Saturday Night Wrestling

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                            American Wrestling Alliance 
                                   Proudly Presents 
                         AWA Saturday Night Wrestling

                         Live from the Crockett Coliseum
                                    Dallas, Texas
                                 January 29th, 2011
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[As we fade in, we hear the closing theme to the Fishing With Orlando
Wilson show as the shot starts to fade.  It is replaced with footage
marked "TWO WEEKS AGO" as Marcus Broussard stalks Louis Matsui who is
standing on the ring apron.]

GM:  He's coming after Matsui!  Broussard is-

[But as he draws near, Matsui leans over the ropes, grabbing both of
Broussard's wrists and pulling him chestfirst into the corner, holding
the arms...]

GM:  Wait a second!  Matsui's got his arms!  What is he-

[The crowd roars with concern for Broussard as Mizusawa barrels across
the ring...

...and AVALANCHES the exposed back of Broussard!]

GM:  OHHHH!  AVALANCHE IN THE CORNER!!

BW:  Look at Matsui!  Matsui's holding the arms and shouting, "AGAIN! 
AGAIN!"

[The giant nods as he backs across the ring, slapping a hand against his
420 pound frame...

...and rushes in again, sandwiching Broussard between his massive body
and the turnbuckles!]

GM:  AGAIN!!  AGAIN TO THE BUCKLES!!

[Broussard slumps against the buckles, his face resting on the top rope
as Matsui continues to hold the arms, his face turning red with exertion
as he screams in Japanese to his charge.]

GM:  My god... no.  Somebody's gotta stop this!

[The giant backs all the way across the ring once more, leaning against
the turnbuckles for a long moment...

...and then comes stampeding across, throwing his entire body mass into
the exposed back of the San Jose Shark!]

GM:  AGAIN!  THREE AVALANCHES IN THE CORNER!!

[Matsui finally releases the arms, allowing Broussard to slump backwards
out of the corner, collapsing on the canvas.  The camera zooms in,
revealing a trickle of blood coming from the mouth of the San Jose
Shark.]

GM:  He's bleeding - we've got blood coming from the mouth.

BW:  That could be a sign of internal bleeding, Gordo... it could be-

GM:  NO!

[At a shout from Matsui, Mizusawa backs into the ropes, slowly bouncing
off...

...and LEAPING into the air, dropping his 420 pounds down across
Broussard's prone form once more!]

GM:  SPLASH!!  

[And at a LOUD roar, Juan Vasquez comes sailing through the entryway,
title belt in hand.  He dives through the ropes, ready to throw down but
Matsui is able to get his giant out of the ring before he can.]

GM:  Juan Vasquez makes the save but...

BW:  But it's too little, too late, Gordo.  Marcus Broussard is all
sorts of busted up thanks to MAMMOTH Mizusawa with an assist from Louis
Matsui.  And that oughta teach Broussard to not try to jump to the head
of the pack.  MAMMOTH Mizusawa just showed Broussard EXACTLY who the
number one contender is, daddy!

GM:  We need to get some help out here... Marcus Broussard is... my god,
I can't even - I don't want to speculate what has happened to the San
Jose Shark but that blood flow is coming steady from the mouth and...
he's hurt, fans.  He's hurt bad.

[Vasquez kneels beside Broussard, glaring down the aisle as Mizusawa is
forced back by Louis Matsui as an AWA medical team rushes down the aisle
to the ring.  The shot freezes on an angry National Champion...

...as we fade to black and fade to the sounds of Lynyrd Skynyrd's
"Saturday Night Special"

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

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

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

After a moment, we fade away from the cheaply done intro to the interior
of the Crockett Coliseum where over 4,500 fans have jammed into the
building to watch their favorite AWA stars.

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

A long elevated entrance ramp runs from the entryway to the ring.  On
either side of the ramp stand two elevated platforms to be used for
interviews - one that is being covered by a giant black curtain.

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

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

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

[An annoyed-looking Bucky nods curtly in the direction of the camera.]

GM:  Is there a problem, Bucky?

BW:  You're damn right there's a problem, Gordo.  Have you seen what's
behind that curtain at the end of the ramp?

GM:  I have seen-

BW:  It's the set for the Money Pit!  That idiot Michaelson is trying to
steal my thunder and I won't have it, Gordo!  

GM:  Well, I'm not sure you have any say in the-

BW:  I think I decide what I have a say in around here!

GM:  Like it or not, the Money Pit goes on tonight and as we just saw,
two weeks ago, MAMMOTH Mizusawa put Marcus Broussard, the first National
Champion, on the shelf for what we've been told is an indefinite period
of time.  Tonight, Juan Vasquez has DEMANDED to speak to Jim Watkins,
the Chairman of the Championship Committee - presumably about that very
subject, Bucky.

BW:  If Vasquez thinks himself the Rocky Balboa to Broussard's Apollo
Creed, he'd better remember how that story ends.

GM:  With Rocky beating Drago in the middle of Russia?

BW:  No, with Rocky crying in the locker room 'cause his melon got
busted up by the much bigger and stronger Russian!

GM:  This is a HUGE night of action here, Bucky, with no less than four
big matchups.  We've got tag team action with The Aces meeting the
Rockstar Express in a Stampede Cup rematch.

BW:  Two baby-kissin' tag teams smackin' each other around?  I'm in.

GM:  What about the Longhorn Heritage Title match with Nenshou meeting
Johnny Sone?

BW:  Sone's a tough third-generation competitor but he's no match for
the Asian Assassin.  Nenshou's going to claim another victim here
tonight in Dallas.

GM:  This one was announced just moments ago to us.  Ivan Kostovich went
before the Board today and DEMANDED that his charge, Kolya Sudakov, take
on Eric Preston here tonight.

BW:  Preston's a falling star if there ever was one and if Sudakov wants
to stay in America, he'd better impress his new employer in that ring.

GM:  And in our Main Event, the National Tag Team Champions, Rough N
Ready, compete in a non-title match when they take on the rough and
tumble Moonshiners!

BW:  Now, THAT'S gonna be a fight, Gordo.  The Moonshiners would like to
forget the Stampede Cup and there's no better way to do that than to
beat the heck out of the champs, daddy.

GM:  Plus, there's a couple big debuts and don't forget that Hall of
Famer Mark Langseth is in action as well and-

BW: What's goin' on over there in the crowd, Gordo?

GM: What do you mean?

BW: There, in the stands'

[The camera picks up a young woman wearing a formal blouse/skirt
combination. She is carrying a pile of leaflets and handing them out to
the fans who do not seem to know what to make of her.]

GM: I ' I think that is Eve, the valet of the First Family. I have no
idea what she is doing there but- 

BW: Did she just scream at that little girl to repent?

GM: Anyways folks, let's head up to the ring for our opening contest!

[We crossfade to the ring where Phil Watson is standing with a Latino
man of average height and good build. The wrestler steps back and forth,
keeping his legs limber.]

PW: The following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first,
already in the ring, he weighs in tonight at 249 pounds and hails from
San Antonio, Texas...

HECTOR! RAMOS!

[The wrestler in the ring steps forward and lifts his fist, turning
around to accept the smattering of applause from the crowd.]

BW: You know, I have it on good authority that this guy used to wear a
mask.

GM: Oh yeah?

BW: Yeah, he used to be called El Chico of the Week-o! HAH!

GM: Would you stop!?

["Dead Flowers" by Townes Van Zandt strums lazily onto the speakers and
Jack Holland strolls out from the back sans his usual big aviator
sunglasses. He stops at the top of the ramp, fists planted on his hips.
Holland shakes his head, takes a deep breath, and starts down the ramp
towards the ring.]

PW: And his opponent! Weighing in tonight at 264 pounds and coming to us
from Elizabeth, Colorado, he is

"GENTLEMAN" JACK! HOLLAND!

[He removes his jacket halfway down the ramp and lazily flings it into
the ring against the corner. He marches briskly up the steps and swings
into the ring, forgoing his usual boot-cleaning bit. He starts
immediately across the ring toward Ramos, but the referee backs him up,
forcing him to wait for the bell. Frustrated, Holland scrubs his hand
through his hair, pacing back and forth on his side of the ring.]

BW: Doen't seem like a gentleman tonight to me, daddy.

GM: We know that last time out Holland was slated to compete but he had
to bow out because of some sort of personal emergency. Now he's back,
but you're right, he doesn't seem like himself.


"DING! DING! DING!"


GM: And here we go!

[Holland and Ramos advance to the center of the ring and slam together
in a collar and elbow tie-up. Ramos tries to match strength with
Holland, but Holland switches around to Ramos's back. He threads his leg
between Ramos's, seeking the trip-up, but it takes him a little fumbling
before he sends down Ramos onto his stomach.]

GM: A kind of sloppy takedown from Holland, not what we're used to
seeing from him, but it worked.

BW: Don't matter how he does it, daddy, as long as it gets the job done!

GM: True enough, and Holland's keeping control here with a side headlock
on the ground. Wrenching it in... but there's the foot on the ropes by
Ramos, great awareness there.

[Holland plants his feet and pushes up, rearing back hard on the hold.
The referee admonishes him, then starts the count, getting up to three
before Holland breaks. The Colorado Gentleman rises quickly, pulling
Ramos up by his long black hair and stabbing a punch into the Texan's
forehead. Holland nails Ramos with another, sending him down onto a
knee.]

GM: Holland's got the headlock and he powers him over with a hiptoss,
keeping that lock well tied in there.

BW: See, I don't know what you're talking about, sloppy, Holland's on
his game to--

GM: Shoulders down, one two and a kickout from Ramos!

BW: Don't interrupt me again, Gordo!  You're on notice!

[Ramos manages to turn his body over, likely worrying his ears because
he's still trapped in that tight headlock. He fights his way up to his
feet, forcing Holland to rise along with him. Once standing, Ramos
hammers fists into Holland's kidneys. Holland finally releases the
hold...

...then SMASHES Ramos in the chest with a double axehandle blow!]

BW: Taking care of business!

GM: And we've got another cover! Two, no, Ramos kicks out!

BW: And here we go, daddy! OOF! That one's gotta hurt! And another!

GM: Jack Holland is dropping knees onto Ramos's shoulder here, not
giving him a chance to retaliate!

[Holland stands up and backs against the ropes. He looks around at the
crowd, seeming distracted by his own thoughts. He shakes his head clear,
starts forward and leaps into the air with his knee extended...

... but there's nobody home!]

GM: BAD miscalculation on the part of Holland here and now Ramos has
some breathing room!

BW: You know, you mighta been right for once in your miserable life,
Gordo. I ain't ever seen Holland mess up like that before.

[Holland rolls around on the mat before resting on his back, grabbing
his knee and flexing his leg to work out the pain. Ramos has pulled
himself to his feet by the ropes. The Latino is still checking his own
head when Holland makes it to his feet, but he reacts quickly, snapping
Holland over with an armdrag!]

GM: And now Ramos has things well in hand here with an armbar, keeping
Holland on his side!

BW: If Ramos thinks he's gonna keep Holland down with this, daddy, he's
got another thing coming!

[Holland slaps his left arm a few times, writhing to try and get free.
Ramos doesn't release him. Holland finally twists enough to get his
knees under him and shoots to his feet, but Ramos smartly drops back and
whips Holland back to the mat with another armdrag! Holland twists back
and forth ineffectually, unable to escape the armbar that's still being
applied. Holland reaches back and grabs the ropes, forcing the break.]

BW: ...or maybe not.

GM: Smart move on the part of Jack Holland there, not wasting the energy
required to break free of that armbar.

BW: I gotta believe that on any other day Jacky boy woulda gotten out on
his own power, Gordo.

GM: You might be right, but the important thing is that he's out of the
hold and it's still anybody's ballgame.

[Holland and Ramos are back on their feet now. Holland shakes his arm to
try and get blood flowing again. They lock up, but Holland quickly
twists Ramos's arm in an armwringer and sets to smashing his elbow down
over Ramos's neck! He quickly hooks Ramos around the neck and winds his
near leg around his opponent's.]

GM: Side Russian legsweep brings Ramos to the mat hard, and we've got
another cover! One, two... kickout before the three!

BW: Holland don't look too crazy about that one.

GM: No he does not, and here's a snap mare from the Coloradan!

BW: WHOA NELLY!

GM: Neck splash from Holland and that is a FEARSOME move right there!

[After Holland's full weight came crashing down on the back of Ramos's
neck, the Latino's head whips backward and smacks the mat. Holland
scrambles over, covering Ramos without hooking the leg. The ref hits the
mat and slaps his hand down once, twice...

... but Ramos lifts his legs and kicks out just before the three!]

GM: Maybe a fatal mistake there from Holland, not hooking the leg,
because I believe the match would have been over right there!

[Holland looks pleadingly at the ref and slaps his hand to illustrate
the count he thought should have happened. The referee holds up two
fingers, standing by his decision. Holland sighs and grabs Ramos by the
hair, pulling him up.]

BW: Gentle Jack ain't done just yet, daddy! He's got Ramos up to his
feet here... loading the 12-gauge!

[Holland has Ramos hooked in for the Shotgun Suplex, but Ramos is
struggling with everything he has. Ramos slams his elbow back into
Holland's injured left arm. This makes Holland lose his composure enough
that Ramos can sling him overhead by that half nelson hold.]

GM: Very nice escape right there...

[Holland rolls through, coming to his feet quickly but stumbling around
a bit. Holland darts back in after regaining his bearings, bad
intentions on his brain. Ramos leaps into the air and claps his thighs
around Holland's head!]

GM: ... and HECTOR RAMOS with a BEAUTIFUL huricanrana, and that's a
doozy that'll leave ya dizzy!

BW: Stay up all night thinking of that one?

GM: I've got a notebook.

BW: Don't quit your day j- wait, this _is_ your day job, please quit.

[The momentum of that throw allows Holland to come to his feet and lean
against the ropes for balanace. He tries to clear his head but nothing's
seeming to work. Holland turns around, still staggered, and Ramos is
right there to drill him in the chest with a dropkick! Holland crashes
to the mat back first, but something inside him summons him back to his
feet.]

GM: The fight isn't out of Jack Holland just yet, and here we've got
some shots to the ribs!

[Having stunned Ramos, Holland decides to go for a big one and tees up
for a big back elbow shot...

... but Ramos ducks it and runs to the ropes! Holland snarls as Ramos
rebounds and charges back. The Colorado Gentleman swings his arm back to
catch Ramos this time...

... but he whiffs the lariat!]

BW: Geez, Holland's batting ZERO here, daddy!

GM: Watch out!

[Ramos springs to the second rope just as Holland turns back around. The
elasticity of the rope bounces Ramos back and the Latino twists through
the air, splashing back down on Holland's chest with a cross body block
that drives Holland to the mat! Ramos hooks Holland's far leg, nodding
frantically as the ref dives into position.]

GM: This is it! We're gonna see a huge upset! One! Two!

[At the last second, Holland's legs shoot up into the air and his
shoulder clears the mat!]

BW: Close but no churro, burro!

GM: Hey, this is a family show!

[Ramos pounds the mat with his fist, but he's up on his feet quickly,
heading into the corner where he stoops low to wait for Holland. The
Colorado Gentleman is slow in getting to his feet, almost exaggeratedly
so. He grabs the ropes to help himself up, head bouncing up and down
like he's really been rocked.]

GM: Hector Ramos smells the figurative blood in the water, Bucky. He was
just a SPLIT second away from taking this one home!

BW: This is a rookie mistake, Gordo, he's waiting for something big
rather than just taking it straight to Holland.

GM: I don't think Ramos is worried here, Holland looks like he's pretty
much out on his feet!

[Holland drunkenly sways around and Ramos chooses that moment to strike,
shooting in at top speed and leaping up onto Holland's shoulders,
locking his legs and drifting back...

...but Holland pitches forward and DRIVES Ramos into the canvas!]

GM: HOLY- RIGHT DOWN ON THE BACK OF THE HEAD AND NECK!!

BW: And THAT'S what I'm talkin' about, daddy! Ring this one out!

[Holland slumps forward to complete the pinning predicament.]

GM: This is just a formality, folks... there's the three and that's it.


"DING! DING! DING!"


PW: And here is your winner by way of pinfall...

    JACK! HOLLAND!

[Holland rolls off of Ramos, allowing the Latino wrestler to lay out on
the mat while the referee checks on his neck. Holland reclines wearily
against the bottom rope and stares at Ramos with concern. He shakes his
head after several seconds and heads to the opposite side of the ring to
get his jacket.]

GM: Fans, that was quite a win, but perhaps not under the best
circumstances...

BW: Winning IS the best circumstance, daddy!

GM: No, I think Jack Holland's a man of character, he didn't want this
to happen. But it looks like Mark Stegglet is going to get a few words.

[Stegglet is already at ringside when Holland starts his march around
the ring, jacket slung over his shoulder.]

MS: Mr. Holland? Mr. Holland!

[Holland breezes right past Stegglet, studiously ignoring the
interviewer. Stegglet hurries to match Holland's pace.]

MS: Mr. Holland, a few words, if you please?

[Holland stops abruptly and turns his angry gaze on Stegglet.]

GJH: What!? What do you want, Steg-man?

MS: Mr. Holland, I gotta ask you... did you mean to do what you just did
to your opponent Hector Ramos?

GJH: Did I WHAT!?

[Holland stares incredulously at Stegglet, then turns back to the ring,
his expression softening.]

GJH: Who do you think I am? 'Course I didn't mean to do that. I just
reacted, I did somethin', felt the match slippin' away... I hope he's
okay, Steg-man, I really do. Hell, like I ain't got enough to worry
about...

MS: You did seem distracted out there tonight. Did that have anything to
do with the emergency that prevented you from appearing at the last
Saturday Night Wrestling?

[Holland's expression turns foul once again as he lays eyes on the
interviewer.]

GJH: Steg-man, ain't I always been polite to you?

[Stegglet looks puzzled.]

MS: Well, yeah.

GJH: Ain't I always said hi to ya, made small talk, never once roughed
ya up or did anything unkind?

MS: Yeah, that's all true, Mr. Holland, but--

[Holland jabs his finger forcefully into Stegglet's chest.]

GJH: Now if you want things to _stay_ that way, I suggest you drop all
these dumb questions, you got it? My business is my own.

[Holland turns and stalks back up the ramp, leaving Stegglet in his
wake. Stegglet turns to the camera and shrugs.]

MS: Jack Holland, in quite a state despite his win out here tonight.
Back to you, Gordon.

[We crossfade back down to the ringside announce table where Gordon and
Bucky are standing.]

GM:  Thanks for that, Mark.  What in the world has gotten into Jack
Holland, Bucky?

BW:  I don't know and after seeing what almost happened to Stegglet
there, I don't plan on askin'.  Maybe Michaelson should ask, that ripoff
hack.

GM:  Wow.  You really are bent out of shape about the Money Pit, aren't
you?

BW:  The Call Of The Wilde is the Number One rated segment in AWA
history, Gordo!  I call the shots!  I'm a two-time Announcer Of The
Year, damn it!

GM:  Fans, we'll be right back with more Saturday Night Wrestling.

[We fade away from Gordon and Bucky to black...

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

[Fade to a graphic that has all the info on the AWA Combat Corner.  We
freeze there for a moment and then fade back up to a massive fist,
pushing against an equally massive palm. Knuckles crack, followed by a
repeat performance on the other side. Pan back, and the six-foot-one,
three hundred-plus pound form of AWA newcomer "The Bull" Bruno Dawson
fills your television (or computer, if you're a filthy pirate) screen.
Who knows where he is, as his torso blocks the sightline of the camera.]

BD: The first name on my list is revealed. See, men like me, we take
notes  on who we fight. Constant evolution is essential, and learning
from each  encounter is how we evolve as fighters. Whether the fight be
against a champion or a gatekeeper, the names collected represent
another piece of history in our career.

[Bruno cocks his neck to the side, his lips upturned into a sneer.]

BD: On this night, the challenge comes from that of a gatekeeper. Maybe
once upon a time he was a name in this sport, but age and the road has
caught up with him. Maybe he's a young buck trying to cut his teeth,
taking on men beyond his abilities. Through them, whether veteran or
rookie, lies the first step of many for my AWA career. My performance
tonight will have to be dominant, an exclamation point that garners the
attention of the matchmakers. My evolution may not be a physical one,
but a visual one. Through my actions, the eyes of many will be on me.
Through my performance, more opportunities against tougher opponents
will be granted. This is, very literally, the first day of the rest of
my career.

[Turning sideways, Bruno reveals the scene around him. Trophies, belts, 
and plaques line the walls, sit within cases, and almost fill the room
he stands in. Every single one of them are from independent wrestling
promotions, mixed martial arts competitions, and amateur wrestling.
Smiling at the camera, Bruno nods.]

BD: Sure, I'm an accomplished fighter. I've made my name all over this
country _and_ overseas. I could brag about the titles, boast over the
tournaments won and the former stars vanquished. But here, in the AWA,
none of that matters.  It's what you accomplish in _this_ ring, in
_this_ company, that reveals who you are as a competitor.

[Letting his frame refill the screen, Bruno reaches out and grabs the 
camera, pulling it in so that the only thing you see is his face.]

BD: Remember this face. After tonight, you will be able to point at this
moment as the evolution of professional wrestling in the AWA. The first
name will be placed on my list, but it won't be the last. Whomever you
are, veteran or rookie, you are very lucky. When history is written,
you'll be the name listed as the first to fall to "The Bull". Time to
evolve, AWA.

[We fade away from Dawson and back into the Crockett Coliseum where we
find Jason Dane standing alongside a man we haven't seen since
SuperClash.]

JD:  Fans, joining me now here at the interview stage is someone - well,
quite frankly, when the news broke that the War Pigs had left the AWA
and gone back to Japan - I thought we'd seen the last of you as well,
Mr. Richard E. Lee.

[A smirking Lee nods his head, standing in what appears to be a
high-priced black suit.  He tugs at the black tie around his neck as he
leans over the mic.]

REL:  An understandable theory, Jason... but nonetheless, here I stand.

JD:  Yes indeed.  But I have to wonder why.  After all... well, let's
take a look at what happened at SuperClash...

[We fade from the Crockett Coliseum to footage from back in November at
SuperClash where we see the two Moonshiners, Zeke and Jug, roll to the
floor as Mange drags Hammer over to the ropes, placing a leg on either
side of the ringpost.]

JS:  Oh no.

TM:  They're gonna put this guy on the shelf, Steggs!

JS:  Each one of them... each one has got a leg!

[And at Mange's shouted order, they pull... HARD!]


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


JS:  THEY PULLED HIS GROIN INTO THE POST!!  INTO THE STEEL RINGPOST!!

[Hammer immediately grabs his nether regions with both hands, screaming
in pain.  Jug and Zeke grab the legs again...

...and pull him into the post a second time!]

JS:  Twice!  Twice he goes full force into the post!

[Mange drags him away from the corner, putting him in the center of the
ring.  Jug and Zeke roll back in, climbing to their feet.]

JS:  The Moonshiners have laid out Hammer and... look at this, Todd.

[A sneering Mange points directly at Richard E. Lee who is now standing
on the apron, looking to help...]

JS:  He's inviting Lee in there!  They've laid out Sabre!  They've laid
out Hammer!  But what about Richard E. Lee?

TM:  If he's smart, he'll get the heck out of town, Steggs.

JS:  No way.  There's no way!  His men are down and hurt!  He needs to
help!  He needs to-

[Shaking his head, Lee produces a white cloth from his pocket.  He
reaches up with it, wiping his face.]

JS:  What is he... what's Lee doing?

[He holds up the white towel, showing the War Pigs' trademark
facepaint...

...and flings it down to the mat.]

JS:  He just... did he just throw in the towel?

[Lee turns his back on the ring, walking back up the aisle to the
confused buzzing from the crowd as the referee calls for the bell.]

JS:  He did!  The ref just stopped this thing!

[The referee drops to the floor, conversing with Ken Graham who nods
before making it official.]

KG:  Ladies and gentlemen... the referee has ruled that Richard E. Lee,
a member of the War Pigs' team... has THROWN IN THE TOWEL!

[The crowd jeers!]

KG:  Therefore, your winners... THE MOONSHINERS!

[The boos pour down on all three Moonshiners as they raise their hands
in victory.  Mange looks on with a mixture of surprise and annoyance as
Richard E. Lee backpedals down the aisle, shaking his head as we fade to
back to live action inside the Crockett Coliseum where Lee grins at
Dane.]

JD:  How can you be proud of that?  How can you sit here and smile at
turning your back on two men who TRUSTED you like that?

REL:  Trusted me?

[Lee cackles loudly.]

REL:  The War Pigs, those two muscle-bound punks, they didn't trust me,
Dane.  They USED me.  They USED my connections throughout the wrestling
world to try to get to the top.  They USED my connections with the AWA
front office to get back in the door after they turned tail and ran the
first time around.  

And you know what else they did, Dane?

[Dane shakes his head.]

REL:  They FAILED me.  Time and again, those worthless chumps got out
here and dropped the ball.  First, it was Rough N Ready so very long
ago.  And then back in November, they choked against the Moonshiners...
the Moonshiners are one of the toughest teams in the business bar
none... and beating them would have put the Pigs on a crash course with
the National Tag Team Titles.

[Lee puts a hand on his hip, grabbing the mic away from Dane.]

REL:  But they failed then too.  They failed themselves... they failed
these morons in the crowd who cheered them... and worst of all, they
failed me, Dane.

[Dane snatches his mic back.]

JD:  You threw in the towel!

REL:  Of course I did!  Do I look like a stupid man to you, Dane?  I
threw in the towel because I wasn't about to take a beating at the hands
of the Moonshiners for them.  That's not why I'm here.  I'm not here to
wrestle anymore.  I'm here for money... I'm here for gold... I'm here
for glory... and I'm here to show the world that the South will rise
again!  I AM a Dixie Fireball... and I'm gonna burn this whole world
down, Dane.

[Dane shakes his head as Lee strides out of view.]

JD:  Well, apparently, Richard E. Lee, the Dixie Fireball, has his eyes
on securing a new talent here in the very near future in the AWA, fans. 
Who will it be?  You'll have to stay tuned to find out.  Now, let's go
down to the ring for more AWA action!

[We crossfade to the ring where Phil Watson is standing.]

PW:  Introducing first... in the corner to my right... from Mobile,
Alabama... weighing in at 255 pounds... Kenny Trigg!

[Trigg raises an arm to no reaction.]

PW:  And his opponent... in the corner to my left... fighting out of
Huntington Beach, California... weighing in at 311 pounds...

"THE BULL" BRUUUUUUNO DAAAAAWSON!

[The "round mound of whoopass" raises a thick arm to a mixed reaction
before settling back into the corner, a hard stare aimed across the ring
at his opponent.  The referee steps to the middle, says something to
both men, and then signals for the bell.]

GM:  And here we go!

[Trigg slowly edges out of the corner, moving to his right as Dawson
does the same.  The two men circle one another for a moment before
meeting in the middle.]

GM:  Into a tieup...

[Trigg quickly secures an overhead wristlock on Dawson who pauses for a
moment...

...and then uses his power to shove out of the hold, throwing Trigg down
to the canvas.]

GM:  Wow.  Nice show of power there for the newcomer.  Bucky, what do
you know about this young man?

BW:  He's a former Mixed Martial Artist who had trouble making weight
cuts so now he's here in the AWA where you can fight at whatever weight
you want.

GM:  I heard he also had some trouble with the law.

BW:  That's right.  He spent two years in prison in California on an
assault charge but he cleaned up his act and has spent the past few
years wowing crowds at independent wrestling shows all around the world.
 This guy is legit, Gordo... he's the real deal.

[As Trigg gets up complaining about a hairpull, Dawson surges forward,
connecting with a side kick to the ribs.  He grabs Trigg by the hair,
pulling his head back, and shouting "NOW I'M PULLING IT!" before
connecting with an overhead chop to the throat that sends Trigg down to
a knee, clutching his windpipe.]

GM:  A very aggressive start to this match by Bruno Dawson...

[The Bull quickly hits the ropes, bouncing off and moving quite well for
a man of his size...

...where he CREAMS the kneeling Trigg with a running boot to the jaw!]

GM:  Good grief!  Kenny Trigg might be out cold after that!

[With Trigg down on the mat, Dawson hooks him by the back of the trunks,
yanking him to his feet.  He wraps his arms around the waist, powering
him into the air, and dropping him on the back of his head with a back
suplex.]

GM:  Powerful suplex by the Bull...

[Rolling to his side, he takes an MMA-styled mount on Trigg, battering
him with right hands from the top until the official's count reaches
four.  Dawson backs off, holding his hands open as the referee warns him
against the closed fists.]

BW:  You can see elements of Dawson's MMA background here.  The mount,
the closed fists, the side kick... this guy can do some big damage in a
hurry.

GM:  Making the transition from the world of Mixed Martial Arts isn't
easy but it can be done.  Just ask former National Champion Kolya
Sudakov.

[Dawson moves back in as Trigg takes a knee.  Grabbing a handful of
hair, he pulls Trigg into a Muay Thai clinch, throwing knees into the
face and chest before using the clinch to HURL Trigg bodily into the
buckles.]

GM:  Into the corner he goes... Dawson grabs the arm...

[An Irish whip smashes Trigg spinefirst into the buckles.  Dawson backs
into his own corner, throwing up an arm to some cheers, and then barrels
across the ring where he leaps up and SMASHES his knee into the jaw of
Kenny Trigg!]

GM:  OHHH!  What a flying knee in the corner!

[And as Trigg stumbles out, Dawson hooks him around the waist in a loose
bearhug before hurling Trigg up and over in a released Northern Lights
suplex that sends him more than halfway across the ring.]

GM:  And now he just hurls Kenny Trigg around like a ragdoll!

BW:  Dawson's got a lot of power built into a frame that you wouldn't
expect it from.  A lot of opponents take him too lightly and right now,
he's showing the entire AWA exactly why that's a bad idea.

[Dawson stalks across the ring, reaching down and pulling Trigg up by
the trunks again.  He spins him around, hooking him around the head and
left arm.]

GM:  What do we have here?

[He lifts straight up, throwing Trigg back and DRIVING him down in a
sitdown uranage slam...

...and while keeping the grip around the arm and neck, he cranks
backwards in an Anaconda Vise!]

GM:  OH!  Look at that!

BW:  It's a head and arm submission hold and-


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM:  That's it, fans.  Kenny Trigg got trapped in that hold and he had
no choice but to call it a night.  "The Bull" Bruno Dawson with an
impressive debut here tonight on Saturday Night Wrestling and I look
forward to seeing more out of this young man in the near future, Bucky.

BW:  I think we just saw a warning issued to the entire AWA - stay out
of this Bull's ring.

GM:  Let's go over to Jason.

[Switch the shot over to Jason Dane, standing with a microphone at the
interview platform.]

JD: Fans, at the top of the show we heard that Ivan Kostovich had
DEMANDED a match for Kolya Sudakov, and that was delivered in the form
of a showdown with Eric Preston.  And now it's time to hear from
Preston. Eric, come on out...

[Eric Preston makes his way out to join Jason, dressed to wrestle. The
fans give him loud applause that Preston isn't sure what to do with,
waving his hand at the crowd to acknowledge them but also to quiet them
down.]

JD: Eric, let's cut right to the chase. You've had rough couple of
months in the ring, and have had trouble keeping your focus during
matches, much less score victories. In fact, your mentor Todd Michaelson
has gone so far as to distance himself from you publicly, saying that
only you can fix the problems you're having. How have you reacted to
that, and will that weigh on your mind tonight in your match with a
former National champ?

[Preston throws his eyebrows up in faux-shock at the directness of the
question.]

EP: Okay Jason, let's cut to the chase. There's a lot of blame to be
thrown around, but I'm not that kind of guy. The only person who can fix
whatever is wrong with me in the ring is me. Not Todd Michaelson, not
Dr. Phil or Wayne Dyer. Only Eric Preston can fix what's wrong with Eric
Preston.

And if Todd Michaelson or anyone else wants to jump off the bandwagon,
well...

[Preston shrugs.]

EP: I can't say that I blame 'em. It seems like I can't even put my
boots on anymore without lacin' them together, I'm making Todd look like
a fool, along with a whole bunch of other people who bought the Eric
Preston stock. I'll tell you man, I've never ever seen a perfect
wrestler, but it seems like every time I make a mistake it's costin' me
a match. Every lapse in judgment I have ends up in the ref countin'
three, and me wonderin' what just happened.

You know, a few months ago I thought I had what I needed to kickstart my
journey. I thought I had what I needed to win the AWA National title,
which I still believe is in the cards for me. But now, every day, every
match, it's something different. And I hear Gordon making excuses for
me, guys in the back saying, "Don't worry bro, rookie mistake, you'll
learn from this." And I appreciate it, I do... but it gets old after the
first five hundred times. If I have any more teachable moments I'll be
earning a doctorate degree. The fact is, I don't want people making
excuses for me anymore.

I'm not a rookie anymore, Jason, so rookie mistakes aren't rookie
mistakes.

They're just screw ups. 

[Another shrug, this one a little more deflated.]

EP: And believe me, if I knew how to get things going my way again, I'd
do it in a second. But I don't believe in voodoo, I don't know any rain
dances and I don't have any rabbit's feet. So I'm just gonna keep
pluggin' away. I may be many things, but a quitter ain't one of 'em.

I'm just gonna keep working hard, Jason. I'm gonna keep giving these
fans every ounce of energy I have, I'm gonna keep feeding off the people
and I know that whatever "problems" I have in the ring are gonna get
ironed out. I _believe_ that they will.

As for Kolya...

[Preston points to the back.]

EP: ...that's one heck of an opportunity to get back on the right track.
Anytime you get a match with the former National champ, that's Cadillac
time right there, man, because the people are watching. And Ivan
Kostovich, I know what he's all about. With a Dad in the business,
growing up in the South, I know exactly what Ivan Kostovich is capable
of. I know how sharp and analytical his mind can be. He's as dangerous
outside the ring as most people are inside the ring.

So I'm gonna take this opportunity, and I'm gonna make the most of it.
And I'm gonna keep my head down, I'm gonna work hard and come out
swingin' at Sudakov. Because that's all I know how to do, Jason, is to
work my way out of the rut. And one day, I promise ya, one match, the
fog is gonna lift and everything'll make sense again.

And when that happens, Jason, when the fog lifts... I'll remember the
people who deserted me. 

[Preston claps Jason on the shoulder before walking out of view.]

JD:  Eric Preston is looking for something, anything to get him back on
track.  Will that happen tonight against Kolya Sudakov?  We'll find out
a little later but right now, we've got to take a quick break so don't
you dare go away!

[Fade to black.

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

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

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

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

JD:  Hello, Mr. iPhone.

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

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

JD:  Well, actually I did.

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

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

[Thankfully, a voiceover starts.]

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

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

[Fade back to black...

And then back up to- Hey, doesn't this straggly blonde haired guy look
familiar? Jimmy... Jacky... no, that's it, JOHNNY Casanova. Where's he
been?  Mark Stegglet is backstage and about to find out...]

MS: Johnny Casanova, we haven't seen you since-

JC: Since Steal The Spotlight! That's right, Steggles! Last time I was
around, I was hitting the headlines, stopping the show, and wiping the
floor with Scott Mayhem at Superclash 2. Now as much as I liked being on
the same side as MAMMOTH, Johnny C really don't play that nice wit other
guys, so I figured I'd take my sweet baby on holiday when th rest of the
AWA were foolin' around in the Stampede Cup. One thing led to another,
we were having fun, and I kinda lost track of time, but I figured ya
could all just about cope without me for one episode of Saturday Night
Wrestling.

MS: Generous of you.

[Casanova nods.]

JC: Gotta give that young blood the time to shine sometime, ya see,
Steggy. But don't ya worry now! Johnny C is back, he's pumped, and he's
raring to go! I may have let Scotty Mayhem distract me for a little
bitty while, but since I got my revenge on him, and he seems to have
taken the hint and disappeared from the AWA, it's time for the Playboy
to do what I do best and go after some gold, Steggles. Because believe
me... this waist only looks better with a belt around it!

MS: I'm sure it does, Mr Casanova. Speaking of things normally around
your waist, I notice Big Mama isn't with you today.

JC: My sweet little cherry pie was enjoying our break so much that she's
taking a little more of a holiday, Steggles. But ya can rest assured,
she'll be right back with us in a few weeks time to cheer me on next
time I step in the ring.

[And Casanova walks off, leaving Stegglet behind.]

MS:  A man of few words on this night, "Playboy" Johnny Casanova says
he's looking for gold in 2011.  Jason?  She's all yours!

[Cut to another area of the back.  Jason Dane prepares to speak.]

JD:  Thanks, Mar-

[The masked man known as the Minion, standing next to Dane, interrupts.]

MINION:  The time has come, Jason Dane.

[Dane looks confused.]

JD:  Time?  What time?

[The Minion cocks his masked head to the side as he looks at Dane.]

MINION:  The time for recriminations - for retributions.  The Mighty
Martinez shows no sign of stopping or even slowing towards the goal so
forbidden by the Master.  He approaches his demise blithely, taking heed
of no warnings, blaming myself for the doom of his own making.

[Dane looks irritated now.]

JD: What doom?  What's going to happen, Minion!?

[The Minion turns away, throwing his arms apart.]

MINION:  Ready the minstrels for the tale must be told!  Tonight... a
legend falls!

[The Minion hurries away, leaving a bug-eyed and confused Jason Dane in
his wake.]

JD:  What the hel-

[We abruptly cut to the ring where Phil Watson is standing.  Standing in
the ring is a middle-aged man wearing a colorful jacket.]

PW:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit.  Introducing first, in the corner to my left, from Portland
Oregon, weighing 213 pounds, Bobby B. Goode!

[Bobby hops up on the middle rope with a whoop, throwing both arms into
the air to very little reaction.]

GM: Well, Mr. Goode has perhaps failed to win over the crowd but he'll
have another chance to do so in his match with Mark Langseth.

BW: That's the Hall of Fame Legend Mark Langseth to you!  And to
everybody!

[Watson continues.]

PW: And his opponent...The Hall of Famer, MARK LANGSETH!

"Tonight's story is somewhat unique and calls for a different kind of
introduction..."

[Michael Jackson's "Threatened" plays as another, more threatening
middle-aged man appears at the front of the elevated platform.]

GM: Now that is NOT Mark Langseth!

[Watson continues... AGAIN!]

PW: Representing Mr. Langseth tonight, making his winter residence in
Monte Carlo, weighing in at 217 pounds, he is known as the Eternal
World's Heavyweight Champion...

JOOOOOOOOOE PETROOOOOOOOOW!!

[For the first time since Memorial Day, we see Joe Petrow not in a fine
suit, but in the long pant trunks he has worn in the later stages of his
wrestling career.  Though the hair line has receded, elsewhere he still
looks to be the formidable force that he was in his active career, as he
slowly makes his mirthless journey to the ring.]

GM: Fans, I don't know why Joe Petrow is coming to the ring in Mark
Langseth's place...

BW: Because he CAN Gordo!  The Respect Enhancement Consultant offers the
most exclusive support services in wrestling to Hall of Famers, and this
is one of them!

GM: Well for the benefit of those of you who do not know or remember the
story, twelve years ago in another organization up in Portland, Joe
Petrow won a Rumble match, the last match in the history of that
organization, to become that organization's Eternal World Champion. Joe
Petrow is NOT currently the champion of any organization in existance!

BW: Now you see, that's EXACTLY the lack of respect that Mr. Petrow and
Mr. Langseth have been talking about!  You can't even fathom how much we
are being honored to have a man like Mr. Petrow representing Mr.
Langseth here tonight!

[Petrow has finally made his way to the ringside, where he commands the
referee to widen the ropes for his entrance into the ring. He finally
takes off his jacket, revealing that, while Petrow is no bodybuilder, he
has not neglected to hit the gym.]

GM: Well, regardless it looks like we are getting Joe Petrow, wrestling
a singles match for the first time in many years!

BW: No, we are getting Joe Petrow representing the legend Mark Langseth!
Get it right!

GM: Whatever! There's the bell and...well, isn't this sporting?

[Uncharacteristically, Petrow holds out his right hand for a handshake.
Goode looks around, imploring the crowd for guidance on what he should
do.]

BW: Petrow understands the concept of respect, and how much of it to
give to his opponent...

[Goode finally cautiously extends his own right hand...but is met by a
big left-handed slap by Petrow!]

BW: ...absolutely none! Lifetime Ham and Egger Bobby Goode has a chance
to meet a champion representing a legend, he should have been on his
hands and knees thanking him for the opportunity!

[Momentarily stunned, an enraged Bobby B. Goode turns to throw a huge
haymaker, which Petrow easily ducks, turning into his own rapid-fire
series of punches to the head and body, staggering Goode back into the
corner.]

GM: Bobby Goode let his emotions get away from him there, and you just
cannot do that against a veteran like Joe Petrow.

BW: Joe Petrow is representing the legend Mark Langseth Gordo! Do you
realize what a heavy responsibility that is? I guarantee you that Petrow
is taking this match VERY seriously!

[As the referee tries to separate them from the corner some of that
responsibility becomes apparent, as Petrow shouts "He tried to sucker
punch Mark Langseth!"  As Goode staggers out of the corner Petrow wastes
no time, spinning Goode around and lifting backwards...]

GM: Petrow getting Goode up for maybe a back suple...oh no! He slams
Goode's spine down like an atomic drop, but straight down to the mat! I
know that Petrow has a name for that move Bucky, but...

BW: Actually Gordon, Petrow has told me recently that he has
rechristened that maneuver as The Bare Essentials!

GM: Well, at least we can say that name on television...I think.  Now
what is this...Petrow complaining to the referee about the turnbuckle?

[Petrow frantically gestures to the referee and the turnbuckle that
Bobby Goode stumbled out of.]

BW: I think he's saying that the turnbuckle is coming loose. The referee
should check that out, as it could be a dangerous situation for the
wrestlers.

[As the referee goes to look at the turnbuckle, Petrow returns to his
fallen foe.]

GM: I think that this represents a dangerous situation for Bobby Goode! 
Petrow spreads the legs and...OH NO!  That vile, disgusting act should
be an immediate disqualification!

[The crowd responds with a chorus of boos that draws the referee back to
the action...but the damage is done, as a writhing Goode lays in a fetal
position, clutching between his legs. The official admonishes Petrow,
who denies everything, and the referee has no proof of anything, so the
match continues.]

GM: Joe Petrow showing absolutely no respect for his opponent!

BW: Nor should he!  Who does this guy think he is, swinging for the
fences like that when Mr. Petrow was giving him an education!

GM: And Petrow's not finished yet, grabbing at the leg for perhaps a
figure four...no, he turns him over and...ankle lock!?  An ankle lock is
_not_ one of the moves that Joe Petrow is known for!

BW: When you're representing the Hall of Famer Mark Langseth, you'd
better be able to lock on the Greatness Personified!  Mr. Petrow is one
person who handles Mr. Langseth with the respect he deserves.

[An anguished Goode attempts to struggle out, but when Petrow cinches in
a second time he immediately taps out to the submission manuever.]

GM: And mercifully, this one is over!  C'mon ref, get him off the poor
guy!

[Petrow has not released the hold, and the referee is in Petrow's face,
laying on a count.  Petrow finally releases the hold just after the
count of 4 to avoid the disqualification.]

PW: Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this match...

JOOOOOOO-

[Phil is interrupted by Petrow, who shakes off the referee's attempt to
raise his arm and gets into the announcer's face. Phil tries again...]

PW: Excuse me ladies and gentlemen, your winner, the Hall of Fame
Legend...

MAARRRRRRRK LAAAAAANGSETH!

[Petrow wags his finger towards the broadcasters table as he makes his
way out of the ring.]

BW: That's my cue!  Hey, you, stupid!  Get me a mic!  I've got work to
do!

GM: Yes, it's time to shake your moneymaker, Bucky.

BW: Shut up Gordo!

[Bucky stands and moves in front of the announce table, Gordon Myers
rolling his eyes in the distance as Joe Petrow comes to meet with
Bucky.]

BW: So Mr. Petrow, it appears that we have not been graced with an
appearance by the Hall of Fame Legend Mark Langseth today. And I for one
don't blame him!

JP: Do you really believe that I would allow my client, the Hall of
Famer Mark Langseth, to be subjected to _that_!? [Petrow points to the
rampway, as a referee and another official are helping Bobby B. Goode
limp to the back.]  How dare the AWA drag something like that from the
bowels of obscurity to face Mr. Langseth!  And how dare the AWA try to
throw this match on television without any promotion whatsoever!

BW: He should have been thrilled beyond belief just to be in the same
ring as a man such as you, representing a man such as Mr. Langseth!

JP: Exactly!  Well I'll tell you this Bucky, I will not allow this
organization to waste my client's time and make a mockery of his
undefeated record!  The next time the AWA wants the Hall of Famer Mark
Langseth to appear on its programming, they _will_ give him the proper
respect, the proper buildup, and an opponent worthy of being in the same
ring!

BW: So now we see what being a Respect Management Consultant is all
about!

JP: Partially.  It's not just about getting respect from this
organization, but from everybody associated with it. And speaking of
respect, I noticed an appalling lack of it on the last show!  Take that
big goof Alex Martinez for example...

[Cheers at the mention of Martinez briefly rattle Petrow, who stops for
a second to compose himself before continuing.]

JP: Lost in his own trivial issues, he has failed to apologize for his
rude, threatening, and disgusting confrontation he had with the Hall of
Famer Mark Langseth before I was able to look after his best interests! 
I expect you to apologize and acknowledge Mr. Langseth's superiority the
first chance that you get!

And if _that_ weren't enough, you've got our AWA Champion, all full of
false bravado, coming out here and naming a bunch of pretenders to his
title, while _completely_ omitting the name of the Hall of Famer Mark
Langseth!

BW: Obviously he's hoping to avoid having to deal with Mr. Langseth!

JP: Well it's a foolish idea to try and get something like that past me!
Let me tell you something Juan Vasquez.  I know you better than you
think.  I know you've spent years traveling up and down the dusty roads,
working to make a name for yourself.  I know that, back when I was more
generous with my services, I offered you an easier route to regaining
your title.  And like now, you completely ignored me.  You went against
the grain, you went against the odds, and you succeeded anyway!  And
now, just because you're the AWA champion, just because you've done
things your way, and just because you've shamelessly pandered to these
fans, [pandered fans cheer] you believe that you are the man that we
must all pay homage to.

Well for 99.9% of the people, that is true.  But you've overlooked who
we are.  You've tried to forget what we've done.  You've tried to ignore
and hide from the fact that the Hall of Famer Mark Langseth was, is, and
always will be, greater than you!

And if it were up to me we would convince you, Alex Martinez, and the
entire AWA of that fact right now! But, thanks to the humble generosity
of the Hall of Famer Mark Langseth, I present to all of you a very
precious gift.

The gift of time.

You all have a little bit of time, to do the right thing, and pay the
proper respects to the Hall of Famer, Mark Langseth!

Think about what I've said, and do the right thing.  But don't think too
long.  Because there will be a time when Mr. Langseth's patience will
end.  And if he doesn't have the respect he deserves by then, then there
will be consequences.  Consequences for you, and for the entire AWA.

This is serious, so I'll emphasize the seriousness in a manner you all
can relate to.

Consider.  Yourself.  Warned.

Oh, and one more thing...

[Petrow suddenly stalks away from the broadcast table, towards the
elevated ramp.  Then, just as suddenly he veers towards a little girl in
the front row, and gives her a brief glimpse into the demons that once
haunted his own soul.  The little girl's braces flash as she opens her
mouth in terror, screams, and buries her head into the shoulder of the
woman beside her.  Just as suddenly, Petrow reverses course and returns
to the Bucky at the announce table.]

JP: Consider us ahead of the little girl with braces.

[Petrow heads back to the elevated ramp dodging the boos, shouts of
"SHE'S JUST A LITTLE GIRL, YOU FREAK!", and debris thrown at him, before
leaping up the ramp and stalking to the back as we fade to black.

The black screen is filled with white text that reads "THREE YEARS
AGO!"]

"They said it couldn't work."

[The words fade out and are then replaced with "TWO YEARS AGO!"]

"They said it wouldn't last."

[The words fade out and are replaced with "ONE YEAR AGO!"]

"They're too old fashioned.  They can't keep up with the times.  Nobody
wants to watch that stuff."

[The words fade out and are replaced with "THEY WERE WRONG!"  The text
fades again and comes back to reveal, "March 26th, 2011 - The Main Event
- The Third Anniversary Show."

And then fades back out to black before returning to live action where
we find Mark Stegglet out on the interview platform standing by with
"The Invader" Brian Von Braun.  Stegglet is decked out in the same
attire from earlier.  BVB is wearing a pair of black jeans, a black
t-shirt with "Don't annoy the crazy person" in white across the front,
black boots, and his silver skull-head cane.  His hair hangs is pushed
back thanks to a pair of sunglasses resting on the top of BVB's head. 
The cane is gripped in his left hand, the knuckles are the hand are
turning white.]

MS:  Welcome back, fans, and two weeks ago, Brian, you ran in to save
Ron Houston from the Unholy Alliance.  After spending most of the past
year in a brutal battle, why run down and save Ron Houston?

[BVB uses his right hand to grab the microphone and Stegglet's hand.  He
looks Stegglet up and down.]

BVB:  Let's get tha facts straight, mic-jockey.  Tha Rocket City Badboy
didn't save Ron Houston outta some misplaced notion of nobility.  I
ain't tha hero you...

[He uses his cane to make a sweeping motion out at the crowd.]

BVB:  ... and tha rest of these people are so desperate fer.  Continue
ta cheer yer heroes, but don't confuse tha Invader as bein' one of 'em.

[Scattering of boos.  BVB lets go of Stegglet's hand and the mic.]

BVB:  Jus' 'cause he said it was done, didn't mean our business was
finished.  

[BVB looks over at the camera.]

BVB:  I tried ta walk away, Ron.  Ya got yer win at tha Clash.  Ya had
yer braggin' rights.  And then at tha Cup, ya had ta go an' start it all
over again.  I _told_ you.  I _warned_ you.  I said tha Invader would
slap ya 'cross tha face an' start it all over again, Ron.  Ya had ta
have tha final word an' show yer fans yer bravado by gettin' in tha
final word.  While yer sittin' at home, nursin' that shoulder, believe
in what I'm 'bout ta tell ya.

[BVB pauses, inhaling sharply so his nostrils flare.]

BVB:  It wasn't over, not after ya cost me a million dollars.  Not after
what ya did on Christmas night, Ron.  Your shoulder belonged ta tha
Invader.  Yer current injury was mine ta inflict.  You took that away
from me, Percy Childes.  You.  Layton.  Monosso.  Nenshou.  Polemos. 
All of y'all took away what was rightfully mine.

[He points the tip of his cane at the camera.]

BVB:  Believe you me, Percy Childes.  You owe tha Invader.  An' yer
gonna pay what ya owe.  

[A wild gleam in his eyes becomes visible.]

BVB:  I'm gonna take tha Longhorn Heritage title as payment, Percy.

[There's a cheer from the crowd at this statement.]

BVB:  That belt means as much ta you as puttin' Ron Houston on tha shelf
meant ta me.  

[BVB storms off the interview stage, leaving Stegglet to watch him
leave.]

MS:  Back to you, Gordon.

[We fade back to the ringside area where Gordon and Bucky are standing.]

GM:  Thanks, Mark.  Brian Von Braun has locked his eyes on Nenshou and
the Longhorn Heritage Title.  Your thoughts, Bucky?

BW:  I don't understand.  Brian... someone needs to talk some sense into
him.  I mean, we've seen what the Unholy Alliance does to their enemies.
 Preston, Vernon Riley, Maverick... the Unholy Alliance will put Von
Braun out of this sport if he tries to take them all on!

GM:  But that's exactly what he intends to do!  Von Braun says they took
what was rightfully his away from him... they put Ron Houston out of the
AWA.  And now he's going to take that belt away from Nenshou because it
means just as much to Percy Childes as putting Houston out meant to the
Invader.  What will Percy Childes have to say about that?

BW:  Nenshou's defending the Longhorn Heritage Title later tonight
against Brian Von Braun!  And we saw two weeks ago that Von Braun's got
no problem trying to jump on the Unholy Alliance.  He may take another
swing at 'em here tonight, Gordo!

GM:  You just never know.  Fans, you won't want to miss that big title
match later tonight but for now, let's head back to the interview area
where Jason Dane is standing by with a tag team that we'll see in action
a little later - The Aces!  Jason?

[Jason Dane is standing on the interview stage to the right.  He's
wearing his usual attire.  He's flanked on his right by "Sweet" Stevie
Childes.  On the left is "Delicious" Danny Tyler.  The Aces are wearing
their wrestling attire which consists of a purple and black color scheme
with wrestling shorts, boots, kneepads, ect.  Both men are also wearing
purple, sequins tuxedo jackets, purple bowties, and black top hats. 
Childes also sports a pair of aviator style sunglasses.]

JD:  Two weeks ago, you two accepted a match from the Rockstar Express
to settle the issue of who the better team is, after a draw at the
Stampede Cup.  

[Childes pulls the mic closer to him.]

SC:  Ya know, Jay.  I don't really know what to say to that.  Two weeks
ago, that's exactly what this situation turned into when the Rockstar
Express challenged the Aces, brother.  All Sweetness has heard for the
past two weeks is how tensions are high between the Rockstar Express and
the Aces.  Daddy, let me be the first to tell you.  There ain't a lick
of tension the Aces feel for the Rockstar Express.

JD:  You two kept your composure two weeks ago...

[Tyler grabs the mic and Dane's hand pulling the mic closer to him as he
takes a step or two forward.]

DT:  Perception is reality, Dane.  You perceive there to be a problem
between us and the Rockstar Express.  I've had two weeks to sit back and
think about our encounter with the Rockstar Express.

[Childes lowers his sunglasses and look at Tyler over the rims.]

DT:  Stevie and I came out to shake hands and tell them well done.  That
was our expectations, and the expectations we set, Dane.  That's not
what the Rockstar Express expected.  They were shaken by what happened
at the Stampede Cup.  They perceived the Aces to be a rookie team, prone
to rookie mistakes, and nothing more than a stepping stone on their way
to winning the Stampede Cup.  

[Tyler looks back at Dane.]

DT:  THAT was their perception, and it BECAME their expectation.  The
Rockstar Express took us too lightly, Dane.  What happened?  They went
the distance, but they couldn't finish the job.  And for two weeks...
TWO WEEKS... I've had a chance to sit back and think about this.  And
then Marty's comments two weeks ago...

[Tyler shakes his head and scoffs.  He looks back at the camera.]

DT:  Two weeks ago, Marty.  You had the AUDACITY to disrespect the Aces
because your fragile ego couldn't handle your failure at the Stampede
Cup.  Let me set the record straight about tonight.  I want you to have
a clear perception and expectation when we meet in that ring.

[Tyler holds up his pointer finger.]

DT:  One.  You're not walking into the ring with two bright-eyed,
awestruck rookies.  Two.  You ARE walking into the ring tonight with two
wrestlers who have as much experience as you two.  Maybe not as a team. 
Stevie has traveled the world and wrestled all kinds of opponents for
the past fifteen years.  

[He points a finger at himself.]

DT:  Me?  I've been wrestling for the past ten years, and I've tagged
with more partners than I care to admit.  I KNOW how to get with a
partner.  Three.  You can bet the Aces are going to bring the fight to
you.  I suggest you talk to Brent Maverick when the match is done
tonight, Marty and Scotty.  In case you missed what he said two weeks
ago, it's called when you wake up tomorrow morning and realized you've
lost to the Aces... MOVE ON and DEAL with it.

[Tyler looks back at Dane.  Dane is standing there holding the mic while
Childes has a goofy smile on his face.]

SC:  You all right, brother?

[Tyler looks at his partner.]

DT:  I'll be fine after we win tonight.

[Tyler looks back at Dane.]

DT:  YOU need to stop instigating.

[Tyler walks off the stage as Childes follows, bewildered.]

JD:  It does appear tensions are high for at least one member of the
Aces tonight.  Back to you, Gordon.

GM:  The Aces will compete against the Rockstar Express later tonight in
a Stampede Cup rematch and Bucky, it seems like "Delicious" Danny Tyler
is in... well, a bit of a bad mood.

BW:  He wants to settle things with the Rockstars.  What's wrong with
that?

GM:  His partner, Stevie Childes, seems pretty calm about this whole
thing but Tyler on the other hand is hot under the collar.

BW:  Hey, Marty Morgan wasn't exactly Mr. Cool himself two weeks ago. 
Tyler's just not gonna take this stuff lyin' down, Gordo.  He's no
rookie just like he said.

GM:  That one is gonna be something else.  But that's not the only tag
team match we're going to be seeing here tonight, Bucky.  

BW:  That's right - in our Main Event, it's the Moonshiners against
Rough N Ready in a non-title match!  That's gonna be one heck of a
fight.

GM:  The Moonshiners are one of the toughest teams in this sport and
have been for decades, Bucky.  This may be a non-title match later
tonight but if the 'Shiners win, you would have to assume that they
would be next in line for a shot at the gold.

BW:  The AWA's tag team scene is hotter than ever - the best in the
business - and Rough N Ready's got a long list of challengers chasing
that gold, Gordo.

GM:  Mark Stegglet is backstage with the Moonshiners - what's on their
minds with tonight's big Main Event?  Steggy?

[The camera cuts to the locker room area where Mark Stegglet cringes at
being called "Steggy" as he raises the mic.]

MS:  Thanks, Gordon.  Gentlemen, if you can make your way in here...

[The camera zooms back to reveal the three members of the Moonshiners,
Jug, Zeke, and their leader Mange, walking into view.  All three men are
dressed in stained and frayed blue jeans with their pot bellies hanging
well over their belts.  Jug is yanking at his tangled bright blonde
beard as Zeke slaps his open hand against his chest a few times, leaving
a bright red welt behind.]

MS:  Mange, I-

[Mange runs the back of his hand softly across the cheek of Mark
Stegglet.]

Mange:  It's been too long, pretty.

[Stegglet shudders as he raises the mic again.]

MS:  You guys have a Main Event tag team match here tonight against the
champs!  It's non-title but-

Mange:  Hush.  No one needs to explain to my boys what this match means
tonight.  We've been in this business since before you were born,
pretty.  We know that if we beat the champs tonight, a title match is
a-comin' our way.

But what I wonder is... does Cooper and Somers know what that means?

[Mange grins.]

MS:  I don't underst-

Mange:  It's simple, pretty.  It means that the Moonshiners - the
toughest damn tag team to ever lace a pair a' boots is comin' for 'em. 
It means that we're gonna kick some teeth in, whup some hides, and throw
people into stuff that ain't gonna move.

You know why, pretty?

MS:  Why?

Mange:  Because we like to get paid... and paid well.  And ain't no one
get paid better than the men holdin' gold.  So, we'll bring the fight to
Cooper and Somers... and we'll likely hurt 'em in the process.

It ain't personal, boys.  We don't know ya from Adam.

[Stegglet interrupts.]

MS:  The First Family guy?

[Mange glares at Stegglet.]

MS:  It's just business.  And our business?  It hurts a whole hell of a
lot.  See y'all soon.

[And with that, Mange stares at Stegglet.]

MS:  Umm... we'll be right... huh?  Oh, okay... let's go to the ring!

[Cut to Phil Watson, standing in the ring, ready to introduce the next
match.  In the ring with him is a man in a full black bodysuit, a white
spider emblazoned across the face of the black mask he wears.]

PW: Introducing first, he hails from Ninth Street.  Here is... The
Spider!

[Boos fill the air as The Spider poses on the top turnbuckle.  He leaps
down and comes to the center of the ring.  Rob Halford's voice then
comes over the loudspeakers.]

#Its all right...#

PW: And now, coming to the ring.  He stands seven feet tall, and weighs
in at three hundred and fifty pounds.

[There's a buzzing in the crowd, as eyes turn towards the entranceway.]

#Its all right...#

PW: Hailing from Los Angeles, California.

[The buzz begins to build into a roar.]

#Its all right, I'm just a...#

PW: The one and only...

[And then the crowd gets...]

#LITTLE CRAZY#

PW: ALEX MARTINEZ!!!!

[The curtain is pulled aside, and out steps Alex Martinez.]

BW: I can't hear myself think.  I can't believe how loud it is in here.

GM: The AWA fans love Alex Martinez.  And they've had to wait a long
time to see him in the ring.    Of course, the big man comes to the ring
under a dark cloud.  Remember that the mysterious man known as The
Minion has promised to bring about dire consequences, if Alex Martinez
enters the ring.

BW: He'll probably make him do math.  What could be a worse fate for
that big dummy?

GM: I don't think The Minion, or his "master" this mysterious Dragon, is
anything to make jokes about.

[His expression calm but intense, Alex Martinez pauses a moment, and
then steps forward.  All around him, fans cheer and scream, hands
reaching out to touch him, though the stoic Martinez doesn't appear to
be aware.  He wears a black leather jacket, as well as his long black
wrestling leggings and his wrestling books, which look more like biker
boots than "proper" gear.  Both of Martinez' fists are covered in black
fingerless gloves, and his right elbow is covered in a black pad. 
Martinez throws one long leg and then the other over the top rope. 
Martinez moves into the center of the ring and stares ahead at his
opponent, waiting for the bell to ring, waiting for the violence to
begin.]


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM: The Spider coming right at Alex Martinez, blindsiding him.  He's
throwing punches left and right, and the big man is staggering.

BW: Wait a minute, you're telling me I've waited all this time to see
Alex Martinez and now he's getting knocked around by this clown?

[Martinez is indeed staggering back, but as The Spider continues his
barrage, it seems clear that Martinez is regaining his footing quickly. 
The Spider grips Martinez by the wrist, trying to send him into the
ropes, but Martinez reverses, and sends The Spider bouncing off the
ropes.  With a smirk, Martinez waits for The Spider to rebound.]

GM: Big boot!  He almost took The Spider's head clean off.

BW: That'll have a man spending his paycheck on applesauce.

GM: Martinez whips The Spider hard into the turnbuckle, and follows it
up with a huge clothesline.   I don't think Alex Martinez can do
anything low impact.

BW: I don't know.  I saw him trying to count past ten the other day.  He
looked like he was taking his sweet time getting there.

[Martinez keeps The Spider in the corner, draping his arms over the top
rope.  Measuring The Spider, Martinez begins to lift his knee into The
Spider's gut, each kneelift drawing an "oooo" from the crowd and a groan
of pain from The Spider.  Martinez then turns his back to The Spider and
begins driving the point of his elbow into The Spider's face.]

GM: Again, we see the sort of aggressiveness we expect from Alex
Martinez.

BW: What do you think Martinez family reunions are like?  You think
Grandma Martinez smashes people over the head with her walker, while
Uncle Jorge Martinez tries to get everyone to go down to the Gentleman's
Club?

[Martinez takes a step back, cocks his hand back, and drives his fist
into the Spider's chin, which sends the masked man slumping down. But
Martinez can't press the advantage, as he steps back, cradling his hand,
the pain obvious on his face.]

GM: As you can see, Martinez is favoring his hand.  We've received
reports that Alex Martinez suffered a recent hand injury.

BW: How much you want to bet he hurt his hand because he forgot how the
doorknob works and he tried to punch the door open?

GM: Why don't you go ask him when the match is over?

BW: I'm needed here!  Let Michaelson do it since he's the man gettin'
the scoops!

[Finally recovered, Martinez goes to lift The Spider off the mat, but as
he bends over, he's caught in a small package.  Martinez kicks out
before the referee even gets into position.]

BW: Wow, The Spider almost pulled off the upset!

GM: Are we watching the same match?

[Both men are up on their feet.  The Spider leaps in the air,
dropkicking Martinez.  Or at least, he attempts to, before he's swatted
out of the air by the giant hand of Alex Martinez.]

GM: I think Alex Martinez is just toying with The Spider at this point.

BW: Yeah, these fans may be cheering him, but Alex Martinez has never
been a kind soul.

[Martinez sends The Spider into the ropes once more and catches him
coming off.  He lifts The Spider high into the air and then drives him
down hard into the canvas with a huge powerslam.  Martinez stands over
The Spider, yelling at him to get up, but The Spider is barely
responsive.]

BW:  Martinez is just staring down at The Spider.  I really don't like
that look in his eyes.  He doesn't have them often, but when he gets an
idea, watch out.

[Finally, Martinez lifts his boot and STOMPS hard on The Spider's chest.
 The air visibly leaves The Spider's body.   Martinez then kicks The
Spider in the ribs, pleased with himself.]

BW: And listen to these fans!  They're loving this.  What a bunch of
sickos!

[Martinez reaches out, gripping The Spider's mask with his left hand and
slowly pulls him off the mat.  Ringside microphones pick up his yelling
"Its time!" to the crowd.]

GM: It looks like The Spider's night is about to come to an end!

[Martinez grips The Spider by the throat.]

BW: Choke!  That's illegal.

GM: That choke means only one thing.

[As the crowd cheers, Martinez hoists The Spider up in the air, and then
drops him down, the canvas bouncing and reverberating with the impact. 
Martinez, already in pinning position, keeps his weight on The Spider.]

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


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


PW: The winner of the match...

ALEEEEEEEX    MAAAAAAAAARTINEZ!!!!!

GM: Alex Martinez, triumphant in his AWA debut.   I'm scheduled to go
have a word with Mr.  Martinez.  Let's see how he feels after his
successful match.

[But before Gordon has fully stood up, the boos of the fans alert
Martinez to the entranceway.  Standing there in full regalia is the
mysterious man who has plagued Martinez' steps since his debut, The
Minion.  The Minion has a microphone in hand, but before he can speak,
the ringside microphones pick up Martinez yelling at him.]

"SHUT THE HELL UP AND GET IN HERE!"

GM: Fans, I don't know who this mysterious man is, and I don't know how
he keeps getting access to our show.  I'm scheduled to get in there to
talk to Alex Martinez... but apparently this... Minion... has other
ideas.

[The Minion appears to oblige Martinez, as he moves determinedly towards
the ring.  In a surprising gesture, Martinez holds the ropes open, and
allows the Minion to enter.  Again, microphones near the ring pick up
Martinez' yelling.]

"YOU GOT SOMETHING TO SAY?"

[But the Minion never gets the chance as Martinez cracks him with a
right hand to the jaw, knocking him flat!  Big cheer!]

GM: Right hand by Martinez!  

BW:  What a cheap shot.

GM: But again, Martinez is paying for it, as he steps back, leaning
against the turnbuckle, favoring his injured hand.

[But not for long, as Martinez comes out of the corner and steps over
The Minion, lifting his foot, preparing to do to The Minion's chest what
he did to The Spider's earlier.  But before he can do anything, another
round of boos alerts Martinez to something going on in the aisle.]

GM: JAMES MONOSSO!  WHAT IS HE DOING HERE?

BW: The Minion promised bad things would happen. What could be worse
than dealing with that maniac?

[Monosso hits the ring and comes toe to toe with Alex Martinez.  There's
a quick moment when the two large men stare each other down.   Monosso
throws a fist at Martinez, but Martinez lifts his right arm to block it
and then staggers Monosso with his left fist.   Martinez whips Monosso
into the ropes.]

GM: THE MINION HAS HOLD OF MARTINEZ' LEG!

[Indeed he does, and with the Minion holding Martinez prone, Monosso
levels him with a huge clothesline.]

BW: That looks like it turned Alex Martinez inside out!

[The Minion rolls out of the ring, bearing witness to the carnage, as
Monosso reaches down, and lifts Martinez up.]

GM: Monosso has Martinez up on his shoulders!  I can't believe his
strength.

[Monosso puts Martinez up on his shoulders, and appears to be setting
him up for a Death Valley Driver.  But instead of dropping him to the
mat, Monosso rams Martinez head first into the top turnbuckle.   Then,
carried by that momentum, Monossso spikes Martinez down into the mat.]

GM: HAPPY VALLEY DRIVER!  Alex Martinez is barely moving.  This is
awful.

BW: Hey, he was warned!

[Monosso bounces off the ropes and then drops his giant knee down into
the throat of the prone Martinez.]

GM:  KING KONG KNEEDROP!!  RIGHT ON THE THROAT!!

[The big man spasms, his eyes rolling backwards.  Not done, the vicious
Monosso drops down, stooping over Martinez, dragging his face across the
canvas.]

GM:  This can't continue!  This isn't a sanctioned match!  This isn't
anything more than a mugging.

[The Minion continues to watch, applauding Monosso's vicious tactics.  
In another feat of strength, Monosso lifts Martinez up into a bodyslam. 
He holds him across his chest for a moment, turning slowly to show the
entire crowd.]

GM:  Look at the strength of Monosso!  That's a three hundred and fifty
pound- WHOA!

[The crowd ERUPTS in a buzz as the madman exerts his strength again,
powering Martinez up to his shoulders...

...and then all the way up into a just-barely-overhead military press!]

GM:  He pressed him!  He's holding Martinez over his head!

[He moves slowly, nearly losing his grip on the heavy Los Angeles native
a few times as he walks across the ring...]

GM:  What in the world is he doing?  Put that man down!  Put him-

[Monosso reaches the edge of the ring, still holding Martinez overhead
as he stands against the ropes.  A sadistic light in his eyes, he
launches Martinez over the top rope, screaming "GET OUT OF HERE!" as he
does.]


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


[The crowd falls silent as Martinez' giant body goes crashing down to
the thinly-padded concrete floor.]

GM:  DID YOU SEE THAT?!  HOW IN THE WORLD DID HE-

BW: Martinez just BOUNCED off the hard concrete floor!  I don't think
there's a bone in Martinez' body that isn't broken now.

[Finally, the carnage is broken up, as the AWA's medical crew comes to
ringside, positioning themselves between Martinez and the two men who've
attacked him.   As Martinez is being tended to, Monosso and The Minion
leave, having accomplished what they set out to do.]

GM: I can't believe what we just witnessed.  I don't know that Alex
Martinez has ever been the victim of such a vicious assault.

BW: That's what happens when you mess with the Dragon.

GM: Fans, we'll be right back.  And, as soon as its available, we'll
have a report on Alex Martinez' current condition.  This was just... it
was just awful.

[Cut to commercial.  A man sits beside an old, sick-looking dog.  The
dog coughs once then hacks as if it's about to vomit.]

Man: Ah yes, poor old Oscar here has certainly been a burden.  He's 14
y'know.  Been rackin' up some medical bills for the past two years. 
That's why a few months ago I started buying Old Yeller brand dog food.

[Cut to show the large bag of dry food with a Golden Labrador Retriever
on the front; a shotgun aimed at it's head.]

Man: See, when this little bastard decided he was gonna cost me ten
large on account of stomach obstruction, I didn't think much of it '
until I found out he'd gotten blocked up on the good silver.  I couldn't
just put him down though.  So now I trust Old Yeller to finish him nice
and slow.  Ain't that right, Oscar?

[Petting the dog, the man looks down with what looks like love, then he
laughs evilly.]

Man: Bet the next dog will think twice.

[Cut away to another angle with the man and dog in the background; a
dish full of the food sits next to a smaller bag.  A narrator takes over
as the man breaks down into hysterical laughter.]

Narrator: Old Yeller - Pet food for pet owners that hate their pets. 
Now available at Walmart and other fine stores run by evil corporations.

[When we come back, the scene opens to the interview platform, where a
horrified Jason Dane stands by with James Monosso.  The stringy-haired
madman is grinning... a twisted grin, combining geniune happiness with
barely-restrained malevolence.  Wearing his "PROPERTY OF STATE MENTAL
HOSPITAL" cutoff T-Shirt over his one-strap black singlet with silver
trim, the mad Monosso isn't even breathing hard after his unexpected
decimation of Alex Martinez.  Boos rain from all corners of the arena...
geniunely hateful boos at a man who has just done the impossible.]

JD: James Monosso... what in the world possessed you to do that?!

JM: Possessed?  No, no, now you're sounding like the doctors, Dane. 
That's not healthy, to sound like the doctors.  I don't like reminders
of the past decade.

JD: Why did you attack Alex Martinez?  Were you under orders from Percy
Childes?

JM: Didn't you hear what I just said?

JD: Uh, yes.  What part of that answered my question?

JM: I told you: I don't like reminders.  Reminders that I was a mighty
World Champion, on top of this sport.  And they took it away from me...
they threw me in a hellhole in middle Pennsylvania where I rotted for
years.  And then their new "stars" took my place.

JD: Like Alex Martinez.

JM: So I'm waiting, Dane.  Waiting for them to do to him what they did
to me.  It's HIS turn, you know.  Why was I thrown in an asylum for
doing what I was always programmed to do, while this creep has been
doing it for twelve years or more and hasn't so much as been warned! 
His music even TELLS YOU THAT HE'S CRAZY!  WHY DO YOU GET TO WALK AROUND
FREE, ALEX MARTINEZ?! I WAS YOU, ONCE!  I WAS THE ONE WITH THE
CHAMPIONSHIPS AND THE CHEERS AND THE TRAIL OF BROKEN OPPONENTS AND THE
FEAR THAT CAME WITH IT!

[Monosso's grin exits stage left as he snaps in mid-paragraph, ranting
violently at the camera.  Jason Dane backs away slowly, until he's
brought the mic out of effective range.  James suddenly lunges at him,
and drags him back to the middle of the platform by his tie.]

JM: DO YOUR JOB, YOU USELESS PRI-

[The mic is yanked out of range before he can finish the sentence.  And
suddenly, he calms down.  The grin slowly resurfaces.]

JM: But now we see, don't we?  The difference between Alex Martinez and
myself.  They took me away because they feared me.  They feared me
because they couldn't control me.  Oh, but they could always control
Alex Martinez.  They could always keep a leash on him, have him destroy
when they wanted and wait when they wanted.  But nobody controls me,
Dane.  Not Childes.  Not Layton.  Not the Master.  Not the Dragon.

JD: Wait... you know who the Dragon is?

JM: Of course I do.  He _paid_ me.  You remember, don't you?  I need
money.  I need as much money as I can get, because my body doesn't have
much left.  It will give out eventually... I have to store enough to
live because I can't DO anything else.  We've covered this.

JD: Who is the Dragon?

JM: I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you.

JD: Is it Anton Layton's Ma - 

JM: No, really: I'D HAVE TO KILL YOU.  Because if I told you, I wouldn't
get paid.  And then I'd kill you.  You'd deserve it.

JD: Well... if you're in such a rush, why take THIS job?  Do you think
that's the first beating Alex Martinez has taken?  Do you now what he
does when someone does this?

JM: We had television in the asylum, Dane.  OF COURSE I KNOW!  Why do
you THINK I didn't finish the job?!  Why do you think I didn't follow
him to the floor, and hit Descent after Descent, until his head exploded
like some guy from Scanners?!  He has no choice but to come for me.  And
I will be waiting.  Oh, yes, I will.  If you're listening, Alex, you can
get my home address from the front office and attack me any time!  I
don't care!  I'm going to be a cripple in a couple years anyway!  The
end result is all the same!  There is absolutely nothing that he can
threaten me with!  Because unlike you, Alex... unlike you, I see the
truth.  I see the light at the end of all of our tunnels.  I see our
future, and it's the same.  You don't even know it yet, but you've
already lost everything.  But soon you'll know.  Soon I'll show you your
future.  And then the Dragon can do whatever he cares to do... it makes
no difference to me.  He sees as I do... knows what I know... and he
knows...

...that you'd have to be INSANE to think otherwise!

[Monosso stalks off, leaving a wide-eyed Jason Dane in his wake.]

JD: I do not like interviewing that man.  Back to you, Gordon and Bucky!

GM: Again, James Monosso puts his hands on an innocent AWA employee! 
How long are we going to let this maniac run loose in our sport?!

BW: Oh, please.  He just pulled him back into position!  I'm more
interested in what this Dragon is doing.  He hired Monosso to get
Martinez?!  He must not wanna face Martinez at all, Gordo, because ya
don't hire James Monosso ta soften people up.  When you hire that man,
yer out ta end somebody, daddy.

GM: As deadly as Monosso is... I don't think you can simply "end" Alex
Martinez.  But a hitman the caliber of Monosso indicates several things
about this Dragon.  One, he's wealthy...

BW: I hear Layton's Master is "a man of wealth and taste".

GM: And two, he's as serious as a heart attack.  This is no mere opening
ploy, no feeling-out process.  This is getting right to business,
because James Monosso is one of the most dangerous men ever to step into
a ring... which you'd better be, because we know that Martinez is the
same, and possibly heads the list.  Three, Monosso seemed to imply that
he wanted Martinez to strike back, so perhaps there is a match in the
future?  That would be unbelievable... and I must admit, I'm very
curious to see what Mr. Monosso will do when he's no longer the big
bully assaulting an inexperienced competitor who isn't accustomed to
such brutality.

BW: That's funny.  I was just going ta say the same about Alex Martinez!
 He's had some wars in his day, but how often has he gone in against
someone who can stand right up face to face and not be outmatched?!  Not
too often!  And did he ever hafta do that against a man who literally
don't care what Martinez does ta him, a man with nothin' ta lose?!  We
all know this ain't gonna scare Alex, but the real question is... can he
survive it, and do so with enough left to slay a Dragon?

GM: We shall see.  Fans, we have seen Alex Martinez debut here in the
ring in the Crockett Coliseum... and yes, James Monosso has emerged from
the shadows to brutally assault Martinez!  What a way to end our first
hour here tonight and we've still got four huge matches to come on this
super-sized edition of Saturday Night Wrestling!  And one of those is
about to happen but before it does, Mark Stegglet is backstage with
Scotty and Marty, the Rockstar Express!

[We crossfade to the backstage area where Scotty Storm and Marty Morgan
are dressed for battle.]

MS:  Thanks, Gordon.  Guys, it's an exciting night here in Dallas and
it's only going to get better when you get inside that ring with the
Aces!

[Scotty Storm is all smiles as he speaks into the mic.]

SS:  That's right, Mark!  The Rockstar Express has pulled into town for
what's gonna be one heck of a fight with those guys, the Aces.  It was
Christmas night when we tore the house down with 'em and gave the fans a
big Christmas treat but it was a little bit like kissin' your sister,
you know... to have a big ol' throwdown like that end in a time limit
draw.  Tonight?  It ain't goin' down like that.

[Marty Morgan speaks up.]

MM:  Danny Tyler wants us to know three things about him and Stevie
Childes.  

[Morgan nods.]

MM:  Here's three things to know about the Rockstars, Tyler.

[Morgan holds up one finger.]

MM:  We ARE tag team specialists.  That's all we know and it's all we
do.  We've been tag team partners since before some of these kids out
here were born and we're the best in the world at it.  I know this man
like the back of my hand and he can say the same thing about me.

Can you say that about each other?  I don't think so.

[He holds up a second finger.]

MM:  You boys seem to be preoccupied by wearing tuxedoes and making
music videos.  While you're trying to get on MTV, we're workin' to
become the National Tag Team Champions.  Our focus is on the ring -
where's yours?

[And finally, a third finger.]

MM:  You want to talk about expectations?  I expect that you'll get in
there... I expect you'll do the best you can do... and I expect that it
won't be anywhere near enough to stop the best team runnin'.

[Morgan storms out of view, leaving Storm and Stegglet behind.]

MS:  Your partner seems a bit... worked up, Scotty.

SS:  He'll be fine.  He just needs to get this match out of the way. 

[Storm leaves as well as Stegglet turns to the camera.]

MS:  I think this one's gonna have these fans on their feet, Gordon. 
Back to ringside!

[We fade to the ring where Phil Watson is standing.]

PW:  The following is a tag team matchup scheduled for one fall with a
twenty minute time limit.  Introducing first...

["Airplanes" by B.O.B featuring Hayley Williams starts up to a big cheer
from the AWA faithful.]

PW:  From Jacksonville, Florida... "SWEET" STEVIE CHILES... "DELICIOUS"
DANNY TYLER...

THE ACES!

[The cheers grow louder (especially from the ladies) as Childes and
Tyler come into view, wearing the same attire we saw during their promo
earlier in the night.  They lean down from the ramp, slapping the hands
of the fans as they make their way to the ring, slingshotting over the
ropes in unison.]

GM:  These two made quite the impression on the AWA fans with their
debut in the Stampede Cup against the same team they'll be facing here
tonight.

BW:  The suckers in the crowd really love all that flip flop and flyin'
around, Gordo.  And the Aces deliver that kind of offense many times
over.

[The music fades and is replaced by KISS' "Rock And Roll All Nite" to a
big cheer!]

PW:  And their opponents... from Rock And Roll City, USA... SCOTTY
STORM... MARTY MORGAN...

THE ROOOOOCKSTAR EXXXXXPRESSSS!

[The cheers intensify as Morton and Storm burst into view.  They jog
down the ramp, also leaning over to slap the hands of the fans as they
head down the aisle.]

GM:  Two of the most popular tag team in all of wrestling are getting
set to square off in the middle of the Crockett Coliseum and this is
exactly why the AWA has the best tag team division in the world, Bucky!

BW:  These two?  Really?  

[Storm and Morgan step into the ring, each hopping up to the midbuckle
to pay tribute to their fans and then leaping back down as the referee
tries to get two men in and two men out.  Morgan is glaring across the
ring at Danny Tyler who is returning the stare.  Stevie Childes quickly
steps in front of Tyler though, nudging him back to the corner.]

GM:  It looks like it'll be Stevie Childes starting off for his team
and... yes, Scotty Storm for his.  The two peacemakers, I suppose you
can say.

[As the bell rings, Storm and Childes quickly meet in the center of the
ring, trading a handshake and then tangling up in a collar and elbow. 
Storm quickly pulls the smaller Childes into a side headlock, cranking
down on the head and neck.  Childes throws a pair of forearms into the
ribs, backing Storm up into the ropes...

...and firing him off to the far side.]

GM:  Childes throws him off... 

[As Storm rebounds back, Childes deadleaps up straight up to leapfrog
over him.  Storm hits the far side, rebounding off, and leaping over a
dropped down Childes.  As he comes off the ropes again, Storm gets
caught on the chin with a picture perfect standing dropkick from "Sweet"
Stevie!]

GM:  Ohh!  Right on the button!

[Storm hits the mat hard, bouncing right back up, and charging towards
Childes who grabs the arm, flipping Storm up and overhead with an
armdrag!]

GM:  Overhead armdrag by Childes as well!

[Childes and Storm both scramble to their feet quickly again.  Storm
rushes his opponent who sidesteps, shoving him off to the ropes.  As
Storm rebounds, he takes flight with a crossbody that takes Childes down
to the mat.]

GM:  Crossbody for one!  Tw- Childes out before two!

[As Childes tries to get up, Storm hooks a side headlock, flipping
Childes down to the canvas with a headlock takedown...

...where he promptly gets rolled onto his shoulders!]

GM:  Childes has him down for one!  For two!  

[But Storm kicks hard, rolling back the other way.  He clenches his
teeth, grinding down on the side headlock as the crowd cheers the
frantic action seen so far.]

GM:  And it looks like Scotty Storm's gonna slow this one down a bit,
Bucky.

BW:  You can't keep going at the pace those two were going there for a
bit.

[Childes quickly gets his feet under him, pushing up to a vertical base.
 He slowly walks Storm back to the buckles, pushing him into the corner
as the referee steps in to call for a break.]

GM:  The ref wants a clean break here... and he gets it.  How 'bout
that, Bucky?

BW:  Morons.  Storm shoulda waffled him on the break and gotten the edge
on him.

GM:  Not everyone thinks like you do.

BW:  True.  That's why there's so many losers out there.

[The two men shake hands again before circling one another.  This time,
as Childes lunges forward, he goes behind Storm into a rear waistlock.]

GM:  Waistlock applied by Childes...

[We cut to the apron where Marty Morgan is sternly staring into the
ring, watching every move of Stevie Childes as he picks Storm off the
mat, putting him chestfirst down on the canvas.]

GM:  Nice takedown by Childes...

[Childes pops right out of the waistlock as they hit the mat, leaping
into the air, and dropping an elbow across the kidneys of Storm.]

GM:  Did you see the height on that elbowdrop?  This guy can jump
straight up into the lights, I tell ya.

[Childes grabs Storm by the wrist, hauling him to his feet.  He fires
Storm into the neutral corner, rushing in...

...and leaping up, planting his feet on the upper thighs, and taking
Storm out of the buckles with a monkey flip!]

GM:  Oho!  Monkey flip by Stevie Childes!

[Storm is a bit slower to get to his feet this time as Childes measures
him from across the ring, rushing towards him...]

GM:  Head kick avoided!

[The attempted Yakuza Kick comes up empty as Storm sidesteps it, pulling
Childes into a schoolboy cradle.]

GM:  CRADLE FOR ONE!!  TWO!!  TH-

[The crowd buzzes as Childes kicks out at two...

...and then EATS a well-placed dropkick as he gets to his feet, knocking
him flat.  Storm smiles as he pulls Childes up by the arm, pushing him
back into the corner where he slaps the hand of Marty Morgan.]

GM:  In comes Morgan off the tag... ohh!  Hard right hand to the
midsection!

[Another hooking blow to the body follows, earning Morgan some strong
words from the official as he grabs Childes by the wrist, dragging him
to the middle of the ropes.]

GM:  Whip by Morgan... he catches him in the midsection with a right
hand again... off the ropes...

[The crowd cheers a high impact kneelift that snaps Childes backwards,
dropping him on the mat.  Morgan promptly moves in on Childes, catching
him with a kick to the gut as he tries to get up.]

GM:  Ohh!  Childes was trying to get up but Morgan caught him there.

[Hooking a front facelock, Morgan slings Childes' arm over his neck,
taking him high into the air, and dropping him flat on his back with a
vertical suplex.]

BW:  Marty Morgan's using an offense that we're not used to from him. 
With the Rockstars, we're used to quick tags, fast movements, big risks
- but right now, he's keeping it simple, keeping Childes grounded, and
taking some of that high risk offense out of Childes' playbook.

GM:  Morgan grabs the legs, dragging Childes over to the corner... and
there's a tag to Scotty Storm...

[Grabbing the top rope with both hands, Storm slingshots over the ropes
and drops an elbow into the chest of Childes.]

GM:  There's a little bit of that high-flying offense, Bucky.

BW:  Out of Storm, sure.  But Marty Morgan seems like a different man in
this one.

[Morgan shouts something in his partner's direction as Storm rolls into
a cover, gaining a two count again before Childes fires a shoulder off
the mat.]

GM:  Just a two count for the Rockstars there.

[Across the ring, the camera catches Danny Tyler screaming to his
partner, stretching his arm out.]

GM:  Looks like "Delicious" Danny really wants back in there.

[Storm pulls Childes off the mat by the arm, wheeling around to hurl him
into the ropes.  He ducks down, setting for a backdrop but Childes hangs
on to the ropes.]

GM:  Childes pulls up short.

[And as Storm approaches, Childes lashes out with a savate kick to the
gut.]

GM:  Ohh!  He catches him in the breadbasket!

[Childes lashes out with a second one, knocking the wind out of Storm as
he slumps to a knee...

...and then gets ROCKED with a savate kick on the chin!]


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


GM:  STORM GOES DOWN!!  STEVIE TO THE CORNER!!

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  TAG!

["Delicious" Danny Tyler rushes into the fray, drilling a rising Storm
with a running clothesline.  Spinning around, he rushes the Rockstars
corner and connects with a back elbow that knocks Marty Morgan off the
apron to the floor!]

GM:  Tyler clears out Morgan!

[Grabbing Storm by the hair, Tyler pulls him to his feet.]

GM:  Tyler hooks one arm... hooks the other...

[But before he can take Storm down, Morgan rushes in, blasting Tyler
across the back with a double axehandle!]

GM:  Ohh!  He breaks up whatever Tyler was thinking about there.

[Morgan grabs Tyler by the arm, spinning him around and popping him on
the chin with a clenched fist!]

GM:  Down goes Tyler!  Morgan popped him one!

[Morgan dives on top of Tyler, battering him with right hands on the
canvas...

...and gets stopped by his own partner!]

GM:  What in the world-?!

BW:  Exactly!  What is Scotty Storm thinking here?

[Storm pulls Morgan off of Tyler, backing him to the corner and shouting
at him.]

GM:  Storm is trying to get to the bottom of this.  This is supposed to
be a friendly matchup and-

BW:  Says who?  Danny Tyler when he knocked Morgan to the floor?!

GM:  Well, he was just trying to-

BW:  He was trying to win, damn it.  Just like Morgan's trying to do and
just like Storm SHOULD BE trying to do!  There's no ribbon given out for
manners, daddy!

[Morgan and Storm argue in the corner...

...which allows Danny Tyler to rush the corner, leaping up to drive a
knee into the back of Storm, knocking him into Morgan!]

GM:  Ohh!

[Grabbing Storm around the waist, Tyler powers him up and drops him down
on the back of the head!]

GM:  OH!  High impact suplex by Danny Tyler!

[And as Tyler gets up...]


"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"


GM:  KICK TO THE JAW!!  MORGAN CAUGHT HIM WITH A THRUST KICK OF HIS OWN!

[The referee protests as an angry Marty Morgan exits the ring, stepping
out to the apron as both Tyler and Storm lie flat on their backs on the
canvas.  Across the ring, Stevie Childes shouts words of protest in at
the official and Marty Morgan.]

GM:  This one is getting a little bit testy, Bucky.

[Scotty Storm is the first to his feet, grabbing the back of his head as
he looks down in confusion at the downed Danny Tyler.]

GM:  I'm not sure Scotty Storm knows what in the world just happened. 
He sees Danny Tyler down but I don't think he knows that Morgan just
threw that superkick.

BW:  He shouldn't care!  Make the tag and finish this punk off!

[Storm drags Tyler off the mat by the hair...

...and gets caught with a right hand to the jaw!]

GM:  Ohh!  Tyler fires back!

[Showing some fire of his own, Storm throws a haymaker to the jaw... and
another... and another...]

GM:  Three big right hands by Scotty Storm!

[Outside the ring, Stevie Childes is shouting at both men...

...until an Irish whip of Tyler by Storm sends "Delicious" into his own
partner, knocking Childes off the apron.]

GM:  Ohh!  That was an accident but-

[A rushing clothesline by Storm takes Tyler over the ropes, knocking him
down to the floor alongside his partner.]

BW:  That wasn't!

GM:  It certainly wasn't.  Scotty Storm just cleared out both of the
Aces!

[A fired-up Storm grabs the top rope with both hands, waiting for his
opponents to rise...

...and slingshots himself over the ropes, wiping out both of the Aces
with a crossbody!]

GM:  OHHHHHH!  WHAT A DIVE!!!

[Storm pops up to his feet, drawing cheers from the fans as he pumps his
fists in triumph.  Leaning down, he pulls Tyler to his feet, shoving him
back into the ring...]

GM:  Tyler's back in... Storm's up on the apron...

[Where Stevie Childes grabs him by the ankle, trying to stop him from
going after his partner...]

GM:  Look at that!  Childes is hanging on!  Storm's on the apron and-

[Tyler rushes the corner, using the ropes to throw his legs up into the
air, and snapping a kick into the temple of Storm!]

GM:  OHH!  HEADKICK IN THE CORNER!!

[Tyler promptly grabs Storm in a front facelock, taking him over the
ropes...

...and rotates, dropping Storm facefirst to the canvas!]

GM:  OHHHH!

[With Storm down, Tyler grabs both legs, flipping him into a Boston
Crab...

...and then slaps the hand of Stevie Childes as "Sweet" Stevie gets back
up on the apron.  Childes promptly goes up the ropes, standing up top,
and leaps off, dropping his leg across the back of Storm's neck!]

GM:  FLYING LEGDROP TO THE BACK OF THE HEAD!!

[Childes flips Storm to his back as Tyler stands guard, getting tangled
up in a slugfest with Marty Morgan as he tries to break up the pin
attempt.]

GM:  We've got a fight on our hands!  ONE!!  TWO!!  TH-

[The crowd cheers as Storm is saved by a diving Marty Morgan forearm to
the back.]

GM:  The Rockstars are still alive!

[An angry Tyler yanks Morgan to his feet, pasting him with a right hand
to the jaw that knocks him back to the ropes.]

GM:  Chiles and Tyler on Morgan... double whip... boot to the gut...

[Tyler quickly hooks Morgan for a side Russian legsweep as Childes grabs
Morgan around the head and neck, using his leg to sweep the legs...]


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


GM:  CRACKERJACK ON MARTY MORGAN!!!

[The crowd cheers the Aces as they trade a high-five over the downed
Morgan.  Childes points to the corner as Tyler picks Scotty Storm up off
the mat, firing him across the ring...]

GM:  Storm off the far side...

[Tyler scoops Storm up over his shoulder like setting up for a Hot
Shot...

...which puts him in perfect position as Childes leaps backwards off the
middle rope, catching Storm across the face with a leg lariat!]

GM:  OHHHH!

[Childes dives across the downed Storm again...]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR-

[The crowd roars again as Storm kicks out just before the count of
three.  Childes slaps a hand on the canvas as he gets up, shouting to
his partner who has forced Marty Morgan out to the apron with a series
of kicks to the ribs.]

GM:  Childes is calling for his partner - another doubleteam perhaps?

[Tyler and Childes each grab an arm, firing Storm into the far ropes.]

GM:  Storm off the far side... 

[On the rebound, Tyler hoists Storm up across his shoulders as Childes
drops down to a knee...

...and Tyler flips him off into a fireman's carry slam, down across the
bent knee!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHHH!  ONE!!  TWO!!!  THRE-

[Storm again fires a shoulder off the mat to the cheers of the crowd...

...which grow louder as Marty Morgan recovers, scaling the ropes from
outside the ring!]

GM:  MARTY MORGAN'S UP TOP!!

BW:  LOOK OUT BELOW!!

[And as Danny Tyler turns around, Morgan hurls himself off the top rope,
catching Tyler with a crossbody that wipes him out!]

GM:  TYLER GOES DOWN!!

[Morgan pops back up, catching a rising Childes on the chin with a
haymaker.  He grabs Childes by the arm, firing him across the ring...]

GM:  Whip to the ropes, off comes Childes...

BW:  There is that preachin' woman again!
 
[Indeed, The First Family's Eve, who we saw at the start of the show,
has just arrived at ringside, screaming at the fans there.]

GM:  Clothesli-

[But Childes leaps into the air, scissoring the arms of Morgan, and
dragging him down in a crucifix...

...but the referee waves it off, pointing to Storm.]

GM:  The ref says that Scotty Storm is the legal man and- 

BW:  Where's Storm going?!

GM:  He's going up top!  Scotty Storm is going up top!  Childes doesn't
see him and-

[Suddenly, Eve leaps over the barricade, shouting 'repent' at the top of
her lungs. Scotty Storm is staring at her with a look of confusion and
anger and does not even notice when the roar of fans goes up a notch.]

GM:  LOOK OUT!!

[The warning goes unheard as Adam and the massive masked giant, Brother
Cain, come charging down the aisle, sliding into the ring...

...at which Storm panicks, hurling himself off the top at Brother Cain!]

GM:  OFF THE- OHH!!  CAUGHT!!

[The crowd roars as Brother Cain easily catches the flying Scotty
Storm...

...and OBLITERATES him with a standing spinebuster!]

GM:  OHHHHHHH!

[Spinning away from the scene, Stevie Childes turns around just as Adam
boots him in the gut.  He quickly hooks the head, snapping Childes over
in a swinging neckbreaker!]

GM:  Ohh!  

BW:  The First Family has seen enough of this!

[Adam gets to his feet, stomping the prone Stevie Childes as the crowd
jeers and the bell rings over and over.]

GM:  The bell is ringing - this one is over thanks to The First Family! 
What in the world are they going out here, Bucky?

BW:  Looks like one heck of a Pearl Harbor job to me, daddy!

[Recovering on the apron, Danny Tyler tries to get in to help his
partner but a still-screaming Eve grabs his right leg, holding on with
all she can to prevent his aid.]

GM:  Tyler can't get in there to help out... 

[Marty Morgan rushes towards Brother Cain...

...and gets flipped end over end with a massive big boot to the jaw!]

GM:  OHHHH!  BIG BOOT!!  Why are they doing this? Why are they ruining
this match?
 
BW: What are you talkin' about, Gordo? As far as I am concerned, they
are saving us from watching more of this flippy-floppy stuff.

[With Tyler trapped on the apron, Adam hooks his hands around Tyler's
neck, dropping down to his knees and snapping Tyler's throat across the
top rope, forcing him to collapse on the apron.]

GM:  The First Family is taking out everyone in sight!

[The self-proclaimed first man rises to his feet, shouting instructions
to Brother Cain.  Cain nods once, grabbing the downed Stevie Childes'
legs, and begins to swing him around rapidly in a Giant Swing.]

GM:  Look at this!

[The bell rings again, trying to cease the assault as the masked big man
spins over and over and over...

...and Adam lunges into action, DRILLING the spinning and helpless
Childes with a brutal headkick!]

GM:  OHHHHHHH!

BW: Sweet!

GM:  Eve's out on the floor shouting "Original Sin" over and over... is
that what they're calling that move?

BW:  I think so.  Good marketing.

[Adam stands in the middle of the ring, arms spread as the crowd jeers
wildly.  The massive masked man, Brother Cain, stands behind him, arms
crossed as the duo surveys the damage they've done.  Adam has a huge
grin on his face.]

GM:  Well, these two certainly look pleased at what they've done.  I
can't believe this.  There was no reason for this - none at all, Bucky.

BW:  It's called announcing your presence with authority.  All of these
tag teams talking about each other and overlooking The First Family -
I'm guessing this puts an end to that!

[Adam exits the ring, Brother Cain following behind by stepping over the
top rope.  Eve joins them on the ramp as they make their way back
towards the locker room.]

GM:  Get these guys out of here.

BW:  Dane!  Go talk to them!  Do your job!

[At the end of the ramp, we can see Jason Dane approaching the trio with
a mic in hand.]

JD: Um' I am standing here with the First Family who just interrupted a
great tag team match with a brutal-

[Eve snatches the microphone away from Dane.]

E : You don't talk to us like that, Jason Dane. We have not come here to
interrupt anything ' that match right there was of no consequence.

[She holds the mic to Adam, who is smiling serenely.]

A : The lovely Eve is absolutely right. For our brothers and sisters who
are watching right now have to realize one thing ' it is our time now.
Saturday night ' the sixth day ' when He created the First Man, the Lord
said that man should rule over anything he saw. The Lord had me in mind
when that was written down in Genesis and I have accepted that burden.

So will every one of you in time. The First Family will enlighten you.
The First Family will make you better people. And the First Family will
get rid of false idols like the men in the ring right now. The Aces, the
Rockstar Express ' you may cheer them now but like the Golden Calf,
their destruction will give you the chance to repent and see that _we_
are your true and only saviors ' or you will '

E : Suffer the Fall!

[Meanwhile, in the ring, the Aces and the Rockstar Express have
recovered. Angry fingers are being pointed at the interview stage and
eventually, towards each other as accusatory shouts fly back and forth.]

GM:  I don't... fans, I apologize that, once again, we could not present
you a winner in this match. I am sure both the Aces and the Rockstar
Express will make Adam and the First Family pay for this one way or
another.

BW: Well, it's the AWA, Gordo. This Adam guy is looking for a pulpit and
the fine people of Dallas, Texas sure flock to the Crockett Coliseum
these days.

GM:  But in the meantime, look at what's going on in the ring - these
teams aren't done with each other yet!

[The camera goes back to the ring where Marty Morgan shoves Danny Tyler
hard in the chest.  Tyler returns the favor as both Scotty Storm and
Stevie Childes attempt to restore order, shouting at their respective
partners as we fade to black...

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

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

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

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

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

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

[A shot of Stevie Scott holding the belt high in the air.]

"And now, it can be yours!"

[A final shot of Juan Vasquez, battered yet triumphant with the gold
belt held in both hands fades into a shot of a young fan doing the
same.]

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

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

...and then we come back up to the backstage area where Mark Stegglet is
standing.]

MS:  Welcome back to Dallas, fans, and-

[The words of Mark Stegglet are cut off by loud, angry voices that lead
to the arrival of Marty Morgan and Scotty Storm, the Rockstar Express,
on the scene.]

MS:  Whoa, whoa!  Gentlemen!

[Storm is the first to the mic.]

SS:  Look here, Marky Mark... I don't know what in the heck is goin' on
out there but I ain't 'bout - we ain't 'bout to stand for it!  The First
Family?  Some freak of nature who thinks he's prehistoric walkin' 'round
with his lady friend and some masked psychopath wants to step on our
toes?  

[Storm waves it off, shaking his head.]

MM:  It may have looked like a random act of violence, Scotty... but you
know the truth as much as I do.

[Storm looks puzzled.]

SS:  What are you talkin' 'bout, baby?

MM:  You think the first man walkin' decided to jump on us all on his
own?

[Storm shakes his head.]

MS:  Are you implying that the Aces had something to do with-

MM:  I think it's real clear what just went down, Stegglet.  We were
about to win that match... about to beat those two punks again... and
something happened to change all that.  You think that's a coincidence?

SS:  You think they...?  No way, man... no way.

MM:  You believe what you want, Scotty.  I know what I saw out there and
I know what's goin' on 'round here.  And you know what else I know?  I
know I want another shot at The Aces.

SS:  What 'bout the First Family?  I want to get a shot at them.

[Marty Morgan waves it off, walking out of view.]

MS:  What... what do you think, Scotty?

SS:  I'm not sure what's goin' through that boy's head... but we'll
figure it out together... as a team.  Whether it's The First Family or
another shot at the Aces, the Rockstar Express is gonna keep on rollin'
right over the competition, baby!

[Scotty Storm is all grins as he points to the camera before we fade to
footage marked "EARLIER TODAY" where we're backstage in one of the
locker rooms, where seated on a wooden bench lacing his boots is "All
Pro" Andrew Stevens. He is alone for the time being, presumably because
Becky needs time to make herself pretty before Stevens' match (and we
_all_ know how beauty queens need lots of time). And from the look on
his face, he's none too pleased about... well... something.]

AS: Is there something that I didn't make clear on the last SNW? Was my
use of the english language incomprehensible? Or is this a case of
people just being sick and tired of the "rookie" coming in and saying
he's the best? Just because a bunch of dorks have ruined it _doesn't_
mean it's going to ring true for a guy like me. So for all of you in
AWA, let me reiterate...

[He flashes a winning, confident grin.]

AS: ...I am the _best_.

[The grin quickly fades back into a scowl.]

AS: But despite all of that, no matter how much I stand here and say it,
no matter how much my previous accolades have shown it, I am _still_
expected to prove myself here in AWA. I'm still expected to sit on the
lowest rung, amongst the slime, muck, and sludge and climb my way out.
And, with those thoughts occupying my nightmares, I have to ask AWA one
thing; how dare you?

How dare you hold me back?

How dare you make me prove _anything_?

And how _dare_ you waste my talent?

Look at me. The clothes. The hair. The girlfriend. _Everything_ about me
says "winner." I was born, bred, and raised to be a _champion_. Yet here
I stand, wasting my time and preparing for a match that's beneath my
standards, not even guaranteed that anyone that has any pull in the AWA
is going to watch. So really, why should _I_ care when it's clear that
nobody else does?

[He reaches for a roll of tape, and begins to tape his wrists.]

AS: I'll tell you why. Because I'm a winner and that's what winners do.
They step into the ring with dorks that wouldn't have been able to wash
my jock in high school. They dominate said dorks from the opening bell,
and take a win. Then they watch the rest of the show closely, looking
for the right situation to interject themselves into. It's what I did in
high school, then again in college, and now it's time for the AWA to see
it. To see why _I_ am the future, the young bull in a field of fogeys.

But you'll _all_ see that tonight.

As far as my "opposition," and I use that term loosely, is concerned...
know this. I _will_ be taking you lightly. I _will_ be utilizing as
little energy as possible. I _do_ see you as a non threat, and when --
not if -- I win, I'm going to forget about it and move on. So don't let
your "fifteen minutes" go to your head. You might be a blip on my radar
right now, but I won't remember your name when it's all over. That's
just how it is when you're nothing more than a benchwarmer, a _nobody_.

[Stevens tosses the roll of tape aside.]

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

[With that, Stevens stretches, yawns, and prepares for a little
pre-match "meditation" (read: nap) as we fade back to live action where
Phil Watson is standing in the ring.]

PW:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit.  Introducing first... in the corner to my right... from West
Texas and weighing in at 270 pounds... David Roberts!

[The chiseled physique of Roberts is on display with a double bicep pose
that draws some cheers from the fans.]

PW:   And his opponent... making his way down to ringside...

[Cue "Locked & Loaded" by Jackyl.]

PW: ...accompanied by his valet, Becky.

[Catcalls. Boos. An eclectic mix.]

PW: Fighting out of Fort Lauderdale, Florida and weighing in at 263
pounds... 

"ALL PRO" 

ANNNNNDRRRRREWWWWW STEEEEEVEEEEENS!!!!!

[The curtains are tossed back, and out saunters Becky, her electric
smirk flashing the camera. She waves her royal blue and gold pom-poms
high into the air, doing typical cheerleader pep maneuvers to introduce
her boyfriend. The curtains are tossed aside a second time, and the boos
come raining in as "All Pro" Andrew Stevens steps out, arms
outstretched, an award-winning smile plastered across his face. He
stands at the entrance shortly, adjusts his letterman jacket, and walks
towards ringside.

The couple walk down arm in arm, kind of like how they would after
winning Prom King and Queen. You know, in that "hey, you guys voted us
so you KNOW we're the best" kind of way. And the fans? Well they
continue to show their displeasure, which the couple simply scoffs at.
They get to ringside, where Becky quickly climbs the steps and holds the
ring open for Stevens. He enters the ring and again outstretches his
arms, soaking in some more boos. They walk over to the corner, and
Stevens removes his jacket, handing it to Becky. She exits the ring,
taking great care not to crease the jacket ad Stevens awaits the bell.]

GM:   The in-ring debut here for "All Pro" Andrew Stevens.  Tell us what
you know about him, Bucky.

BW:  Andrew Stevens is a 2008 graduate from Florida State University
where he was a star in baseball and basketball as well as an All
American two years running as a middle linebacker in football.  He
trained in the Combat Corner under Todd Michaelson until he left that
program a year ago and has spent the last year traveling throughout the
South and working for various independent promotions.

GM:  You sound like that AWA iPhone app.

BW:  Very funny, Gordo.  I do my homework unlike you.  And I know this
kid is the real deal, daddy. 

[Stevens and Roberts circle a bit before tying up in the middle.  The
"All Pro" swiftly rakes the eyes of David Roberts, chuckling as the
referee shouts at him for it.  He uncorks a pair of haymakers, knocking
Roberts backwards into the ropes where he grabs an arm, firing him
across the ring.]

GM:  Stevens sends Roberts for the ride...

[The "All Pro" trips up David Roberts with a drop toehold as he comes
off the ropes, then rolls up Roberts' muscular frame to slap him
viciously in the back of the head.  The crowd jeers as Stevens pops up
to his feet, cupping a hand to his ear to "listen up" to their boos.]

GM:  Well, Stevens sure has gotten off on the wrong foot with these fans
here in Dallas.

BW:  I'm sure he cares.

[Outside the ring, Becky does a little cheer for her man, earning a wink
and a smile from Stevens before he gets back into it with Roberts,
getting muscled back into the buckles in a collar and elbow.  Roberts
steps back, throwing a big chop across the chest.]

GM:  Ohh!  Hard knife-edge chop by David Roberts!

[Leaning over, Roberts grabs the middle rope, lunging forward to slam
his shoulder into the midsection of Andrew Stevens.  He attempts the
same move again...

...but this time, he eats a kneelift from the All Pro, staggering him.]

GM:  Stevens caught him coming in!

[The All Pro spins Roberts around, hoisting him up into the air, and
bringing him tailbone-first down on the bent knee.]

GM:  Big lifting atomic drop by Andrew Stevens!

[Backing to the ropes, Stevens bumps them, slowly walking back out...

...and leaping high into the air, dropping his knee down across the
chest of David Roberts!  He slaps his open hand down on the chest,
screaming "Count him, ref!"]

GM:  The kneedrop gets a one... gets a two... but that's all.

[Stevens promptly cradles the head of Roberts, peppering his skull with
right hands.  At the referee's four count, Stevens gets up, shouting at
the official.]

GM:  Stevens is telling the official he's got until the count of five to
break any illegal move... and at the rate he's using illegal moves, I'd
say he knows what he's talking about.

[A few hard stomps to the chest of Roberts draws the ire of the fans
once again.  Stevens slowly walks around the downed body of David
Roberts, pausing near his upper body...

...and then leaps as high as he possibly can before dropping an elbow
squarely across the chest!]

GM:  Ohh!  Sky high elbowdrop!

BW:  Look at the height that Stevens gets on his moves, Gordo.  First
the kneedrop, now the elbow - this kid's got athleticism up to his
eyeballs.  And he's got Becky.  The world is his oyster.

[Stevens leans down, pulling Roberts into a front facelock.  He slings
the big man's arm over his neck, powering him up...

...and snapping him over in a vertical suplex!]

GM:  Excellent execution on the suplex!

[Stevens pops up to his feet, arms spread as he spins in a full 360 for
the jeering fans.  The "All Pro" drops back against the ropes...
waiting, watching, measuring as Roberts rolls to his stomach, pushing up
to all fours...]

GM:  What's he doing now?

BW:  I have no idea.

[Stevens rushes forward, his leg pulled back...

...and throws a HUUUUUGE punt kick into the ribcage of David Roberts!]

GM:  Ohh!

[As Roberts rolls over to his back, Stevens puts his hand above his
eyes, "watching" the kick sail through the uprights.]

BW:  That one's good from distance, daddy!

GM:  Give me a break!

[Stevens dances around the ring a bit, taunting the ringside fans as
Becky applauds enthusiastically.  He leans over, pulling Roberts to his
feet...

...and then promptly leaps into the air, hooking a three-quarter nelson
and SPIKING his skull into the canvas!]

GM:  OHHH!

BW:  He told me he calls that Varsity Blues!

[Stevens quickly applies a cover - no leg cradle - as the referee dives
to the mat.]

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


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM:  "All Pro" Andrew Stevens wins his first match here in the AWA and
does so convincingly.  And Becky sure does seem happy about that.

BW:  She's the Head Cheerleader.  Of course she's happy!

GM:  I look forward to seeing what Stevens can do here against some
top-level competition.  Perhaps a Brent Maverick or a Sweet Daddy
Williams.

BW:  Those two?  I thought you said top-level competition.

GM:  Very funny.  Fans, let's go up to Jason.

[Up to the interview platform once more, where Jason Dane is standing by
with the "Colector Of Oddities" Percy Childes.  Childes is wearing a
grey dress shirt, navy blue tie, and navy blue slacks.  He's lost a bit
of weight, but is still very 'well-rounded' in the physique deaprtment. 
The bald-headed, goateed manager clutches the Longhorn Heritage
championship belt, cradling it as if it were a sleeping infant.  His
crystal-tipped cane is hanging at his side, attached to a belt-loop in
his slacks.  Behind him stands the stoic Nenshou, his features obscured
by a black cloth hood-mask with red designs running all over it.  His
loose black clothing, all angles and designs, matches the look of the
hood.]

JD: In just moments, Percy Childes, your man Nenshou will defend the
Longhorn Heritage Championship against the young Johnny Sone.  But
first, I'd like to get your comments... why did you send James Monosso
to go after Alex Martinez?  What's in it for you?

[Childes' expression goes strangely sour.]

PC: I was not... made aware... of the intentions of the mad Monosso.  He
acted without the appropriate consultation, and that is a conversation
that he and I will have in the very...

[One hand reaches down to his cane, almost reflexively.]

PC: ...VERY near future.

But the rest is not your concern, Dane.  Now it is the time for Nenshou
to again show the audience watching at home, as well as these ungrateful
individuals in attendance, that he is the greatest wrestler alive. 
Nenshou is the true champion of the AWA, and agai he proves it by
accepting all challenges and taking on all comers.  

Tonight, Johnny Sone, you will come face-to-face with a very
uncomfortable truth.  For we have heard them rave about you, Sone.  They
say you're highly advanced for a rookie.  Not like many of these
nameless souls who pass through this ring, get one match against a star,
are crushed, and never seen again.  No, Sone, they tell me you have a
future.  You are well beyond the average for your years.  I agree with
that assessment, mind you.  And likely you've heard that, over and over.
 But what you have yet to see, Johnny Sone... is a measuring stick.

Nenshou is young, as you are.  Nenshou's future lies ahead of him, as
yours does.  But unlike you, Johnny Sone... Nenshou is already far
beyond these labels.  He is so far advanced beyond the scale of
progression that young athletes undergo that noone thinks of him in the
same terms they think of you.  He is not a "prospect" anymore... he is
the _truth_.  Tonight, Johnny Sone, when you face up to Nenshou, you
won't get a measurement of how far ahead of the curve you are... you'll
get _indisputable evidence_ of just how far behind the head of the class
you are.  In other words... everyone has praised you for being better
than the average, but tonight you will learn the distinction between
"average" and "elite".  

Oh, no mistake, you do have talent; you can make a nice living in this
industry if you work hard to better yourself and adopt a worthwhile
mindset, yes.  You may collect some minor championships and, in the best
case, grow into a major championship contender.  It is possible; your
ceiling is high.

But Nenshou is already above that; he has no ceiling.  And tonight, he
will do you a great kindness.  He will destroy your praise, and show you
just how far you REALLY have to go.

You're welcome.

[That being that, Childes starts to walk off as the fans jeer him for
being an arrogant, presumptive jackass.  But Jason Dane has a question
to ask yet.]

JD: Percy Childes, I do have one question that has yet to be addressed,
if you would.  While your assessment of Johnny Sone seems overly
dismissive and shortsighted... there is another athlete whose
accomplishments in this sport speak for themselves.  A man you can't so
easily dismiss.  And his name is Brian Von Braun.

[Cheer!  Wait, what?  Did some of the fans just cheer the name of Brian
Von Braun?  Childes stops, and his face grows even more sour.]

JD: Brian Von Braun is upset about what he claims that the Unholy
Alliance took from him.  And now... he says he's coming to take what YOU
cherish!

[Childes' grasp on the Longhorn Heritage Championship goes from a gentle
cradle to a possessive clutch.  His expression goes from 'sour' to
'glare'.  Nenshou picks up on this and slowly raises a hand to Dane...
as if seeking approval on whether to strike him.  Childes calls out
something in Japanese, and immediately the Longhorn Heritage Champion
stands down.]

PC: Von Braun wants my championship?!

JD: You mean Nenshou's championship.

PC: Over our dead bodies!  And no, Von Braun, that is NOT something you
are capable of arranging!

[The words are forceful... but the tone is not quite as confident as it
was a moment ago.  Childes heads off down the aisle, as "Raiden's Drums"
by George Sakalis starts over the PA.  Nenshou follows, heading to the
ring.]

JD: The Longhorn Heritage Championship match is just moments away! 
Nenshou to defend against Johnny Sone, and unless Nenshou is a bit more
appreciative of Sone's chances than Childes is, Childes won't have to
worry about BVB coming for the title; it could be gone tonight!  Back to
you, Phil Watson!

[We crossfade to the ring where Watson is standing.]

PW:  The following contest is set for one fall with a ten minute time
limit and it is for the Longhorn Heritage Championship.  Introducing
first, in the corner to my right... from Los Angeles, California...
weighing in at 217 pounds... he is the challenger...

JOHNNY SOOOOONE!

[A pretty good sized reaction for the third-generation competitor as he
raises an arm to the cheering fans.]

PW:  And his opponent... he is accompanied to the ring by his manager,
Percy Childes... from Parts Unknown and weighing in at 253 pounds... he
is the reigning Longhorn Heritage Champion...

NENNNNNSHOOOOU!

[Childes and Nenshou reach the ring at the end of the introduction. 
Nenshou whips off his cloth hood, releasing a stream of green mist into
the air to the "ooooooh" of the fans.  Johnny Sone paces back and forth
inside the ring as Childes reluctantly hands the title belt over to the
official who shows it to Sone before handing off to the timekeeper...

...at which point, Johnny Sone rushes across the ring, grabbing Nenshou
under the arm and hiptossing him over the ropes into the ring as the
bell sounds!]

GM:  Johnny Sone didn't want to wait any longer!  This young man wants
to take full advantage of this opportunity to become the Longhorn
Heritage Champion and considering his heritage, you know that would mean
a lot to him.

[Nenshou quickly gets to his feet, catching the incoming Sone with a
stiff-fingered blow to the windpipe, leaving Sone gasping for air. 
Grabbing the hair, Nenshou slams Sone's face into the top turnbuckle.]

GM:  The champion has quickly regained the advantage.

BW:  We all knew that was coming.  This Sone kid is good but he's no
match for Nenshou just like Percy said.

GM:  Percy Childes seemed a little upset in that interview, Bucky. 
First, it seems as though James Monosso acted alone in that assault on
Alex Martinez.  And now, Brian Von Braun is coming for the Longhorn
Heritage Title?  Childes has his work cut out for him in the weeks
ahead.

[Spinning Sone around in the corner, Nenshou lights him up with a trio
of knife-edge chops before grabbing the arm, whipping Sone across the
ring...

...where Sone leaps up to the second rope, blinding leaping backwards
and catching Nenshou on the chin with an elbow!]

GM:  Ohh!  What a counter by Johnny Sone!

[Sone pops back up to his feet, pumping a fist as he pulls Nenshou up by
his jet-black hair, popping him with a forearm smash to the jaw.  Sone
throws a palm strike to the chest that sends Nenshou tumbling backwards
into the ropes where the third-generation competitor grabs the arm,
firing Nenshou across.]

GM:  Off the ropes goes Nenshou...

[And Sone lays him flat with a well-placed dropkick!]

GM:  Johnny Sone connects on the dropkick!

[Quickly grabbing the rising Nenshou around the waist, Sone powers him
up and drops him on the back of his head before rolling into a lateral
press.]

GM:  Cover for one!  Two!

[But Nenshou is out at two, avoiding the pinfall.]

GM:  Percy Childes is screaming in Japanese at Nenshou - but that might
not be the best idea.  I believe Sone is fluent in Japanese as well and
probably knows exactly what advice Childes is giving his man.

[Sone drags Nenshou to his feet by the hair, again throwing a pair of
palm strikes to the chest.  He grabs the arm of Nenshou, executing a
full armtwist...

...and then lashing out with a hook kick that knocks Nenshou flat once
more!]

GM:  The educated feet of Johnny Sone are lighting up the Longhorn
Heritage Champion!

[Sone backs to the corner, raising a fist to the cheering fans as he
hops up to the middle rope.]

GM:  Nenshou's dazed... he's starting to rise and Childes continues to
scream at him...

[As Nenshou reaches his feet, Sone leaps from his perch, catching the
champion with a spinning heel kick off the middle rope!]

GM:  OHH!  THAT MIGHT DO IT!!

[Sone throws himself across Nenshou's chest, reaching back to hook a
leg.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR-

[The crowd ROARS with disappointment as Nenshou fires a shoulder off the
mat before the three count.]

GM:  He almost had him, Bucky!  We almost had a new champion!

BW:  Look at Percy.  He's having a hard time breathing out there!  He's
turned pale... get him some medical help...

[A fired-up Sone drags Nenshou to his feet by the arm, flinging him
across the ring into the buckles.  Backing across the ring, Sone throws
an arm into the air as he races across, going into a tumble...]

BW:  HANDSPRING ELLLLBOOOOO-

[But at the last possible moment, Nenshou raises both feet, catching
Sone in the back of the head!]

GM:  Ohhh!  He caught Sone coming in!

[He grabs Sone by the hair with one hand, running out of the corner, and
leaping up to smash Sone's face into the canvas!]

GM:  One-handed faceslam by the champion!  It was a modified version of
a bulldog headlock.

[Climbing to his feet, Nenshou lashes out with axe kick like blows to
the back of the head and neck.  He reaches down, hauling Sone to his
feet by the hair...

...and pops him across the chest with a knife-edge chop!]

GM:  Good grief!  Those are high impact chops to the chest, Bucky.

BW:  Nenshou is one of the most dangerous men in the world, Gordo. 
Johnny Sone's learning that firsthand right now.

[Grabbing the arm, Nenshou whips Sone across the ring...

...and with perfect time, leaps up, spinning around, and delivers his
foot squarely on the chin of Sone!]

GM:  Spinning back kick right on the money!

[Nenshou crawls into a cover as the referee drops down to count.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  TH-

[The crowd cheers as Sone pops a shoulder off the mat before the three
count falls.  Nenshou pushes up to his knees, delivering a pair of
overhead chops to the chest of Sone before climbing up to his feet. 
Measuring his man, Nenshou quickly bounds off the ropes and snaps off a
lightning quick elbowdrop to the back of the skull!]

GM:  Ohh!  That'll ring your bell.  Nenshou rolls him over - down for
one!  Two!  But again, Sone gets the shoulder up at two.

[Climbing to his feet, Nenshou unleashes another barrage of stomps,
forcing Sone under the ropes to the floor.  He starts to go out after
him when the referee steps in, forcing him back...

...which allows Percy Childes to pull Sone off the mats on the floor.]

GM:  Look out - keep an eye on Childes out there!

[Grabbing Sone by the hair, Childes SLAMS him facefirst into the steel
ringpost!]

GM:  Ohh!  Come on!  Referee, get some control out there!

[The fans jeer Childes as he walks away, a big grin on his face as Sone
lies motionless on the floor.  Nenshou moves past the official, stepping
out onto the ring apron.]

GM:  Get him down from there.  Johnny Sone is out flat and helpless...

[Nenshou drops off the apron, delivering a hard kick to the ribs of Sone
before leaning over to pull him up by the hair, tossing him back into
the ring.]

GM:  Sone's in - Nenshou rolling in after him...

[The Asian Assassin leans over to pull Sone up...

...and catches a palm strike to the chest!]

GM:  Ohh!  Sone caught him!

[Getting back to his feet, Sone grabs two hands full of Nenshou's hair,
leaping up to smash a knee into Nenshou's skull!]

GM:  Good grief!  Sone's fighting back!

[Straightening up, Sone lashes out with a kick to the thigh of Nenshou. 
He lashes out again, snapping a kick into the ribs, knocking Nenshou
down to a knee...

...and then CREAMS him with a skull kick!]

GM:  OHHHHH!  DOWN GOES NENSHOU!!

[Sone throws himself into a cover, cradling both legs.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR-

[Nenshou fires the shoulder off the mat just before the three count.]

GM:  We were a half count away from crowning a new Longhorn Heritage
champion!

[Sone climbs to his feet, throwing up an arm to the cheering fans.  He
leans over, pulling Nensou to his feet and right into a front facelock.]

GM:  This is the Waru Quake!  The move his father used for decades!

[Sone reaches down, cradling Nenshou's leg...

...at which point Percy Childes leaps up on the ring apron, shouting at
the official.  The referee turns to confront Childes.]

GM:  Get him down!  Sone's got him hooked!

[But before the third-generation star can hoist Nenshou into the air,
the Asian Assassin drags his fingers across the eyes of Sone!]

GM:  Ohh!  He goes to the eyes!

[A blinded Sone grabs at his eyes, screaming out in pain...

...and Nenshou deadleaps into the air, scissoring Sone's head between
his legs, snapping him over into a rana, reaching back with both arms to
tightly cradle the legs!]

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


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM:  I can't believe it!  Through underhanded means and blatant
chicanery, Nenshou has retained the Longhorn Heritage Title!  Johnny
Sone had the man beat.  If he'd hit the Waru Quake, this thing would
have been over.  I know it, the fans know it, Childes knows it, Nenshou
knows it - even you know it, Bucky!

BW:  I don't know squat!  I saw Sone about to use some ancient relic of
a finisher and I saw a wiser man, a better man, a superior athlete in
Nenshou counter the move and finish this thing.  He's the champion,
period!

GM:  Thanks to Percy Childes and that eyerake!

BW:  Whatever it takes, Gordo.

GM:  Unbelievable.  Fans, let's go up to Jason.

[The camera fades into a shot of the beautiful Stampede Cup. The camera
pulls back, where we see Violence Unlimited, Danny Morton and Jackson
Haynes, standing by with Jason Dane. The two are dressed in their usual
gear, although the presence of their new silver trophy certainly classes
up the scene a bit.]

JD: Violence Unlimited! It was less than a month ago when you two ran
roughshod at the Stampede Cup defeated fifteen other teams to earn the
right to be called the best tag team in the world! But even after those
grueling two nights, you didn't stop to celebrate...you guys went right
back to Japan, looking for another fight!

JH: You're damn right that we went lookin' for another fight, boy!

[There's a pretty frightening smile on Haynes' face as he says this.
This is a man that just isn't meant to look happy.]

JH: If you think the first thing me and the Professor did after we won
was go on a shoppin' spree and started gallivantin' 'round town rubbin'
elbows with the rich and famous, then you just ain't been payin'
attention!

DM: Our wallets might be a bit fatter and the bank accounts might have a
few more zeroes, but money and the trophy weren't the most important
thing that we won at the Stampede Cup, Dane!

[Danny Morton shakes his head.]

DM: NUH UH! It's those beautiful seven words that gotta' be said
whenever you mention our names now.

"The _BEST_ tag team in the world!"

[BIG POP!]

JH: And when we say "the world", we damn well _mean_ the world!

[Haynes whips off his hat and points out to the great beyond.]

JH: Whether it's in North America or Asia, Europe or Africa...Antarctica
or even on the damn Moon, we'll go out there and fight any team that
thinks they got the stones to take us on! They call us the best 'cause
of something we earned in one night...but it's a title we go out and
prove that we deserve _EVERY_ night!

[POP!]

JD: Speaking about being the best tag team in the world, the AWA
National tag team champions, Rough N Ready, had some pointed words for
you on the last edition of Saturday Night Wrestling.

DM: Me and Jack, we heard what Rough n' Ready had to say about us. But
that's all it is, ain't it?

Talk.

[Morton strokes his head and laughs softly.]

DM 'Cause no matter how mean your little words are, no matter how much
you try to put the scare in us, it doesn't change the facts! I'll
give'em their due! When Rough N Ready walked into that ring to take on
Violence Unlimited, they were rough! They were tough!

[Danny wags his finger.]

DM: But...they sure as hell weren't _ready_ for the fight we brought'em!

[Big cheer from the crowd!]

JH: They wanna' know if we can do it again?

[Haynes chuckles.]

JH: Brother, we were able to whup ya' that night!

_Tonight!_

_Tomorrow night!_

And any other night you're "ready" to throw down with us!

[The crowd is worked into a frenzy by Haynes' firey delivery. Morton's
attempts to rile them up by motioning for them to yell louder don't
hurt, either.]

JH: We'll whup up on ya' again.

And again!

AND AGAIN!

As many times it takes, 'til the point's been beaten into 'yer heads
that we'll _always_ be ready to bring the fight to ya'! But I'll
understand if ya' wanna' think it over. It's alright if ya' got second
thoughts. After all...

[A sly grin forms on that ugly mug.]

JH: ...you'll have to put up 'yer belts 'gainst the _BEST_ tag team in
the world!

[Big pop! With a mighty cackle, Haynes places the cowboy hat back atop
his head and walks off. Morton grabs the silver cup and holds it high
into the air to the fans before following suit.]

JD: Wow! Strong words from Violence Unlimited!  And when they get
another crack at the National Tag Team Champions, we may see those
titles change hands, fans.  We'll be right back so don't you dare go
away!

[Fade to black.

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then fade back up to live action where Jason Dane is standing on
the interview platform.]

JD: Ladies and gentlemen, at this time, let me welcome the AWA National
tag team champs... Dave Cooper and Eric Matthew Somers... Rough N Ready!
 
["Knocking at Your Back Door" by Deep Purple plays, drawing a mixed
reaction, as the National tag team champions make their way to the
stage. Dave and Eric are both dressed in their wrestling attire, each
with a tag team belt slung over his shoulder.]
 
JD: Rough N Ready, tonight you will take on the Moonshiners in a
non-title bout... and as you saw, at SuperClash, the Moonshiners
defeated the War Pigs and they have not been heard from since... do you
care to-
 
EMS: Hold on one minute, Jason... you better check your iPhone app and
brush up on your AWA history.
 
JD: What are you talking about?
 
EMS: What, your memory getting fuzzy? I thought that was only an
accusation thrown at grumpy old men such as Dave and myself.
 
[Dave snickers at Eric's remark.]
 
JD: I'm not sure I understand...
 
DC: Jason, what my partner is trying to say that it's not the first time
the War Pigs went down in defeat and were never seen again. Do you
remember who else the War Pigs picked a fight with and came out on the
losing end, never to be seen again for some time?
 
JD: Hold on... that was you and Eric... but that was a long time ago.
 
DC: Doesn't matter, Jason... the point is, what happened at SuperClash
is not the first time the War Pigs tucked their tails and ran out of the
AWA! So, Moonshiners, if you think you accomplished something at
SuperClash that no team ever did before, think again. More to the point,
think about how many teams have crossed our paths and have never been
heard from again. Not just the War Pigs, but the Blonde Bombers, the
West Coast Wild Boyz and a certain other team who wanted to pick a fight
with us.
 
EMS: Shall we just call them The Team That Shall Not Be Named, Dave?
 
DC: The way I see it, you can call them good as gone, just like the rest
of them! So, Moonshiners, be warned... you will be facing not just the
National Tag Team Champions, but a team that has made a habit out of
taking other teams with big heads and bigger mouths, then sending them
packing!  If you aren't careful, you just might be the next team we put
on that list!
 
[Eric just laughs at that remark.]
 
JD: Dave and Eric, if I may ask-
 
DC: No, you may not ask... because we've got a match to prepare for.
Let's go, Eric.
 
[With that, the members of Rough N Ready depart and we fade back to
ringside to Gordon and Bucky.]

GM:  Well, Bucky, it looks like the National Tag Team Champions are
ready for whatever fight the Moonshiners can bring to them in tonight's
Main Event.  

BW:  Hey, you know, I haven't always been the biggest fan of Cooper and
Somers but they're right.  Every team who've stepped up to the plate to
try and put them down has been chased out on a rail.  The War Pigs, the
Wild Boyz, the Blonde Bombers, and yeah, even those other guys.  Will
the Moonshiners be any different?

GM:  They're two of the toughest guys in the company - in the business. 


BW:  We used to say that about the other teams too but Rough N Ready has
put them all down.  And I think they'll do the same thing right here
tonight to the Moonshiners... and then do the exact same thing to those
loud-mouthed punks, Violence Unlimited!

GM:  We'll see about that because I have a feeling that Championship
Committee won't be able to avoid putting those two together in the near
future.  And now, a special announcement - just moments ago, I was
informed that right here - in two weeks - Melissa Cannon will be
returning to her job inside the ring!

BW:  It's about time.  She's been sitting on the sidelines for months.

GM:  Melissa, of course, has been recovering from having that vile mist
sprayed in her eyes by Nenshou on the orders from Lori Dane.  We haven't
seen her for quite some time so it will good to have her back here on
the next Saturday Night Wrestling.  But coming up right now is what
should be a very exciting matchup as former National Champion Kolya
Sudakov takes on Eric Preston!  Let's go down to Phil Watson for the
introductions!

[We crossfade to the ring where the ring announcer is standing.]

PW:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a fifteen
minute time limit.  Introducing first... already in the ring at this
time... from Greenville, South Carolina... weighing in at 248 pounds...

ERRRRRIC PRESSSSTON!

[Preston throws up an arm to the cheering crowd.]

BW:  Look at this loser.  He doesn't even get a ring entrance anymore. 
Pathetic.

[Watson continues.]

PW:  And his opponent... from Russia...

[The sounds of Metallica's "Creeping Death" kicks in to a big cheer.]

PW:  Weighing in at 272 pounds... he is the Russian War Machine...

KOLLLLLYAAAA SUUUUUUDAKOV!

[The former National Champion breaks through the heavy black curtain to
a big cheer.  He throws his arms apart, his muscular shoulders encloaked
in his Russian steel chain.  Sudakov walks alone down the ramp towards
the ring.]

GM:  And I would have expected to see Ivan Kostovich out here for this
one considering he was the one who demanded this match for his charge.

BW:  I think Comrade Kostovich would prefer you refer to Sudakov as his
"employee," Gordo.

GM:  And I think I don't much care what Comrade Kostovich would prefer.

[Sudakov reaches the ring, handing off the steel chain to a ringside
attendant before stepping through the ropes.  The referee gives both men
some quick instructions before calling for the bell.]

GM:  Here we go!

[The two men circle one another, coming together to shake hands to a big
cheer.]

GM:  A nice show of sportsmanship there.

BW:  And you can bet Ivan Kostovich will have some words for Sudakov
about that.

[As they tangle in a collar and elbow, the two competitors jostle for
position in the middle of the ring...

...and then showing off his strength, Sudakov hurls Preston down to the
mat!]

GM:  Whoa!  Look at the power of Sudakov!

BW:  272 pounds of rock solid muscle, daddy!

[Preston rolls to a knee in the corner, looking up at Sudakov who waves
him forward, nodding his head.]

GM:  Kolya Sudakov is looking to get back in the National Title picture
and a win over Eric Preston will go a long way to getting him there,
Bucky.

BW:  Are you serious?  At this point, I stand a good shot of beating
Preston!

[The two men tangle up again, again battling for position...

...and Preston slips a knee up into the midsection of the larger man,
doubling him up.  Joining his hands, Preston raises them high above,
smashing a double axehandle down across the back!]

GM:  Ohh!  Preston batters him down to a knee!

[Preston winds up, fist at the ready...

...and blasts Sudakov with a right hand across the jaw!]

GM:  Preston pulls Sudakov to his feet...

[And Sudakov returns the favor with a right hand to the jaw, knocking
Preston a step back.  The spacing allows Sudakov to pivot his hips,
throwing a big round kick into the gut of Preston, doubling him up...

...and Sudakov SMASHES down a forearm across the back of Preston,
knocking him down to all fours!]

GM:  Good grief!  Sudakov with a heavy forearm!

[Preston pops back up...

...and gets knocked back down with another heavy forearm.  The process
repeats, Sudakov flooring Preston with a third forearm before yanking
him off the mat, backing him into the ropes, and firing him across the
ring.]

GM:  The Russian War Machine with the early advantage as he whips
Preston in... 

[And gets knocked off his feet with a back elbow under the chin!]

GM:  He caught him with an elbow!  

[Sudakov leans down, scooping Preston off the mat right up into a
bodyslam...

...and right down to the canvas!]

GM:  Another big show of power.  Sudakov's not hesitating for a second
in there, Bucky.  He has made it very clear that he wants to get in that
National Title picture and he's not going to let Eric Preston get in his
way.

[Pulling Preston up once again, Sudakov whips him off the ropes,
bouncing off the near ropes himself...

...and FLOORS Preston with a massive leaping shoulder tackle!]

GM:  Whoa my!  That'll knock someone flat!

BW:  Preston's down - the ref's already checking him to see if he can
continue.  See, Gordo, even Meekly thinks Preston's done.  

GM:  This kid has a lot of fire in him, Bucky.  We've seen that before. 
He's not going to go down without a fight.

[Sudakov slowly walks around the ring, glaring out at the fans,
composing himself as he moves towards Preston who tries to crawl away. 
He catches up with Preston in the corner, blasting him with a double
axehandle across the back!]

GM:  Two-armed sledge hammer to the back by Sudakov!  He's right on him,
Bucky.

[Spinning Preston's back into the corner, Sudakov grabs the top rope,
snapping off round kicks to the torso of Preston - once, twice, three
times, four times, five times, leaving Preston gasping for breath as the
official steps in to force Sudakov backwards.]

GM:  Sudakov is showing those lethal kicks he used in the world of Mixed
Martial Arts and has translated very successfully into his pro wrestling
career.

BW:  Sudakov has adapted very well from his former MMA stylings.  You
see things like that flying shoulder tackle and like the Russian Sickle
- those don't come from the MMA days, they come from his pro wrestling
trainings and are very, very effective.

[Preston stumbles out of the corner, clutching his ribs with one arm as
he holds onto the top rope with the other arm to stay on his feet. 
Sudakov slowly moves in on him, stalking him like a hunter as Preston
pushes up to a knee...

...and fires off a right hand into the midsection of the Russian War
Machine!]

GM:  Preston's firing back!  

[Sudakov staggers back, doubled up on his own.]

GM:  The Russian got caught with that haymaker, Bucky!

BW:  He can't take Preston too lightly.  I think Preston's done for but
you're right, he'll still put on one hell of a fight!

[Preston gets to his feet...

...and rushes forward, hooking a front facelock, and rolling Sudakov
into a small package!]

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

[Sudakov just narrowly gets a shoulder up, barely avoiding what would
have been a crushing defeat for his title aspirations.]

GM:  I thought he had him there, Bucky!

BW:  So did Preston.

[A frustrated-looking Eric Preston gets to his feet, holding up three
fingers at the official who waves him off as he moves in on Preston,
popping him with a boot to the gut to double him up.  The Combat Corner
graduate hooks a front facelock, powering the Russian up...

...and taking Sudakov down with a big suplex!]

GM:  Vertical suplex and a beauty right there!

[But Sudakov gets RIGHT!  BACK!  UP!]

GM:  WHOA!  WHOA!

[And an angry Sudakov greets the rising Preston with a hooking blow to
the ribcage followed by a clubbing forearm across the back.]

GM:  Down goes Preston again!

[Sudakov throws his arms apart with a roar as he stands over the downed
Preston.  There are a few jeers mixed in with the cheers for the Russian
War Machine as he hammers down across the back of the rising Preston
with another forearm smash, knocking him right back down to a knee...

...where Preston throws a haymaker to the torso!]

GM:  Preston with a right han- ohhh!

[The crowd roars in response as Sudakov replies to the right hand with a
push kick to the face, knocking Preston flat on his back on the canvas
again.]

GM:  Eric Preston just keeps on trying to fight back but Koyla Sudakov
is having none of it.  He's physically asserting himself time and time
again on the Greenville native.

[Slowly walking towards Preston who is crawling away, Sudakov shouts
"UP!" at the youngster, nodding as the Combat Corner graduate pulls
himself to his feet using the ropes.  Sudakov moves in, grabbing the top
rope again, throwing a kick to the body...

...that Preston catches!]

GM:  Preston blocked the kick!  He blocked the kick!

[Holding Sudakov's right leg under his arm, Preston hoists Sudakov's
body into the air...

...and drops him down on a bent knee!]

GM:  Inverted atomic drop!

[Sudakov stumbles backwards...

...and gets floored by a leaping clothesline by Preston!]

GM:  PRESTON TAKES DOWN SUDAKOV!!  HE TAKES DOWN THE RUSSIAN!

[The Greenville native throws himself across the downed Russian,
reaching back to hook a leg.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  TH-

[BIG MIXED REACTION!]

GM:  Shoulder up!  Sudakov gets a shoulder up!

[A fired up Preston scrambles to his feet, reaching down to haul Sudakov
up to his feet by the arm, shoving him back into the corner.  He reaches
down deep, hurling Sudakov from corner to corner, sending the former
National Champion crashing into the buckles.]

GM:  Hard whip to the far side... here comes Preston!

[Preston charges across the ring, leaping into the air, and smashing a
clothesline across the throat!]

GM:  A flying clothesline in the corner... Sudakov stumbles out...

[...and right into the waiting arms of Preston who pivots and DRIVES
Sudakov down to the canvas!]

GM:  POWERSLAM!!  HE GOT ALL OF THAT!!  

[Preston reaches back, hooking a leg.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR- 

[Another big mixed reaction erupts as Sudakov shoots a shoulder off the
mat!]

GM:  Another near fall right there!  Eric Preston was so close once
more!

[Preston climbs to his feet, shaking his head as he reaches down to grab
Sudakov...

...and gets a kick snapped into his temple!]

GM:  Ohh!  The ever-dangerous feet of Kolya Sudakov!

[Preston stumbles backwards from the kick into the ropes, allowing
Sudakov to regain his feet...

...and connect with a running big boot to the jaw that sends Preston
tumbling over the ropes, landing with a thud on the ring apron!]

GM:  PRESTON GOES OVER THE TOP!!

BW:  But lucky for him, he landed on the apron.  Somehow, he got tangled
up in the ropes and landed on the ring apron...

[Sudakov leans over the ropes, promptly grabbng Preston and pulling him
off the apron...]

GM:  Sudakov's got him hooked!  He's gonna bring him in the hard way!

[The Russian attempts to hoist Preston off the mat...

...but the young man from South Carolina fights back, throwing a trio of
right hands to the ribs!]

GM:  Preston's fighting it!

[Straightening up, Preston unloads a haymaker to the jaw, sending
Sudakov stumbling backwards...

...and then Preston dashes to the corner, racing up the ropes!]

GM:  Preston's up top!  He's up top!

[The crowd roars as Preston hurls himself off the top rope, ready to
connect with the cross body block...

...and gets snatched out of the sky by the powerful Sudakov who pivots
and DRIVES Preston into the canvas with a thunderous powerslam in one
motion!]

GM:  POWERSLAM!!  POWERSLAM!!  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE-

[The crowd EXPLODES as Preston shoots a shoulder off the mat!]

GM:  Kickout at two!  Sudakov with a helluva counter but it's not enough
to hold him down for three!

BW:  The Russian can't believe it.  He thought for sure this one was
over there.

GM:  Sudakov is up, arguing with the official...

[And with a kick of the bottom rope, Sudakov marches into the corner,
holding his right arm at the ready as he waits... and waits... and
waits...]

GM:  Preston's dazed but he's getting to his-

[As soon as Preston gets to his feet and turns around, Sudakov storms
across the ring...

...and DRILLS him with the Russian Sickle, flipping Preston inside out
and dumping him on the canvas!]

GM:  SICKLE!  SICKLE!!

[The Russian drops to the mat, applying a press as he hooks a leg.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREEEEEEE!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[Sudakov pushes up to his feet as the crowd roars in celebration of the
Russian War Machine's victory.  Preston lies flat on his back,
motionless as Sudakov gets to his feet, allowing the referee to raise
his hand in victory before he exits the ring.]

GM:  The Russian War Machine is victorious.  And you've gotta believe
that a big win like this will go a long way to making Kolya Sudakov a
contender once more in the eyes of the Championship Committee.

BW:  But what about in the eyes of Ivan Kostovich?

GM:  Who cares?  Jason Dane is standing by with the former National
Champion - let's go to him now.  Jason?

[We fade to the interview area where Jason Dane is standing alongside a
sweat-covered Sudakov.]

JD:  Kolya, congratulations once again on another hard-fought victory. 
You're really starting to put together a winning streak.

[Sudakov nods.]

KS:  It has been good to get back to what I do best, Jason Dane.  For
too long, Kolya stayed at home with head bowed, ashamed at what happened
when I lost the National Title.  Kolya was embarrassed and could not
show face.  Now, I am back in AWA... back in the ring... and back to get
my title back.

[And suddenly, the crowd begins jeering wildly as the well-dressed Ivan
Kostovich emerges from the entrance curtain.  He slowly approaches the
interview platform, glaring at Sudakov.  Jason Dane turns to greet him.]

JD:  Mr. Kostovich, you have to like what you're seeing from Kolya
lately.

[Kostovich looks appalled at Dane's statement.]

IK:  Is that right?  Should I be impressed that he is finally living up
to our expectations?  Should I be impressed that he finally looks on the
path back to the title he never should have lost?

[Kostovich nods.]

IK:  I'm sure you are impressed by such things, Dane... but I am not.  I
expect these things from him.  I DEMAND these things from him.  Kolya
Sudakov is my employee - contractually bound to me through his ties to
Mother Russia.  He does as I say, when I say.  If I tell him to win the
National Title, he does so.  If I tell him to team with his Uncle or
with the tremendous Sultan Azam Sharif to win the National Tag Team
Titles, he does so.  

Jason Dane, if I tell him to kick your head off your puny shoulders...
he does so.

[Dane backpedals a couple of steps, earning a chuckle and a raised hand
from Kostovich.]

IK:  Do not worry, little man.  That day is not here... yet.  And
neither is the day where I tell him to win the National Title.  Sudakov,
you have much to atone for to your people... to your Uncle... to your
country... and to me.  Until that debt is paid, there will be no gold in
your future... no matter how many pathetic American athletes you put
down.

[Sudakov stands, head bowed before his former idol.]

IK:  And the first thing I want from you... as a favor to my good friend
Adrian Bathwaite... is Supernova.

[Sudakov raises his head, meeting Kostovich's cold stare, shaking his
head back and forth.]

IK:  Do not dream of disobeying me, Sudakov.  If you wish to take
advantage of my generosity that allows you to still compete here in the
AWA, you will deliver this Supernov-

['Seek and Destroy' by Metallica cues up and that signals the arrival of
the man Ivan speaks about. Supernova comes out from the back and toward
the interview stage. He is dressed in his vest and wrestling attire, his
face painted black and yellow. Before Ivan can get in a word, Supernova
pulls Jason's arm so the mic goes toward him.]

S: Deliver Supernova, you say? Well, you don't have to ask Koyla Sudakov
for that' because here I am!

[He then turns to Jason.]

S: Sorry, Jay' I've just heard about enough from the big man with an
even bigger mouth.

[He releases his grip on Jason's arm, but now takes that hand and turns
it into a finger pointed straight at Kostovich.]

S: Maybe in your home country you're allowed to stack the deck and
change the rules as you see fit to achieve your means' but this is
America and things don't work that way here, pal! And while you may be
fortunate enough to have Kolya here who has too much pride to put you in
your proper place' I have no problem doing that for him!

[Sudakov steps forward, raising a hand towards his friend.]

KS:  Supernova... please... my friend... do not get involv-

[Supernova shakes his head, interrupting.]

S:  No, Koyla, this is not right! You and I both know that whole ordeal
at SuperClash was a set-up from the beginning! I'm not about to-

[This time, it's Kostovich who steps forward, pushing Supernova with
both hands squarely in the chest...]

'but that's met with a hard shove back from Supernova, from which Ivan
immediately takes a defensive posture as the crowd cheers!]

S:  You want to get it on?! I've got no match scheduled and that ring is
available' why don't we make it a' wha?

[Whatever Supernova wanted to 'make it', it probably wasn't this... he
is suddenly spun around to face an attacking Sultan Azam Sharif!  And
Sharif cuts him off immediately with a double chop thrust right to the
throat!  The cheers instantly become boos!]

GM: Sharif came out of nowhere!

BW: He was waitin' behind the platform, daddy!  Supernova never saw him!

[Taking advantage of the moment while Supernova is stunned, the
battlescarred Persian hooks the young facepainted star by the arm and
simply whips him off the the interview platform to the unforgiving
floor!]

GM:  HE THREW SUPERNOVA TO THE FLOOR!!  HE WHIPPED HIM OFF THE PLATFORM
TO THE FLOOR!!

BW: Warm up the ambulance, boys, you got a passenger comin'!  Woo!

[Kolya Sudakov immediately moves forward to help his friend...

...but Ivan Kostovich extends his arms, shoving Sudakov back and
refusing to allow him to pursue either Supernova or Sharif.  The crowd
roars with shock as Sharif leaps down off the platform to the floor
alongside the downed Supernova.]

GM:  Sharif's going down to the floor - he's following Supernova down
there and- and look who is down there!  Velikov!  Bathwaite!  This was a
trap!  This was an ambush!  Adrian Bathwaite has this planned!  Ivan
Kostovich had this planned!  This is a damn set-up!

[Indeed, Velikov is already dragging Supernova to the back wall of the
building, to a metal support post.  He uses his Russian chain, wrapping
it around the wrist of Supernova, and around the post.  The young
athlete's arm and hand are now essentially tied to the post as Sharif
advances on the position.]

GM: What are they doing?

BW: Supernova punched one elderly man, and now he just shoved another! 
Kostovich isn't as old as Bathwaite, but still, this little punk is
going to learn what they do in Iran when you hit an old man!

GM: Sharif is tapping that hooked boot of his on the ground!  He's
loading up his boot, that sharp-edged galesh boot of his!  And kicking
Supernova in the hand!  Again!  Again!  The hooked boot, right in the
hand that is flat against steel post!  Again!  Again!  A half-dozen
kicks, and now... Bathwaite is giving him his cane!

[The crowd boos mightily as Sharif swings the hardwood cane full steam
into Supernova's hand.  Velikov is keeping tension on the chain,
ensuring that Supernova isn't going anywhere.  In the meanwhile,
Kostovich and Sudakov remain on the interview platform.  Sudakov looks
tortured, trying to crane his neck to see what is going on as a grinning
Ivan Kostovich nods with approval, continuing to hold his employee at
bay.]

GM: Kolya Sudakov needs to do something!  They are breaking this man's
hand!

BW: Kolya CAN'T do anything, Gordo!  Remember, Kostovich, for all
intents and purposes, owns him!

GM: Again and again with the cane, and the loaded hooked boot!  This is
sickening!  Supernova needs help!

BW: No one rushed ta help Bathwaite when this muscled-up freak was
punching him in the face!

GM: Sharif is now ripping at his fingers!  He's trying to bend and break
Supernova's fingers, to snap them one by one!  GET SOME HELP, FOR
MERCY'S SAKE!  How can Kolya stand back and watch this?!

BW: Well, you're sitting back and watching, Gordo.  Why don't you go
stop them?

[The fans are going crazy, and they start chanting "U! S! A!", hoping
for someone to come put an end to this...

...which brings the arrival of Sweet Daddy Williams, the Rockstar
Express, and Brent Maverick on the scene, sending the attackers on their
way.  Count Adrian Bathwaite calls for the troops to retreat, a huge
smile on his face.  Vladimir Velikov is stoic, no emotion on his face as
he shouts in Russian at the incoming fan favorites.  Sharif is the last
to leave, his eyes locked on the downed and injured Supernova as Scotty
Storm kneels down next to him.] 

GM: Finally, we get some help out here and they have finally gotten in
between Sultan Azam Sharif and Supernova.  This was awful, just awful! 
Supernova's hand must be shattered into pieces!

BW: Oh, I weep for the dumb punk.  Maybe he'll think twice next time
before he roughs up a senior citizen.  If there IS a next time.

GM: We have got to go to commercial... this is terrible!

[The camera holds on Supernova as some AWA medical staff members join
him on the floor of the Crockett Coliseum as we fade to black.

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

JD:  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 Jason Dane.  He looks at his guests with disgust...
Count Adrian Bathwaite and Sultan Azam Sharif.

Unlike usual, Sharif is not draped in his bisht, though he has re-donned
his kaffiyeh.  The Persian's solid-but-scarred physique is thus fully
visible, and he is wearing his usual attire of white sirwal (baggy
pants) tucked into shiny gold-colored galesh-shaped hooked-toe boots.  A
shiny gold-colored sash proudly adorns the waist of the black-haired
Iranian, who has a neatly groomed mustache and perfectly formal posture.
 He is carrying a red piece of fabric that seems to have something
wrapped inside it.  Count Bathwaite, the silver-haired Eurasian with
Asian skin tone and ocular shape, and English teeth and nose, is wearing
a glittery orchid dress shirt and brown pants.  He seems pleased with
himself.  They are roundly booed bythe crowd.]

JD: Alright... Count Adrian Bathwaite, and Sultan Azam Sharif.  What you
did to Supernova was totally disproportionate to what he did to you,
Adrian Bathw... OW!

[You had to know that was coming; Bathwaite jabs Dane in the ribs with
his cane.]

CAB: Silence, you needle-necked serf!  The Sultan would like to speak.

[And he does, in his barely-comprehensible accent.  And it's only
"barely-comprehensible" to those for whom it isn't "incomprehensible".]

SAS: Dank you, Mistair Count Batwaite, und Mistair Jahsun Dane, you
should have more raspec to talk to your eldair.  Un I vant to dank
Mistair Vladmir Velkupff, he diddunt have to help me, but he is man of
charucktair!  You know dot I gonna watch your bock for dot you help me,
Mistair Vladmir!

JD: Character?!  You may have broken a man's hand!

SAS: Egzackly!  Dot's vat I come to do, because dot Supairnova, he punch
a eldairly man!  Un Mistair Count Batwaite, he is my managair, dot mean
he undair my protecshun.  I vas bock in Iran ven he do dot, uddairwise
he vould nevair have be able to do dot.  So ven you punch a eldairly
man, Supairnova, Shaira law says dot you CUT OFF deh hand of who would
punch a eldairly man!  Dot is how ve keep deh raspec for deh eldairs!

[As he says this, Sharif withdraws a huge, nasty-looking, curved knife
from the red cloth in his hand.  Dane's eyes bug out as the Sultan shows
it to the cameraman.  Sharif points at the sharp edge of the blade.  The
crowd really gets hot as he goes on abot this.]

SAS: CAMARAMAN, ZOOM IT!  You see dot?!  Dot vas vat I vas gonna cut off
your hand vit, Supairnova!  But Mistair Count Batwaite, jazak allahu
khayran, he diddunt vant me to do dot!  How good is dis great man to
have maircy on you!  Mistair Batwaite, he tell me, "Sultan, do not cut
off dot jabrohnie's hand, only break it instead."  So dot is vat I do,
even if Sharia law say dot I should cut off your hand, un you daserve to
have your hand cut off!

JD: ...CUT HIS HAND OFF?!  Do you have any... you're acting like that's
norm... OW!

[Angry Old Man Cane Jabbing(tm).]

CAB: Look, you uncultured Philistine, let me spell it out for you.  The
Sultan's Muslim.  Their laws are global.  But make no mistake, Sultan,
you're too kind.

SAS: No, no, you are de vun who show maircy.  Jazak allahu khayran!

CAB: Mercy?  If it were up to me, I'd have cut BOTH of his hands off!

[BBBOOOOOOOOOO!]

CAB: That lowborn slimy peasant is a stain on civilization!  I didn't
stop you out of mercy, Sultan, I stopped you because here in this
backwards wasteland full of filth and rabble, they have no respect for
Sharia law, Muslims, the elite, or justice!

[BBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!]

CAB: Listen to them!  They would have lynched you, or thrown you in a
prison where they illegally lock your people away because they think all
Arabs are terrorists!  And they don't know the difference between an
Arab, a Persian, a Kurd, or a turd!  I was protecting YOU, Sultan!  You
were right and just and fair to want to chop that useless dirty
foul-smelling criminal's hand right off at the wrist, and cover the
whole town in his blood and screams!

JD: Listen to yourself!  You're advocating mutilation?!  OW!

CAB: Your tongue might be next, you common swine!

SAS: Mistair Count Batwaite, men fahtlek, but al-khair fi batn al-sharr.
 All dese peepell, tousan-tousan AmerEcun peepell, dey cannot help dot
dey are ignorunt.  OntollEgunt AmerEcun know dot in Iran, ve alvays do
justus, un ve keep deh ordair like it vas alvays should be!  But dese
peepell only boo because dey ignorunt of dot  la ilaha illallah, un dey
diddunt know bettair.  Rahmah allah!  But for Supairnova, ve already had
maircy vun time.  Now he gonna apologize to Mistair Count Batwaite, un
den ve gonna call it ovair.

JD: You broke the man's hand, and you want HIM to apologize?!

SAS: Egzackly.  Den ve not gonna break his uddair hand.

CAB: You hear that, Supernova?!  You'll apologize, out here, publicly
next week!  Admit your place, and we'll leave you alone in the morass of
filth you exist in.  But if you don't... maybe next time, we'll chance
the displeasure of the local authorities.  

[Bathwaite laughs as he takes the knife from Sharif, who flexes his
muscles for the camera for no explicable reason.]

JD: I've heard enough!  Gordon, Bucky, let's go back to you!

[The camera fades back to ringside where Gordon Myers is shaking his
head.]

GM:  Absolutely repulsive, Bucky - all of 'em.  

BW:  The man was trying to enforce his cultural beliefs!

GM:  By breaking another man's hand?  I can't imagine Supernova escaped
that absolutely brutal assault without suffering a broken hand.  If he
did, it'd be a miracle.  And what about Kolya Sudakov?

BW:  What about Kolya Sudakov?  It's like I said, Gordo.  His entire
future - not just in the AWA or in pro wrestling - but here in this
country, rests in the hands of Ivan Kostovich.  Sudakov can not disobey
him or he risks everything.  And you want him to risk that over some
young punk who may flame out?  Give ME a break, Gordo.

GM:  That's his friend!  I understand what he risks by helping him but
how can he just stand there and watch?  

BW:  What do you want him to do?

GM:  I don't- I guess I don't really know what he COULD do but something
needed to be done... and something NEEDS to be done about this brewing
union between Sharif, Bathwaite, and the Russians.  

BW:  They make for one heck of a dangerous combination.

GM:  They certai- hang on... 

[Sweet Daddy Williams emerges from off camera, shaking his head.]

GM:  Sweet Daddy, what in the world is going on around here?

SDW:  It's the same ol' story with just different characters in play,
baby.  I seen all this happen before and I'll see it all again no doubt.
 

GM:  What do you mean?

SDW:  I've been walkin' 'round the locker room for the past month
warnin' folks of what was goin' down.   We were all so happy to have
chased off the Southern Syndicate, we had our eyes closed to what was
goin' on.  The Unholy Alliance?  These turkeys who just took their best
shot at a young kid who just wants to be the best he can be in this
sport.

[Another shake of the head.]

SDW:  You know what happens when you kill off the head snake, Gordon?

[Gordon shakes his head.]

SDW:  All the other snakes line up to do the nastiest thangs they can to
take his spot.  And that's exactly what this is.  

GM:  A power vacuum so to speak?

SDW:  Exactly, Gordon.  The Southern Syndicate fell but in its place,
all these no-good backjumpers are risin' up to see who can take their
spot.  And it's bad news, I tell you... real bad news for all of us.

[And with that, Sweet Daddy Williams walks away, leaving Gordon and
Bucky behind.]

GM:  He may be right, Bucky.  We have certainly seen an increase in
violent assaults in the past month.  Just look at what happened to
Marcus Broussard two weeks ago at the hands of MAMMOTH Mizusawa!  We
still don't know when - or IF - he's coming back but we do know that
Juan Vasquez is hot under the collar about it.  Fans, this should be a
very interesting interview.  For the first time here in the AWA, let's
go up to The Money Pit!

[The Crockett Coliseum spotlights hit the black curtain surrounding the
unused section of the interview area.  The sounds of the O'Jays' "For
The Love Of Money" fills the air for a bit before a deep voice sounds
off.]

"Ladies and gentlemen...

TODD MICHAELSON!"

And with that, the curtain falls to reveal a "set" made of wooden walls
that are painted and dressed to be a mockup of a bank vault.  There are
also various stacks of (presumably) fake money and bags of money all
over the ground.  Picture what you've always imagined Scrooge McDuck's
vault to look like and you've got a great mental image.  Sitting in the
middle of it on a wooden stool, Todd Michaelson is dressed in a fancy
suit and is all grins.]

TM:  Welcome to The Money Pit!

[Big cheer!]

TM:  Whaddya think of the place?

[Michaelson gestures to the set with a big grin on his face.]

TM:  Let's get right down to business.  I said that I wanted this place
to be the center of attention for the AWA - where the big moments happen
and the big news is broken.  So, to me... I couldn't think of any better
way to kick this off by having the AWA National Champion in the house!

[Another big cheer!]

TM:  At this time, please welcome to the Money Pit... the AWA National
Champion... 

JUAAAAAAAAN VAAAAAASQUEZ!

[After a few moments, the AWA National Champion emerges on the set of
the Money Pit, the title belt secured around his waist.  He stops to
shake hands with Michaelson before sitting down on a second stool next
to Michaelson.]

TM:  Thanks for joining me out here tonight, Juan... but when I asked
you to do this, you told me that you had to have someone else out here
with you.  You wanted to address what happened here two weeks ago to our
friend Marcus Broussard... and you wanted to do that face to face with
the Chairman of the AWA's Championship Committee, Jim Watkins!  Big Jim,
come on out here!

[Jim Watkins enters the set as well, dressed in a black sportscoar over
blue jeans and cowboy boots.  He shakes the hands of both Michaelson and
Vasquez before sitting on the third stool.]

TM:  Alright, gentlemen.  Juan, what brings us all out here tonight?

[Vasquez lifts his own mic.]

JV: Love what you did with the set, Todd...but you'll have to excuse me
if I don't get right down to business.

JV: It's no big secret why I'm out here right now. We all saw what
Matsui and that overgrown manchild Mizusawa did to Marcus Broussard two
weeks ago. They attacked him...put him out of wrestling for who knows
how long.

And why?

[Juan rolls his eyes.]

JV: 'Cause Matsui couldn't wait his turn to get his boy to the front of
the line. Mizusawa's got a _guaranteed_ title shot, but everyone and
their mother seems to think that if they don't get to me first, they're
gonna' miss out on a golden opportunity to take the title off my waist.
After all, I'm just a champion who's runnin' on borrowed time.

[The champion shakes his head in disbelief.]

JV: Well, I say that if they want that title shot badly, if they think
they can take the National title so damn easily...then lets do this
TONIGHT!

[BIG POP!]

JV: All I need is for you to say those three magical words, Mr. Watkins.

Hook. Em. Up.

[The crowd is amped up to say the least, but the look on Watkins' face
suggests that he isn't on board with Juan's idea.]

JW:  Now, Juan... I know how you're feeli-

[Vasquez interrupts.]

JV:  I'd wager you have no idea how I'm feeling.

TM:  But I do, Juan.  Marcus is as much my friend as he is yours.  I
know exactly how you're feeling.  Mr. Watkins?

[Big Jim nods.]

JW:  Juan, I know you want to get your hands on Mizusawa and Matsui for
what they did and I can't blame you one bit.  

[Vasquez nods, waiting.]

JW:  But I can't do it.

[Vasquez looks stunned and immediately lifts the mic, a little more heat
in his voice this time.]

JV: Are you kidding me? Your last champion didn't want to defend this
title _at all!_  But now that you got a champion that's ready and
willing to take on anyone, anytime, and anywhere, you're gonna' tell me
_not_ to fight???

[Watkins raises a hand.]

JW:  Now, listen, Juan... here's the deal... Mizusawa won Steal The
Spotlight back at SuperClash and in doing so, he earned a shot at the
National Title... that one around your waist.

[Juan pats the belt, nodding.]

JW:  But the deal is... that's HIS shot.  It's his shot to take whenever
and wherever he wants to take it.  This isn't your shot to call, Juan. 
You can't dictate the terms of this one.  You have to wait for-

[Vasquez interrupts.]

JV: No, Mr. Watkins, I ain't gonna wait for-

[Vasquez is interrupted by the introductory strains of Tomoyasu Hotei's
"Battle Without Honor or Humanity." He glares at the approaching figure
of Louis Matsui and the seven-foot-tall figure of MAMMOTH Mizusawa.
Watkins and Michaelson don't look too pleased either. Both Matsui and
Mizusawa are dressed in dark-colored suits, the latter choosing to forgo
a tie. Louis Matsui, as he is used to doing by now, already has a mic in
his hand.]

LM: Cut the music, because we have got some business to take care of...
How are you doin', Todd? Sweet set-up you've got here; good to see you
making yourself useful again... Now, Vasquez, listen up and listen good,
amigo; we didn't do what we did to Broussard because we couldn't wait
our turn. We did what we did because Marcus Broussard simply did not
deserve a turn. Besides your little agreement with him, and God knows
how little we think your word is worth, Vasquez, what has the San Jose
Slug done to deserve a shot at the title? See, other than Calisto
Dufresne, the only other person with a GUARANTEED title shot, as far as
we are concerned, nobody else has proven themselves worthy of a shot at
the title.

[Heel pop!]

TM:  Matsui, if no one else is worthy of a shot at the title, why don't
you and your boy put your money where your mouth is?  Why don't you step
up and take the shot at the champ?

[Ever the instigator, Michaelson gets some cheers as he verbally jabs at
Louis Matsui who nods his head.]

LM:  Heck of an idea, Michaelson.  Wish I had thought of it.

[Matsui smirks at his massive mountain of a man next to him.]

LM:  Oh wait... I did!

[Michaelson interrupts.]

TM:  What are you saying?

[Matsui shakes his head, grinning.]

LM: Look, Todd, I know news such as this is more fitting for the Call of
the Wilde, but a good broadcast journalist really ought to be a better
listener.

Yes, Todd, if Vasquez wants the match to happen who are we to say no? 

[The crowd begins to buzz with anticipation.]

LM:  So what do you say to Vasquez... versus MAMMOTH Mizusawa... for the
National title... 

[Dramatic pause.]

LM:  At the THIRD ANNIVERSARY SHOW?!

[The crowd damn near blows the roof off at the thought!]

TM:  Hold on, hold on!  Mr. Watkins...?

[Jim Watkins lifts the mic.]

JW:  The stipulation for Steal The Spotlight says that the winner gets
whatever title shot they want, whenever and wherever they want it...

...and if Mr. Matsui says they want the title shot on the Third
Anniversary Show in two months' time...

[Watkins grins.]

JW:  I say let's hook 'em up!

[HUGE CHEER!  Vasquez claps his hands together, nodding his head as he
climbs to his feet.]

JV: That's just fine with me, Mr. Watkins. But...

[Juan moves past Watkins and right up to Matsui, getting right up into
his face!]

JV: ...my _name_ is _Juan._

[The crowd grows ever excited by the sudden escalation of tension, as
MAMMOTH quickly steps in to protect his manager, leading to a staredown
between Vasquez and the Japanese giant!

The two lock eyes for a moment.

And then Juan raises the AWA National title up to MAMMOTH's face,
drawing a huge pop from the crowd. Without breaking his gaze, Juan
continues to speak.]

JV: And this title?

It belongs.

To.

_ME._

[HUGE POP! As the staredown continues... Watkins steps between the two
men, keeping an arm up on either side to hold them at bay as flashbulbs
fire from all around.]

TM:  You heard it right here on The Money Pit, baby!  Juan Vasquez
defends the National Title against MAMMOTH Mizusawa on March 26th!

[And we cut from The Money Pit to the backstage area where Raphael
Rhodes is watching the scene we just left on a television monitor. 
Jason Dane is standing alongside him.]

JD:  Raphael, can I get a few quick words?

[Still staring at the screen, Rhodes curtly nods.]

JD:  Two weeks ago, we saw you take on Adrian Freeman... and ultimately
put Adrian Freeman OUT with that armbar.  When you stepped into the ring
with him, was what happened your intended goal?

[Rhodes turns to the camera with a cold gaze.]

RR: Absolutely.  I wanted to hurt the man.  I wanted him to scream, and
I wanted him to feel the same anguish I did.  I went back to my roots
and asked me dad to teach me some classic holds to truly inflict pain...
and that's exactly what I did.

JD: So you feel no remorse knowing that Adrian Freeman's career is now
in jeopardy?

RR [coldly]: I feel the same remorse they felt when they broke me
brother's neck.

JD: Point well taken.  The question has been asked... with the Southern
Syndicate in a state of total disarray, where do you go from here?

RR: There's still unsettled business to resolve, mate.  And there's
still a significant component of what happened to meself and me brother
that's still out there, causin' trouble.  So let's get down to brass
tacks.

[Rhodes stares at the camera, gesturing to the television monitor he was
just watching.]

RR: Mizusawa.  You accepted blood money from the Southern Syndicate. 
You contributed to me losing my shot at the title, and you helped put
Simon out.  Well... since you took away what I worked for, I'm goin' to
do the same to you.  You want that National title? You want the gold?

[Rhodes smiles.]

RR: You ain't gettin' that belt as long as my body's drawin' breath.

[Rhodes spins away, walking out of the camera's view as Jason Dane looks
on.]

JD:  There may be a very serious roadblock standing between MAMMOTH
Mizusawa and the National Title... and I'm not talking about Juan
Vasquez!  Fans, we've gotta take a quick break but we'll be right back
with more AWA Saturday Night Wrestling!

[Fade to black.

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

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

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

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

JD:  Hello, Mr. iPhone.

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

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

JD:  Well, actually I did.

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

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

[Thankfully, a voiceover starts.]

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

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

[Fade back to black...

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

GM:  Welcome back, fans... what an exciting night of action it's been
here in the Crockett Coliseum!  But it's Main Event time here on
Saturday Night Wrestling and-

[Suddenly the speaker system in the Crockett Coliseum comes to life with
the opening guitar riffs of ZZ Top's "Sharp Dressed Man".]

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

[From the entrance portal emerges perhaps the most hated man in the AWA,
"Ladykiller" Calisto Dufresne.  Dufresne is clad in a pair of dark blue
jeans and a dark brown pair of leather shoes.  His chiseled physique is
on display through a tight-fitting, white with blue horizontal stripes
Ralph Lauren polo shirt that clearly is two sizes too small.  His long
blonde hair hangs down paid his shoulders and a cocky smirk is plastered
across his face.  He stands near the entrance portal for a few moments,
basking in the glow (i.e. boos) from the Dallas faithful before
beginning his trek towards the ring.  Dufresne climbs into the ring and
poses for the fans, flexing a sculpted bicep and kissing it.  He pauses,
looking around...

...and then waves towards the back.]

GM:  What's going on here?

[Mark Stegglet appears in the aisle, moving quickly down the ramp with a
disgruntled look on his face.  He steps through the ropes, producing a
wireless mic.]

MS:  Calisto Dufresne... 

[Stegglet breathes heavily for a moment.]

MS:  You ordered me out here for...?

[Dufresne glares at Stegglet, shaking his head.]

MS:  Alright, fine.  We'll play it your way.  Calisto Dufresne, welcome
to Saturday Night Wrestling!

[Dufresne grins through Stegglet's sarcasm.]

CD: The pleasure is all yours, Stegglet.  Truly.

MS: From what you just told me before you came out here, I understand
that you have an important statement to make this evening, but before we
get to that, why don't we go back to last week's edition of Saturday
Night Wrestling where you teamed with Vladimir Velikov and Sultan Azam
Sharif to take on Kentucky's Pride and Supernova.  You helped steal the
victory for your team by-

[Dufresne cuts Stegglet off.]

CD: Using the word "steal" would indicate that some sort of crime has
taken place.  I prefer the idea that I helped _seal_ the victory for my
team with my impressive repertoire of wrestling maneuvers and tactical
prowess.  But there certainly has been a theft that we're all well aware
of and that's really why I'm here tonight.

MS: Well... what was stolen?

CD: Over two years of my career!  Between my stint as leader, champion
and luminary of the PWR and the past year plus in front of these fat,
overweight peons, City Jack has continued to hound me everywhere I go. 
Despite beating him and his redneck friends at every juncture he
continues to turn up like a bad penny.  

[Dufresne shakes his head in disgust.]

CD: It's time that I move on, Stegglet.  The trajectory of my career is
pointing to the heavens and I cannot continue to spend week after week
having to deal with lesser men.  I think last week at Saturday Night
Wrestling was an emphatic exclamation point to this epic saga.  I beat
City Jack from pillar to post in the Main Event and-

[It's now Stegglet's turn to cut in.]

MS: You refused to get in the ring with City Jack!

[Moving right along.]

CD: Go check the official records.  It shows in black and white that
Calisto Dufresne defeated City Jack - again - last week.  Do you
remember what I asked City Jack for a year ago?  I asked that he simply
admit that I'm the better man.  Despite me leaving a trail of bodies -
his friends' bodies! - in my wake, he still cannot utter those words. 
I've come to accept that he will never admit what's as clear as day to
you, me and my throngs of adoring fans.  Besides, as the old adage goes,
actions speak louder than words.  And if anybody with an IQ of an
ashtray wasn't already convinced... my actions, my _victory_ last week
provides unequivocal proof that I _am_ the better man.  

[The crowd boos loudly in response to that but a small section starts to
cheer from behind Dufresne.]

CD: That's all I've ever wanted.  

And now I have it.  

And now it's ov-

[The Crockett Coliseum crowd ERUPTS in cheers as City Jack comes rushing
through the crowd, hurdling the barricade...

...Louisville Slugger in hand!]

GM:  CITY JACK!  CITY JACK!

[Jack rolls under the ropes, climbing to his feet behind the preening
Dufresne and as the Ladykiller turns around...

...he gets the business end of the baseball bat driven into his gut!]

GM:  OHHH!  

[Dufresne drops down to his knees, clutching his ribs.  City Jack steps
up behind him, slipping the wooden baseball bat across the throat of his
arch-rival and pulling back on it, pressing the weapon into the
windpipe.]

GM:  He's choking Dufresne!  City Jack's choking Dufresne!

[The crowd is roaring as Jack's knuckles go white, pulling on the bat
and strangling the air out of the strangling Calisto Dufresne who is
screaming for help.]

GM:  Jack's got him, Bucky!  He's got him!

BW:  And not a soul will come out here and help Calisto Dufresne!  He's
got no allies left!  He's got no one to save him!

[Two AWA referees hit the ring, grabbing the arms of City Jack, trying
to pry him off of Dufresne whose face is rapidly turning a bright shade
of red.]

BW:  Get this redneck lunatic off of him!

GM:  They're trying, Bucky!  These two officials are trying to get City
Jack to release his hold on-

[Jack takes one hand off the bat, allowing Dufresne to slump down to the
floor...

...and DRILLS one of the referees with a right hand!]

GM:  Ohh!  City Jack just punched a referee!

BW:  Fine him!  Suspend him!  Fire him, damn it!

[Jack spins around, drilling the other official with a haymaker,
knocking him flat.]

GM:  Ohh!  The other one goes down as well!

[And Jack sits down on the back of the downed Dufresne, grabbing the bat
with both hands again and applying a modified Camel Clutch with it,
pulling back against the throat of Dufresne who screams out before
having it choked off with a gurgle.]

GM:  He's choking the life out of him!  This is over a year of
frustration spilling over in the middle of the ring!  Come on!  Even I
think this is too much.  We need to get some more help in there!

[The crowd buzzes as City Jack continues to pull back on the bat and a
sea of officials come pouring out of the locker room.]

GM:  Here comes some more officials... someone get in there and hurry!

[A handful of AWA officials pour into the ring, a move that prompts City
Jack to climb to his feet with the bat...

...and take a full swing at an incoming official with it, something that
shocks the crowd!]

GM:  Whoa!  

[With the targeted official hitting the mat in fear, three more
officials swarm in, grabbing the arms of City Jack as two more grab
Dufresne by the arms on the floor, dragging him under the ropes.]

GM:  Dufresne escapes!  Those officials got him out of there and-

[Jack pulls hard, throwing another official down to the mat. 
Frantically, the two officials on the floor drag Dufresne down to the
aisleway, pulling a gasping Ladykiller towards the locker room.]

GM:  City Jack's trying to get free!  Hang on to him, guys!

[But before things can progress any further, Jim Watkins emerges out on
the ramp, shouting towards the ring.]

JW:  Jack!  

[No response as City Jack continues to struggle against the now-four
officials holding various limbs.]

JW:  Jack, knock it off!  This needs to stop!  This needs to end!

[But suddenly, City Jack connects with a haymaker on one official before
a big kick to the gut of another gets him loose.  He rushes the ropes,
reaching down to grab his bat as he steps out on the ramp.]

GM:  Look out, Jim!  Look out!

[Jack stands beyond the ropes, using the bat to point at the fleeing
Dufresne as we fade to black...

The black screen is filled with white text that reads "THREE YEARS
AGO!"]

"They said it couldn't work."

[The words fade out and are then replaced with "TWO YEARS AGO!"]

"They said it wouldn't last."

[The words fade out and are replaced with "ONE YEAR AGO!"]

"They're too old fashioned.  They can't keep up with the times.  Nobody
wants to watch that stuff."

[The words fade out and are replaced with "THEY WERE WRONG!"  The text
fades again and comes back to reveal, "March 26th, 2011 - The Main Event
- The Third Anniversary Show."

And then fades back out to black before returning to live action where
Phil Watson is standing in the ring.]

PW:  The following tag team contest is scheduled for one fall with TV
Time Remaining and is your MAIN EVENT of the evening!

[Big cheer!]

PW:  Introducing first... from Bald Knob, Arkansas... at a total
combined weight of 515 pounds and being led to the ring by their manager
Mange... 

Jug and Zeke...

THE MOOOOONSHIIIIINERS!

[Your stereotypical "hillbilly mountain man" music kicks in to a big
burst of jeers from the AWA faithful.  After a moment, the three men
emerge from the shadows.  Jug and Zeke both wear tattered, ripped up
"blue" jeans that are really more a combination of faded blue and
dirt/mud brown.  Jug is a bit stockier than Zeke, broad-shouldered and
barrel-chested, but his rather large gut quite noticeably hangs over his
beltline.  Zeke is slightly taller and not QUITE as fat, though his
build is very similar.  Zeke also sports a tattoo of a wolf's head on
his back just below his neck.]

GM:  Two of the toughest men in the world right there, in my estimation,
Bucky.

BW:  Without a doubt, Gordo.  These two guys have been two of the most
physical brawlers that this sport has seen for the past thirty years. 
And don't forget about Mange.

[Who could forget about Mange?  He brings up the rear, sporting the same
bleached blonde hair and beards as his cousins.  He also wears the same
jeans and boots and is shirtless.  He does, however, wear a leather
biker's vest.  He stops, grabbing his cousins by the shoulders, and
points towards the entrance curtain.  All three men turn to face the
entry, waiting for their opponents to arrive.]

PW:  And their opponents... 

[The sounds of Deep Purple's "Knocking At Your Back Door" starts up to a
mixed reaction.]

PW:  From Albuquerque, New Mexico... at a combined weight of 615
pounds... 
they are the AWA National Tag Team Champions... 

Dave Cooper and Eric Matthew Somers...

ROUGH N' REEEEEADDDDYYY!!

[Cooper and Somers emerge from the curtain, belts over their
shoulders...

...and get rushed by Zeke and Jug!]

GM:  THE FIGHT IS ON!

[Jug starts throwing blows at the bigger Somers as Cooper and Zeke
tangle up.]

GM:  Look at the size advantage of Somers!  He's about a foot taller
than Jug!

[Somers absorbs the pummeling from Jug before grabbing him by the skull,
bashing him with a headbutt to knock him down to a knee.  The big man
raises both arms overhead, smashing them down across the forehead of the
kneeling Jug, knocking him flat.]

GM:  Zeke and Cooper are going at it but-

[Somers intervenes, grabbing Zeke from behind by the arms, holding them
behind him, and allowing Dave Cooper to bury a boot into the
midsection.]

GM:  The champions are fighting them off!  The brawlers have come to
fight but Rough N Ready is giving them all they can handle!

[The big man delivers a few stomps to the downed Jug as Cooper drags
Zeke down the ramp to the ring, chasing Mange off the elevated platform
before throwing Zeke by the wild white hair through the ropes into the
ring.  Cooper steps through the ropes after him as the bell sounds.]

GM:  Cooper's in there now with him and this match is official now.

[Zeke continues to crawl away from the incoming Dave Cooper who stalks
his prey, looking for a chance to take advantage.  With two hands full
of Zeke's hair, Cooper hauls him off the canvas and throws him into the
nearest set of turnbuckles before burying a boot into the midsection.]

GM:  The National Tag Team Champions may be looking to send a message
here tonight.  They believe they're the best tag team in the world - no
matter who won the Stampede Cup, Bucky.

BW:  And would you argue against that?  Violence Unlimited won the
tournament.  I'll give them that.  But until that gold is around their
waists, they can't really be the best in the world in my eyes.

[Grabbing Zeke by the arm, Cooper fires him across the ring...]

GM:  Cooper sends him from corner to corner and Zeke hits hard in the
buckles.  Mange is shouting instructions to his cousin from out on the
floor as Cooper moves in on him...

[As Cooper draws near, Zeke surges out of the corner, throwing a
haymaker to the jaw and then immediately following up with a rake of the
eyes.  The referee reprimands Zeke as he grabs Cooper by the back of the
head, smashing his face into the turnbuckles!]

GM:  Zeke takes a cheapshot to take the advantage... and look out now,
Eric Matthew Somers is heading to the ring!

[The crowd buzzes as the 350 pounder comes marching down the aisle,
leaving Jug down on the wooden platform.  Zeke spots Somers coming and
tries to head him off at the pass, pointing at the incoming Somers and
shouting at the official.]

GM:  Zeke's trying to get the referee to block Somers from getting in
there!

[And between Zeke and Mange's insisting shouts, the official does
exactly that, ordering Eric Matthew Somers into the corner as Zeke
continues to kick the body of Dave Cooper against the turnbuckles.]

BW:  What I love about the Moonshiners is just how simple their game is.
 There's nothing fancy.  There's nothing high risk.  Just straight
forward butt-kickin' with an occasional chair across the head.

GM:  I suppose you condone that.

BW:  If that's what it takes to beat the champs.  The Moonshiners want a
shot at the titles, Gordo.  Don't think for a second they won't waffle
Somers or Cooper with a chair if they can get away with it... and heck,
maybe even if they can't!

[Zeke grabs Cooper by the arm, pulling him out of the buckles...

...and THROWS him back into the corner, smashing his spine into the
buckles again!  He turns towards the ramp, shouting something down the
aisle towards his recovering partner before slamming his fist into the
jaw of Dave Cooper, knocking him down to a knee.]

GM:  Zeke is really putting a lot of mustard behind those shots, Bucky.

BW:  Hard-hitting to the core!

[Slowly lifting his arm, Zeke holds it high, and then SLAMS it down
across the back of the head, knocking Cooper down to the canvas.  Mange
shouts his approval from the floor as Zeke delivers a pair of stomps to
the ribs, forcing Cooper under the ropes.  The official steps in,
backing Zeke off...

...and allowing Mange to hammer Dave Cooper over and over with heavy
forearms to the back of the head and neck.]

GM:  Oh, come on!

BW:  You rooting for Rough N Ready, Gordo?

GM:  I'm not rooting for anyone.  I just hate to see interference like
that mar the action in a match like this.  This could be one heck of a
showdown between two top level tag teams and outside interference has a
way of ruining things as we saw earlier with the Aces and the Rockstar
Express.

[As the referee turns around at Eric Matthew Somers' shouts, Mange walks
away, leaving a battered Cooper with his upper body hanging over the
apron.  Zeke steps out to the apron, dropping down to the floor.]

GM:  And now Zeke's going out there.  What's he got in mind here?

BW:  I don't think you want to know.

[Grabbing Cooper by the upper body, Zeke lifts his torso off the mat...

...and SLAMS it down, smashing Cooper's sternum into the edge of the
ring apron!]

GM:  Ohh!  That'll knock the wind out of your sails!  His chest just got
slammed into the hardest part of the ring!

[Zeke sneers at the protesting official as he grabs Cooper by the back
of the hair again, lifting his upper body off the mat...

...and again SLAMS his chest into the apron!]

GM:  Good grief!

[Finally climbing to his feet, Jug staggers down the entrance ramp
towards the ring as Zeke rolls back into the ring.  He gets up, grabbing
Cooper's foot to drag him back into the Moonshiners' corner.]

GM:  And we've finally got a two on two here as Jug reaches the ring...
and takes a tag right away...

[Jug steps in to help his partner.  They stand over the downed Cooper,
each delivering hard stomps to the chest to the jeers of the crowd...

...and to Eric Matthew Somers who steps into the ring, looking to
intervene!]

GM:  Somers is com- no!  The official cuts him off!

[And the stomping barrage continues as the official argues with Eric
Matthew Somers.  Zeke finally exits the ring just as the referee turns
back to the action.  Jug reaches down, dragging Dave Cooper back to his
feet and firing him off the ropes where he catches Cooper in the chest
with a back elbow that knocks him right back down to the mat...

...where Jug immediately falls on him with a kneedrop!]

GM:  Ohh!  Kneedrop across the chest!

BW:  And what you have to marvel at there is that Jug didn't leap off
the mat one bit.  He just kinda fell on him with that kneedrop.

GM:  The knees of a 30-year veteran of this sport doesn't much lend
themselves to jumping around too much, Bucky.

BW:  But in the end, it's 255 pounds being dropped on the chest with a
kneedrop.

[Jug applies a press, shouting at the official who drops down to count
one... two... and that's all as Dave Cooper kicks out of the pin
attempt.]

GM:  Cooper's out at two.  And as tough as the Moonshiners are, it's
going to take more than a kneedrop to finish off the National Tag Team
Champions, Bucky.

BW:  It will, I agree with that.

[Cooper rolls to all fours, crawling towards his corner as Jug gets up
as well, slowly pursuing...

...and dropping an elbow on the back of the head!  The brawler slowly
gets up again, staring at Somers.  He says a few words before doing the
"belt gesture" at the big man.]

GM:  Wouldn't you like to know what Jug just said to Eric Matthew
Somers?

BW:  It was punctuated with letting Somers know that the 'Shiners are
after those big gold belts... just like every other tag team in the
business.

GM:  It's the greatest prize a tag team in our sport can wear.

[Jug leans down, dragging Cooper off the mat by the hair, again saying
something to Eric Matthew Somers...

...and getting caught with a right hand to the midsection!]

GM:  Ohh!  Cooper fires one in there to the gut!

BW:  It's hard to miss.  I don't think the Moonshiners are spending
their days off in the gym, Gordo.

GM:  I should think not.

[Cooper throws another heavy right hand to the ample midsection of Jug,
knocking him a couple steps back.]

GM:  Cooper's back to his feet!  He needs a tag, Bucky!

BW:  Somers is waiting for it!

[Cooper tries to get past Jug to the corner...

...but Jug grabs him by the back of the trunks, preventing his escape. 
He holds tight, keeping the straining Cooper from reaching his corner.]

GM:  Cooper's almost there!  He's almost to Somers!

[But Jug suddenly pulls hard, tugging him into a side waistlock where he
lifts Cooper up...

...and drops him down on the back of the head!]

GM:  Ohh!  Big back suplex by Jug!  

BW:  That's a little bit on the technical side for them.

GM:  It certainly is.  They may have been watching some tapes from Jason
Dane's collection.

[Grabbing Cooper by the legs, Jug drags him across the ring, reaching
over to slap the hand of Zeke.]

GM:  In comes Zeke on the tag...

[Zeke bounces off the ropes, measuring the downed Cooper, and leaps up
to drop a heavy leg across the chest!]

GM:  Ohhh!  That might do it there!

[Zeke rolls into a lateral press with Mange shouting at the official.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  TH-

[Cooper fires a shoulder off the mat to a mixture of cheers and boos
from the crowd as Mange screams at the referee.]

GM:  Just a two count.

BW:  Not according to Mange.

GM:  Mange is wrong.  That was a good count, Bucky.

BW:  Not saying it wasn't.  I'm just saying the Moonshiners don't agree
with it.

[Still on his knees, Zeke grabs a handful of hair and drives his
clenched fist into Cooper's skull a few times before shoving him back
down to the mat and applying another press.]

GM:  Another cover for one!  Two!  Th- shoulder up again!

[Zeke straightens up, hands on hips as he glares at the official.  He
slowly gets to his feet, pointing a finger at the referee who shakes his
head, holding up two fingers.]

GM:  Zeke's not happy with the count now... ohh!  Kick to the ribs!

BW:  He's going to take out some of that frustration with the referee on
Dave Cooper.

GM:  Another kick... and down goes Cooper to the floor...

[Zeke starts to leave the ring but the official steps in again, blocking
his path, waving him back...

...and allowing Mange to pull Cooper to his feet by the arm...]

GM:  No, no!  Referee, turn around!


"CLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANG!"


GM:  OHHH!  INTO THE STEEL GOES DAVE COOPER!!

[Cooper rests against the steel barricade, arms slung over the steel
barricade as he breathes heavily out on the floor.  An angry Zeke pushes
past the referee, heading out to continue the damage done by his
cousin.]

GM:  Zeke's coming after Cooper who just got thrown into the barricade
by Mange.  The referee didn't see any of that... wonder if he even heard
it.

BW:  Mange sent him in there with some heat, Gordo.  I think Stevie
Wonder could have heard that!

GM:  Stevie Won... huh?

[Zeke pulls Cooper up off the railing, grabbing his arm...]

GM:  Another whi- reversed!

[The crowd cheers a bit as Zeke slams spinefirst into the edge of the
ring apron!]

GM:  What a counter by Cooper!

[Zeke stumbles forward off the railing as Cooper rises off a knee, does
a full spin...

...and CRACKS Zeke upside the jaw with a rolling elbow!]

GM:  Good grief!  What a shot!  Zeke goes down hard off that one!

[Cooper promptly gets up, throwing himself under the ropes where he
immediately starts crawling towards his corner where an eager and
waiting Eric Matthew Somers leans over the ropes, waiting for a tag...]

GM:  Cooper is trying to get to the corner!  Cooper is trying to make
the tag!

[Mange is out on the floor screaming at his cousin to get back to his
feet and prevent Cooper from getting to the corner.]

GM:  Zeke's back up, rolling in... can he get there?  Can he get there
in time?

[Zeke grabs the ropes, pulling himself to his feet, staggering across
the ring towards the crawling Dave Cooper who gets closer and closer to
Somers' outstretched hand with every moment...]

GM:  Cooper's getting close!  He's almost there!  And-

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  TAG!  COOPER MADE THE TAG!!

[The crowd roars as Eric Matthew Somers steps into the ring...

...and barrels over Zeke with a running clothesline!]

GM:  HE FLATTENS ZEKE!

[The attack of the big man brings Jug back into the ring as well,
charging Somers...

...and getting scoop slammed for his efforts!]

GM:  Big slam by the big man!

[Suddenly, Mange leaps up on the ring apron, shouting at Somers...

...and gets a massive hand wrapped around his throat!]

GM:  HE'S GOT MANGE!

BW:  I always knew he did.

GM:  He's got Mange by the throat!

[The momentary distraction is enough for Jug and Zeke to recover,
nailing Somers from behind with a pair of double axehandles.]

GM:  The Moonshiners are going after Eric Matthew Somers!

[The two burly brawlers batter Somers with rights and lefts across the
back, trying to knock him down a peg.  Zeke spins Somers around, burying
a knee into the midsection.  Each Moonshiner grabs a beefy arm of the
big man, whipping him across the ring...]

GM:  Into the ropes...

[They charge forward, looking for a double clothesline...

...and Somers runs right through it, shoving the arms apart as he hits
the far ropes, bouncing off...]

GM:  BOOM!  HE TAKES 'EM BOTH DOWN!!

[The crowd cheers again as Somers runs over both Moonshiners, knocking
them flat.  With a roar, Somers throws his arms apart as he celebrates
the big moment.]

GM:  Eric Matthew Somers has turned the tide in this one for sure.  He
pulls Zeke back up...

[And promptly wraps his massive hand around Zeke's throat!]

GM:  He's got him hooked!

[Somers powers Zeke up into the air and drives him down with a
thunderous chokeslam!]

GM:  OH MY!!  CHOKESLAM ON ZEKE!!

[The big man reaches down, pulling Jug off the mat...

...and HURLS him over the ropes to the floor right next to a shocked
Mange!]

GM:  Jug's out!  

[With Zeke down, Somers drops down on him, waving for the referee to
count.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE-

[The crowd EXPLODES as Mange pulls Somers right off of Zeke before the
three count comes down!]

GM:  Mange pulled out Somers and-

[Another big roar as Somers throws a big right hand to the jaw of Mange,
knocking him flat!]

GM:  Somers nails him!  He flattened Mange and I have to say, Mange had
it coming after all he's done in this match!

[Somers rolls back in, moving in on Zeke who is crawling across the
ring.  He climbs to his feet, grabbing the fleeing Moonshiner by the
back of the jeans, hoisting him right up to his feet, and wrapping his
arms around the waist...]

GM:  He's got Zeke again!

[But a desperate Zeke lashes out with a back elbow to the bridge of the
nose, sending Somers stumbling away.  Spinning around, Zeke throws a big
haymaker to the forehead, knocking Somers back into the corner.  The big
mountain man throws a few heavy boots to the midsection, knocking some
of the wind out of Somers.]

GM:  Zeke grabs an arm... Irish whi- reversed!

[Somers sends Zeke crashing into the buckles before charging in
himself...]

GM:  CLOTHESLI- 

[But Zeke throws himself aside, causing Somers to slam chestfirst into
the corner!]

GM:  HE MISSED!  SOMERS MISSED THE CLOTHESLINE!!

[Zeke quickly spins Somers around, throwing a pair of right hands to the
jaw.  Grabbing Somers by the hair, Zeke slams his face into the buckles
a trio of times and then bashes him across the back of the neck with a
double axehandle, causing Somers to slump forward into the corner.]

GM:  Somers is- what's Zeke doing now?

[The hillbilly pushes Somers' throat down on the top rope, strangling
him over it.]

GM:  He's choking Somers out on the rope!

[Jug rolls back in, joining in to deliver axehandle after axehandle
across the back as Zeke continues to choke the big man.  The protesting
officlal gets right in the middle of it, shouting at both Jug and
Zeke...]

GM:  Get one of them out of there, ref!

[Spinning Somers around, the two Moonshiners work together to fire him
from corner to corner with a double whip.  Zeke grabs Jug by the arm,
whipping him in after him...

...where he connects with a big running clothesline!]

GM:  Zeke whips Jug into a clothesline in the corner!  Somers got
rocked!

[Zeke throws himself back to the corner then sprints across the ring,
throwing a running clothesline of his own!]

GM:  A pair of clotheslines in the corner!

[With Somers dazed from the two big clotheslines, the Moonshiners drive
their skull into his in unison, knocking him down to a knee...]

GM:  The 'Shiners have chopped the big man down to size!

[Jug quickly hits the ropes, bouncing off and delivering a running big
boot to the jaw of the kneeling Somers, knocking him flat to the
canvas!]

GM:  DOWN GOES SOMERS!!  Can you believe that?

BW:  The 350 pound Eric Matthew Somers just got taken off his feet by
the Moonshiners!  I told you, Gordo!  These guys are in it to prove they
can hang with the best tag teams in the world!  The Moonshiners are
legitimate threats to any team in this division!

GM:  Zeke with a cover!  ONE!!  TWO!!  TH-

[The crowd ROARS as Eric Matthew Somers displays his power, pressing
Zeke off of him and tossing him a few feet away!]

GM:  He threw him off!  He threw Zeke several feet across the ring!

[Not wasting a moment, Jug leaps on top of Somers, wrapping his hands
around the throat of the big man.]

GM:  He's choking Somers!  Throttling him with that chokehold!

[The referee shouts at Jug, trying to order him out of the ring...

...when suddenly Dave Cooper rushes in, delivering a hard kick to the
back of Jug to break the chokehold!]

GM:  Cooper's in!  Dave Cooper recovered enough to break up that
chokehold!

[And then spins to drill the rising Zeke with a right hand!]

GM:  Right hand on Zeke!  And a right hand on Jug now!  Dave Cooper is
trying to fight off both members of the Moonshiners!

[Cooper grabs Zeke by his wild hair, peppering him with right hands to
the skull.  He grabs the arm, firing him into a dazed Jug, knocking him
flat!]

GM:  Dave Cooper is taking on both of the 'Shiners!

[With Jug down on the mat, Cooper turns his focus to Zeke, flinging him
into the corner...

...and rushes in, throwing a big leaping forearm to the jaw!]

GM:  Cooper drills him!  He drills Zeke with the forearm!

[Turning around, Cooper hooks a side headlock, swinging his arm around
and charging out of the corner...]

GM:  Cooper... BULLDOG!!

[The crowd cheers the leaping faceslam from Cooper!]

GM:  Dave Cooper has got this crowd whipped into a frenzy!  This is the
Rough N Ready these fans are used to seeing!  This is the team these
fans cheered for for all those months!

[Cooper pops back up, sizing up the recovering Jug...

...and rushes forward, taking them both over the ropes with a running
clothesline!]

GM:  OHHHHH!!  BOTH MEN OUT TO THE FLOOR!!!

[And inside the ring, a dazed Eric Matthew Somers gets to his feet.  He
looks out, seeing his partner laid out on the floor, and lets loose a
mighty roar as he reaches down, pulling Zeke up off the mat...]

GM:  Somers pulls Zeke up to his feet...

[The big man pulls him into a standing headscissors...

...and hoists him up off the mat, standing tall, and DRIVING him down to
the mat with a thunderous powerbomb before slumping down into a jacknife
cradle.]

GM:  POWERBOMB!!  POWERBOMB!!!  ONE!!!  TWO!!  THRE-

[But once again, the pin is broken up by the presence of Mange who this
time pulls the referee to the floor!]

GM:  Ohh!  He pulled out the ref!

[And the fiesty Mickey Meekly has had enough, lashing out with a
two-handed shove to the chest of Mange, knocking him on his rear!  BIG
CHEER!]

GM:  MEEKLY FLOORED MANGE!!

[A fired-up Meekly slides back in, waving for the match to continue.  An
angry Eric Matthew Somers reaches down to grab Mange by his wild
bleached white hair, yanking him up to his feet...

...and then shouting to his partner who has now managed to crawl back
into the ring, hopping up on the middle rope.]

GM:  They're calling for it!

[Wrapping his massive arm around the head and neck of Zeke, Eric Matthew
Somers powers him up into the air...

...and DRIVES him down to the canvas with a standing uranage slam just
as Cooper leaps off the midbuckle with a well-placed kneedrop to the
skull!  The 350 pounder applies the lateral press as Cooper stands
guard.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREEEEEEEE!!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


PW:  Here are your winners...

ROUGH!  N!  REAAAAAAADYYYYYY!

[The crowd roars with a mixed response for the National Tag Team
Champions as Somers slowly climbs to his feet, reaching out to shake the
hand of his tag team partner who is leaning against the ropes, trying to
catch his breath.]

GM:  A hard-fought victory for the champions!  The Moonshiners put up
one heck of a fight but in the end, it's the National Tag Team
Champions, Dave Cooper and Eric Matthew Somers, who manage to score a
victory in this non-title showdown.

BW:  What a fight.

GM:  You better believe it.  The Moonshiners gave it everything they had
but the champs put one more notch on their belt - one more victory to
help cement their claim that they're the best tag team in the world.

BW:  And who can argue when they say they are?

GM:  I know someone who can argue it!

[And as Somers and Cooper celebrate their victory by having their title
belts handed back to them, two new clapping fans appear at the top of
the aisle...

"The Hammer" Jackson Haynes.

Danny Morton.

Collectively known as Violence Unlimited.

Also known as the greatest tag team in the world.]

GM:  And look at this, Bucky... we've got the #1 contenders out here!

BW:  They've got no business being out here, Gordo!

[The crowd is roaring for Haynes and Morton as they stare down the ramp
at the reigning champions...

...and very clearly let them know their intentions with the universal
"belt gesture."]

GM:  They want the belts, Bucky!  

BW:  Get in line!

GM:  But in my view, they're at the front of the line!  They're the #1
contenders!  They're the Stampede Cup winners!  They're the best tag
team in the world!  But the question is when... when will Rough N Ready
defend the titles against Violence Unlimited?

BW:  The answer is that they're the champs so whenever they damn well
please.

GM:  You could be right about that but what will the Championship
Committee say about it?  Fans, we're out of time!  It's been one heck of
a night here in Dallas and we'll see you next time... at the matches!

[The crowd continues to roar at Morton and Haynes threatening the
National Tag Team Champions from the end of the ramp...

...as we fade to black.]