:  Oh, come on!  What a cheapshot that was and-

[Waterson drops down off the apron, smirking as Scott flips Vasquez down
off the ropes to the mat, and then applies a lateral press, reaching
back to hook a leg.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!

[But Vasquez fires the shoulder off the mat at two again.]

GM:  Just a two count... even off the low blow, he couldn't score a
three count.

BW:  I'm not sure he really wanted one, Gordo.  The low blow was insult
to injury.  He was showing Vasquez that he can do whatever he wants out
there because he's got the greatest mind in our sport in his corner.

GM:  Stevie gets back up to a standing position... dragging Vasquez up
by the hair...

[The Hotshot wraps his arms around the waist of Vasquez, trying to bring
him up but the Number One Contender throws wild fists, trying to break
up the attempt...

...but up he goes and down he goes, right on the back of his head and
neck with a belly to back suplex!]

GM:  Ohh!  Stevie gives him the suplex anyways!  Juan was trying to
battle out of it but Stevie didn't give up for a second... hoisting him
up and bringing him down...

[The Hotshot looks like he's going for a lateral press.]

GM:  Cover by- oh, come on!

[But instead, Scott wraps his hands around the throat of Vasquez again,
strangling the air right out of him.]

GM:  He's choking him again, ref!  Come on!

[The referee protests wildly, ordering the Hotshot to break his choke. 
Stevie shakes his head back and forth, holding his ground as he digs his
fingers into the windpipe of his arch-enemy.]

GM:  The ref's counting... three... four... fiv-

[Stevie suddenly breaks the choke, holding his hands up for the referee
who reprimands him loudly.]

GM:  Very close, Bucky.

BW:  Stevie needs to be careful - actually, heck, what does he care? 
Get DQd!  He keeps the belt!

GM:  I think Stevie wants more than that tonight, Bucky.  I think Stevie
wants to beat Juan Vasquez in the middle of this ring and prove that he
can do it.  He wants to keep the belt, that's for sure, but he wants to
do it by beating Juan Vasquez once and for all.

BW:  He already beat him at SuperClash!

GM:  And we all know how he did it.  Raphael Rhodes, joining the
Southern Syndicate, hit Juan Vasquez with that steel chair - that's how
he did it, Bucky!

BW:  He won, didn't he?

[Suddenly, Stevie starts throwing big punches down at the prone Vasquez
again!]

GM:  Those are clenched fists!  Get in there, referee!

[After five or six big blows to the head, Scott drags Vasquez up to his
feet again, quickly applying a double underhook...

...and taking Vasquez up and over with a butterfly suplex, holding the
butterfly as they hit the mat!]

GM:  Nice execution on the suplex there and-

[The Hotshot kicks up off the mat, rolling over into a butterfly
submission hold.]

GM:  Oh!  Look at that!

BW:  Have you ever seen this from the Hotshot?

GM:  I don't recall seeing this before.  He's got those arms trapped,
pushing the arms towards another in a chickenwing-type maneuver, really
bending the arms back.

BW:  The referee needs to get down there and see if Juan wants to give
it up.

GM:  Stevie's yelling at him right now, telling him to do exactly that.

[The referee kneels down next to Vasquez, asking him if he wants to
submit but Juan shakes his head defiantly.]

GM:  Juan refuses to give up.  He's not going to submit the chance at
the title away.  He's just not going to do it, Bucky.

BW:  He may not have a choice!

GM:  Stevie's got that hold in pretty deep, working up to his feet
now...

[Dragging Vasquez back to his feet, the National Champion throws knees
to the head from this spot, trying to smash the skull of the challenger
with the blows.]

GM:  Some knees to the face and head from the champ.

BW:  And Gordo, I heard earlier tonight that if Stevie Scott retains the
title tonight, he will be officially the longest reigning National
Champion in AWA history.

GM:  And he'll be insufferable if that happens.  We'll never heard the
end of it.

[Breaking the double underhook, the champion grabs Juan by the hair and
throws him through the ropes and out to the floor.]

GM:  Ohh!  Down to the floor goes Vasquez!  What in the world is Stevie
Scott doing now, Bucky?

BW:  He's looking to do some damage out on the floor!

GM:  I can see that but why?  He's in control of the match right now. 
Why would he need to go out to the floor to do more damage?  The
champion's in total control!

[Scott drops down to the mat, rolling out to the floor under the ropes
where Vasquez is up to a knee, trying to get back to his feet.  Grabbing
the challenger by the arm, the Hotshot winds him back...

...and WHIPS him spinefirst into the steel barricade!]

GM:  OHHH!  Hard to the steel goes the challenger!

[With a grin towards his cheering manager, Scott slowly approaches
Vasquez, balling up his fist and driving it into the skull of the Number
One Contender, knocking him down to a knee.]


"You shut your mouth, fat boy!"


[The crowd jeers the Hotshot's words towards a fan in the front row
before he delivers another haymaker to the skull.  Grabbing a handful of
hair, Scott hauls Vasquez back to his feet, hooking him around the
waist.  He lifts him up into the air, pauses...

...and DROPS him groinfirst on the steel railing!]

GM:  OHHHHHH!

[The crowd grows even louder as the National Champion backs away,
smiling wide at Vasquez, crotched on the steel and clutching his nether
regions.]

GM:  That's gotta be grounds for a DQ!

BW:  The referee isn't calling for it.  Michael Meekly is not calling
for the DQ, Gordo!

GM:  He's certainly not but I can't imagine why not.  That's a blatant
violation of the rules.  It's gotta be worth a DQ!

BW:  Michael Meekly is the Senior Official of the AWA.  He knows what's
on the line here tonight.  He knows what's at stake.  Maybe he just
isn't going to throw this match away unless he absolutely has to, Gordo.

GM:  You could be right but a move like that can have a serious effect
on this match.

[The Hotshot rolls under the bottom rope, popping to his feet and
ordering Michael Meekly to count out Juan Vasquez.]

GM:  Perhaps we were wrong, Bucky.  Perhaps he'll take this win however
he can get it.  He wants the countout and he wants it now.

BW:  Why isn't Meekly counting?

[Michael Meekly seems to be protesting to Stevie Scott, shaking his head
as the National Champion continues to demand a countout.  Waterson
shouts for the same from outside the ring.]

GM:  And finally, Michael Meekly starts to count now.

[As the count hits three, Vasquez pushes himself off the railing,
falling down on the floor in a pile.  One hand is underneath him,
thankfully out of sight of the camera as Vasquez checks his condition,
edging closer to the ring.]

GM:  Vasquez is crawling towards the ring... Stevie just told the
referee to count faster...

BW:  This would be over if he'd been counting all along!

GM:  I don't know about that.  The count's up to six now... Juan still
trying to get there...

[A wincing Vasquez reaches up from the floor, using the apron to pull
himself to his feet at the count of seven... and then dragging himself
up on the apron, getting to his feet at eight...

...when suddenly, the National Champion rushes forward, grabbing Vasquez
by the head, and SLAMMING it into the nearest ringpost, sending Juan
falling off the apron to the floor!]

GM:  OHHH!

[Vasquez hits the floor in a heap, reaching up to grab his skull as
Stevie Scott backs away, ordering another countout attempt.]

GM:  And there you go... he wants that ten count again...

BW:  At least this time, Meekly started the count right away.

GM:  Michael Meekly, in my estimation, is doing a fine job in there of
officiating this championship matchup.  Vasquez is down... the champion
is up... and the Hotshot wants that ten count in the worst possible way.
 He wants to walk out of here with the National Title still around his
waist and if that happens, can ANYONE stop the Southern Syndicate?

[Outside the ring, Ben Waterson starts to edge closer to the downed
Vasquez...

...but is cut off by the approach of a surly-looking Ron Houston.]

GM:  Oh yeah!  Keep him back, Ron!

BW:  I still can't believe they dug up Houston to be the Enforcer out
there.  Why not just get Luke Kinsey out here and put everything in
Vasquez' favor?

GM:  A good idea.  Anyone got Kinsey's number?

[The count hits six as Vasquez reaches up to grab the ring apron,
pulling with all his strength to get back to a vertical base.  He
reaches his feet at seven, pulling on the ropes to roll in under the
bottom rope into the ring.]

GM:  In the ring at eight!

[An irate Hotshot rushes forward, stomping Vasquez into the canvas over
and over into the canvas.  Grabbing the top rope, he plants his boot on
Vasquez' throat, choking the air out of him to the jeers of the crowd
before finally breaking it.  He measures the challenger on the mat...

...and leaps up, driving his boot down on the skull with a leaping
headstomp!]

GM:  OHHH!

BW:  That's it!

GM:  He drives that stomp down right on the skull!  He DROVE Juan's face
into the mat!

[The Hotshot stands stoic over Vasquez, staring down at him for a long,
long moment as the crowd boos his every breath.  He looks up, glaring
out at the jeering crowd, and slowly nods his head.  He quickly reaches
down, grabbing Vasquez by the hair...

...and yanks him into a standing headscissors!]

GM:  HE HOOKS HIM!  HE'S GOING FOR THE PILEDRIVER!!

[The crowd buzzes with nervous energy as the Hotshot reaches down to
hook his arms around the torso of the Number One Contender.]

GM:  If he hits this, it's over!

BW:  If he hits this, Adam Rogers will have someone to commiserate with!

[But before Scott can hoist him off the mat, Vasquez straightens up,
backdropping the National Champion over the top and down to the canvas
with a big crash!]

GM:  Ohh!  He blocks the piledriver!

BW:  He felt it coming and he knew what it meant, daddy!  If Stevie
Scott hits that piledriver on ANYONE, the match is over and their career
just got some time taken off it.


"FIFTEEN MINUTES!  FIFTEEN MINUTES!  FIFTEEN MINUTES GONE BY!"


GM:  Fifteen minutes gone by in this sixty minute time limit.  And at
the rate these two are going, I don't see any way they could possibly go
sixty minutes, Bucky.

BW:  Maybe not but we all remember that sixty minute classic one year
ago between Marcus Broussard and Adam Rogers.  That one went the
distance on the first Anniversary Show so you just never know what's
gonna happen here in the AWA!

GM:  Vasquez on his feet... Stevie staggering up...

[And the National Champion gets POPPED with a right hand on the jaw!]

GM:  Oooh!

[The crowd "ooohs!" along with Vasquez as he throws right after right
after right to the skull of the Hotshot, sending the National Champion
backpedaling on back into the corner.  Grabbing the champion by the arm,
Vasquez fires him from corner to corner, moving quickly across the ring
to hop up to the middle rope...]

GM:  Vasquez on the midbuckle... fist reared up...

[With a "YEAAAAH!" to the crowd, Vasquez slams the fist down on the
temple of the champion.]


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


[The crowd is roaring as Vasquez hops down off the buckles, grabbing the
dazed Hotshot underneath the left arm...

...and HURLING him out of the corner and down to the mat with a
bone-rattling hiptoss!]

GM:  HIPTOSS OUT OF THE CORNER!!  He launched him with that one!

[Stevie hits the mat, rolling to his knees, hands raised to beg off as
he backs into the corner, Vasquez stalking him across the ring with fire
in his eyes.  Eventually, the Hotshot hits the buckles, still begging
off as Juan winds up...]


"WHAAAAAP!" "OHHHHHHH!"


[The crowd roars at the big chop connecting across the pectorals of
Stevie Scott!]

GM:  What a chop!

[Vasquez nods to the cheering crowd, winding up again...]

"WHAAAAAP!" "OHHHHHHH!"

"WHAAAAAP!" "OHHHHHHH!"

"WHAAAAAP!" "OHHHHHHH!"

"WHAAAAAP!" "OHHHHHHH!"

"WHAAAAAP!" "OHHHHHHH!"

"WHAAAAAP!" "OHHHHHHH!"

[The barrage of chops lights up the chest of the Hotshot, leaving a red
welt behind before he grabs the champion's wrist, going for an Irish
whip.]

GM:  Irish whi- reversed by the champion!

[And as Vasquez approaches the corner, he grabs the top rope, kipping
his feet up in the air with the intention of twisting around into a
sunset flip...

...but Stevie's seen this move before, having nearly been pinned by it
at SuperClash, and he's ready, racing forward to push up on Vasquez'
legs, shoving Vasquez over the ropes and out to the floor to a big crash
on the barely-padded concrete!]


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


GM:  MY STARS, HE HIT THE FLOOR INCREDIBLY HARD RIGHT THERE, FANS!

BW:  Stevie had it scouted!  Stevie knew what was coming!  How about
THAT for a ring general, daddy?  The Hotshot just showed the entire
wrestling world that he's a better technician than ANYONE has given him
credit for since he won the title back at Death Or Glory, Gordo!

GM:  It was a beautiful counter and Juan Vasquez is feeling the effects
of it out on the floor for sure.

[The camera cuts out to the floor where Vasquez is on his side, almost
in a fetal position as the crowd roars, trying to get him back to his
feet.]

GM:  These fans are solidly behind Juan Vasquez, trying to root him back
up to continue the fight and- what is Stevie Scott doing now?

[The National Champion grabs the referee by the arm, pointing to a
particularly unruly group of fans in the front row...

...and providing the perfect distraction for Ben Waterson to race around
the corner, stomping and kicking the downed Juan Vasquez on the floor.]

GM:  Referee, turn around!

BW:  Haha!  I love this.  Look at Waterson go to town on him!

GM:  Waterson is stomping him... stomping him into the floor...

[But the manager sprints for it when Ron Houston tears around the
corner, fist balled up and reared back, ready to throw a big bomb upside
the head of Waterson!]

GM:  And look how quickly Waterson gets out of there when Ron Houston
hits the area, fans!

BW:  Of course he does!  He's not an idiot!  Houston may be a big, dumb
brawling idiot but he's also a former National Champion who would take
Waterson out with one punch.

GM:  The National Champion walks over to the ropes, leaning over to grab
Vasquez who is trying to get back up on the apron...

[Scott quickly hooks the front facelock, slinging Vasquez' arm over his
neck, and hoists him up, bringing him crashing down hard to the canvas
with a vertical suplex!]

GM:  Big suplex brings him in the hard way and- there's a cover!

[Reaching back to hook the leg, Scott hangs on as the referee hits the
mat.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  TH-

[Vasquez fires a shoulder off the canvas before the three count comes
down.]

GM:  That was a close one there.  Juan Vasquez is quite obviously still
feeling the effects of going over the top rope and smashing down to the
floor like that.

BW:  Stevie needs to get him up and finish him off.  This is his chance.
 This is it right here and now.  The Hotshot's got him exactly where he
wants him to finish this thing off.

GM:  We're closing in on the twenty minute mark in this one and Stevie
Scott's got his eyes on the prize here.  He knows this is his window to
finish this off.

[The Hotshot angrily glares at the referee...

...and then wraps his hands around Vasquez' throat again!]

GM:  I'm getting sick and tired of seeing this chokehold, fans.  The
referee needs to do something about this.

BW:  This isn't what Stevie needs to do right now.  This isn't it.  He
needs to put his anger to the side and focus on finishing this guy off. 
Juan Vasquez is ripe for the picking to win this thing and the Hotshot
can't lose focus for a second.

[At the count of four, the Hotshot gets back off the mat, glaring at the
protesting official.  Shoving past him, Scott reaches down to drag his
challenger up by the hair.]

GM:  Both men back up... whip by the Hotshot...

[And as Vasquez rebounds, Scott catches him around the upper thighs,
falling back...

...and snapping Vasquez' windpipe right down on the top rope!]

GM:  OHHH!  HOT SHOT BY THE HOTSHOT!!

[Vasquez crumples back to the mat, hands at his throat as the National
Champion dives across him, reaching back with his right arm to hook the
leg.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE-

[The crowd EXPLODES in cheers as Vasquez fires the shoulder off the mat
in time!]

GM:  So close!  So very close right there!

[An irate Scott pushes up off his rival, grabbing him by the hair to
deliver a barrage of right hands to the skull with the referee screaming
at the champion all the while.  Shaking his head, the Hotshot drags
Vasquez up to his feet, firing him in with an Irish whip to the corner.]

GM:  Vasquez hits the buckles hard... here comes Stevie!

[The National Champion charges the corner, spinning to throw a back
elbow into the jaw of the challenger...

...who DIVES out of the way just in time!]

GM:  OHHH!  STEVIE HITS THE BUCKLES!!

[The champion slumps back against the corner, arms draped over the top
rope to stay on his feet.  Pumping his fist to the roars of the crowd,
Vasquez stumbles back in towards his hated rival, balling up that right
hand...

...and unloading with a right hand to the skull!]

GM:  What a shot!

[Vasquez throws another...

And another...

And another...

And another...

And another...

Soon, the right hand of Juan Vasquez is an absolute blur as he uncorks
haymaker after haymaker into the skull of Stevie Scott.  The champion
attempts to cover up as Vasquez switches to throwing clubbing forearms
with both his right and left arm, absolutely drowning the champion in a
torrent of a beating that ultimately knocks Stevie clear off his feet
and down into a seated position on the mat against the buckles.]

GM:  OH YEAH!!  HE LET HIM HAVE IT THERE!

BW:  Those were clenched fists, Gordo!  Where was your irate attitude
then?

GM:  He had it coming after all those chokeholds!

[With Stevie down, Vasquez grabs the top rope and throws a knee into the
face.]

GM:  Ohh!  Knee to the skull and- and another!  And another!

[Still gripping the rope, Juan throws knee after knee to the head and
face, again continuing the assault with Scott trying to raise his arms
to block the assault.  With the referee shouting at him, Juan ignores
the protests.]

GM:  And now it's Juan Vasquez who needs to be careful!  If he doesn't
back off, he could get DQd right here and now and-

[The crowd jeers wildly as referee Michael Meekly grabs Juan around the
waist, dragging him out of the corner and away from the champion. 
Meekly straightens up, putting his body between Vasquez and the corner
as he backs the challenger across the ring.]

GM:  Well, I don't agree with an official EVER putting his hands on a
wrestler but-

[But Vasquez shoves the referee aside, sprinting across the ring at top
speed and...

...DRIVING his knee squarely into the face of the National Champion!]


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


[Vasquez bounces back out of the corner, pumping both fists out to his
sides to the roar of the crowd.  He echoes their roar as he smashes his
arms into his chest in the middle of the ring!]

GM:  Juan Vasquez is pumped!  He may be experiencing a second wind now
and- oh my God!

[The camera cuts to Stevie Scott in the corner, a now-sizable stream of
blood pouring down his face.]

GM:  He's busted open!  The National Champion is busted wide open!

[Seeing the cut, Vasquez pounces on it, dragging Scott off the mat and
delivering a closed fist punch right to the cut, driving his knuckles
into it.  He keeps a hand tangled in Scott's hair, keeping him on his
feet as he drives his knuckles into the wound over and over, trying to
split the head open even more.]

GM:  Good grief, Bucky.  This is a savage side of Juan Vasquez we're
seeing here.

BW:  We've seen that side before, Gordo.  And as much as Juan Vasquez
would like you and these fans to believe it, we all know he's just not a
nice guy inside that ring.

GM:  I don't know about that.

BW:  I do.

[With Scott leaning against the ropes, clinging to them to stay on his
feet, Vasquez grabs his head with both hands, drawing it closer...

...and sinking his teeth into the cut forehead!]

GM:  AHHHH!  HE'S BITING HIM!  HE'S BITING HIM!!

[The referee immediately lunges in, warning Vasquez who releases the
hold, allowing Scott to stagger out...

...and spits a small amount of blood on the mat.]

GM:  Oh... my.  That was... well, fans, I would take this moment to
advise the parents at home to make sure your children are mature enough
to handle this situation.  If ever the phrase, "parental discretion is
advised" was appropriate, it's right now, fans.

[With Stevie leaning on the ropes, Vasquez fires him in the direction of
the ropes, catching him on the rebound around the head and neck!]

GM:  SLEEPERHOLD!

[The crowd ROARS as Vasquez locks in the sleeper, trying to cut off the
flow of blood to the head and render his opponent unconscious.]

GM:  Vasquez has that sleeper applied and he's got it in deep!

BW:  Stevie's gotta get out of this in a hurry or we're gonna have a new
champion, Gordo!

GM:  He's fighting it!  Trying to find a way out of it... trying to-

[Grabbing the top rope, Stevie pulls them towards it...

...and then pulls them clear over it, tumbling over the ropes and
crashing down to the floor, sorta landing on their feet and knees as
they hit the barely-padded concrete.]

GM:  Ohh!  Out to the floor but they landed on-

[Big cheer as Vasquez uncorks a right hand on Scott, sending a splatter
of blood on the ring apron.  Scott fires back with a haymaker of his
own, knocking Vasquez down to a knee.  Grabbing the back of Vasquez's
head, Scott smashes an overhead elbow down across the forehead.]

GM:  We've got a fight out on the floor!  Bucky, for once, I'm glad
we're not down there at ringside.

BW:  Me too.  These two are about to redecorate out there, move some
furniture around maybe...

GM:  Vasquez fires back with a right hand... and another... and
another...

[But the National Champion goes downstairs with a kneelift to the gut
that doubles up the challenger.  A clubbing double axehandle blow to the
back of the head knocks Vasquez down to the mat where a few well-placed
kicks to the ribs keeps him as the Hotshot heads for the ring apron.]

GM:  Stevie's coming back- no!  Juan grabs his leg!

[Stevie rolls to the side, lashing out with a kick to the head, trying
to break Juan's grip on him.]

GM:  These two are- wait a second!  The ref's count just hit seven!

[A second kick lands, breaking Juan's grip as Stevie throws himself
under the ropes at eight, frantically waving for the referee to keep
counting.  The ref counts nine as Vasquez grabs the bottom rope...

...and yanks hard on it, tugging himself under the ropes and into the
ring just before the ten count.]

GM:  Whew.  That was very, very close to a countout.  Close to a double
countout for that matter.  Both men are back inside the ring now - we've
avoided the double countout for now.

[Back on his feet, Stevie Scott races to the ropes, rebounding back
towards the rising Vasquez...

...who UNCORKS a superkick under the chin!]

GM:  SUPERKICK!  SUPERKICK!  A TASTE OF STEVIE SCOTT'S OWN MEDICINE!

[The thrust kick, not as crisp as Scott's, sends the champion falling
back into the ropes where he bounces off, staggering out to the middle
of the ring where Vasquez leaps into the air, smashing his foot into the
back of the National Champion's skull!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

BW:  HE SCORES WITH THE ENZUGIRI!!  DOWN GOES THE CHAMP!!!

[And Vasquez throws himself across the chest of the Hotshot, reaching
back to hook the leg.]

GM:  COVER!!  ONE!!  TWO!!

[The crowd groans as the Hotshot fires his shoulder off the mat at the
count of two.]

BW:  Was that Vasquez' first cover of the match?

GM:  I'm not sure but- ohh!

[Vasquez quickly straddles the torso of the National Champion, rearing
back with his big right hand, uncorking a heavy punch to the temple...
and another... and another...]

GM:  Big punches all over the skull of the Hotshot!

[With Stevie laid out on the mat, Vasquez rises to his feet, shaking his
head as he approaches the corner.  The Number One Contender steps
through the ropes, slowly climbing the corner ropes.]

GM:  Vasquez is heading for the top rope!  What's he got in mind, Bucky?

BW:  Whatever it is, it had better be good!  He's got Stevie down and
this could be his chance to finish him!  This could be his chance to
become the AWA National Champion!

GM:  Vasquez to the second rope... now up to the top...

[The Number One Contender to the National Title steps up to the top
rope, trying to balance himself on his perch...

...which gives Ben Waterson just enough time to climb up on the ring
apron, causing a momentary distraction and allowing Stevie Scott to
throw his body into the ropes!]


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


[The crowd roars in sympathy as Scott's action causes Vasquez to slip,
losing his balance, and landing with his groin smashing into the top
turnbuckle!]

GM:  STEVIE UPENDS HIM AGAIN!!

[Stevie drags himself to the corner using the ropes, reaching up to tie
up Vasquez' legs behind the buckles, and yanking Vasquez over in a Tree
of Woe with Vasquez facing the buckles.]

GM:  What in the world is he... Stevie's going out to the floor!

[The National Champion rolls out near the corner, grabbing each of
Vasquez' wrists in his hands...

...and yanks hard, smashing Vasquez' chest and face into the buckles!]

GM:  OHHH!

[Stevie releases, letting Vasquez drift away from the corner...

...and YANKS hard again, smashing his upper body into the corner!]

GM:  Good grief!  The ref's ordering Stevie to let him go - Vasquez is
in the ropes!

[The challenger's legs slip free, toppling down to the mat where Stevie
drags him under the ropes by the arm to the floor.]

GM:  The Hotshot's got Vasquez out on the floor now...

[Dragging Vasquez by the hair, Scott pulls him over near the
timekeeper's table.  He shoves the timekeeper aside and leans over,
hoisting his rival up on his shoulders, turning slightly...

...and then shoving Vasquez up and over, dropping him facefirst on the
wooden table!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

BW:  These two are really taking it to one another, Gordo.  We saw
Stevie use that same move at SuperClash but this is NOTHING like what we
saw at SuperClash!  That one was two athletes fighting for the greatest
prize in the sport.  This one is two men who despise each other trying
to beat each other bad enough that they can walk out with the gold...
and possibly the other man's career in the process.

[The camera cuts to Juan Vasquez down on the floor, clutching his face
as Stevie Scott stands over him gloating.]


"WHAT ELSE YOU GOT, PUNK?!"


[Leaning over, Scott slaps Vasquez in the ear hard.]


"THAT IT?!"


[Another hard slap to the side of the head connects as the voice of
Melissa Cannon rings out again.]


"THIRTY MINUTES HAVE EXPIRED!  THIRTY MINUTES REMAIN!"


GM:  We've reached the halfway point in this one and to be honest, I
can't believe it's gone this far.  These two have put one another
through the absolute wringer to try and walk out of here with the
National Title belt tonight!

[Reaching down, the bloodied champion hauls Vasquez back up to his feet,
lifting him up into the fireman's carry again.]

GM:  He's gonna do it again!  Stevie Scott's getting him up again and-

[But this time, Vasquez fights back, throwing elbows and knees to the
head of the Hotshot, wriggling free and landing on his feet behind
Stevie where he grabs a handful of hair...

...and SMASHES the champion's bloody face into the table!]

GM:  Ohh!  Facefirst to the table!

[Stevie stumbles back, barely able to stand...

...and Vasquez grabs him by the head and shoulder, HURLING Stevie
backwards into the barricade, his head and neck WHIPPING backwards as he
hits the steel!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHH!

BW:  Would you STOP doing that?!

GM:  I can't help it!  These two... these two are just taking it to one
another in the worst possible way!  What a shot that was... it looked
like- that would be an easy way to get a case of whiplash, Bucky.

BW:  It's almost like a car accident.  The head and neck whipping
backwards and Stevie's hurtin' for certain.

GM:  He's down on the floor, leaning against the railing to stay on his
feet.

[Waterson creeps closer, getting a warning point of the finger from
nearby Ron Houston as Juan Vasquez rolls back into the ring.  He climbs
to his feet, pointing to the crowd as he spins in a full circle...

...and dashes to the far ropes, rebounding off, and breaking into a full
sprint at top speed!]

GM:  Vasquez off the ropes... VAAAAASSSSQUEZZZZZ!

[The challenger throws himself into the air, flying between the top and
middle ropes like a torpedo as he sails through in a suicide dive aimed
squarely at the National Champion...]



"CLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANG!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"



[The crowd's reaction is nearly deafening as a desperate Ben Waterson
grabs his charge's wrist, YANKING him out of the way of Vasquez'
missile-like dive that sends Vasquez torpedoing headfirst into the steel
barricade!]

GM:  Dear god... dear... my god in heaven... did you see that, Bucky?

BW:  Did I see it?!  It's etched on my eyeballs forever, daddy!  That's
one of the most glorious things I've ever seen in all my years in this
business!

GM:  Juan Vasquez just attempted a suicidal... a daredevil dive through
the ropes to the floor and at the last moment, Ben Waterson pulled
Stevie Scott out of the way.  And that noise... that noise that is still
echoing in this huge building was Juan Vasquez' SKULL connecting at a
sickening velocity with the steel barricade, fans!

BW:  He's done.  He's finished.  This is over.  Ring the bell now.

[A dazed Stevie Scott approaches Vasquez who is facefirst on the mat,
reaching down to haul him up to his feet but Vasquez is deadweight and
can only be brought to a knee...

...where we see his skull completely split wide open by the barricade!]

GM:  Oh... oh my stars...

[Nodding his head at the crowd, Scott balls up his fist and smashes his
fist into the cut forehead.  The fans jeer as the champion delivers
punch after punch to the wound.  He drags Vasquez across the ringside
area, approaching the ring with no thanks to the challenger who still
can't even stand.]

GM:  The champion's trying to get him back to the ring... trying to-
ohh!

[The crowd jeers louder as Scott smashes Vasquez' head into the ring
apron, leaving a dark and bloody stain on the apron before the Hotshot
shoves him under the ropes into the ring.  The champion quickly rolls in
as well, throwing himself across the challenger in a sloppy lateral
press.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE-

[HUGE ROAR!]

GM:  FOOT ON THE ROPES!!  FOOT ON THE ROPES!!

BW:  Damn!

GM:  Scott didn't hook the leg and Vasquez takes advantage of it!  Juan
Vasquez couldn't kick out after smashing his own head into the steel
barricade at a sickening velocity but thank the stars for the bottom
rope, Bucky.

BW:  Are you sure about that?  That just makes it even easier for Stevie
to try and finish him off for good.

GM:  You may be right about that.

[A surprisingly calm Hotshot gets back to his feet, hauling Vasquez up
as well.  He promptly buries a boot into the midsection of the
challenger, yanking him into a standing headscissors, reaching under to
go for the piledriver...

...but the bloodied Vasquez stands straight up, holding Scott over his
shoulders.]

GM:  What's he-

[An exhausted Vasquez THROWS his body backwards, smashing the champion
against the buckles!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

[Vasquez stays there for a moment, trying to regain his composure before
stumbling out of the corner...

...and uses the trapped legs to WHIP Scott overhead, smashing him down
to the canvas in a sitout powerbomb!]

GM:  WHAT A MANUEVER!

BW:  A sit-out pendulum powerbomb!  And Stevie's head BOUNCED off the
canvas!

[Still seated on the mat, Juan reaches forward, slapping an arm down on
the torso for a makeshift pin attempt.]

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

[But the lack of pressure on the upper body of Scott prevents the three
count, the champion firing his shoulder off the canvas at the very last
second.]

GM:  So close!  SO CLOSE!

[Vasquez shakes his head in a mixture of disbelief and exhaustion as he
drags himself away from Scott, pulling himself to a knee using the
middle rope.  Kneeling on the mat, an exhausted Juan grits his teeth and
starts slapping the mat over and over, causing the crowd to clap in
rhythm along with him!]

GM:  Look at this!  LISTEN to this!  Juan Vasquez might be getting a
second wind... heck, maybe a third or fourth at this point.  But he's
fired up!  And these fans are fired up right along with him!  They want
to see him win the National Title tonight just as badly as he does!

[Grabbing the top rope, Vasquez pulls his bloodied and battered body to
his feet, looking down at the National Champion who has managed to force
himself up on all fours, finally straightening up to a knee...

...and Vasquez THROWS himself towards the champion, putting absolutely
everything he's got into one massive right cross!]

GM:  OHHHHH!  WHAT A SHOT!  WHAT A RIGHT HAND!!

BW:  He THREW himself into it!  Every bit of his body... everything he
has in that one right hand!

[Getting back to his feet, Vasquez looks down at the flat-on-his-back
National Champion...

...and lets loose a wild war cry before running a few steps, leaping as
high as he can while tucking his arms and legs!]

GM:  BACKSPLASH!!

BW:  SENTON, DADDY!  SHADES OF TOMMY STEPHENS!!

[Vasquez flips over into a lateral press, reaching back to tightly
cradle both legs.]

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

[But no, the referee holds up two fingers as the Hotshot just barely
kicks out at time!]

GM:  That was three!  I think that was three!

BW:  You're wrong, Gordo.  Meekly says it's only two!

GM:  No way!  That was a three count!  We've got a new National
Champion!

[Vasquez seems to be having the same argument from down on his knees on
the canvas, screaming at Michael Meekly as he shows him three fingers!]

GM:  Meekly says two!  Vasquez says three!

[A quick cut to the floor shows Ben Waterson who looks as nervous as
we've ever seen him, also holding up a desperate two fingers, almost
pleading with the referee to confirm it.]

GM:  Fans, it appears- Michael Meekly says it was a two count.  I can't
believe it!  These fans can't believe it!  Juan Vasquez can't believe
it!

[Juan climbs to his feet, grabbing Meekly by the shirt.]


"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!"


[Vasquez backs the referee against the buckles, screaming and shouting
at him.  He finally lets go, grabbing his head, screaming a wordless
anguished cry of frustration into the Texas sky...

...which gives enough time for Stevie Scott to push himself back to his
feet just as Vasquez turns around...]

GM:  HEATSEEK-

[The lightning-fast superkick lashes out in the direction of the Number
One Contender...

...who catches the leg!]

GM:  CAUGHT!!  CAUGHT!!

[Vasquez turns Stevie around, facing the middle of the ring, and stuns
the crowd with a dragon screw leg whip!]

GM:  OHHH!

BW:  That'll rip a knee right out!

[Still holding the leg, Vasquez gets back to his feet, quickly applying
a spinning toehold...

...and falling back into a figure four leglock!]

GM:  FIGURE FOUR!!  VASQUEZ HAS THE FIGURE FOUR!!

BW:  He almost won the title at SuperClash with this!

GM:  Scott is screaming!  The champion is begging - trying to get free
and-

[The crowd suddenly EXPLODES in jeers!]

GM:  Wait a second!

[The camera cuts to the aisle where Rapahel Rhodes is making his way
towards the ring...

...with a steel chair in his hands.]

GM:  Raphael Rhodes is coming out here!  This is all too familiar,
Bucky!

BW:  You bet it is!  The Southern Syndicate is ALWAYS prepared, daddy!

[Rhodes quickly approaches, chair in his grasp...

...and runs right into Ron Houston, Outside-The-Ring-Enforcer, who stops
Rhodes dead in his tracks!]

GM:  Oh my!  Raphael Rhodes isn't so sure now!  He's not sure he wants
to tangle with the former National Champion!

[The crowd is roaring at the showdown between Rhodes and Houston, a
confrontation that even draws the attention of Michael Meekly...

...which allows Ben Waterson to fling his body through the ropes,
reaching in to rake the eyes of Juan Vasquez, rolling from the ring to
avoid detection as a blinded Vasquez releases the hold!]

GM:  Oh, come on!  Referee, turn around!  Pay attention to the damn
match!

[A blinded Vasquez rolls to the corner, rubbing the blood-soaked eyes in
the buckles as Stevie Scott slowly pulls himself up in the opposite side
of the ring, barely able to stand on one leg.]

GM:  Houston's preventing the interfer- ohhh!

[Rhodes rushed forward, trying to get to the ring...

...but a Pulse Killer right on target lays the Brit out in the aisle! 
Big cheer!]

GM:  Rhodes is down!  Vasquez is down!  But Stevie Scott, the National
Champion, is up and on his feet!  The National Champion is in the
corner... barely able to stand but he's up and...

[And as soon as the blinded Vasquez regains his feet, he stumbles to the
side.  It's a fall that makes Stevie Scott quickly adjust, changing the
angle at which he lashes out with the superkick that made him a
champion...

...an angle at which the referee is unable to get out of the way when
Vasquez falls down to the mat!]

GM:  OHHHH!  HE CAUGHT THE REF!!  HE CAUGHT THE REF WITH THE SUPERKICK!!

[Michael Meekly immediately collapses to the canvas, flat out cold as
Stevie Scott looks down in disbelief.  Ever the opportunist, Ben
Waterson drops down, digging under the ring...

...and pulling out his weapon of choice!]

GM:  BRIEFCASE!!  HE'S GOT THE METAL BRIEFCASE!!  THIS IS HOW ALL THIS
GOT STARTED TO BEGIN WITH!!

[Waterson climbs up on the apron, shouting at his man, screaming at the
National Champion...

...and sends the briefcase flying through the air, landing in the
waiting hands of "Hotshot" Stevie Scott!]

GM:  Scott's got the metal briefcase!  He's got the-

[And as the blinded Vasquez gets to his feet, Scott takes a big swing
with the suitcase...]


"WHAAAAAAAAAACK!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


GM:  HE GOT HIM!  WHAT A SHOT THAT WAS!!

BW:  COVER HIM!!

[The National Champion chucks the briefcase back to the floor, throwing
himself across the chest of the downed Vasquez.]

GM:  We've got a cover!  We've got-

BW:  WHERE'S THE REF?!

GM:  The referee is down!  The referee took that Heatseeker to the jaw
and- he's out!

BW:  Houston!  GET HOUSTON IN THERE TO COUNT!!

[An irate Hotshot gets up to his feet.  He looks around confused,
spotting the downed referee, and kicks the ropes in frustration.]


"STEVIESAULT!"


GM:  Did he-

BW:  He just called for the Steviesault!  He's going for-

GM:  He pulls Vasquez up off the mat... scoops him up and slams him-

[But before he can slam him down to the mat, Juan Vasquez catches him in
an inside cradle, rolling him up in a tight cradle...

...just as Ron Houston slides under the ropes!]

GM:  HOUSTON'S IN!

BW:  NO!!

GM:  ONE!!!  TWO!!!  THREEEEEEEEEEE!!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[The Moody Coliseum crowd ERUPTS in one of the loudest reactions in AWA
history as Juan Vasquez breaks the cradle, rolling to his knees and
throwing his arms into the air!]

GM:  HE DID IT!!  HE DID IT!!  WE'VE GOT A NEW NATIONAL CHAMPION!!

[The roar is deafening as Vasquez falls forward, head in his arms as he
leans against the canvas, his upper body heaving as he breathes.]

MC:  HERE IS YOUR WINNER...

AND NEW AWA NATIONAL CHAMPION...

[THE ROAR GETS LOUDER!]

MC:  JUAAAAAAAAAN VASSSSSSSQUEZ!

[Vasquez throws his arms into the air again. celebrating his victory
along with the deafening crowd...

...and then he's handed the belt by Ron Houston.]

GM:  HE'S GOT THE BELT!

BW:  NO!  NO!  NO!

[Vasquez cradles the belt in his arms, embracing it like a newborn child
as Houston drags him up to his feet, lifitng his arm and pointing to him
to an even louder roar from the crowd!]

GM:  WE'VE GOT A NEW CHAMPION!

[Vasquez charges to the corner, hopping up to the middle rope and
holding the title belt over head to even more cheers.  He clutches the
belt against his chest, slapping his heart over and over and pointing
out to the roaring crowd, thrusting the title belt out to them like an
offering as he smiles the biggest possible smile.

Nearby, a stunned Stevie Scott rolls out of the ring, glaring at Ron
Houston as Ben Waterson drags him away from the celebration towards the
aisle.]

GM:  What a moment, fans!  What a moment!  After all these months, after
everything Juan Vasquez has been through... my stars, what a moment this
is for him, for the fans, for the entire AWA!

[Vasquez drops down off the ropes, stepping out to the apron, and
jumping down to the floor where he rushes towards the barricade with the
belt, celebrating the moment with the ringside fans as well.  A few fans
come over the railing, jumping around and embracing the smiling Vasquez
who thrusts the belt into the air in one hand.

The camera cuts for a moment to the aisle, revealing Soup Bone Samson,
Sweet Daddy Williams, Eric Preston, Rough N Ready, and the list goes on
and on - a sea of fan favorites on their way to the ring to celebrate
with the new champion.]

GM:  The locker room has emptied out!  Look at all of these men out here
to celebrate this moment!  At long last, the Southern Syndicate has been
dealt a serious blow... at long last, the Southern Syndicate has...
well, they may have just had the worst night ever!

BW:  This is awful, Gordo.  This IS the worst night ever!

GM:  We've got wrestlers in the ring... we've got fans in the ring...
and now, we've got the new National Champion back in the ring as well in
the middle of it all!

[The camera cuts back to the ring where Vasquez finds himself in the
midst of a cheering and celebrating group of fans and wrestlers, all
patting him on the back.  After a few moments, Vasquez, title belt in
his arms, finds himself hoisted up on the shoulders of Eric Matthew
Somers, holding him high in the air for one and all to see.  A grinning
Vasquez holds the belt as high as he can, showing it off to the crowd.]

GM:  Fans, we are DESPERATELY out of time but Juan Vasquez has finally
done it!  The Southern Syndicate and Stevie Scott's reign of terror is
over!  Thank you, Juan Vasquez!  Thank you for being a hero!  So long
everybody!

[And with the celebration that is sure to stretch on deep into the night
still ongoing...

...we fade to black.]