Saturday Night Wrestling

Archived show text

Rendered from the original legacy TXT file. The source file remains unchanged.

**********************************************************
**********************************************************
********************************************************** 
                            American Wrestling Alliance 
                                   Proudly Presents 
                         AWA Saturday Night Wrestling

                         Live from the Crockett Coliseum
                                    Dallas, Texas
                                February 12th, 2011
**********************************************************
**********************************************************
**********************************************************

[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 we see Louis Matsui, MAMMOTH Mizusawa, Juan
Vasquez, Jim Watkins, and Todd Michaelson on the set of the Money Pit.]

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, moving past Watkins and right up to Matsui, getting
right up into his face!  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.  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...

...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!  

[Bucky's rockin' a eyeball-bursting orange jacket and green dress
shirt... and looks damn proud of that fact as he raises a metal
briefcase covered with silver glitter that reads "BIG BUCKS" on the
side.]

BW:  It'll be three-time Announcer Of The Year soon enough, daddy!

GM:  That remains to be seen.  We've got one heck of a night lined up
for all you fans here on AWA Saturday Night Wrestling - the champ will
be in action!

BW:  That's right.  The National Champion, Juan Vasquez, will be in
non-title action here tonight against a... well, since Spring Training's
about to start... let's call it a player to be named later!  Later
tonight!

GM:  You seem to be the man with all the scoops - any idea on who it
will be?

BW:  Not a clue, daddy.  I'm as in the dark as all these yahoos in the
crowd tonight.

GM:  In addition to that, we've got Eric Preston taking on "Playboy"
Johnny Casanova!  We've got Nenshou defending the Longhorn Heritage
Championship!  Calisto Dufresne's on the Money Pit!  All of that plus
much, much more - and you just never know what'll happen here in the
Crockett Coliseum!  To kick things off, let's go up to the ring and say
"Welcome back!" to our old friend, Melissa Cannon!  Take it away,
Melissa!

[We crossfade to the ring where a beaming Melissa Cannon is standing. 
The AWA faithful roars in tribute to her, bringing a bit of color to her
cheeks as she bows her head, accepting the cheers.]

MC:  Thank you all so very much!

[Big cheer!]

MC:  And it gives me great pleasure to be back here in Dallas, Texas, to
say... tonight's opening contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten
minute time limit!

[The shot pulls back a bit to reveal a second person in the ring.  A
mountain of a man with greasy, stringy hair hanging over his face, a
full beard, and a red singlet with crazy, bloody teeth scrawled all over
it.]

MC:  Introducing first, he hails from The PIT!... he is The Cannibal...
Aaron Croft!

[Cannibal Croft shakes the ropes mightily and then storms around the
ring, showing off his terrible strength and fury to the jeering crowd.]

GM: I've heard stories about this Cannibal Croft...

BW: Told by the fireside?

GM: They say--what?

BW: With a flashlight making your face all spooky? Say Cannibal Croft
three times in front of a mirror and he appears, daddy!

GM: What are you talking about? I've just heard that he's a vicious,
violent competitor.

BW: I heard he shot a man in Reno, daddy. Just to watch him die... and
then eat him. 

GM: That's a ridiculous thing to say!

[The low, somber twang of "Dead Flowers" by Townes Van Zandt sulks onto
the airwaves, soon followed by the appropriately morose "Gentleman" Jack
Holland in full getup: black tights, jacket, and big aviator shades. He
stops near the entrance, takes a deep, bracing breath, and sets off
toward the ring. Fans reach out to slap his hand but he ignores them,
planting his fists firmly on his hips.]

MC: And his opponent... from Elizabeth, Colorado...

"GENTLEMAN" JACK HOLLAND!

BW: This ain't the Jack Holland we're used to seein'!

[Holland climbs up the steps briskly and wipes his feet on the mat. He
takes off his aviators to get a good look at Cannibal Croft. Croft roars
back, flexing his biceps and bringing his fists together beneath his
chest.]

GM: You're right there, Bucky. Holland's usually a serious guy but
always very focused. Not so tonight!

BW: He ain't still mad about that emergency or whatever, is he?

GM: He may well be.

BW: Oh come on! That was weeks ago! Get a grip, daddy!

[Holland shrugs his jacket off and hands both it and his glasses to a
ring attendant. He climbs into the ring and immediately starts across,
fist cocked to throw. The referee intervenes, backing Holland up across
the ring. Croft takes advantage by surging forward and clubbing Holland
over the referee's head! Watson evacuates the ring and the ref calls for
the bell.]

"DING!  DING!  DING!"

GM: And we're off with Croft already at an advantage!

[Croft pulls Holland to his feet and shoots him into the ropes. Holland
snares the top rope to keep himself balanced, but Croft charges right in
and creams him with a lariat that flips Holland over the top rope and
onto the apron!]

BW: Whoo! Holland knocked for a loop there. Get up, daddy, he's gonna
rip your arm off and take a bite!

GM: He will not! But what Croft will do is bring Holland back into the
ring the HARD WAY with a big suplex! And a cover!

[The ref counts one...

Two...

... and Holland throws a shoulder up!]

GM: Too close for comfort there and I'm sure Holland is ready to get out
of this predicament!

BW: Croft's got 'im! Lookit this! Lookit this! WHOA DADDY!

GM: A headbutt from Croft takes Holland back to the mat!

[Holland rolls over, touching his forehead and checking if there's
blood. Croft starts after him again, but Holland keeps rolling until he
escapes the ring and drops to the floor. Croft menaces Holland from the
ring, but Holland is more concerned with his own well being, collapsing
against the barricade and checking his skull once again.]

GM: The ref is counting on the outside here and Cannibal Croft is very
much in control!

BW: Look out now, he's goin' out after Jack!

[Indeed, Croft has climbed out through the ropes and dropped to the
floor at the count of six. Jack Holland is not about to find out what's
waiting for him from the Cannibal and quickly rolls back into the ring.
Croft kicks the barricade in fury. He turns and climbs back onto the
apron...]

BW: OOOH what a move!

[... and goes sailing out into the barricade courtesy of a running knee
from Jack Holland! Croft winces and slumps down, hanging onto the steel
rail to keep himself aloft.]

GM: There are the brains of the Colorado Cowboy at work there, a step
ahead of Aaron Croft and it paid off! Croft is definitely hurt on the
outside.

BW: I dunno how smart this one is, Gordo!

GM: Neither do I! Jack Holland on the outside here and he's sending
Croft back into the ring! Looks like he's gonna take the most of this
opportunity...

[Holland has rolled Croft back into the ring. Holland backs into the
ropes, measures Croft up, takes two steps forward and leaps high into
the air... crashing down on Croft's jaw with a knee drop! Croft flops,
but Holland is on top of him in a second and hooking the leg for the
pin.]

GM: A one! A two!

BW: Not enough!

[The referee holds up two fingers after a powerful kickout from Cannibal
Croft.]

GM: Not enough indeed, Holland's still got a ways to go to put Croft out
of commission here.

BW: But he ain't giving it up! Here's a front facelock from Holland
here!

GM: Holland is simply not sticking to any one strategy except to keep
the pressure on, not the usual style from him but so far it's working.

[Holland wrenches in the front facelock tight, keeping Croft pinned
facefirst into the mat. Croft drums his foot on the mat to show he's
still got life. Then he plants his palms and pushes up, using his
overwhelming strength to press his chest off the canvas despite
Holland's added weight. Croft gets a knee under him, resisting Holland's
further tightening of the hold.]

BW: This is lookin' bad for Gentleman Jack, Croft's gettin' back up to
his feet here...

[Cannibal Croft reaches his feet though he's still trapped in the front
facelock. Croft throws an elbow into Holland's gut, and then another,
both of which stun Holland but can't break the hold. Holland fires back
with a heavy clubbing blow to the spine that rattles Croft's
foundation.] 

GM: Hold on here, Holland's trying to thread his leg through...

BW: What the hell's he going for?

GM: Could we see a submission hold out of Jack Holland?

[Croft is using his arm to block Holland's frentic attempts to get his
right leg between Croft's. Finally, after digging his elbow into Croft's
shoulder, Holland hooks his leg around Croft's. In quick succession he
hooks back Croft's far arm and brings his other leg over Croft's head,
locking on the octopus hold!]

GM: HE GOT IT!

[And Croft twisted his hips, carrying Holland up, over, and down to the
mat with a high hip toss counter! Holland rolled through to his feet
quickly, fists raised to brawl, but a start in from Croft had Holland
backing across the ring into the corner. Holland raises his hand for a
little clemency.]

BW: He don't got it.

GM: An unusual move from Jack Holland, maybe hoping to catch Croft off
guard, but it didn't pay off there.

BW: Holland's gotta play this smart, daddy. He gotta use some of those
big brains of his, call on some of that experience. He's gotta get his
head in the game!

GM: Surprised to hear something like that out of you, Bucky.  It's
actually good advice for Holland at this point in the match!

[Croft and Holland circle around, Holland especially careful, Croft once
again flexing and baring his teeth. Holland brings his hands high for
the tie-up and Croft accepts. Holland quickly swings around for the rear
waistlock but he goes somewhat wide, allowing Croft to turn around
untrapped. Holland comes right back in, but Croft flapjacks Holland high
into the air, snares his legs, and...

... SMASHES him with an almighty Alabama slam!]

GM: My stars!  What an impact, and this one could be all over!

[The referee counts one and two before Holland lifts his legs and kicks
out.]

BW: He's a tough customer, daddy! A tough son of a gun!

GM: Jack Holland is still in this fight, but perhaps not for long!

[Cannibal Croft mounts Holland and lays in a series of heavy right
hands, frequently being stopped by the referee for using closed fists
but always tearing his arm away and returning to his work. After he's
beaten on Holland sufficiently, Croft swings his legs over and goes for
the pin.]

BW: C'mon, Holland!

GM: ... a two... and a shoulder up! Somehow Jack Holland is still in
this!

[Croft practically jumps to his feet and swings his arm up high, tilting
to the ground...

... and dropping a monster elbow on Holland's chest! Croft doesn't stop
there, though, jumping to his feet and loading up another!]

BW: The Cannibal's about to break Holland apart!

[Croft drops another massive elbow to the sternum, crawling immediately
back up to his feet, loading up to drop another...]

GM: With every one of these elbow drops, he's driving more wind out of
Jack Holland and inflicting a hell of a lot more damage!

[And dropping another right down on the heart.]

BW: Geez, it hurts me to watch that, daddy!

GM: Now Croft goes for the cover!

[Croft has hooked Holland's leg so deep he's folded the Coloradan in
half. The referee drops to the mat to count once... twice.. Holland
shifts just barely enough to get his shoulder off the canvas!]

GM: Not yet! Not yet!

[Croft slams his fist on the mat in rage. After a brief bout of
snorting, Croft gets himself under control enough to grab Holland by the
base of the neck and slowly drag him to his feet.]

BW: I got a feeling that this is gonna be the end, daddy, and it ain't
gonna be pretty!

GM: Gotta agree with you there!

[Croft gets Holland to his feet, but Holland quickly snares Croft's head
and rolls him backwards into a small package!]

GM: WHAT A COUNTER!

[The ref dives into position!]

GM: ONE!  TWO!

BW: NO!

[Croft shoots his legs up into the air and gets his shoulders off the
mat just before the three count! Holland rolls away and hurriedly backs
into a corner as he sees Croft on his feet just as quickly and advancing
like a bull. Holland shakes his head furiously, holding his hand out for
space, then both hands, sinking down in the corner as he pleads for
breathing room.]

GM: And this is DEFINITELY ungentlemanly behavior, Bucky!

BW: He's gotta buy himself some time! He's rattled! He's gotta get his
marbles to the right hippos!

GM: Aaron Croft is slowly making his way in and he's got baaaad
intentions on his mind!

[Croft casts a bleak shadow over Holland who is hunched small in the
corner. Cannibal Croft snarls and reaches down, grabbing Holland by the
throat! The referee objects, but Croft ignores him in favor of slowly
pulling Holland to his feet. Holland tenses his neck, fighting every
inch of the way, grabbing at Croft's hand and trying to claw his way
free. Nothing seems to work.]

BW: The Cannibal can do whatever he wants to Jack Holland right now and
there is NOTHING Holland can do about it!

GM: Holland had better think of something soon or--NO!

[Croft releases Holland's neck and stumbles back, grabbing his eye after
Holland despicably drove his thmb into it!]

BW: That's something!

GM: That's not what we're used to seeing out of Holland AT ALL!  He
rolls him up!

[Holland frantically stamps his feet, hips arched high, putting as much
pressure on Cannibal Croft as he can to keep him down for the schoolboy
rollup pinfall! The referee drops into position to count once, twice,
and as Holland really puts on the pressure, three times.]

DING! DING DING!

[Holland's feet hit the mat and he immediately releases the hold,
rolling  until he can slide out of the ring!  Croft sits up, bewildered
at the outcome.]

MC:  Here is your winner... JAAAAAACK HOLLLLLAND!

[Holland stands on the floor, hands on his hips as the crowd responds
with a mix of cheers and boos for the victory.]

GM: Holland stole it! He stole it!

BW: You're damn right he did, and he had every right to! You gotta do
whatever you can to win in this sport, daddy!

[Holland snatches back his jacket and sunglasses before starting his
march up the aisle. Cannibal Croft leans over the top rope, yelling
murderously. Holland lifts his hand in victory as he heads out, but he
lowers it soon after, clutching at his collarbone.]

GM: Well, he did win, but I wonder if you ask Holland of a couple months
ago about what he just did right now, what he'd say.

BW: He'd say good to that poor bastard for winning, that's what he'd
say!

GM: I'm not so sure...

[Holland heads up the ramp and is about to disappear to the back when he
is stopped by none other than Jason Dane.]

JD: Mr. Holland, if you've got time for a few words?

GJH: Make it quick, Dane-o.

[Dane nods sharply.]

JD: Well, Mr. Holland, recently some people -- both fans and people
backstage -- have been saying that you've been off your game recently.
How do-

GJH: Off my game?

[Holland knits his eyebrows and meanmugs, stepping in threateningly
close to Dane.]

GJH: _Off my game_!? Hell, I won out there, didn't I?

[Holland gestures to the ring with his jacket holding hand.]

JD: Yes you did, but-

GJH: But what? But what else matters? I'm gettin' the winner's bonus. I
got the win in the record books. What else matters to you?

JD: Well, Mr. Holland, this is just not how we're used to seeing you,
some people have been saying -- as I said, this is just the rumor --
some people have been saying that perhaps that emergency that pulled you
from Saturday Night Wrestling a few weeks back might have something to
do with--

[Holland ripped the microphone from Dane's hands and got right in Dane's
face, prodding the interviewer's chest with his index finger.]

GJH: You listen here, Dane-o, and you listen good. I told Stegs what
would happen if he kept on and the same goes for you. I like you,
Dane-o, but let's get one thing straight: MY business is MINE. I ain't
got time for gossipy housewives like you. You keep your nose outta my
business and I keep my fist outta your nose.

[Holland shoves the microphone back into Dane's chest, sending the
interviewer staggering back a few steps. Holland swings his jacket over
his shoulders and storms to the back.]

JD: *cough* Fans, we'll be... we'll be right back.

[We fade away from Jason Dane 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 an external shot of a
cool Louisiana night.  A low mist hangs over the ground as the moon
hangs in the sky, casting a soft ethreal glow, dimly illuminating the
ground beneath.  The camera pans out to show the chain link fence
surrounding the dark windows of Angola Prison.

The exercise yard stands empty...the dim emegency lights all the sign of
life in the massive structure.

A strong, quiet voice begins speaking...]

"There was a time that a place like this held meaning..."

[The camera pulls out further, bringing a solitary figure into focus. 
He stands well back from the fence, white face paint with black around
the eyes and mouth...a black trench coat and a large black bird sitting
on his shoulder...]

"A time when men feared the consequences of their actions...when the
word 'justice' mean something...

That time is long past.

We now live in a time when the strong prey on the weak...sociopaths,
doing little more than gravitating together, their avarice and cowardice
acting like honey to flies...attracting them...keeping them...sustaining
them.

Azrael here...he and I...we've seen this.  We've watched from afar,
biding our time...waiting for the right moment to announce ourselves.

Waiting for the right time to put those who have strayed from the
straight and narrow on notice...to tell them:

This simply won't do."

[The pauses, reaching up and stroking the bird's head with the back of
his hand...the corvid simply stares, looking around with its beady,
unblinking eyes.]

"You've had your time.  You had your chance to walk around, confident in
your strength and secure in the knowledge that no one can stop you.

That time is at an end.
 
You have been tried...measured...and found wanting...and I get to show
you that justice and vengence have a lot in common.  You see, I'm not a
religious man, but there's this misquoted piece of biblical verse that
sums it up nicely:
 
'The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities
of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the
name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of
the darkness. For he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of
lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and
furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And
you will know I am the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you.'
 
Now...I'm no shepherd...and I couldn't care less about leading a
flock...but when it comes to great vengence and furious anger..."
 
[He pauses, nodding.]
 
"That I'm willing to get behind..." 

[Fade to black...

...and then fade back to live action as we see the interview platform. 
The crowd is already booing, as the flowing dark-brownish-red bisht and
white kaffiyeh of Sultan Azam Sharif are easy to spot from anywhere in
the crowd.  It probably doesn't hurt that Count Adrian Bathwaite's
peach-colored dress shirt appears to be made out of a bizarre cross
between Lycra and the stuff they put inside glowsticks.  The highly
visible duo are attended by the enormous Iranian flag carried by the
Sultan, which he is waving in front of the crowd.  Jason Dane gets it
started... and oddly enough, he's wearing a catcher's chest protector.]

JD: Last week, we saw a heinous ambush by...

[ANGRY OLD MAN CANE JABBING(tm)... and it does nothing.  The chest
protector succeeds.  Dane smiles.]

JD: Ha.  I came prepared, Count Ba...AAAAAAAHHHH!

[So Bathwaite whacks him in the kneecap with the cane.  The Asian-toned,
European-featured, silverhaired sexagenarian (that word sounds much more
lurid than it is) sneers triumphantly at a hopping Dane.  BOOOOO!]

CAB: You think you're safe from me, you needle-necked serf?  Let me clue
you in on something that Supernova found out last week.  The nobility
always wins in the end.  Always.  We have the power, because we deserve
the power, because we know how to wield the power.  And all of you
lowborn dirt farmers can only dream of it.  Very rarely, someone rises
up above the chattel to make something of himself, and then one of two
things happens.  He comes crashing back down to the rank and file, just
like a pig always goes back to wallowing in the mud.  Or, maybe once a
generation, we get somebody who redefines themself and starts a new
line.

You, you're a bottom-feeder just like Supernova.  I've been waiting all
week for this; finally, the time for Supernova to confirm for all these
dim-witted peasants that he (and they) cannot rise above their station. 
He will apologize to me for striking me, and admit that he has no
business in the presence of the highborn.  And I know you're listening,
you painted-up punk, so I'll make it simple.  You have until the end of
the Sultan's match to prepare yourself, because right after his match,
you are to come down here and offer your apology.  That is the way it's
going to happen.  And maybe then, all of these little snot-nosed
monsters who drag their so-called parents over here will come to realize
the way society is supposed to work: the elite rule everything, and the
rest of you are here to serve us!  That is why Supernova has to do this
in public.  Tell them, Sultan!

[The black-haired Persian stops waving his flag, instead holding it at
his side with his left hand while pointing with his right.  The starts
to "tell them" in his ridiculously thick accent.]

SAS: You know, Mistair Jahsun Dan, dot I alvays vas fight for honor. 
Supairnova, he diddint have no honor ven he punch my manaiger, sixty-two
year old man, un den last veek he poosh Mistair EEvon Kustofitch vat is
also old man.  Un dey both vas raspected shampwons, just like vas deh
Sultan, Azhun Game shampwon un Olympic shampwon.  Supairnova is dis
jehbronie vat come in off deh street vit makeup on, un he gonna attock
old man.  But he not gonna attock Pahlavn-e Keshvar, Varzesh-e
Pahlavani!

[The Sultan ditches his robe as he says this, just so that he can slap
both sides of his chest, then wipe off the sweat... er, oil?  VATEVAH!]

SAS: I am not old man, Supairnova, un you vatch me!  You vatch vat
Olympic shampwon look like, den you gonna know vat did all ontollEgunt
AmerEcun know, dot you couldn't hit deh Sultan un get avay!  Un you
gonna see dot IRAN!  IRAN!  NUMBAH WUN!  CAMARAMAN, ZOOM IT!

[Cue the flexing.  Sharif's physique is impressive, but bears many
scars, particularly for his age.  Bathwaite nods, and gives Dane an
Angry Old Man Cane Jab (tm) to the knee before heading towards the
aisle.  "Saz O Avaz Mahdor" by Mohammed Reza Shajarian begins to play,
the loud Persian vocal opening drawing even more hate from the
not-really-culturally-sensitive fanbase.  Bathwaite points his cane
threateningly at some young kids, and Sharif marches his huge flag right
behind.  Cue the chant.]


"U! S! A!   U! S! A!   U! S! A!   U! S! A!"


GM: Here comes the man known in his home country as a Pahvlan-e Keshvar,
Bucky Wilde.

BW: Geshundiet.  Unless "Palony Kushver" means "undefeated", daddy, I
don't think it's good enough ta describe the tear this man is on in the
AWA!  He ain't lost a singles match yet!

GM: And I have to wonder whether or not Sultan Azam Sharif... the "Great
and Honorable Sultan" as it loosely translates... really thinks what he
did to Supernova was right.

BW: Of course he does; it WAS right.  Look, Gordo.  If somebody like
Calisto Dufrense, or James Monosso, or Johnny Casanova came over here
and punched you in the face, would you be crying if somebody broke their
hand for it?

GM: Let's leave personal feelings aside.  I'd be enraged, and-

BW: Exactly.  The Sultan was right.

[The Sultan is now waving his flag all over the ring, as a young man
with baggy black pants and wrestling boots, who is wearing a black
T-Shirt that reads "NEVER SAY DIE", stretches out across the ring.  He
has messy black hair, taped-up fists, and is wearing a white mouthguard.
 The music dies out, but the chant does not.]


 "U! S! A!   U! S! A!   U! S! A!   U! S! A!"


MC: The following contest, set for one fall, has a ten minute time
limit.  Introducing first, to my left... 

From Houston, Texas... weighing two-hundred sixty seven pounds...

JOSEPH PUCKETT !

[The crowd cheers the underdog as he pumps a fist.  Sharif ditches his
kaffiyeh; having earlier shed his bisht, he is now garbed in his ring
attire of loose white sirwal tucked into shiny golden boots shaped
vaguely like galesh... a hooked point on the end.  Bathwaite is in the
ring, giving the referee some instructions.]

MC:  His opponent... introducing first the manager,  COUNT ADRIAN
BATHWAITE!

He represents... hailing from Shiraz, Iran... weighing two-hundred
fifty-three pounds...

SULTAN AZAM SHARIF !

[The chant picks up in volume.]


"U! S! A!   U! S! A!   U! S! A!   U! S! A!"


[Shairf is pleading for the crowd to pipe down, holding out his hands
placatingly with a distressed expression on his face.  Bathwaite is
furious, insisting that the referee silence the crowd or disqualify
Puckett.]

GM: The Sultan does NOT like this chant, Bucky.

BW: D'you like being disrespected, Gordo?  I mean, every time someone
comes out here an' disrespects you... which is about five times a show,
ya know... ya get that look in yer eyes.  That look says, "if I was
thirty years younger, a foot taller, an' had a hun'nerd pounds of muscle
on me, an' had even a shred of athletic ability or toughness, it'd be
bidness time!"  I respect that look, Gordo.  Just don't let Bathwaite
see it.

GM: ...thank you, Bucky.

BW: Yeah!  That look you got right th... what?  Why're ya starin' at me?


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM:  The opening bell rings, and Sharif seems to be distracted by the
fans, and confused about his opponent's ring attire.  Puckett wrestling
in a T-Shirt, I think Sharif is waiting for him to take it off... and a
quick go-behind and takedown by Joseph Puckett!

BW: Remember, the Sultan is used ta rigid rules an' discipline.  Ya
don't wear T-Shirts in amateur wrestling... frankly, ya look like a slob
wearin' 'em here.  Get some professionalism, kid.  Show some pride.

GM: Sharif easily escapes; there is zero chance that this young man is
going to accomplish anything by mat-wrestling a former Olympic freestyle
wrestler.  You can count the number of men on the AWA who could even try
that approach on one hand.

BW: And the number who could beat him that way?  You could count 'em on
zero fingers.

GM: Sharif with the counter takedown, wrestling Puckett to the mat and
applying a facebar.  This is very painful, Bucky, and considering what
happened to Joseph Puckett the last time we saw him...

BW: Huh?  We saw this... oh, yeah!  This is the kid who got his teeth
broke by Monosso!  Who'd be dumb enough ta get back in a wrestling ring
after that?!  He's gotta have an IQ in th' sub-City Jack range.  If
that's possible.

GM: Puckett gets to his feet.  He's deceptively strong, and elbows the
Sultan in the ribcage.  And ag... no, fireman's carry takedown.  Sharif
keeping control, applying a surfboard... yes!  He has his foot in the
back of Puckett and cranking back on the arms!

BW: This just shows how kind and honorable the Sultan is.

GM: How?

BW: He's givin' Supernova plenty of time ta swallow his pride an' get
his apology ready.  Remember, he's gotta come out here and apologize
after this match!

GM: So says Bathwaite.

BW: When the nobility speaks, the commoners better jump to it!  So it's
gonna happen, just you watch.


"U! S! A!   U! S! A!   U! S! A!   U! S! A!"


[The chant energizes Puckett, who gets to his knees... and then his
feet.  Stubbornly, the Sultan keeps the hold applied.  This is
ill-advised, as he's now balancing on one foot with his opponent
standing.  The Texan makes a quick turn, escaping the hold, and
clotheslining the teetering Iranian in one move!]

GM: TREMENDOUS COUNTER BY JOSEPH PUCKETT!  Can he follow up?!

BW: He better!

GM: A right hand, and a left!  The Sultan reeling!  The fans are
electric!  And a hip toss sends Bathwaite's charge to the canvas!  The
undefeated record may be in jeopardy!

BW: No, not to Toothless Joe Bucket!  C'mon, Adrian, get him together!

GM: Puckett off the ropes, and a hard forearm shiver rocks the Persian! 
Off the ropes again... WHAT A DROPKICK!

[The cheers of the fans stop short, as Sharif uncorks his secret weapon,
the dropkick.  Both feet hit Puckett in the face with an audible WHACK,
and he drops like a rock!]

BW: WOW.  I didn't expect THAT from him, daddy!

GM: The Sultan isn't a very mobile competitor, but he apparently has a
very effective standing dropkick in his arsenal!  Joseph Puckett trying
to get to his feet, but he is still dizzy.  A big kick to the side with
those horrid boots!

[After the kick, the Sultan reaches down and grasps both of Puckett's
wrists.  He pulls him in, overhooking the arms in a double arm trap.  A
single headbutt by the Sultan sets up, and then he suplexes his man
clean overhead by the arms!]

GM: IMPRESSIVE!  An incredible... suplex of some kind.  I don't even
know what to call that!

BW: Inverted Tiger Suplex, Gordo.

GM: Whatever it was, Puckett is stunned.  Sharif... dragging him on the
canvas!  He is facing the man east, and we all know what this means!

[The crowd tries to warn the Houston native... roll over, or crawl away,
or something.  Sharif straddles his back with his arms outstretched...
and then descends on him.  He quickly tucks both of Puckett's arms onto
his thighs, and cinches in the Camel Clutch!]

BW: Game over, man.  Game over.

GM: Indeed it is!  Once Sharif gets this locked in fully, there is no
way to escape via technical counter.  You can only hope to power out,
and I do not know if Joseph Puckett is equal to that challenge...

[The Sultan torques Puckett's head, methodically yanking one way,
waiting, then yanking it back the other... this repeats until Puckett
does the only sensible thing left.  He submits.]


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


BW: Nope.  Still undefeated.  And it's apology time.

GM: No, it's release the hold time!  Why does Sharif do THIS, if he is
so honorable?!

[The boos are vehement as the Sultan does not release the hold.  Count
Bathwaite gets in the referee's face and distracts him from applying a
count to the Iranian grappler.  Curiously, the Sultan's face doesn't
betray rage, or even intensity at this point.  It's like he's
inquisitively looking at Bathwaite, wondering why he's arguing with the
referee.]

BW: He lets go when the Count tells him to let go.

GM: He can break the kid's neck this way!  He's helpless!  What on Earth
does Bathwaite want?!

[But that's when the boos turn to cheers.]

GM: Wait a minute! We've got help on the way!

BW: Who in their right mind' oh no, not him!

['Him' would be Supernova, who is dressed in street clothes but still
has his face painted. He also sports a cast on his right hand.]

GM: Supernova has come to the aid of Puckett!

BW: The only thing he should be doing is getting on his knees and
preparing to apologize!

[As Supernova slides under the ropes, Bathwaite quickly backs off,
although shouting at him while doing so. Sharif hasn't turned his
attentions to Supernova yet'

'and nor does he get a chance to do as the face-painted wrestler
strikes.]

GM: Supernova nails Sharif in the back of the head!

BW: He him with the cast! That's should be a fine right there!

GM: Like the fine Sharif should get for not releasing the hold when the
bell rang?

BW: That's different! He's just following Bathwaite's orders!

[Sharif's grasp on Puckett is released and the Sultan ends up rolling to
the apron, holding his head. Supernova gets in a quick kick to the ribs
before Sharif rolls to the floor.]

GM: Hold on' Bathwaite coming up from behind!

BW: Ha! Serves Supernova right for sticking his nose in his business
again!

[As Supernova shouts at the downed Sharif, Bathwaite creeps up behind
Supernova, holding his cane above his head'

'but as he swings, Supernova suddenly spins around and catches the
attempted shot!]

GM: Supernova caught him! Bathwaite is in trouble!

BW: He better not touch him! He's supposed to be apologizing, anyway!

[Bathwaite is now shaking his head and pleading his case as Supernova
has the cane in his left hand, with Baithwaite's right hand still
clutching it'

'but not for long as Supernova manages to pull the cane away from the
manager.]

GM: Bathwaite better get out of there if he knows what good for him!

BW: Why? You want to see Supernova strike him again? How dare you
condone violence against the elderly, Gordon!

[Bathwaite, though, is quick to slip out of the ring, through the ropes,
but stays standing on the apron, still begging Supernova not to hurt
him.
Supernova stares at him, then motions to the ring announcer for the
mic.]

BW: Ah, good! Supernova is about to deliver his apology as promised.

GM: I don't know about that' he wouldn't really do that, would he?

BW: He should! Twice now he's put his hands on his elders' he needs to
learn to show some respect.

GM: If anyone needs to show respect, it's the like of Bathwaite for the
way he and the Russians set up Koyla Sudakov.

[Sharif is now on his feet, still holding his head, but he makes no
motion to get into the ring' no doubt because Supernova is brandishing
that cane in his left hand while supporting the mic as best he can in
the cast on his right hand.]

S: Bathwaite! You called me out here, right?

[Bathwaite shouts above the cheering crowd: 'You know what I want!']

S: I understand you wanted an apology?

[And this time, Bathwaite shouts louder: 'You're right I do!'']

S: Very well then'

[He then pauses, with some fans screaming at Supernova not to do it,
while Bathwaite smiles.]

S: Apologize this!

[And with one swift motion, Supernova takes the cane and pushes it with
both hands over his knee, snapping it in two!

Bathwaite's smile has quickly disappeared, and now he's angry. He tries
to get back through the ropes, but Sharif is pulling him back and the
referee is blocking his way.]

GM: There's your apology, Bathwaite!

BW: How dare he! Does Supernova know how much that cane cost!

GM: I don't think he cares! And it's quite clear Bathwaite isn't going
to get what he wants tonight! We'll be right back, fans!

[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 footage marked "TWO WEEKS AGO!"  Stretching out, his
back cracking, "The Bull" Bruno Dawson stands with a towel around his
neck, barely sweating after his match against Kenny Trigg.]

BD: Well, AWA, that was a good warm-up. Stretched my muscles a bit, and
I  actually had to use some effort to toss Kenny Trigg down before
making him tap out. Who else you got?

[A smile, confident bordering on cocky.]

BD: Moving up the ladder in a promotion such as this is a lot tougher
than  walking into an independent and immediately making an impact. I
understand that, and am more than willing to work my way up from the
bottom. But if you feed me more men like Kenny Trigg, there's going to
be a long list of medical claims this company is going to have to pay
out. So it might be in your best interest to give me an actual challenge
next time.

[Bruno plops down on a bench facing a set of lockers. He relaxes a bit,
and 
tosses the towel around his neck into an open locker.]

BD: This coming show, it looks like I've got a day of rest. Fine by me,
I'm  getting paid either way. The next time I step in the ring, however,
I plan on making an even bigger statement. "The Bull" will not be
denied, nor will he wait forever. The stars of AWA will be forced to
take me seriously sooner rather than later. When that time comes, we'll
find out who has what it takes to stand with me. I have a sneaky
suspicion that there aren't many. It's time to evolve, or die with the
changing climate.

[Close in on the straight face of Bruno Dawson, a possible future star
in the AWA...

...and then fade back to live action to another face.  The mirrored
sunglasses he wears don't fully hide his black eye. And certainly, they
can't hide the fact that his nose is crooked, clearly broken, and then
perhaps re-broken so that it will heal properly. But none of the obvious
injuries to his face, or the fact that whenever he takes a deep breath
he winces because of the pain in his ribs, makes Alex Martinez look any
less threatening.

Standing backstage, wearing his black leather jacket, dressed in his
ring gear, he stands behind a microphone held by Jason Dane. Even though
his eyes are hidden from view, the intensity of the man is
unmistakable.]

JD: Two weeks ago, we witnessed something horrible. You, Mr. Martinez,
were attacked by James Monosso. If you don't mind me saying so, he
really did a number on you. Frankly, I'm surprised you're here this
week, and scheduled for a match later.

AM: You're right, Dane. Monosso straight up kicked my butt. He beat the
hell outta me. No excuses. What you saw was me gettin' my butt handed to
me.

But ya know somethin', Jason Dane?

JD: What?

AM: That's just fine with me.

[There's a slight smirk on the face of Alex Martinez.]

AM: See, before now, I hadn't been takin' things with the Minion, and
the Dragon, and all that too seriously. I didn't sweat it. I figured
some guy wants to dress up like an idiot and say a bunch of dumb crap? 
Well, who am I to stop him?

But now, now ya got me takin' this all very seriously.

Monosso, you did hurt me. But ya didn't end me. And that was mistake
number one.

Mistake number two?

[The smirk is joined by a chuckle.]

AM: Well, you done told me who was pullin' your strings.

[Dane pauses a moment, and then his eyes widen.]

JD: Wait, are you saying you know who this mysterious Dragon is?

AM: Damn right, Dane. I know exactly who the Dragon is. And if you were
listenin' to what Monosso said to you after he beat the hell outta me,
you'd know too. See, I gotta thank ya for that Monosso. You gave me
someone to focus all my energy on.

But don't think that gets ya off the hook.

JD: But how do you plan on dealing with Monosso? Certainly, he made it
clear that nothing you can do will affect him. He even invited you to
his house.

[Martinez nods.]

AM: You're right Dane. Monosso ain't the sorta man that can be reasoned
with, or even dealt with by pinnin' for a three count. No, James
Monosso, I'm gonna have to do something else to ya.

But I wanna make somethin' real clear.

I'm not goin' to your home, Monosso. And I ain't gonna find you in a
parkin' lot either. I'm gonna do this right here, in Dallas, in the
Crockett Coliseum. So that all these great fans can watch.

And so that the man payin' ya can watch too.

[Martinez pulls his sunglasses off, and the camera zooms in on his face
and its multiple bruises and contusions.]

AM: But what they're goin' to see? It ain't gonna be no match. At least,
not as you understand it. James Monosso, you're a mad dog. You're rabid.
And when you're dealin' with a dog that's foamin' at the mouth? Well,
there's only one cure for that. And it ain't no wrestlin' match.

James Monosso, I'm gonna put ya down once and for all.

[The expression on Martinez' face goes beyond intense. It can be
described as murderous.]

AM: You took money for my blood Monosso. And now, you're gonna have to
pay the price. I'm comin' for ya Monosso. And when I get my hands on ya?

Ain't nothin' you're gonna be able to do.

JD: Serious words from a serious man.  Let's head back down to ringside
for more action!

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

MC:  The following matchup is a tag team contest scheduled for one fall
with a fifteen minute time limit.  Introducing first... already in the
ring at this time... from Parts Unknown, Weight Unknown...

THE BLACK DEMONS!

[Two bulky masked men raise their bulbous arms to a lot of boos.]

MC:  And their opponents...

[The sounds of KISS' "Rock And Roll All Nite" kicks in to a big cheer
from the crowd!]

MC:  From Music City, USA... at a total combined weight of 453 pounds...
Scotty and Marty...

THE ROCKSTAR EXPRRRRRESSSSSS!

[The crowd's cheers grow louder as Scotty Storm and Marty Morgan burst
into view through the curtain.  Morgan pauses, raising an arm to point
at the cheering fans.  He high-fives his partner before the two start
making their way down the aisle, clad in black full-length tights and
white boots with red bandanas tied off at random places.  They each
sport a t-shirt for an 80s rock band with the sleeves cut off as they
head to the ring.]

GM:  Scotty and Marty, the Rockstar Express, are on the way to the ring
for tag team action and after what happened to them two weeks ago when
they were taking on The Aces, you have to wonder what kind of a mood
they're in here tonight.

BW:  Same as usual by the looks of 'em, out there shaking hands, kissing
babies... all that jazz.

GM:  They do seem in a good mood, yes.

[Storm and Morgan step through the ropes, pulling off their t-shirts to
a big cheer from the ladies in the crowd as they toss them out to the
floor...

...and then get barreled over by the charging Demons as the bell rings!]

GM:  Look at this!

[Let's call this first one Black Demon #1 as he throws Scotty Storm back
into the buckles, burying boot after boot into the midsection as his
partner flings Morgan into the ropes.]

GM:  Marty Morgan sent to the ropes... clothesli- 

[Morgan baseball slides underneath the clothesline, popping up to his
feet to throw a right hand to the masked man's skull!]

GM:  Morgan caught him there!

[Morgan grabs Demon #2 by the wrist, firing him towards his partner...]

GM:  LOOK OUT!!

[A big crash brings the crowd to their feet as the two Black Demons
collide in the corner, nearly squashing Scotty Storm who just narrowly
lunges out of the way as the two big men hit the buckles!]

GM:  The Demons slam together and-

[Spinning the second Demon around, Scotty Storm leaps up on the second
rope next to him, cradling his head in a loose side headlock, raising
his right hand.]

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

[Storm leaps down, grabbing the arm to fire Black Demon #2 across the
ring to the opposite corner as Marty Morgan leaps up on the midbuckle,
raising a right hand.]

GM:  Now it's time for Black Demon #1 to get some!

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

[Morgan leaps down as well, pumping a fist to the cheers of the crowd. 
The two Rockstars go to opposite corners, each grabbing an arm on their
opponents.]

GM:  Double whip!

BW:  BOOM!  RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE!!

[The two big masked men collide in the center of the ring, staggered
from the big meeting...

...and then quickly dropped.  First, a double dropkick on the chin of
the second Black Demon.  Then a double drop toehold on the first Demon,
sending him down in a big splash on his partner!]

GM:  Both Demons are down and the Rockstars are flying high!

[On cue, the two Rockstars mount opposite corners, looking down at the
two floored Demons...

...and take flight, Morgan with a fistdrop as Storm drops a big splash
across the back of Black Demon #1!]

BW:  Stack 'em and rack 'em 'cause this one's over!

[Flipping both Demons to their backs, the Rockstars apply a double
lateral press as the referee counts both men down for the three count.]

GM:  There you go!  The Rockstars win here on Saturday Night Wrestling!

[Morgan and Storm quickly celebrate their win before exiting the ring,
heading back up the ramp towards the locker room.]

GM:  The Rockstar Express with a quick win tonight, Bucky.

BW:  They don't get paid by the hour, Gordo.  They wanted to send a
message and they did exactly that.  But what I want to know is a) are
they done with the Aces and b) what about the First Family?

GM:  Jason Dane may be about to find out exactly that.  Jason?

[We crossfade over to the interview stage where Jason Dane has been
joined by Scotty Storm and Marty Morgan, the Rockstar Express, who are
all grins.]

JD:  Thanks, Gordon.  Guys, a nice win in there tonight but I have to
wonder, after what has happened to you guys for the past couple of
months, how can you be in such a good mood?

[Scotty Storm nods his head as he leans over the mic.]

SS:  First off, Jase... let's hear it for these great fans here in
Dallas!

[Big "Hey!  That's us!" cheer!]

SS:  Now, you want to know why we're in a good mood - how can we not be
when you hear these people, Jase?

[Dane persists.]

JD:  I'm sure that's true but let's face facts.  You didn't win the
Stampede Cup.  Two weeks ago, you went out to try and show The Aces that
you COULD beat them and you didn't.  Of course, that's thanks to the
arrival of The First Family.

SS:  Look here, Jase.  Yeah, we want to beat The Aces.  That ain't no
secret and it ain't no lie.  We want to get them boys back inside this
ring and we want to tear the house down with 'em one more time.  And
this time?  When she's all said and done, we'll be gettin' our hands
raised.

JD:  Are you challenging The Aces again?

MM:  Jase, you need to clean our your ears.  We want a match with 'em...
that's for sure.  We want another shot at 'em and we'll take it whenever
we can get it.

But first thing's first...

[Morgan points to the camera, a slightly angry look on his face.]

MM:  Adam and his Holy Rollers, I'm talkin' at ya.  You want a shot at
us?  You want to make a name for yourself over us?

Fine.  Scotty and I have been up and down every highway and byway in
thsi country, making names for ourselves... and these people in this
building know... and those people at home know... they know what the
Rockstar Express is all about.

So, you want to become a household name thanks to us?  Then bring it,
boys.  We'll be waitin' for ya.  

[With a whoop, the Rockstars exchange a high five, walking out of view
once again.]

JD:  The Rockstar Express is runnin' hotter than ever and they're comin'
for the First Family...

[Dane shrugs.]

JD:  ...AND The Aces?  I can't wait to see what happens with that one! 
Fans, we'll be right back so don't you DARE go away!

[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 
Mark Stegglet is interviewing everyone's favourite Playboy, the podgier
than usual Johnny Casanova, and main squeeze Big Mama. Stegglet opens
his mouth to talk but is quickly interrupted by the enthusastic Cas.]

JC: It's me, it's me, it's Playboy Johnny C! Oh boy, Steggles, are ya in
for a treat tonight!

MS: Should we take it you're confident in your ability to beat Eric
Preston?

JC: Am I confident? Of course I am, Steg! And I have to say, I'm a
little fired up for this one. Ya see, this Eric Preston, he talked about
his match with Sudakov as if it was the opportunity of a lifetime. Seems
to me, he's been getting himself a lot of opportunities recently. First,
he got to get thrown around by the victorious team in the Steal the
Spotlight match a few months ago, in which ya'll remember I helped my
good friend MAMMOTH pick up a huge win.

Second, he gets entered into the Stampede Cup, a tournament which many
better men such as yours truly were surprisingly overlooked for.

Third, he gets a match against a former champ in Sudakov.

And fourth, tonight, the biggest opportunity of them all, he gets to go
one on one with a bona fide legend in the Playboy

Johnny C.

What do all these opportunities have in common, Steggles? I'll tell ya
what - he blew them all! Meanwhile, I embarrassed Scotty Mayhem to the
point where he appears to have changed his name and found more gainful
employment far far from Johnny C. I teamed with MAMMOTH, and a coupla
others who rode our coat tails, to help him get that massive Steal The
Spotlight win. And how have I been rewarded? Without a match for about
two months and now the chance to take on Eric Preston! It just don't
make sense, does it, Stegg?

[Stegglet avoids answering.]

MS: You're certainly entitled to your opinion, Mr Casanova. You seem to
be in a pretty good mood tonight.

[Casanova nods.]

JC: Now I have to admit Steggles, last time around, people were telling
me I was kinda quiet. I heard a lady say after the show, that my lil
speech was over so quickly, she got through it without passing out at my
handsomeness for the first time in some years. It's true it's true. Ya
know why, Steggy?

[Stegglet shakes his head.]

JC: I was missing my sweet cherry pie here, my little pumpkin, my woman
of my lifetime... Big Mama!

[He leans over and kisses his woman.]

JC: See, it isn't given to many of ya out there to experience the love
that we feel for each other. Most of ya will never know the beauty of
two hearts beating as one. But those few who do will tell ya that when
you're seperated from your one true love, life just don't shine so
brightly any more. The Playboy has to admit he was going through the
motions a little last time around. But this time the first couple of the
AWA are reunited. Johnny C and Big Mama, together again. And for Eric
Preston, that means nothing but a world of hurt.

[Casanova flashes a toothy grin in the direction of the camera as we
fade to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing, looking a little off
her game.]

MC:  The following...

[She pauses, shaking her head.]

MC:  The following contest is set for one fall with a ten minute time
limit and it is for the Longhorn Heritage Championship!

[Big cheer!]

GM:  Well, that explains why Melissa seems a little rattled, Bucky.  We
all recall way back in November when Nenshou sprayed that vile mist into
Melissa's eyes at the orders of Lori Dane.  He's the reason we haven't
seen Melissa until tonight!

BW:  I think Lori Dane - and a lot of others - would say that it's her
fault that Melissa's been out of action.

GM:  A good point but you can imagine what it must be like for Melissa
to have to make this introduction.

[Melissa continues, having been reassured by the referee.]

MC:  Introducing first... already in the ring at this time... from
Mobile, Alabama... "Tough" Tony Tyler!

[A few cheers for the African-American with "TOUGH" tattooed across his
chest.]

MC:  And his opponent...

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

MC:  From Parts Unknown... weighing in at 253 pounds and being
accompanied to the ring by his manager, the Collector of Oddities, Percy
Childes... he represents the Unholy Alliance and is the current AWA
Longhorn Heritage Champion...

NENNNNNNSHOU!

[The jeers intensify for Nenshou and Childes as they approach the ring,
title belt in hand.  Nenshou leaps gracefully through the ropes into the
ring.  He stares across the squared circle through the thin slit in his
hood...

...and then jerks the hood back, lifting his head and spewing a green
spray into the air!  Melissa Cannon can be seen taking two steps back at
the sight of the mist, especially as Nenshou points a tape-wrapped
finger in her direction.]

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

[Nenshou takes a step towards the ring announcer when "Tough" Tony Tyler
does the gentlemanly thing and steps in front of Melissa, shaking his
head as he shouts at the champion.]

GM:  Yeah!  You tell him, Tony!

BW:  "Tough" Tony is trying to live up to his nickname here and might
get his career ended for it.  Nenshou's not about to-

[Without warning, Nenshou drives his tape-wrapped fingers into the
windpipe of Tyler with a stiff-fingered thrust.  Tyler falls backwards,
clutching his throat as Melissa bails out to the floor and the referee
signals for the bell to start the match.]

GM:  Nenshou's on the attack from the first second, all over Tyler now
with kicks to the ribs...

[Three hard front kicks to the ribs sends Tyler falling back into the
ropes.  Nenshou steps forward, hooking Tyler around the neck, pulling
his throat down on the top rope!]

GM:  He's choking him!  Choking "Tough" Tony over the ropes and-

[At the count of four, Nenshou breaks the choke, tugging the top rope
hard to snap Tyler back down to the mat.]

GM:  Percy Childes shouts some orders to his man from outside the ring,
clutching that title belt to his chest.  Childes treasures that belt,
you know that, Bucky?

BW:  Of course he does.  Percy Childes sees that belt as a symbol of
what he and his men plan to do to all of these nostalgic twerps who sit
around wishing it was the 90s.

[Holding the top rope, Nenshou buries a kick to the ribs of Tyler.  A
few more follow, forcing Tyler to roll under the ropes to the apron. 
The Asian Assassin reaches over the ropes, pulling Tyler to his feet by
the arm...

...and promptly WHIPS him along the apron into the ringpost, sending him
crashing down to the barely-covered floor!]

GM:  Ohh!  Tyler goes down hard to the floor... 

[Out on the floor, Percy Childes approaches as the referee turns his
back to the floor, keeping Nenshou at bay...

...and completely misses Childes slamming his crystal-topped cane into
the ribcage of Tyler!]

GM:  Oh, come on, referee!  Turn around out there!

[Childes raises the cane again, this time driving the edge of it down
into the midsection of Tyler who curls up, clutching his abdomen as a
cackling Childes strides away, leaving Tyler gasping for air.]

GM:  Percy Childes is a no-good piece of garbage, Bucky!

BW:  Why don't you try telling him that with Nenshou or James Monosso
around?

GM:  I'll pass on that but something has to be done to put this guy in
his place, Bucky.

BW:  The man's got an army - an Army of Darkness - surrounding him! 
Nenshou, Monosso, Layton, Polemos!  You want Childes?  You gotta go
through all four of them and ain't no one... and I mean no one... around
that's man enough to get that done.  Look at what's happened to anyone
who's tried!

GM:  Vernon Riley out with a broken leg.  Ron Houston out with another
arm injury.  The Unholy Alliance is quite possibly the most dangerous
force in all of wrestling.

[With "Tough" Tony back on his feet, Nenshou grabs him by the arm,
dragging him under the ropes into the ring...

...and lashes out with a hard kick to the chest!]

GM:  Nenshou's introducing "Tough" Tony to those educated feet here
tonight.  Dragging him up now...

[A hard knife-edge chop echoes through the building as Tyler falls
backwards into the turnbuckles.  Nenshou moves in, throwing another big
chop to the chest before leaping up, lashing out backwards with a
perfectly-placed kick to the sternum!]

GM:  Another kick!

[Grabbing Tyler by the arm, Nenshou whips him across the ring, sending
him crashing into the buckles.]

GM:  From corner to corner goes Tyler... 

[Nenshou breaks into a charge, jumping into a handspring before flying
backwards to smash his elbow up under the chin of Tyler to the jeers of
the crowd!  Tyler collapses in a heap on the mat as Nenshou stands over
him, striking a martial arts pose...

...and suddenly the crowd ERUPTS!]

GM:  Look out now!

BW:  What the heck is HE doing out here?

GM:  Brian Von Braun's heading down the aisle!

[An angry Nenshou, hearing the crowd's reaction, spins around and
gestures wildly at the approaching Von Braun.]

GM:  Look at this!  Nenshou saw him coming and he's telling the referee
to get him out of here!

BW:  As well he should.  Von Braun's got no right to be out here right
now!  None!

GM:  I thought you liked Brian Von Braun!

BW:  Not if he's coming after Nenshou!

[An angry Percy Childes shouts up at Von Braun who reaches the end of
the ramp, standing by the ropes.  Nenshou approaches, still gesturing at
Von Braun...

...and suddenly finds himself pulled down in a schoolboy!]

GM:  ROLLUP!!  ONE!!  TWO!!  TH-

[BIG ROAR OF DISAPPOINTMENT!]

GM:  Nenshou slipped out just in time!  We almost had a major upset!

[And suddenly, Von Braun leaps off the ramp, dropping down to the floor
and pointing a warning finger at Percy Childes.]

GM:  Wait a second!  Von Braun's coming after Childes!  He's coming for
him!

[Childes backs away, shaking his head, waving his crystal-topped cane
back and forth as he clutches the title belt tightly to his chest.  A
smirking Von Braun pursues, not charging, just simply stalking his prey
as he makes the "belt gesture" in his direction.]

GM:  Nenshou needs to keep his focus in there or-

[Tyler rocks Nenshou with a right hand, knocking the distracted champion
back into the ropes.  "Tough" Tony grabs him by the wrist, flinging him
into the ropes...

...and hurls him through the air, sending him crashing to the mat with a
backdrop!]

GM:  BIIIIIIIIIG BACK BODYDROP!!

[With a dazed Nenshou taking a knee, Tyler rushes forward with a diving
clothesline that flattens him!]

GM:  "Tough" Tony with a cover!  ONE!!  TWO!! 

[But Nenshou fires a shoulder off the mat again.  Tyler quickly takes
the mount, raising a fist to the cheers of the crowd, and batters the
skull of the downed Longhorn Heritage Champion!]

GM:  Right hand by Tyler!  Another right!  

[Outside the ring, Percy Childes is still in a full retreat, backing all
the way around the ring...

...and bumping into the ramp!]

GM:  He's trapped!  Childes is trapped!

[Tyler pops up to his feet, pulling Nenshou up by the hair into a front
facelock.  He shouts something to the roar of the crowd.]

GM:  Tyler called for the Alabammer Jammer!  

BW:  That'd be great if I knew what that was.

["Tough" Tony powers Nenshou up off the mat, lifting him horizontal to
the mat...]

GM:  He's got him up!

[And in mid-lift, Tyler drops back down to his knees, dropping Nenshou
facefirst on the mat!]

GM:  ALABAMMER JAMMER!!

[Tyler flips Nenshou onto his back, lunging across him in a lateral
press.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR-

[The crowd ROARS with disappointment as Nenshou slips a shoulder up.]

GM:  Nenshou's out at two!  That was so close!  So close!

[A disappointed Tyler slams his fists into the mat, looking pleadingly
at the referee who holds up two fingers.]

GM:  This young man from Alabama just came within a hair of defeating
the Longhorn Heritage Champion!  And imagine what a win like that would
do for his career, Bucky!  Just imagine!

BW:  He'd sure be able to charge more to appear at the Boys And Girls
Club on Friday night.

GM:  Tyler can't believe it.  I can only imagine how many folks he's
finished off with that very move back in Alabama but tonight, it wasn't
enough to beat Nenshou.

[Tyler pulls Nenshou off the mat, hooking a front facelock again.]

GM:  He's going for it again!

[Fleeing for his life, Percy Childes starts to backpedal down the ramp,
Von Braun still in pursuit, pointing at the Collector of Oddities.]

GM:  He wants the Alabammer Jammer again!  What's he-

[Nenshou quickly reaches over, raking his fingers across the eyes of
Tyler, temporarily blinding him!]

GM:  Ohh!  He goes to the eyes!

[With Tyler blinded, Nenshou deadleaps, hooking his head between his
legs to pull him into a rana, reaching back with both arms to tightly
cradle the legs.]

GM:  HE'S GOT HIM!!  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREEEEEE!!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[Nenshou immediately rolls from the ring onto the ramp, climbing to his
feet.  He quickly rushes down the ramp, pursuing Brian Von Braun and the
fleeing Percy Childes who have disappeared behind the curtain.]

GM:  Nenshou is your winner... but he's heading to the back!  He's gotta
save his manager!  

BW:  That's right.  Who knows what the heck Von Braun is gonna do to
Childes if he catches him!  Run, Percy, run!

[The Asian Assassin disappears through the curtain well, vanishing into
the locker room.]

GM:  Well, we'll try to find out what happens back there... but Brian
Von Braun just showed the entire world that he's serious when he says
he's going to take that title off Nenshou's waist.  But when will that
match happen?

BW:  Von Braun's a menace!  He shouldn't be given a title match - he
should be fined and suspended for attempting to terrorize a manager! 
Watkins and his Championship Committee should be reviewing this!  I'm
sick and tired of the abuse of managers around here!  First, it was
Adrian Bathwaite!  Then it was Ivan Kostovich!  Now, Percy Childes?! 
This is ridiculous, Gordo!

GM:  Von Braun didn't lay a hand on-

BW:  That you saw!  Who knows what maniac did if he caught up to Percy
in the locker room!  

GM:  I'd say that he brought it-

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

GM:  Oh, come on!

[Michael Jackson's "Threatened" usually signals the arrival of Joe
Petrow. But this time, it is a gynormous 152-inch television coming into
view, being pushed onto the top of the ramp ramp by two wrestlers, who
are both familiar and anonymous]

GM: Now _what_ in the world is this? 

BW: _This_, my friend, is a special treat from Mr. Petrow and the Hall
of Fame Legend Mark Langseth. And you and everybody else would be wise
to pay attention!

[And indeed, with the television in place, it is Joe Petrow who steps
out now, holding his own microphone, back in his element stylin' in a
high priced suit. Standing at the top of the ramp as the music fades
out, he pauses to survey the crowd, taking in their boos and letting
them escalate slightly before speaking]

JP: _My_ name is Joe Petrow. 

[The boos come back in force. Petrow doesn't bother waiting for them to
die down]

JP: Like Juan Vasquez, I feel the need to remind you of my name, because
if you really knew who I was you would _not_ be treating me like this! 

[More boos. Doesn't he ever learn?]

JP: You see now why you don't deserve to see or hear the Hall of Fame
Legend Mark Langseth in person now, don't you? Well, don't worry about
Mr. Langseth, because I _guarantee_ that in due time, he will get every
bit of the respect that he deserves.

BUT! Mr. Langseth wants not one iota of what's to come to be on his
conscience! If things must come to pass as I say they will, then he
wants to give you every chance to do the right thing on your own! 

And so, I have prepared this video, set to majestic music befitting a
legend, so that even the most _inbred_ Texas hick [more boos!] can
follow along and know what it means to be a living legend. So Juan
Vasquez, Alex Martinez, and every other person out there, drop whatever
you're doing, and get ready to learn just what Greatness Personified is
all about! 

[Petrow pauses for a moment then, annoyed, he slaps one of the wrestlers
on the top of the head and barks directions. The chastised ham-and-egger
runs to the set and punches some buttons. 

Familiar music plays over a stream of Mark Langseth career highlights.
You, the home viewer, get to see it in all its glory on your own
television]

[Musical intro as we see footage of a much younger Mark Langseth, making
his NeCW debut.]

#Try to be best
'Cause you're only a man
And a man's gotta learn to take it#

[Footage of Mark Langseth acting as a "slave" to Gabriel Whitecross with
the words "COURTESY OF EMPIRE SPORTS" at the bottom of the shot.]

#Try to believe
Though the going gets rough
That you gotta hang tough to make it#

[Quick cut to Langseth now with the respect of his mentor Whitecross.]

#History repeats itself
Try and you'll succeed
Never doubt that you're the one
And you can have your dreams!#

[Langseth defeating Whitecross for the EMWC North American Title and
then holding the title proudly in the air.]

#You're the best!
Around!
Nothing's gonna ever keep you down
You're the Best!
Around!
Nothing's gonna ever keep you down
You're the Best!
Around!
Nothing's gonna ever keep you dowwwn!#

[Footage of Mark Langseth being thrown from pillar to post inside the
Thunderdome by Curtis Hansen... footage of Langeth kicking out again and
again before dragging himself over to make the cover and defeat the
EMWC's Franchise in the middle of the cage.]

#Fight 'til the end
Cause your life will depend
On the strength you have inside you#

[Mark Langseth in the ring facing off with Eddie Van Gibson, again
kicking out again and again.]

#Ah you gotta be proud
starin' out in the cloud
When the odds in the game defy you

Try your best to win them all
and one day time will tell
when yer the one thats standing there
you'll reach the final bell!#

[...until footage conveniently cuts to Langseth hitting his No Sweat
neckbreaker, then cuts again to Langseth making the cover.  1...2...3! 
Mark Langseth and EMWC Owner Chris Blue celebrate with the World
Championship belt.]

#You're the best!
Around!
Nothing's gonna ever keep you down
You're the Best!
Around!
Nothing's gonna ever keep you down
You're the Best!
Around!
Nothing's gonna ever keep you dowwwn!#

[Mark Langseth enters the ring with the championship belt, looking at
the towering Alex Martinez.  More cuts, to Mark rolling Alex up for a
three count, then of him shattering a toilet seat over Martinez' head,
and obtaining yet another pinfall.

As the inspiring guitar solo plays quietly in the background, we see
footage of the Hall of Fame ceremony, where Mark Langseth is being
presented with his ring. Sounds of different interview highlights from
different points in his career overlay the video footage of Mr. Langseth
making his acceptance speech:]

ML: So, this is how you all treat me, huh? So this is how a man, who for
nearly one year works the hardest, entertains the most, and just about
carries this company to stardom... This is how he's treated?

[...]

ML: Please, Alex, come clean. Don't keep deluding yourself and all these
fine fans...you disrespect everything. This company...me, and these
people...yes, you disrespect your very own people. You give them the
absolute worst role model that I can think of.

[...]

ML: But if I do well? Show that I still got it in the ring? Be - dare I
say it? "My old self"? Then let that moment be the start of a new era in
my  career... And as a notice to all of the AWA that I'm to be taken
seriously.

#You're the best!
Around!
Nothing's gonna ever keep you down
You're the Best!
Around!
Nothing's gonna ever keep you down
You're the Best!
Around!
Nothing's gonna ever keep you dowwwn!#

[Footage of Mark Langseth hitting the ring at SuperClash - a quick
montage of technical expertise before locking Greatness Personified on
Macht Kraftwerk.  The shot changes to Langseth tangling with Shane
Destiny, turning sure defeat into victory with a cradle out of nowhere
to get the pin.]

#Fight 'til you drop
never stop
can't give up
Til you reach the top (FIGHT!)       | Footage of Superclash II,
you're the best in town (FIGHT!)     | highlighting a changed and
Listen to that sound                 | deranged Mark Langseth,
A little bit of all you got          | gradually becoming more and
Can never bring you down!#

[Footage of SuperClash II, highlighting a changed and deranged Mark
Langseth gradually becoming more and more unhinged with Destiny until
finally forcing his foe into unconsciousness.  He stands, hand raised
but with the look of denied respect and adulation.]

#You're the best!
Around!
Nothing's gonna ever keep you down
You're the Best!
Around!#

[As the screen fades to the occasional background shouts of 'Oh
Ye-eah!', the final picture is a head shot of Mr. Langseth with a big
toothy grin, surrounded by a halo of light.  The caption below reads:]

MARK LANGSETH
HALL OF FAME LEGEND
THE BEST AROUND

[Cut back to a live action, and a full shot of Petrow, staring at the
television and clapping in reverence.  But he stops, as he notices the
boos around him.  The camera pans around to show the crowd groaning and
waving their arms in disgust, one woman in particular holding her little
girl with braces close as she screams "GO AWAY, YOU FREAK!"

Back to Petrow, who slowly moves his head back and forth, taking in the
response, then nodding slightly before bringing the mic back to his
lips:]

JP: I figured as much.

In a logical world, in a world where people still felt honor-bound to
respect the achievements of others, Juan Vasquez and Alex Martinez would
be shoving each other over backstage right now, trying to be the first
one to come out here, get down on his hands and knees, and _beg_ for our
forgiveness!  _Beg_ for the forgiveness of the two most accomplished men
in the AWA, and for the _only_ Hall of Fame legend that it has!

But men like Vasquez and Martinez have spoiled you people! Pandering to
_your_ needs, _your_ desires!  And now, you don't respect anything that
was ever done for you before!  Now you expect us to be your little
puppets, to do everything that you ask for in exchange for a little
crumb of temporary support, until the next flavor of the month rolls
into town.

But that will all end very soon!  We will be ushering in a new era of
respect!  Of honor!  Of discipline!  And now, you have only one choice
left!  Either give the Hall of Fame Legend Mark Langseth the respect
that he deserves willingly.  Or...we will foreclose on the debt you owe
to us...just like half of your homes have probably been foreclosed by
now! 

[More boos at the cheap shot!]

JP:  Martinez!  Vasquez!  You have two weeks to save yourselves, and to
save the AWA!  Do the right thing, or we'll do the right thing for you!

[Petrow spikes the live mic onto the ramp, a loud POPPING noise
emphasizing his disgust. Petrow's music plays again as he screams at his
helpers to get the television backstage and we fade to black.

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

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

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

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

[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 a live shot of the Crockett Coliseum. 
The chilling voice of Kevin Spacey as John Doe whispers over the PA:]

'The Lord works in mysterious ways'

[Then, the haunting tunes of 'John the Revelator' by Curtis Stigers and
the Forest Rangers start to play just as Adam steps through the
curtains.]

# Tell me who's that writin'? John the Revelator 
# Tell me who's that writin'? John the Revelator 
# Wrote the book of the seven seals

[We see three shadowy figures on one of the interview platforms, which
is still dark. Then, slowly, reminiscent of a sunrise, the stage is
illuminated to reveal the First Family. There is Eve, wearing a white
blouse and a black mini-skirt, her hair wound into a strict bun. The
behemoth, Brother Cain, is looming in the background. He is the only
member of the First Family who is in his ring attire, long, black tights
and a white executioner's mask.

Adam stands in the front, wearing a white suit, a bright red shirt and a
white tie. His arms are spread out to his sides and he has a serene
smile on his face, which is directed towards the ceiling even though his
eyes are closed.

The music fades out and Eve, without a microphone but still very
audible, screams: ]

E : REJOICE!

[The crowd, not happy with the previous appearance of the First Family,
react with boos and jeers. Eve's face is twisted into a grimace of
anger.]

E : REPENT!

[More boos. Adam slowly opens his eyes and lowers his arms.]

E : LAMENT YOUR SINS!

[Eve throws her arms up in frustration and walks to the edge of the
stage to jaw with the nearest fans. Adam, calm and collected, has fished
a microphone out of his suit.]

A : Broooooooootheeeeerrrrssss '. siiiiiiiiisssteeeeerrrrsss ' we feel
your hatred! Your voices defame us, your faces show your distaste for
our words and deeds ' we hear your message!

[The smile never leaves his face as he continues in his mid-western
twang.]

A : And we pity you. For you simply do not know better. You are deaf and
blind to the _truth_ ' to my words and to the will of the Lord! 

But do not fear the future, brothers and sisters ' you will learn! We
will teach you in the days and weeks to come, teach you to looooooove
us, to accept us as the saviours that we are!

[Adam nods sagely as Eve continues to berate a group of fans close to
the fans. Brother Cain may as well be a statue in the background.]

A : And save you is what we want. The biblical Adam lost paradise for
all of mankind but me, the new First Man, will lead you back to it, into
a golden age of righteousness and faith! You will cheer _us_, follow
_us_, not miscreants like the Rockstar Express or the Aces. What kind of
example do they set? Have they dedicated their fights to the Lord, like
Samson, like David ' like us?

E : NO!

A : No, they have not. Their fights are for selfish reasons, for greed
and self-idolatry. And you, my brothers and sisters, fail to see the
error of their ways and do as they do.

No more!

E : NO MORE! NO MORE!

[It is hard to tell what causes more boos .. Adam's disparaging words or
Eve's shrill voice repeating them. The fans make their rejection very
audible, though.]

A : The Aces and the Rockstar Express ' too glaring examples of what is
wrong with AWA at this time ' like Sodom and Gomorrha! And like Sodom
and Gomorrha, they will be wiped out, to show His flock what becomes of
sinners who do not repent.

E : REPENT!

A : This time, the instruments of the Lord are not fire and brimstone,
though. This time, he has chosen Brother Cain '

[Adam points at his tag-team partner who does not acknowledge the
gesture.]

A : ' and me, the First Man! The result will be the same ' annihilation.

E : OH YES, ANNIHILATION!

A : And then some of you, brothers and sisters, will hopefully turn to
goodness, to righteousness, to faith ' to us.

Or you will continue to suffer the Fall!

E : SUFFER! SUFFER! SUFFER!

[As the 'John the Revelator' starts up again the lights on the stage are
dimmed until total darkness engulfs the First Family again and we return
to the announcers' desk.]

GM:  I didn't know our shows were a showcase for a Sunday sermon, Bucky.

BW:  Adam speaks wise words, Gordo.  I feel enlightened already.

GM:  I'm sure.  But when the Rockstar Express or the Aces get through
with them, it may be Adam and his gang of holy rollers who feel
enlightened!  Fans, let's go up to the ring for oue next matchup!

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

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit.  Introducing first... from Greenville, South Carolina...
Eric Preston!

[Preston slowly raises an arm to some cheers.]

MC:  And his opponent... 

[Robert Palmer's "Addicted To Love" kicks in to a bunch of jeers.]

MC:  Being accompanied to the ring by his main squeeze, Big Mama... he
weighs in tonight at a self-proclaimed 222 pounds... currently residing
at his winter home in Fort Lauderdale, Florida...

"PLAAAAAYBOY" JOHNNY CAAAAASAAAANOOOOVAAA!

[The music picks up as Casanova struts through the curtain, clad in a
pair of powder blue trunks with a feather boa to match.  On his arm is
Big Mama as they make their way down the elevated ramp towards the ring.
 Casanova pauses a few steps down the ramp and does a hip swivel in the
direction of the crowd to draw more jeers.]

GM:  Here they come, Bucky.

BW:  The first couple of the AWA, daddy!

GM:  I don't know about that but-

[Casanova reaches the ring, waiting for his main squeeze to hold the
ropes open for him, which she promptly does.  The "Playboy" steps
through the ropes into the ring, pointing a finger at Eric Preston who
ignores him.]

GM:  The referee steps in the middle, making sure things don't get out
of control early...

[Casanova hands off his feather boa to Big Mama, receiving a kiss on the
cheek in reply before she exits the ring.  Casanova tugs on the top
rope, loosening up as the referee calls for the bell.]

GM:  Eric Preston versus "Playboy" Johnny C and this should be one heck
of a showdown, Bucky.

BW:  Really?  Isn't this just another stop on Eric Preston's Straight To
The Bottom tour?  Does this kid even stand a chance against an athlete
like "Playboy" Johnny Casanova?

GM:  Athlete?  Are we looking at the same guy?  Casanova looks...
plump... even by his standards, Bucky!

[The two competitors circle one another in the middle of the ring before
coming together in a tieup.]

GM:  Collar and elbow in the center...

[Preston uses his power edge to shove Casanova down to the mat.]

GM:  Ohh!  Big throw down to the mat!

[Preston nods to the cheering crowd, flexing one bicep to the squeals
from the females.  Casanova scrambles to a knee, looking up at Preston
with a glare.]

GM:  Preston threw him down with ease and now Johnny Casanova has to
figure out what comes next for him...

[Preston shouts "Get up!" at the Playboy, rubbing his hands together as
he waits in the middle.]

GM:  Casanova up to his feet... moving back in slowly...

[The two men tie up once more, jockeying for position...

...and once more, Casanova gets hurled down to the canvas!]

GM:  Whoa my!  Down goes Casanova again!

[This time, as Casanova gets up, he kicks the ropes in frustration,
accusing Preston of a hairpull.]

BW:  Of course!  That makes sense.  He pulled the hair!

GM:  He did not!

BW:  Sure he did!  I saw it!

GM:  He lies and you swear to it.

[Preston denies the accusation, waving Casanova forward.]

GM:  In comes the Playboy for another tieup...

[And Casanova promptly buries a knee into the gut on the tieup attempt,
doubling up Preston...

...and then SLAMS home a double axehandle across the back to put Preston
down to a knee!]

GM:  Ohh!  He knocks Preston down...

[Grabbing the hair and pulling Preston's head back, Casanova takes aim,
and SMASHES his elbow down across the forehead!]

BW:  He measured him with that one!  A lot of people take Johnny
Casanova lightly because of his size or because of his personality but
this guy is a top notch professional wrestler, Gordo.

GM:  But can he hang in there with an athlete like Eric Preston?

BW:  I love how you keep thinking Preston is something special.  He's a
broken man, Gordo.  A shell of what he was.  You think this kid is the
same guy who Vasquez and Michaelson went on and on about?  That war with
Monosso broke him and all that's left is for someone to sweep the pieces
out with the garbage.

[Pulling Preston to his feet, wheeling him back into the corner,
Casanova winds up and cracks him on the jaw with a right hand!]

GM:  Ohh!  What a shot that was!

[A big smirk on his face, Casanova backs off, hands on the back of his
head as he busts out a hip swivel in the direction of the Combat Corner
graduate...

...and gets a haymaker on the jaw for his efforts!]

GM:  PRESTON FIRES BACK!!  He knocked Casanova flat!

[Preston catches Casanova with another right hand as the Playboy gets
back up, knocking him right back down.  This time, Preston pulls him up
by the hair...

...and gets a thumb stuck in his eye!]

GM:  Ohh!  Eyegouge!  

BW:  And nothing's more effective than that.

GM:  Casanova pushes Preston onto the ropes, look at this!

[Reaching underneath Preston's head, Casanova hooks a three quarter
nelson and pulls the throat down on the top rope!]

GM:  He's choking him!  Casanova's choking Eric Preston!

[As the count hits four, the referee backs off the Playboy...

...which allows Big Mama to leap up on the apron, hooking both hands
around the neck of Preston and pulling down hard!]

GM:  And now it's Big Mama strangling the air out of him!

[Casanova provides plenty of distractions, pointing out a popcorn vendor
in the cheap seats to the official and explaining how the glare off his
"flair" is blinding the Playboy.]

GM:  Come on, referee!

[Big Mama finally releases Preston, allowing him to fall back to the
middle of the ring as Casanova shoves past the official, slowly
approaching with his fist balled up...

...and drops down to his knees, driving the clenched fist into the
forehead!]

GM:  Fistdrop!  Right between the eyes!

[Casanova applies a lateral press, shouting "Count 'im!" at the ref who
obliges.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  

[But Preston fires a shoulder off the canvas at the count of two. 
Casanova angrily holds up three fingers at the official who shakes his
head.]

BW:  That was a three count, Gordo!  Slow count by Meekly.

GM:  It was not!  Preston's shoulder was way out of there before the
three count came down.

[Casanova cradles Preston's head with his left arm, battering the
forehead with clenched right hands to the jeers of the crowd and the
protests of the official.  At the count of four, Casanova rises to his
feet, arms spread wide to show no evil doings.]

GM:  The referee's warning him for using those clenched fists and-

BW:  He's gonna make Preston quit!  I love it!

GM:  Casanova's setting up for- is this?  Yes it is!  An abdominal
stretch!

[The crowd jeers as Casanova hooks in the stretch, shouting "YEAAAAAH
BABY!" as he pulls back on the arm...

...but quickly burst into cheers as Preston wastes no time in flipping
the Playboy over with a hiptoss!]

GM:  Preston escapes!  The kid's got some fire left in him!

[Preston pushes up to a knee, shaking the cobwebs before getting to his
feet where he buries a boot into the ribcage of Casanova, forcing him to
roll closer to the ropes.  With a roar, Preston races to the far ropes,
rebounding off...

...and dropping into a baseball slide, kicking Casanova squarely in the
kidneys and knocking him out to the floor!]

GM:  OHHHHHH!

[The crowd roars for Preston as he uses the ropes, pulling himself up to
his feet.  He leans over the ropes, shouting at the dazed Casanova as
Big Mama rushes to the Playboy's side.]

GM:  Preston's shouting at Casanova!  Preston's gonna - get out of
there, Big Mama!

[The First Cougar of the AWA refuses to back away, standing her ground
in front of the downed Casanova as Preston waves for her to move.]

GM:  Get her out of there!

BW:  No way!  She's standing by her man!

[An angry Preston steps through the ropes, again shouting at Big Mama to
move from up on the apron.]

GM:  Eric Preston's trying to continue his attack but this... this...

BW:  Careful, Gordo.

GM:  Big Mama's blocking his path and-

[Suddenly, Casanova lunges from his knees to grab the back of Preston's
leg, pulling hard...

...and yanking Preston down to the floor, the back of his head smacking
the edge of the ring apron on the way down!]

GM:  OHHHH!  Good grief, Bucky!

BW:  Preston's out!  He's not getting up from that!  The back of his
head just SMASHED into the hardest part of the ring!

[Casanova leaps to his feet, spinning around with his arms held wide as
the crowd jeers him wildly.  He puts his hands on the back of his head,
swiveling his hips in the direction of the booing fans before turning
his attention back to Eric Preston, pulling him off the floor and
shoving him under the ropes into the ring.]

GM:  Preston's back in... Casanova pulls himself up on the apron,
stepping into the ring...

[With Preston scooting back into the corner, seated against the buckles,
Casanova moves into action.  He plants his foot on the face of Preston,
raking his boot across the face.]

GM:  Ohh!  He'll rip the skin right off Eric Preston with a move like
that!

[Casanova delivers two more of the facewash-style kicks in the corner,
raking his boot leather across the flesh of the stunned Preston.  With a
sneer, Casanova drags Preston to his feet by the hair, shoving him back
to the corner.  He grabs Preston by the arm...]

GM:  Irish whip coming up...

[But as Preston approaches the corner, he leaps up to the midbuckle, and
blindly leaps backwards, smashing the incoming Casanova with an elbow on
the jaw!]

GM:  LEAPING BACK ELBOW!!  HE CAUGHT ALL OF THAT!!

[The crowd roars for Preston's offensive explosion as both men lie
motionless in the middle of the ring.]

GM:  Preston saved himself with the back elbow and now these fans are
trying to rally the kid from South Carolina!  

[Never giving up on the Combat Corner graduate, the sounds of "PRES-TON!
 "PRES-TON!"  "PRES-TON!" fill the air.  Big Mama wildly smashes her
arms into the mat, screaming at her man to get back to his feet.]

GM:  Big Mama's rooting on Casanova!  The rest of the Crockett Coliseum
is rooting on Eric Preston!  Who will be the first to get to their feet?

[As the referee applies a double count, we see Eric Preston get to his
knees at the count of six.  He pushes the rest of the way up at eight,
slowly reaching down to pull Casanova up off his knees.  He ducks down,
scooping Casanova into the air...

...and SLAMS him down in the middle of the ring!]

GM:  Scoopslam by Preston... and he's going up!

[With a nod of his head, Preston heads to the apron where he begins
scaling the ropes in the corner.]

GM:  Eric Preston's going up top!

BW:  We've seen this before, Gordo.

GM:  We certainly have!  Preston likes to come off the top with the high
cross body!

[The Combat Corner graduate gets to the top rope, standing tall with his
arms raised as Casanova slowly rises to his feet...

...and leaps from his perch, catching the Playboy squarely across the
chest, toppling him down to the mat!]

GM:  HIGH CROSS BODY!!  HIGH CROSS BOD-

[But the cheers turn to a shocked roar as Casanova somehow rolls through
the crossbody, applying his own lateral press.]

BW:  JOHNNY ROLLS THROUGH!

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE-

[The crowd roars as Preston fires a shoulder off the mat just before the
count of three.]

GM:  So close!  Johnny Casanova was so close right there to-

[And as soon as an eager Preston leans down to pull Casanova up, he gets
his eyes raked!]

GM:  Ohh!  Casanova goes to the eyes again!

[The Playboy quickly hooks one arm on Preston, then hooks the other...

...and then leaps into the air, dropping down to the mat with a
split-legged facedriver!]

GM: PLAYBOY PLUNGE!  PLAYBOY PLUNGE!

[Casanova promptly flips Preston to his back, tightly hooking both
legs.]

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

"DING!  DING!  DING!"

[Casanova promptly rolls from the ring, falling into an embrace with Big
Mama.  The camera can clearly pick up a breathless Casanova shouting,
"Did I do it?  Did I win?!"]

GM:  Johnny Casanova steals it!  

BW:  Steals it?!  He hit the Playboy Plunge right in the center of the
ring!

GM:  After he raked the man's eyes!  

BW:  Face the facts, Gordo.  Precious Preston dropped the ball again!

GM:  Casanova's the winner... he doesn't even know where he is!  He
doesn't even know that he won!  Give me a break, Bucky.  How can this
guy be the winner?

BW:  He could be out on his feet and he still won this thing, daddy!  He
got the pin, he gets to go to the pay window and pick up the winner's
half of the purse, and he gets to go home with Big Mama - how much more
of a winner could you be?

GM:  I'm going to be sick.  Fans, we'll be right-

[The sounds of women screaming fill the air over the PA system.]

GM:  Oh great.  Just... fantastic.

[After a moment, the screams are swallowed by an instrumental track
called "Bitores Mendes" from the video game Resident Evil 4.]

GM:  This guy gets crazier every week.  I thought he was bad back in
Florida.  His train really has jumped the tracks now.

[Sufficiently happy that he's scared the hell out of the crowd, Anton
Layton emerges from the entranceway with his usual black cloak hanging
over his head.  He takes three steps down the ramp, pausing, and drops
to his knees.  Throwing his head back, he shouts something unintelligble
just moments before the monstrous Polemos strides out of the entrance
tunnel, standing behind Layton like the proverbial Devil on his
shoulder.]

GM:  What a pair these two make.  What is he even out here for?  He's
not scheduled for a match!

[Layton stays kneeling, his head thrown back as Polemos stands guard. 
After a moment, a nervous-looking Mark Stegglet emerges from the
curtain, mic in hand.  He slowly approaches, taking a wide berth around
the standing monster.]

MS:  Mr... Mr. Layton?

[Layton does not respond, head still back.]

MS:  Mr. Layton, I've been asked to come out here and-

[Stegglet's words are cut off as Layton's arm shoots out, his hand
grabbing Stegglet by the collar and pulling him closer.]

AL:  Do not presume you can ask me my business, you fool!

[Stegglet struggles to get away but Layton's grip is strong.]

AL:  I warned you.  I warned all of you from the day I arrived in the
AWA that the Darkness was coming!  And now... as you look around... the
Darkness is all that the people can talk about.

They talk of Riley with his leg shattered.

They talk of Houston with his arm hanging from his torso like a thread.

They talk of Martinez, battered and manhandled as he never has been
before.

They talk of the Unholy Alliance... the true Darkness the world over.

[Stegglet slowly raises the mic to his own mouth.]

MS:  Are you saying that you're claiming responsibility for what
happened to Alex Martinez?  Is your Master and this... Dragon... one and
the same?

[Layton brings his eyes to bear on Stegglet, tilting his head slightly.]

AL:  James Monosso is an agent of evil.  He does as he is told to do...
whether it be in mortal form myself or dear Percy... or whether it's the
whisper in the wind, the shadows in the dark, the Master advising his
next step.

MS:  I'm not sure I underst-

AL:  Of course you don't understand.  You aren't meant to understand the
ways of my people.  But what you will understand is this - this...
Dragon... as he calls himself... shall be warned this one time.

I do not take lightly pretenders... nor does my Master.

If this Dragon thinks to hold himself up as my Master, he best think
twice.

[Layton gets an evil smirk on his face.]

MS:  Are you THREATENING the Dragon?

[Layton lifts a finger, shaking his head.]

AL:  A kind warning from like-minded individuals.  On this occasion, our
goals and the Dragon's goals run as one.  

It will not always be that way.

And at that time, this... Dragon... would be wise to avoid my path...
the path of Darkness...

[Layton jerks a thumb over his shoulder.]

AL:  The path of Polemos, the God of War!

MS:  Speaking of which, when will we see Polemos in action?

[Layton begins to chuckle darkly.]

AL:  Ehehehehe.  You believe yourself ready for that, dear boy?

[He tilts his head again, eyeing Stegglet.]

AL:  Do these people believe themselves ready to see what carnage will
unfold before them once Polemos is unleashed?!

YOU ARE NOT READY!  YOU ARE NOT PREPARED!

[Layton lifts a finger again.]

AL:  But soon... very soon...

We will not care.  Polemos will come forth to the ring.  Polemos will
again do battle as he was born - as he was DESTINED - to do!  Polemos
will rise up and destroy all who come before him.

He will cut a path of Darkness through the AWA the likes of which has
never been seen.

[Layton chuckles again.]

AL:  Ehehehehe... and he'll do it... on my command.

[Layton throws his head back, laughing loudly when suddenly...]


"WHO WAN' SIT ON SWEET DADDY'S LAP TANIGHT?!"


[The sounds of Sweet Daddy Williams' self-written and self-performed
entrance music, "I'm Gonna Be Your Sweet Daddy" sends the crowd into a
roar as the lead singer himself walks into view, clad in blue jeans,
cowboy boots, and a red t-shirt with "SWEET DADDY" written in white
across the chest.]

BW:  How dare he interrupt Anton Layton?!  How dare-

GM:  He didn't interrupt him!  Layton was done talking!

[Nonetheless, Layton does not look pleased as he climbs to his feet,
turning to face the approaching Williams who has a mic in hand.  The
Atlanta fan favorite pulls up short of the monstrous Polemos who stands
between he and Layton.]

AL:  Ah yes... he enters... the one who warns the masses...

[Layton grins at Williams.]

AL:  You have seen it, have you?  The coming of the Darkness?  An era
where a black hole will swallow the entire AWA and leave nothing behind
but my Master and his followers...

[Layton nods.]

AL:  You stand and shout to the masses... "they're coming!  The bad
folks are coming for you all!"  But they don't listen, do they?

[Williams doesn't respond, glaring at the monstrous Polemos.]

AL:  They won't listen... they won't listen until it's too late.  And
just like Vernon Riley before you, you ride upon the white horse... into
the Darkness... where the Darkness will claim you as it did him.

[A shake of the head from Williams as he slowly raises the mic.]

SDW:  Do you ever listen to yourself, boy?  All this doom and gloom...
you sound like a depressed teenage girl writing in her journal about the
mean boys at school who won't look at her...

...oh, and them vampires that sparkle.

[The crowd laughs as Williams cracks a grin.  Anton Layton's gaze turns
cold.]

AL:  YOU DARE TO MOCK-

SDW:  Not so fast, Twilight.

[Another burst of laughter.]

SDW:  I told 'em all you're comin'.  I told 'em all you're the big bad
wolves comin' for our grandmas.  And some are listenin' and some aren't.
 Ain't nothin' I can do 'bout that but keep talkin', tellin' 'em what
you and yours are 'bout to do.

Now, it's up to them whether they want to stand and fight ya.

[Williams points a warning finger at Layton, jabbing the air to
punctuate his words.]

SDW:  Right.  By.  Me.

[Big cheer!]

SDW:  'Cause that's where I'm gonna be, damn it!  I'm gonna be standin'
right here to throw down with ya.  I'm gonna be here to bust ya open and
make ya bleed because Big Vern?  He can't stand here and do it no more! 
And Ron?  Ron can't swing that big ol' haymaker no more!

No one else may do it... no one else may fight ya...

[Dramatic pause.]

SDW:  But I will!

[The crowd roars as Williams throws the mic down, balling up his fists
and striking a fighting pose.]

GM:  Sweet Daddy Williams is ready to take on the Unholy Alliance!  And
he'll do it alone if he has to!

[Layton stands behind Polemos, tilting his head to examine the Atlanta
fan favorite who appears to be ready for a fight.]

AL:  Interesting.  Very interesting.  You are prepared to stand alone
against this most unholy of alliances...?

[Layton nods.]

AL:  So be it.

[A slap on the shoulder of Polemos has the giant surge forward, grabbing
Sweet Daddy Williams by the throat!]

GM:  Oh no!  He's got him!  He's got Sweet Daddy by the throat!

[The giant drags the fan favorite over to the edge of the ramp, forcing
him down to a knee by squeezing the air from him.]

GM:  What is he going to do?  What is this beast- what the heck is
Layton telling him?  He needs to-

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  DONOVAN!!  IT'S ROBERT DONOVAN ON THE RAMP TOO!!

BW:  We haven't seen him since the Stampede Cup!

[The arrival of the seven footer stops Polemos in his tracks.  He shoves
Sweet Daddy Williams down onto the ramp, standing tall to face the new
attacker.]

GM:  Look at this!  Donovan's as big as Polemos is!

BW:  And I bet Polemos ain't too happy about that.

[A frantic Anton Layton begins pulling on the arm of Polemos, trying to
keep him from squaring off with Donovan.]

GM:  We've got a seven footer staredown in progress here tonight in
Dallas, Texas!

[Donovan kneels down next to Williams, keeping guard over him as Layton
somehow manages to get a struggling Polemos back through the entrance
curtain and into the locker room area...]

GM:  Robert Donovan just saved Sweet Daddy Williams!  I don't know what
Polemos had in mind there but-

BW:  Whatever it was, the God of War never has good intentions, daddy.

GM:  You can say that again.  Thank the stars for Robert Donovan!  I
don't know where he's been all these weeks but thank heavens he was here
tonight in Dallas!

[The big man helps Sweet Daddy Williams back to his feet to the cheers
of the Crockett Coliseum crowd as we fade to black.

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then fade back up to live action where Melissa Cannon is standing
inside the ring alongside a Hispanic wrestler, dressed his head covered
by an enormous sombrero, his mustachioed face peaking out beneath the
sequined monstrosity. Over his chest he wears a multi-colored poncho,
and in his hands he holds a pair of maracas, which he shakes
incessantly, to the annoyance of the fans.]

MC: Introducing first... hailing from El Paso, Texas. Here is... Macho
Rodriguez!

[Rodriguez throws his arms up in the air, still shaking his maracas, as
the boos fill the Crockett Coliseum.]

GM: Tonight, we get our first look at Macho Rodriguez.

BW: With any luck, it'll be our last look too.

[Rodriguez continues to pander to the crowd, and they in turn continue
to boo him. Their boos quiet, however, as a familiar opening line blares
over the loudspeakers.]

#Its all right...#

MC: 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...#

MC: Hailing from Los Angeles, California...

[The buzz begins to build into a roar.]

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

[And then the crowd gets...]

#A LITTLE CRAZY#

MC:  AAAAAAAAALEX MAAAAAAAAARTINEZ!!!!

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

GM: We're very happy to see Alex Martinez tonight, after the brutal
beating he suffered at the hands of James Monosso two weeks ago.

BW: And look at that face! He looks like he's been for a couple of spins
through the meat grinder!

[Martinez' face is indeed covered in bruises and blotches, only barely
hidden by his mirrored sunglasses.  He stands in the entranceway a
moment before he begins to stalk down the aisle.  Fans cheer and scream
all around him, but the seven foot monster ignores them, continuing his
slow walk to the ring, his expression one of stony stoicism.  After
reaching the ring, Martinez throws one long leg and then the other over
the top rope before moving into the center of the ring and staring ahead
at his opponent, waiting for the bell to ring, waiting for the violence
to begin.]


"DING! DING! DING!"

GM: And the action is under way.

BW: Or not.

[Macho Rodriguez seems uninterested in a match, as he throws his giant
sombrero into the middle of the ring and then begins to dance around it!
Still shaking those damned maracas. After a few turns around the hat, he
pauses, and gestures to Martinez, inviting him to join in the dance.]

GM: I don't think this is a good idea.

BW: Why not? I bet Martinez is a great dancer.

GM: Considering the mood Alex Martinez has to be in after that attack we
saw, I can't imagine he's going to take too kindly to this.

[Martinez steps back and bounces off the ropes, and for a minute, it
looks like he might dance as he springs forward. But as Rodriguez looks
on, a cheesy grin formed under his bushy mustache, he's not expecting
the boot that comes for his teeth.]

GM: Big boot!  Right on the chin!  And Macho Rodriguez is down.

BW: What a jerk! All Macho wanted to do was dance. And now look what
that big idiot is doing!

[Martinez stands over the sombrero, looking down on it. And then, the
big man begins to stomp it, and doesn't stop until it's a flat bit of
overly sequined felt. Lifting it, Martinez hurls it into the crowd as if
it were a Frisbee.]

BW: Will you look at what he's doing! What if he hit someone in the
audience?  We could get sued!

GM: Calm down Bucky.

[The camera cuts to Rodriguez, slowly pulling himself off the mat.
Somehow, he still has hold of the maracas, and he's still shaking them
for all he's worth. But in between shakes, he slowly begins to try to
crawl out of the ring. But Martinez is having none of that, as he slowly
stalks behind Rodriguez, grabbing hold of his gaudy poncho. Martinez
pulls backwards as Rodriguez finally releases the maracas, scratching at
the canvas, trying to get out of Martinez' grip. But no dice, as
Martinez finally pulls him up off the mat and lifts him high into the
air, Rodriguez' legs dangling limply.]

BW: You see that, Gordo?  He's hanging Rodriguez by the poncho!  He's
choking poor Macho!  Referee, do your job and break this up!

[The referee seems to agree with Bucky that this is a choke, as he lays
in a five count to get Martinez to release Rodriguez, whose face has
begun to turn bright red. Finally, on four, Martinez releases
Rodriguez.]

GM: The referee now standing in front of Alex Martinez, warning him
about his tactics.

[Rodriguez takes advantage of this and circles around the referee,
poking Martinez in the eyes! Martinez reels backwards.]

BW: Quick, while Martinez is blinded, someone tell Vasquez to get in the
ring! I want to see him get Firebombed again!

GM: Bucky!

[Even though he's without his sombrero and his maracas, you just cannot
stop Macho Rodriguez! He's dancing again, in the center of the ring. All
his dancing makes him oblivious to the darkening shadow looming over
him.]

GM: Uh-oh!

BW: Look out Macho!

[Too late, as Rodriguez dances right into a seven foot tall, three
hundred and fifty pound wall. Rodriguez spins around, just in time to
eat a fist from Alex Martinez. Martinez grabs Macho and whips him hard
into the corner, following up with a stiff clothesline that makes
Rodriguez crumble to the mat. Martinez puts the boots to Rodriguez'
chest, and then puts his enormous foot on Rodriguez' throat, bearing
down with all his weight.]

GM: That's three hundred and fifty pounds of a very angry Alex Martinez
pushing down on his windpipe.

BW: And again this big goof is breaking all the rules. Referee,
disqualify him already!

GM: If Martinez gets disqualified before he gets his fill of violence,
he might come here, looking for someone else to take it out on.

BW: Referee, let Alex Martinez do whatever he wants!

[But the referee does lay in a count, and again at four, Martinez lets
up, and Macho Rodriguez slumps forward. Martinez grips him by the hair
and holds Macho's limp body in front of his own. Holding him there with
his left hand, Martinez curls his right hand into a fist and begins to
punch Rodriguez repeatedly in the face, as the fans count along.]

GM: Alex Martinez has never been a kind man, but this is a whole new
kind of violence for him. I think its safe to say that Macho Rodriguez
is paying for the sins of James Monosso!

[Again, Martinez' efforts are halted when the referee lays in a count.
Martinez releases Rodriguez, and turns to glare at the referee. Martinez
closes his right hand into a fist, but before he can do anything more
than intimidate the official, he spies Rodriguez coming to and rushing
towards him. Martinez spins and brings his knee up into the chest of
Rodriguez, sending him reeling backwards.]

GM: Alex Martinez is slamming Macho's head into the turnbuckle
repeatedly!

[As he does so, the audience counts along ' ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE!
SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! NINE! TEN!.]

GM: You've got to believe that every time he looks at the face of Macho
Rodriguez, Alex Martinez is seeing James Monosso. And with every punch
and kick, Alex Martinez is imagining the mysterious Dragon, and his
servant, the Minion.

BW: You think that's his imagination, or do you think Martinez is just
too dumb to know the difference?

GM: Why don't you go ask him?

BW: I keep telling you, I'm needed here!

[Finally getting Rodriguez out of the corner, Martinez whips him into
the ropes and catches him on the rebound, lifting him up and then
dropping him backfirst onto the mat.]

GM: Sidewalk slam!

BW: A kick and a slam! I think we've seen every wrestling move in the
repertoire of Alex Martinez.

GM: There's at least one more.

[Right you are, Gordon. And its coming now. Martinez sends Rodriguez
into the ropes one more time, and as he comes off, Martinez wraps his
hand around Macho's throat, hoisting him into the air.]

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


"DING! DING! DING!"


MC: The winner of the match...

ALEEEEEEEX MAAAAAAAAARTINEZ!!!!!

[Martinez remains in the ring for a moment, eyes trained on the
entranceway. But when no one shows up to attack him, the big man exits
the ring, and heads towards the back.]

GM: I don't like the look on his face Bucky.

BW: As long as he stays backstage, and I stay here, he can look however
he wants.

GM:  I would not want to be in the shoes of James Monosso when Alex
Martinez finally catches up with him.

BW:  Are there times when you WOULD want to be in James Monosso's shoes?

GM:  Not really.

BW:  Me either.  Heard they never gave 'im his laces back from the loony
bin.

GM:  Fans, let's go back to Mark Stegglet who is standing by with the
number one contender to the National Title!  Mark?

[Cut to Mark Stegglet, standing by with the bespectacled Louis Matsui,
dressed in a dark blue suit, and MAMMOTH Mizusawa, dressed to compete in
a black singlet, knee pads and boots.]

MS: Louis Matsui, two weeks ago, the challenge was laid out and the
match was made: MAMMOTH Mizusawa versus Juan Vasquez for Vasquez's
National title in less than two months at the third anniversary show. 
My question is, is this the right time to be testing Juan Vasquez?

LM: Look, I'm going to put this real simple, see? Vasquez thinks himself
a fighting champion, while my client has always placed great value on
competition. For too long, we've been fighting other people's battles;
this time, MAMMOTH Mizusawa fights for himself. Make no mistake about
it, Stegglet, Vasquez-Mizusawa is going to be one for the ages, which is
why I had no problem laying down the challenge and I'm sure the reason
Mr. Watkins agreed so readily to it is because he sees that this epic
encounter is going to be good for business, ya dig?

[The crowd actually cheers in anticipation of the match.]

LM: Which is why it offends me to hear Raphael Rhodes say he's going to
make it his mission to make sure the match does not take place; Rhodes
is putting his personal interests before the interest of the company.
Now, I'm not going to blame him and I'm not going to stand here and say
whatever our arrangement was with the Southern Syndicate was purely
business and not personal, because I know when you hurt someone's
family, it becomes very, very personal.

[Heel pop, as the fans are reminded of the dastardly deed.]

LM: But, Ralphy, I want you to listen and listen good: we might have
taken money from the Syndicate, but we are NOT the Southern Syndicate. 
Which means, if you have beef with MAMMOTH Mizusawa, he ain't going to
duck the challenge and he ain't running away. Like I said, my client
values competition and I think a good match is good for the business, so
I'm not going to do the Ben Waterson thing and manipulate things to get
my client out of stepping into the ring with you.

[Mixed pop! Clearly the fans don't know what to make of this.]

LM: But I know you can be quite the sneaky little troublemaker - you
were once part of the Syndicate yourself - so we're not putting it past
you to try to jump my client when we least expect it, so mark my words,
Rhodes, should you choose to do this outside of a sanctioned match,
outside of the confines of the ring? Then you need to know that it also
frees my client from the rules of a regular match... And if anyone
thinks my client is dangerous in the ring... What I'm trying to say,
Rhodes, is that MAMMOTH Mizusawa is not a hard man to find. Let's go,
Mizusawa-san!

[Matsui leads Mizusawa towards the ring as we cut to a commercial.

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 to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing by with
the mic.]

MC: The next match is scheduled for one fall with a five-minute time
limit. Introducing first, from Marietta, Georgia, weighing in at 220
pounds, Terry Trick!

[The heavily-mulleted Trick leans against the ropes, bouncing on the
bottom rope and acknowledging the crowd. There is a smattering of
sympathetic cheers.]

MC: And his opponent... Hailing from Tokyo, Japan; weighing in at 420
pounds and accompanied by Louis Matsui, he is...

MAMMOTH MIZUSAWA!!!

[Mizusawa holds out his arms and lets out a loud roar, which seems to
stagger Terry Trick, since he seems to be clutching the top rope as if
his very life depended on it. Louis Matsui gives his client a pat on the
back as he exits the ring, as does Melissa.]

GM: There's the bell AND THERE GOES MAMMOTH MIZUSAWA!

[Mizusawa charges towards Trick, but he manages to duck out of the way.
Terry Trick starts laying into the back of Mizusawa with forearm shots
in the corner. He connects with a sloppy dropkick, which still manages
to drive the big man chest-first into the top turnbuckle.  MAMMOTH
Mizusawa turns around, clutching his chest, and is met with a spinning
forearm to the face that sends him back into the corner.]

GM: Terry Trick is surprising the giant, it looks like, Bucky; he
certainly is surprising me.

BW: But now he's getting cocky, look...

GM: Trick mounting the corner and waving a closed fist at the crowd...

[He starts laying in with the punches as the crowd counts along...]

ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
FOUR!
FIVE!
SIX!
SE-

[Heel pop as Mizusawa manages to shove Terry Trick off. Trick lands on
the mat with a loud smack!]

BW: The seven-foot-tall monster almost threw him clear across the ring,
Gordo!

GM: And Mizusawa does not look pleased. Terry Trick is trying to
scramble back to his feet as the giant stalks him...

BW: KENKA KICK!

GM: A running boot to the face might have knocked Terry Trick right out,
Bucky! Mizusawa to the ropes... LEG DROP! NO! TERRY TRICK ROLLED OUT OF
THE WAY! Terry Trick might have saved himself right there... 

[Trick manages to roll himself to the ropes, which he uses to pull
himself up. Mizusawa, meanwhile, manages to push himself onto his knees.
Terry Trick realises it and comes charging towards MAMMOTH Mizusawa...
Who tosses him up and over with a back body drop!]

BW: Even on his knees, Gordo, that must have felt like a back body drop
by your average athlete.

GM: MAMMOTH is back on his feet... Terry Trick better get up...

BW: Terry Trick better stay down... Too late!

[Massive heel pop as Mizusawa catches Trick in the corner with an
AVALANCHE!]

BW: That was the move that led to Marcus Broussard getting injured last
month.

GM: And look at Mizusawa, he's stepped back and is waving Terry Trick
out of the corner.

[Trick, looking pretty much out of it, staggers out of the corner, into
the waiting hand of MAMMOTH Mizusawa.]

BW: GOOZLE!

[Mizusawa wraps his other hand around the throat of Terry Trick and he
looks to Louis Matsui, who yells for his charge to "End him!"]

BW: TUSK-U KU-RUSH-AAA!!!

[Matsui mugs to the camera and we catch him saying, "Let's see Alex
Martinez try to Firebomb that!"]

GM: Mizusawa plants the native of Georgia with that massive two-handed
chokeslam... Pin!

[Still standing, MAMMOTH Mizusawa has his right foot on Terry Trick's
chest.]

GM:  One... two... 

[The boos are deafening since Mizusawa simply removed his foot and
stepped away from Trick, thus stopping the count. He holds his hands out
and lets out a loud roar of "VAAAS-QUEZ!!!" as he lands a running splash
on the laid out Terry Trick.]

GM: Oh, come on! Just end it already!

[MAMMOTH Mizusawa is back on his feet. He steps away from Terry Trick
again and again holds his hands out and lets out a loud roar. This time,
though, he yells, "RHO-DES-U!!!" as he lands a second big splash on
Trick, who lies motionless.]

BW: I think he's sending a message, Gordo...

GM: Well, we get it! Come on, ref, stop him!

[Mizusawa gets up and backs off again. He gets a running start and, with
a loud cry of "BAAAN-ZAAAIII!!!" lands the third big splash.  Terry
Trick sputters back to life and starts coughing.]

GM: He's spitting out blood, Bucky! This kid might have internal
injuries thanks to Mizusawa.

BW: Same thing we saw with Marcus Broussard last month!

[Referee Mickey Meekly checks on Trick. He waves his arms and motions to
the timekeeper, then signals to someone in the back.]


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[The crowd is abuzz as Meekly gives Melissa Cannon the official word.
Meanwhile, MAMMOTH Mizusawa stands over Terry Trick, who is now on his
side, clutching his ribs. Trainers rush towards the ring.]

MC:  Ladies and gentlemen, referee Mickey Meekly has stopped the match,
because Terry Trick is unable to continue. As a result, the winner of
this match... MAMMOTH MIZUUUUSAAAWAAA!

[Louis Matsui rushes into the ring and to his client's side. He raises
Mizusawa's hand, even as the latter continues to look on, his face
betraying very little emotion, as trainers check on Terry Trick. One of
them waves to the back. Matsui, meanwhile, stoops over them and we
hear him say, "Give Broussard a call. He'll hook you up with a great
doctor." The trainers and referee try to wave them away.]

GM: This is disgusting, Bucky, just disgusting. I don't know what else
to say.  Let's get out of here...

[EMTs rush to the ring pushing a gurney. Louis Matsui finally gets
MAMMOTH Mizusawa to leave the ring. They pass the EMTs on the way and
Mizusawa decides to tip the gurney over as we cut to a commercial.]

[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 we fade directly in as Count
Adrian Bathwaite and Sultan Azam Sharif are in the ring, both still
looking absolutely furious.   Bathwaite holds the microphone and the
self-styled Elder Of Etiquette shows a startling lack of manners as he
points at the camera.]

CAB: Supernova, you rubbish-picking lowlife!  How dare you?!  How dare
you attack an honorable man from behind with a weapon?!  How dare you
break an old man's cane?!  How dare you refuse a direct command from
your betters?!  Get your painted-up ugly face out here, you sewage-level
subhuman thug!  Nobody shows up Count Adrian Bathwaite and gets away
with it!

[Cue the Sultan.  Anger flashes across the face of the Iranian as he
adds his two cents.]

SAS: SUPAIRNOVA!  I DIDDUNT BALIEVE YOU ATTOCK ME FROM BEHIND!  COME OUT
UN LOOK ME FACE TO FACE IF YOU TINK DOT YOU GOT DEH GUTS! 

[Sharif starts pacing, looking all around for his adversary.  He needn't
wait long, as Supernova emerges from the back. The face-painted wrestler
has in his left hand Baithwaite's broken cane, which he points in the
direction of his foes.]

CAB: There you are!  You think a cheap shot sneak attack is gonna get
you out of this?!  Now you have to apologize AND kiss my foot!  And then
the Sultan will only give you half the beating you deserve!

[Supernova approaches the ring, brandishing the broken cane' which means
neither Bathwaite nor the Sultan are willing to make a move against him
as Supernova enters the ring. The hesitancy of Bathwaite and Sharif to
make a move allows Supernova to take the mic from Bathwaite, who backs
up a bit, as if he thinks he's gonna hit him.

Supernova smiles slightly' but the smile quickly disappears as he
speaks.]

S: So now you want to raise your demands, huh? Well, I'll just have to
raise mine

You'll get my apology the same day that Satan himself reports a freezing
temperature in his place of residence!

[The fans cheer, knowing full well that means 'never.' Bathwaite, on the
other hand, isn't happy.]

S: The way I see it, you've got nobody to blame but yourselves for what
you call my weapon! You call Sharif a man of honor' you call yourselves
my betters' and you call me a lowlife. Well, the way I see it, the only
lower forms of life here are the two men standing right before me!

Everyone saw how you conspired with Kostovich and Velikov to put one
over on my friend Kolya' then everyone saw what you did to me last
Saturday Night Wrestling' so it's all on your hands, Bathwaite! And if
you and the Sultan think every action you take is gonna put me under
control, I have only one thing to say to you'

[He then gets up in Bathwaite and Sharif's faces.]

S: NOBODY'S GONNA GET ME UNDER CONTROL!

[That higher tone of voice got Bathwaite and Sharif to take a step back,
after which Supernova clasps his hands to his mouth and howls. 
Suddenly, the cheers from the crowd turn to jeers as three more
individuals appear at the top of the aisle.  First is Ivan Kostovich, an
older Russian man dressed impeccably in a stylish black suit.  He looks
steamed.  Behind him is Vladimir Velikov, barrel-chested and strong as
an ox as he carries his heavy metal chain across his massive neck.  And
finally, an anxious-looking Kolya Sudakov who is dressed in his ring
gear but looks like he'd rather be anywhere else in the world.]

BW:  The Russians are here!

GM:  And they're coming down the aisle!  They're heading to the ring!

[Spotting the new threat, Supernova takes a defensive posture, holding
up the broken pieces of the cane.  Bathwaite smiles a mirthless smile,
and starts nodding.]

CAB: That's right, you needle-necked serf.  Who would have thought that
attacking your superiors would actually have consequences?  You punched
me, you broke my cane, and you waylaid the Sultan from behind for
seeking justice!  But you also put your hands on Comrade Kostovich, and
what did you think was going to happen?

[From an inside jacket pocket, Ivan Kostovich produces a mic as the
Russians draw closer to the ring.]

IK:  This is why the world despises you Americans... this pathetic
excuse for a professional wrestler right there...

[Kostovich gestures at Supernova.]

IK:  He paints his face, flexes his muscles, shouts for you fools and
you cheer him all the while.  He claims to be some hero of the people
when he spends his days attacking men who have been retired from the
ring for years!  Years!

[The crowd jeers Kostovich.]

IK:  If I was so inclined, Supernova, I'd knock you flat myself... but
that is not my position anymore.  That is why I associate myself with
these two gentlemen...

[The elder Russian jerks a thumb towards Velikov and Sudakov.]

IK:  You have two options, Supernova.  You will abide by Comrade
Bathwaite's demands... and then you shall shine MY shoes as well.  If
you fail to oblige...

[Kostovich turns, grinning at Sudakov.]

IK:  ...you will deal with my pet.

[Sudakov glares at his former hero, shaking his head.  The Sultan puts
his hands on his hips and nods vigorously, as this seems very fair and
just to him.  Bathwaite cackles, as Supernova is now surrounded. 
Supernova's eyes are darting, threatening Kostovich and Velikov with the
cane, while not making that same motion to Sudakov' although he is
trying his best to keep an eye on him.]

GM:  You can't do it, Kolya!  Stand up to these guys!  Show them you're
your own man!

BW:  He can't do that, Gordo.  How many times do we have to discuss
this?  If he stands up to Kostovich, he's out of a job!  He'll have to
leave the AWA... hell, he'll have to leave the country!

GM:  I don't- there's gotta be SOMETHING he can do!

[Supernova keeps turning, trying to keep his back exposed for as little
time as possible.  Bathwaite interrupts.]

CAB: As much as I'd like to see you grovel willingly, you bleach-bottle
bottomfeeder... my patience for your simpering has run out.  That, and
I'd rather have your blood on my shoes than your spittle.  GET HIM.

[As they move into the ring to attack Supernova, the blond wrestler
backs up, ready to go down fighting...but the crowd's heads suddenly
turn towards the entrance as a solitary figure comes streaking out of
the back.  His long dark hair frames a face with 'crow' style white face
paint, and his black trench coat flares out, almost like wings as he
charges down the aisle, black baseball bat in hand.]

BW: Whoa Daddy!  Who's this?!?!?

GM: I don't know, but he's coming down like a house of fire!

[The new arrival hits the ring at speed, sliding through the ropes and
goes straight for the Russians, swinging the baseball bat at Velikov and
hitting the top rope as he bails out.  Its pandemonium in the ring as
Supernova goes on the offense with the new arrival as the former
attackers clear the squared circle, leaving the two face-painted men
standing in the center...]

BW: Someone clearly left a cage unlocked at the looney bin, daddy!  Look
at this guy.  Somebody tell him Halloween's not for months yet!

GM: Halloween or not, he's just cleared house with Supernova and now
stands, pointing that bat at the Count threateningly...

[Supernova eyes the new arrival suspiciously, but then can be heard
saying, 'What are you doing here?']

BW: Does Supernova know this guy?

GM: It appears he does' and it also appears he had no idea he was here!

[The new arrival simply takes his bat and points at the retreating
heels, then makes a slow throat slashing motion.]

GM:  Wait a second!  That video!  We saw that video earlier tonight! 
That's him!  That's the guy who was in that video!

BW:  From the prison?!

GM:  Yes!  That's who we just saw hit the ring... that's who just chased
off Bathwaite and Sharif and the Russians!  That's who just saved
Supernova's hide!

[Supernova and the man holding the bat in one hand continue to stare
each other down with the crowd buzzing with confusion as we fade up to
the announce position where we see Jason Dane standing by with AWA
National champion, Juan Vasquez! The champ is dressed in a charcoal gray
hoodie, an old Demon Boy Ishrinku "Screamin' Demon" t-shirt and laying
over his shoulder is wrestling's greatest prize...the AWA National
title.]

JD: Juan Vasquez! Later tonight, you wrestle an unknown opponent.
There's been a whole lot of rumors about who you'll be facing, but
nobody has any real idea who it is. Your thoughts going into this match?

JV: Well, ain't nothing like a little mystery to spice up your life,
right?

[A chuckle.]

JV: I'd be lying if I said I wasn't just a *little* excited at not
knowing who my opponent is, Dane. I mean, it could be just about
anybody! From Cuban Assassins #1 through 6, right down to the return of
a rebuilt, cybernetically-enhanced robotic Stevie Scott!

[BOO!  The crowd doesn't seem to like the idea of robotic Stevie Scotts
roaming the Earth.]

JV: There's one thing about this that bothers me, though.

JD: What would that be?

JV: The title ain't on the line.

[Juan shakes his head.]

JV: Last year, I had to stand by and watch my name be put right on top
of the contenders list week after week without ever being able to cash
in on my shot, while Stevie Scott[BOO!] was allowed to sit on his butt
for months on end avoiding conflict at every turn. Knowing how I felt, I
knew that every other man in the top ten had to been just as frustrated
as I was. And when I _finally_ took the title from him, I promised
myself that the AWA was gonna' have a champion that'd do it proud.

[He drops his head and sighs.]

JV: And yet...even when I _have_ the title, you're telling me I can't
defend it?

[A slight shake of the head.]

JV: That don't sit too well with me.

[Juan takes a deep breath, shrugs his shoulders and sucks it up.]

JV: But like I said, it doesn't matter who I face in that ring and under
what circumstances, 'cause _everyone_ that steps through those ropes,
better be prepared to face the toughest damn fight of their life! I'll
tell it to you now, mystery man, and to everyone else out there...you're
not just facing any geek off the street, amigo! You're stepping up to
the greatest challenge any man can face in a wrestling ring!

You're facing the AWA National champion!

You're facing the best damn wrestler in the world!

[Pop!]

JV: And if you don't know it by now...well, I think I'll just let Jason
Dane tell you his name.

[The champ turns to Dane with a big grin on his face.]

JV: What's his name, Jason? What's the name of the AWA National
champion? The man, who by definition, is the toughest, smartest,
handsomest, most talented and best damn wrestler in the world, today?

[Dane seems to be caught off-guard.]

JD: Huh?

[Juan turns to the crowd.]

JV: HELP HIM OUT, FOLKS!

[A chant of "JUAN!" breaks out in the crowd as Dane gives a confused
answer.]

JD: His name is...Juan?

[Juan cackles.]

JV: And don't you forget it!

[The champ ruffles Dane's hair and walks off, leaving a somewhat
befuddled Jason Dane behind.]

JD: Well..._Juan Vasquez_ certainly looks ready for his mystery
opponent, tonight!  Let's head back down to ringside for more tag team
action!

[We crossfade back to the ring where Melissa Cannon is, along with two
other men. One is a young man with long blonde hair and dressed in blue
tights and white wrestling boots, the other is a young man with long
black hair and dressed in red trunks and black wrestling boots.]

MC: This is a tag team contest scheduled for one fall... currently in
the
ring, hailing from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, at a total combined
weight of 485 pounds... here are William Washington and James
Jefferson... they call themselves THE FREEDOM FIGHTERS!

[The fans give a polite response to the two young men. The blonde man,
Washington, holds up his index finger and says "USA all the way!"]

GM: And here are The Freedom Fighters, two young men from the eastern
circuit, making their first appearance in AWA.

BW: Well, they're gonna have their work cut out for them tonight.

[The opening strands of Deep Purple's "Knocking At Your Back Door" kick
in,
the chords seemingly building anticipation for what is to come. And once
the chords reach their crescendo and the drums kick in, that's when
Rough N
Ready emerges from the entranceway.]

MC: And their opponents, from Albuquerque, New Mexico, at a total
combined
weight of 615 pounds... here are the AWA National Tag Team Champions...
Dave Cooper... Eric Matthew Somers... they are ROUGH N READY!

[Dave Cooper wears black wrestling trunks, matching kneepads and white
wrestling boots, and also wears a black T-shirt that says "Rough N
Ready" in white lettering. Eric Matthew Somers wears a black singlet and
white wrestling boots. Each has a title belt slung over his shoulder.
The two men head to the ring, both with serious looks on their face.
They reach the ringside area, where Dave is the first to duck between
the ropes, followed by Eric.]

GM: I won't argue that these two young men have a tough task ahead of
them, as they get the National Tag Team Champions.

BW: After last week, Gordon, when Rough N Ready came out on top against
The Moonshiners, I'm convinced now that Dave and Eric deserve to be
recognized as the top tag team in wrestling... they took the best The
Moonshiners gave them and still came out on top.

GM: After all the times you've made fun of them because of their ages,
I'm surprised to hear you say that.

BW: Hey, I won't argue they may be long in the tooth... but they sure
are proving they can still hit hard and take names.

[The bell sounds and it's Dave Cooper starting things off against
William Washington.]

GM: I would imagine, though, that Violence Unlimited will be a much
tougher task... after all, they hold a victory over Rough N Ready.

BW: Yeah, but Violence Unlimited will find out that lightning isn't
gonna strike twice.

GM: That remains to be seen... in fact, it remains to be seen if Rough N
Ready will grant them that title shot.

[Cooper and Washington lock up in the center of the ring.]

GM: A lockup and it's Cooper with the advantage... backing him up into
the corner. The referee calling for the break and he will get it.

BM: Cooper isn't known for strength... that's Somers' department... but
Cooper isn't an easy guy to overpower either.

GM: Both men circling and now another lockup.

[Cooper is able to use a go behind on Washington.]

GM: Go behind by Dave Cooper... takes him down with a waistlock. Cooper
staying in control of his younger opponent.

BW: For guys like The Freedom Fighters, this is exactly a match where
they can learn some lessons... they just better not get out of line or
those lessons will get harder.

GM: Washington getting himself back to his feet... now he gets a
go-behind and a waistlock of his own. Nicely done!

[Cooper struggles to get out, then fires back an elbow to the jaw.]

GM: Oooh... vicious elbow to the jaw breaks the hold... Cooper off the
ropes... nice leapfrog by Washington! Here comes Cooper off the ropes...
hiptoss by Washington... no, it's reversed!

[But as Cooper goes to follow up, Washington puts up his feet and kicks
Cooper away, then nips up and takes a defensive stance.]

GM: And Dave Cooper unable to follow up... nice counter by William
Washington.

BW: Give the kid credit, but that's a veteran he's in the ring with...
he'll find a way to get it done.

GM: Cooper slowly nodding at the Freedom Fighter... now they circle
again... lockup... side headlock by Cooper this time.

[Cooper wrenches the headlock in for several seconds, before Washington
is able to push him into the ropes.]

GM: And Dave Cooper sent into the ropes... shoulderblock takes
Washington
down!

[Cooper runs the ropes again, but Washington drops down to the mat as
Cooper leaps over him, then he gets to his feet.]

GM: Another leapfrog by Washington... Cooper coming off... dropkick by
Washington takes him down! And another one!

[After getting up and eating a second dropkick, Cooper rolls underneath
the ropes to break the momentum.]

BW: Smart move by Cooper... Washington was building momentum and he had
to slow it down.

GM: And now Eric Matthew Somers will go down to confer with his tag team
partner.

[Cooper and Somers discuss something as, meanwhile, the referee orders
Washington to step back. Jefferson turns to the crowd and claps his
hands a few times, getting the audience to clap with him.]

GM: And now it's Dave Cooper getting back into the ring... nodding again
at his younger opponent... the two men now circle... lockup... no, a
knee to the midsection by Cooper.

BW: That's smart wrestling... now a forearm to the head.

GM: Referee warning Cooper to open the hand up.

BW: He did, ref!

GM: Now Cooper backs Washington into the ropes... whips him to the
opposite side... back body drop... no, wait Washington landed on his
feet!

[Washington then surprises Cooper, as he turns around, with a savate
kick to the ribs.]

GM: Savate kick catching Cooper off guard! He's backed into the
corner...

BW: Washington following him in... leaping forward... takes him out with
a monkey flip!

GM: I don't think Cooper expected that... now Washington to the second
rope... he comes off...

[But as he leaps, Cooper plants a fist into the midsection, doubling
Washington over.]

GM: And Dave Cooper caught him! Washington in trouble as Cooper grabs
him around the waist... belly to belly suplex!

BW: Washington may have caught Cooper the first time, but he didn't
catch
him the second time... that's what makes him so good in that ring.

GM: Cooper now sending Washington into the ropes... spinebuster slam
takes him down! And now a quick cover... one... two... but a kickout at
two.

BW: Cooper bringing Washington up... uh oh, he wants the big man!

[The tag is indeed made to Somers as the crowd swells.]

GM: Cooper tags in Somers... send Washington to the ropes... fist to the
midsection doubles him over... and a big sledgehammer blow to the back
of the neck by Somers!

[Washington crumples to the canvas.]

BW: See, that's the type of punishment Jackson Haynes and Danny Morton
and are gonna feel the next time Rough N Ready get their hands on them!

GM: Somers dragging Washington up by the hair... headbutt by Somers and
Washington slumps over in the corner!

BW: Whipping him to the oppsoite corner... here he comes!

GM: Somers charging in... but missing as Washington gets out of the way!

[The fans cheer as Washington somersaults to his corner to tag in
Jefferson.]

GM: And now here comes James Jefferson for the first time... and he's
taking it right to Somers!

BW: He doesn't have enough behind those forearms to put the big man
down, though!

GM: Jefferson with a dropkick... it staggers Somers! He tries again...
Somers staggering but he won't go down!

BW: And if he can't knock him down, it's gonna be a long night for James
Jefferson!

GM: Jefferson going to the corner... he's going to take a chance... he's
headed up top.

[Jefferson leaps off the top rope for a cross body block, but it doesn't
quite go as planned.]

GM: Somers caught him!

BW: Big mistake by Jefferson... taking ths big man down is easier said
than done!

[Somers then drops down to one knee and extends the other, dropping
Jefferson across the extended knee.]

GM: And a backbreaker by Somers! He will make a cover... one... two...
no, Jefferson with the kickout!

BW: Jefferson should have stayed down... save himself the embarassment.

GM: He's not embarassing himself, he just made a young mistake... Somers
now tagging Cooper back in... sends him into the ropes... big
clothesline takes Jefferson down!

BW: Here comes Cooper... elbowdrop on the money!

GM: Cooper now dragging Jefferson to his feet... sets him up... nice
snap suplex takes the youngster down! Another cover... one... two... and
that's all Cooper will get.

BW: I guess he's trying to make Mommy and Daddy proud.

GM: And what's wrong with that, Bucky?

[Cooper now applies a front facelock, trying to wear down Jefferson.]

GM: And now Cooper with a facelock applied... trying to wear down the
Freedom Fighter.

BW: I think Somers working over Jefferson wore him down already... now
it's just a formality.

GM: But wait! Jefferson managing to push Cooper back towards the
corner... Washington waiting right there for the tag!

[And Cooper does not see Jefferson touch hands with Washington, but the
referee does.]

GM: Tag is made.. Washington is the legal man... he goes up top... off
he
comes with an axehandle!

BW: Somers wants in there... what is the referee doing?

GM: He's not going to allow Somers in the ring... and it was a legal
tag, Bucky! Now Jefferson and Washington with a double whip on Cooper
into the ropes... and a double elbow catches Cooper!

BW: Illegal double teaming, Gordon!

GM: Jefferson leaving the ring.. Washington with a cover... referee late
to get there... one... tw... no, Cooper kicks out!

BW: Well, these Freedom Fighters are getting lucky, but how long it will
last?

GM: Give these young men some credit, Bucky... Jefferson with a
pickup... slamming Cooper to the mat. Now he'll go to the top rope
himself.

BW: He better hope it pays off, Gordon!

GM: Jefferson leaping... flying bodypress... oh, but Cooper rolls with
the momentum and has a cover... one... two... and almost a count of
three!

BW: You see, that's the problem with these young guys taking too many
chances... it can come back to haunt them!

GM: Washington staying on the attack, though... a pair of forearms
staggers Cooper... now into the ropes...

BW: Hey, did he just tag Cooper?

GM: Well, it... yes, the referee signaled it was a tag.

[Cooper ducks a clothesline, then grabs the ropes before coming on the
rebound. Washington appeared ready to make a move, but stops and then
motions for Cooper to bring it on.]

GM: And I don't think William Washington saw it... he turns around...
there's Somers!

BW: And Somers has him in his grasp!

GM: Chokeslam with authority! And now he drops down to cover.

[Jefferson tries to enter the ring, but Cooper turns toward him to hold
him off.]

GM: One... two... three! And this one is over!

[Somers slowly stands up, allowing the referee to raise his arm, as does
Cooper.]

MC: Here are your winners... ROUGH N READY!

[Fans give a mixed reaction as Somers and Cooper nod at each other. The
referee returns the tag team titles to them, which Cooper and Somers
hold above their heads.]

GM: And another victory for the National tag team champions... and I
would imagine Violence Unlimited is next on their list.

BW: If Haynes and Morton were watching, they better have been taking
good notes... as long as they weren't too busy banging their heads into
lockers backstage!

GM: Knock it off, Bucky... and now, looks like we are about to be joined
by the tag team champs.

[Cooper and Somers do indeed approach Gordon and Bucky's broadcast
position.]

GM: Dave Cooper and Eric Matthew Somers... another successful match for
the two of you... but the question remains: What about the challenge
that awaits from Violence Unlimted?

DC: Gordon, I'm surprised at you... you don't have anything to say about
our victory last week against The Moonshiners.

GM: Well, that was also an impressive feat.

DC: Then let's talk about it, Gordon! Now, I won't take anything away
from how hard those men can hit and how much punishment they can take...
they just ran into two men who are even better at both! Week after week,
Gordon... ever since Eric and I arrived in AWA, they keep sending them
our way and we keep knocking them down!

GM: Well, that didn't exactly happen when you faced Morton and Haynes...

EMS: [interrupting] Wait a second, Gordon... we all have our off nights
and that was one of them.

GM: So are you saying that you will give Violence Unlimited a title
match?

BW: Now, hold on, Gordon... if you want to treat veterans properly, show
them a little respect and don't be so quick to force the issue!

[That draws a grin from Somers.]

EMS: Bucky, I never I thought I'd say this... but that was a pretty
smart thing you said.

GM: Now just a minute... everyone wants to know...

DC: [interrupting] Everyone wants to know a lot of things, Gordon...
like when do we eat, when do we get paid and when do we get our rightful
rewards just for showing up to work in the morning. Well, Eric and I
have earned our rightful rewards, and that's the AWA National Tag Team
belts in our
possesion. If Haynes and Morton think that what happened at the Stampede
Cup is evidence of how we really are, all I'm gonna say is this... you
may have thought we weren't ready the first time we met you, but don't
count on that happening the next time we meet!

GM: So does that mean...

DC: [interruping] Gordon, you are being just a little bit pushy. As a
matter of fact, after this match, Eric and I were planning to discuss
some business with Jim Watkins... and the way see it is this... the
Third Anniversary show is coming up and Eric and I absolutely plan on
being on that card. So we're gonna go back there, tell him what we want
and then tell him we will put our titles on the line... and if Haynes
and Morton want to sign on the dotted line to be our opponents, then
they are more than welcome!

[That draws a positive response from the crowd.]

DC: But just in case those two didn't get the message, I'll say it
again... if you thought we weren't ready the first time we met, don't
count on that happening the next time we meet... and believe me... you
don't want us when we are ready, because then we are just that much
rougher!

[He and Eric then depart the broadcast position leaving Jason behind.]

JD:  You heard it, fans!  Rough N Ready wants to put their gold on the
line in just over a month at the Third Anniversary Show!  But will
Violence Unlimited get the shot?  We'll find out very soon but for now,
we've gotta take a quick break!  We'll be right back so don't you dare
go away!

[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
the O'Jays' "For the Love of Money" blasts through the Crockett Coliseum
and all heads turn to the section of the interview area that is now set
up for The Money Pit.  A deep voice cuts over the top of the classic
track...]

"Ladies and gentlemen...

TODD MICHAELSON!"

[The camera cuts to 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 to the nines, a smile plastered
across his face.]

TM: Welcome to The Money Pit!

[Big pop from the Dallas faithful.]

TM:  Now, considering who's about to come out here... that may be the
only time you get to cheer during this.  My guest here tonight...

[Michaelson shakes his head.]

TM:  These are the sacrifices I make for you guys.  I hate this man. 
Absolutely despise him.  There's not a single redeeming quality about
him and I've known him for a long, long time now.

[A sigh.]

TM:  But, the man makes news... so here he is... please welcome my guest
this week... he is a former Pro Wrestling Revolution Pacific Champion
and a former AWA National Tag Team Champion...

CALISTO DUFRESNE!

[The crowd immediately begins to boo heartily as from the entrance
portal emerges the most detested figure in the AWA, "Ladykiller" Calisto
Dufresne.  Clad simply in a pair of blue jeans and a teal t-shirt that
reads "I'LL SLEEP WHEN I'M 30", the usual cocky look on Dufresne's face
is nowhere to be found as his eyes dart left and right before beginning
to make his way towards Michaelson.  He sits down on the stool next to
our host who eyes him cooly.  Michaelson opens his mouth to speak but
Dufresne holds a hand up, leaning over to speak.  He does so in an
extremely raspy voice, likely the result of City Jack choking him two
weeks ago with a bat.]

CD: Before we get started, Todd, allow me to just apologize for what Von
Braun, Stevie and Adrian did to you before Battle on the Bayou.  That
whole tire iron incident was unnecessary.  I was against it from the
start, you know.  But I was out-voted four to one.  And I'm nothing if
not a selfless team player, so I went along with Waterson's scheme,
albeit reluctantly.

[Michaelson's steely eyes remain on Dufresne as he continues, not
looking like he believes a single word out of the Ladykiller's mouth.]

CD:  You brought me in to this business, Todd.  Taught me what I know. 
It's obvious that I'm the best student you've ever had and that you're
immensely proud of what I've accomplished.  And that's why I'm willing
to forgive you for spitting at me and telling me you were going to kill
me that night.

[Dufresne smiles at his gesture of good faith.  Michaelson continues to
stare right through Dufresne, his eyes saying that nothing is settled. 
The former World Champion is seething as he glares at Dufresne, dropping
three deep breaths before he gets on track with two simple words.]

TM:  City Jack.

[Who said the fans wouldn't cheer again during this segment?  Dufresne
self-consciously rubs his throat as his face curls into a snarl.]

TM:  Two weeks ago,  he came out here and attacked you with that
Louisville Slugger he's been toting around since his return, nearly
choking the life out of you.

[The thought brings immense pleasure to the Dallas faithful and
Michaelson himself.]

CD: It's true, Todd.  City Jack, like the coward he is, attacked me from
behind while I was trying to put this entire mess to bed.  All I want to
do is move on with my life!  I've put him down like the rabid dog that
he is time and again and he just can't let it go!  

TM: It seems to me that he's not going to let it go until you see him
inside that ring.

[Crowd pop again as Dufresne looks around, annoyed.]

CD: I saw him inside that ring a month ago.  And I beat him!  _Again._ 
I don't know what I have to do short of taking him out for good - which
as we all know, is something that Calisto Dufresne wouldn't consider.

[This elicits a snort from Michaelson.]

TM: He doesn't want a six man tag match.  He wants one-on-one, in the
middle of that ring, in front of these fans.

CD: And I had the mind to grant him that wish, _tonight!_

[Huge pop from the crowd.]

CD: But then he went and got himself suspended.  

[The crowd reverses course, booing.  Dufresne nods.]

CD: I agree, fans.  He shouldn't have been suspended.

He should have been _fired!_

[Michaelson looks incredulous.]

TM: For what?!

CD: For continuously trying to tear down this franchise!  Would a
Fortune 500 company continue to employ some kid from the mailroom who
goes after the top salesman in the company?  Would the military accept a
vicious attack from a buck private on the Commander in Chief? 
Absolutely not!  And that's what this is akin to.

[Dufresne shakes his head in derision.]

CD: I wanted to finish this once and for all, tonight.  Truly, I did. 
But since he went and got himself banned, I guess that it's just never
going to happen.

[Michaelson nods, rising from the stool.]

TM:  I suppose that remains to be seen.  But you're not my only guest
here tonight.  As you know, the Championship Committee has been
reviewing the situation between yourself and City Jack for two weeks
now... trying to determine the appropriate course of action to take. 
And I understand they have made a decision.  Mr. Watkins, come on
down...

[And on cue, "Big" Jim Watkins, the Chairman of the Championship
Committee, walks onto the set of the Money Pit, shaking hands with Todd
Michaelson and eyeing a seated Dufresne with annoyance.]

TM:  Mr. Watkins, I understand the Committee has been working very hard
reviewing the tape of City Jack's assault on Dufresne from two weeks
ago.

[Watkins nods.]

JW:  That's right, Todd.  We've been trying to figure out what to do
about this situation.  These two men have been at each other's throats
pretty much for the better part of three years now... not to mention
their time in Los Angeles with you where they were tearing each other
apart.

[Michaelson grins at a small cheer for PWR from the crowd.]

JW:  The Committee reviewed the tape from two weeks ago... but that
wasn't it.  We went back and looked at EVERYTHING!  Every piece of
information we had involving these two individuals was reviewed.  

In the end, we came to one conclusion - this needs to end.

[Dufrense nods, shouting "Fire him!"]

JW:  We saw offenses by BOTH men that could potentially earn them a
fine, a suspension, or worse... but in the end, this is the AWA, and
that's not how we wanted this thing to go down.

[The crowd cheers!]

JW:  Therefore, the AWA has made a decision... and I think you'll like
this one, Todd.

City Jack's suspension for tonight's show will be his SOLE punishment
for his actions two weeks ago.

[The crowd roars again, Dufresne throwing a hissyfit a few feet away. 
Watkins holds up a massive hand, shaking his head.]

JW:  Considering what you've done to that man in the past, Dufresne, I
think you should consider yourself lucky we sent security out to break
up that situation... because there were some members of the Committee...
myself included... who felt that Jack was perfectly justified in trying
to forcibly remove your head from your shoulders!

[Another big cheer!  Dufresne looks shocked at Watkins' words... and
then storms away.]

JW:  Not so fast, Dufresne.  I think you'll want to hear this one.

[Dramatic pause.]

JW:  After serious review, the Championship Committee has ruled...

[More pause!]

JW:  That on March 26th for our Third Anniversary Show...

[The crowd begins to buzz now!]

JW:  Calisto Dufresne will go one-on-one...

[Dufresne's shaking his head, looking furious.]

JW:  ...with CITY JACK!

[HUUUUUUUUGE ROAR FROM THE CROWD!]

TM:  That's huge, Jim!  City Jack vs Dufresne on The Main Event!  Are
you kidding me?!  Do you know how long these fans - all of us - have
been waiting for this?!

[Watkins grins, nodding his head.]

JW:  I do, Todd... and that's why I know how important it is that
there's a winner that night.  You see, Dufresne... when we were
reviewing the tapes of your actions, we picked up a pattern... a guy who
liked to run when the heat was on.

[A shake of the head.]

JW:  That ain't gonna happen against Jack - no sir.

[Dufresne sneers at Watkins.]

JW:  There will be no runnin'... no hidin'... no dodgin'... no bailin'
out... 

There will be no escape, Dufresne.

[The buzz grows again.]

JW:  Because on The Main Event, when you face City Jack...

[Dramatic pause!]

JW:  IT'LL BE INSIDE A STEEL CAGE!!

[DEAFENING ROAR!!  Dufresne's face goes white at the announcement!]

GM:  CITY JACK VERSUS CALISTO DUFRESNE INSIDE A CAGE!!  

BW:  I heard him!  I heard him!  This isn't fair!  This isn't right!  

GM:  Why not?!  After everything that Calisto Dufresne has done to City
Jack, why isn't that fair?!

BW:  It's... it's like... he just gave him free reign to do ANYTHING he
wants to the Ladykiller!  He tried to... oh my god.

GM:  What an announcement!  What a huge announcement!  Todd Michaelson
has done it again!

BW:  Oh, shaddup!

[The crowd is still roaring as a stunned Dufresne slowly walks away,
heading through the curtain as Michaelson and Watkins soak up the cheers
from the crowd...

...and we fade down to the ring where a tall African-American man stands
ready.  He has a flattop afro, full-length black tights with thick red
stripes running down the sides, red boots, and black gloves.  His
physique is excellent, and he's doing some shadow-boxing to limber up.]

MC: The following contest is set for one fall, and a ten minute time
limit!
Introducing first, already in the ring... from Arlington, Virginia...
weighing two-hundred sixty-one pounds...

RASHAN HILL!

[The young athlete steps up on the second rope, and raises both fists in
the air.  The crowd cheers softly, not knowing what to think about the
guy yet.  They then decide to cheer him about .25 seconds after "The
Theme From Halloween" starts.]

BW: Take a good look, kids.  This is how you get your face on the side
of a milk carton.

[The boos intensify as "The Collector Of Oddities" Percy Childes opens
the curtains for the burly madman known as James Monosso.  Monosso is
wearing his usual pale-green cutoff T-Shirt, black one-strap singlet
with silver trim, black-and-silver boots, and bloodthirsty twisted
unamused smirk.  The wild-eyed lunatic stomps down the entrance way, and
as he does, we can see one slight addition to his attire: a large
sticker of a bullseye slapped on his back.]

GM: The mad Monosso proved last week that he has no fear at all,
assaulting a man that most sane human beings do not cross.

BW: And he left Alex Martinez laying.  How many people walkin' the Earth
can do THAT?

GM: The number has to be in the single digits.

[Melissa continues.]

MC: And his opponent... Introducing first, the manager, PERCY CHILDES!
He represents... from The State Of Confusion... weighing two-hundred
eighty-eight pounds...

JAMES MONOSSO!

[Monosso has entered the ring, but has eschewed the usual immediate
attack in favor of circling with a hungry expression in his eyes.  Hill
backpedals, showing good footwork in keeping a healthy distance from the
maniac.]

GM: I believe that Rashan Hill was expecting an immediate attack, as is
usually the case with Monosso.  But James is unpredictable; he does
whatever comes to mind when it comes to mind.

BW: And look at his back!  See that bullseye?  I think he expects
Martinez ta come for payback, Gordo.

GM: Percy Childes staying uncharacteristically far from the ring this
week, so I believe that you are correct.

"DING!  DING!  DING!"

GM: Alright, Hill moves in, collar-and-elbow tieup.  And a headlock by
Monosso.  I... may be hallucinating.

BW: Nope.  Monosso's nuts.  He's NOT stupid.  If he wants ta get
jumped... well, that might qualify as nuts AND stupid.  Never mind, my
point's pretty much lost by that fact.

GM: James Monosso with a side headlock takeover, and it appears that
he's going to try to wrestle this week.  I suppose I shouldn't be too
surprised, as seemingly random behavior is his idiom.

BW: Then after it's all said an' done, ya look back an' figger out that
he had a plan the whole time.  An' THAT is why he's scary.  I guess ya
could ask Eric Preston all about that if ya can find him.  He'll
probably check himself inta th' Hangover Hotel on Washout Boulevard
after Johnny C demolished him earlier!

GM: Well, right now, we have Rashan Hill countering Monosso's seated
headlock with a hammerlock.  Monosso grabs his head... stands... and a
jawbreaker!  Veteran move by a man not really known for counter
wrestling.

BW: He's only really capable o' stuff like that when it's all that he's
focusing on.  Normally, it never even occurs to him ta try counterin'
moves.  That line o' thought just interrupts his usual tactic o'
attempted murder.

GM: Monosso starts stomping, and now applying a neck wrench!

[Having pulled up Hill to a seated position, James cups his chin in one
big meaty hand and pulls up to the side.  His other hand pushes down to
the other side.  In essence, he's trying to unscrew his head.]

BW: Well, this is one o' the few holds he DOES do from time ta time.  I
don't think I gotta explain why it works.

GM: An application of brute power.

BW: Well, if I'd'a known ya was gonna explain it ANYWAY, Gordo, I'd'a
said somethin'!

GM: Hill getting to his feet... the drawback of the neck wrench is that
it doesn't effectively keep a man down, and it is not effective unless
he is down.  Hill with an elbow, and another elbow, and another... the
hold does not break.

BW: Again: HITTING JAMES MONOSSO IS USELESS.  I think someone oughta put
up a sign.  These kids never learn.

GM: I would think that a man the size and intensity of Alex Martinez
could hit Monosso to some effect.

BW: Oh, yeah, that's true.  But Hill ain't in that class.  He's bigger'n
most, faster'n most, more agile than most, even stronger'n most. But he
ain't gonna be able ta hurt Monosso by hittin' him.

GM: Monosso finally breaks by transitioning into a blatant choke! 
Lifting the man by the neck with both hands!  And spiking him down with
a choke spinebuster!  Or a two-handed choke slam if you prefer.

BW: What you just saw is exactly what Rashan Hill... and probably
Martinez... would have ta do ta beat him.  Hill don't have much
technical skill.  So you gotta slam him, you gotta smash him inta
things, you gotta force his body ta quit on him.  His mind will never
quit.  But he's much older than he looks, Gordo.  He started his career
around 1988, I think.

GM: Double stomp on Hill!  A call-out to Anton Layton?!

BW: Could be!  Remember, we don't know who this 'Dragon' is, an' there's
some clues that lead in th' direction o' Layton or his Master no matter
what Layton said earlier.

GM: As the self-described best broadcast journalist in wrestling, Bucky,
I should think you'd be hot on this Dragon's proverbial tail.

BW: Maybe I am.  Maybe I don't break a story till I'm good an' ready,
jus' like Monosso's waitin' ta break Hill when he's good an' ready.

GM: Backbreaker by Monosso, and he has this match well in hand.  He
lifts his man... and slams him into the ropes!  Goodness!  Hill bounced
face-first to the mat!

[The fans boo, and Monosso stares out at them.  His mouth curls up into
a sneer, and he points at the turnbuckle.]

BW: Uh, oh... I smell a Concussionator comin'!

GM: I thought you named it the Concussionizer.

BW: -ator, -izor, -o-Matic, -gasm, -clasm, -ism, -ation, -ification...
it don' matter what th' suffix is, daddy, th' prefix is always th' same!
CON-CUSSION!


"THUUUUUUUD!"


GM: Monosso throws Hill shoulder-first to the ringpost, right through
the turnbuckles!  You know what this sets up, and this should be banned!
 This has no place in wrestling!

[The jeers intensify as Monosso leisurely steps out onto the apron.  A
groggy Hill leans on the middle turnbuckle, his shoulder up against the
post and his head to the side of it.  Monosso locks his gaze in on
Hill's head, to which the fans stand and scream at him.]

GM: This isn't a legitimate offensive move, this is an attempt to maim
someone!

BW: You say 'attempt' as if it ever fails.

GM: HERE HE COMES...

[The crowd begins to buzz as suddenly Alex Martinez comes rushing
through the crowd, stepping over the steel barricade...

...and yanking a leg out from under a rushing Monosso, sending him
sailing backfirst to the apron with a sickening splat!  HUGE ROAR!]


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[The referee calls for the disqualification, but that's the least of
anyone's concerns right now as Martinez peels Monosso off the apron by
the hair, dragging him to his feet.]

BW: HEY!

GM: MARTINEZ!

BW:  WHAT'S HE DOING HERE?

GM:  I think its safe to say, Bucky, that Alex Martinez is taking
Monosso up on the offer that bull's eye presented!

[The two titans facing each other, Alex Martinez throws the first punch.
 Monosso takes a half step backwards, and stares straight ahead. 
Martinez punches him a second time, and a third.  Monosso takes another
half step back, and then roars forward, throwing a punch that connects
hard against Martinez' cheek.  Now it's the seven footer's turn to reel
back, as Monosso's punch connects.  But again, Martinez mostly stands
his ground.  The crowd erupts as right hands are exchanged between the
two.]

BW:  I'm tellin' ya, neither of these guys are human Gordo!  Ya got a
maniac against a monster.  And I ain't sure which is which!

GM:   I don't think anyone has ever taken that many punches from Alex
Martinez and stayed on his feet.  And frankly, I don't think anyone but
Alex Martinez could stay upright after that many punches from James
Monosso!

[Monosso finally does stagger back after a well placed punch connects
with his nose.  Martinez lunges forward, but Monosso might have been
playing possum, as he grips Martinez' wrist and uses it to hurl Martinez
into the guard rail.]


"CLAAAAAAAAAAANG!"
"OHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


GM:  INTO THE RAILING GOES MARTINEZ!!  And that guard rail just became
disconnected out at ringside!  It broke loose and the fans are
scattering!

[Martinez looks dazed, his arms draped over the top of the railing,
motionless.   Monosso backs up, and then comes charging at Martinez full
force.] 

BW:  There's about to be a seven foot stain on the floor of the Crockett
Coliseum, Gordo!

GM:  That's two hundred and eighty eight pounds coming full force at
Martinez!

[The light comes on in the big man's eyes at the last minute, as he sees
the freight train heading his way.]


"CLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANG!"
"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

GM:  ALEX MARTINEZ DOVE OUT OF THE WAY!!!  MONOSSO TOOK OUT THE
RAILING!!

[The crowd continues to roar as Monosso lies in the fetal position
across the now-fallen steel guardrail, clutching his shoulder and ribs
as a dazed Martinez staggers back in, shaking the cobwebs as he leans
down to grab the madman by the hair.]

BW:  And now, Martinez has got Monosso by the hair!  C'mon ref,
disqualify him for that!

GM:  Disqualify? This isn't a match!

BW:   Uhh... yeah, never mind.

[Now Martinez whips Monosso around, sending him back towards the ring. 
Monosso hits his back on the ring apron, and the ring can be seen to
shudder from the force.  Quick on the attack, Martinez sends several
knees into Monosso's gut, a much softer target than his head.   And then
Martinez grips Monosso by the hair and pulls his head back.]


"CLAAAAAAAAAAAAAANG!"


GM:  MARTINEZ JUST SLAMMED JAMES MONOSSO'S HEAD INTO THE STEPS!!

BW:  I think we can safely say that we've just seen the Alex Martinez
version of the Concussionator!

[Seeing AWA security starting to come out towards the ring, Martinez
throws Monosso into the ring, figuring that will give him a few more
seconds of time before the brawl is broken up.  But as Martinez steps
into the ring, he finds that Monosso isn't as hurt as he expected, as
Monosso greets him with a boot to the skull.]

BW:  Hah!  Smashing Monosso's head doesn't do anything but make him
crazier!

GM:  Normally, I'd tell you to stop, but I think you're right.

[Monosso whips Martinez chest first into the turnbuckle.  The big man
exhales loudly, all the air going out of his body.  Monosso slowly
approaches from behind.]

BW:  Last time I saw somethin' like that, it was in a damn zombie movie!
 Monosso just won't stop comin' forward!

GM:  Monosso is certainly nothing if not relentless.

BW:  And look what that lunatic is doin' now!

[Monosso is behind Martinez, and reaches forward.  But what he's doing
is just sick and sadistic, as he twists Martinez' ear, jabs fingers into
his eyes, fishhooks his mouth, twists and yanks on his nose.]

GM:  This is just sick!

BW:  Martinez asked for it! You don't want that man's fingers tearin'
your cheek offa your face? Don't come and attack him!  Its pretty
simple, Gordo.

[Martinez launches an elbow that hits Monosso in the temple, sending him
backwards.  Martinez turns around, shaking his head, trying to get his
eyes to clear.  And here comes Monosso, charging forward again.]

BW:  I'm tellin' ya, this guy just doesn't stop.  Alex Martinez has
never faced someone like this.

GM:   I've got to say, I think you're right Bucky.

[But Martinez' vision clears just in time to see Monosso coming.  He
waits, until Monosso is in range.]

GM:  BIG BOOT!  AND MONOSSO IS DOWN!!

BW:  That kick to the face got Monosso off his feet. But for how long?

GM:  Alex Martinez isn't going to give him a chance to get up.  He's
right on top of him.

[But now its Martinez who shows his vicious streak.  On top of Monosso,
Martinez reaches out, wrapping both of his hands around Monosso's
throat.  He's choking Monosso, lifting him, bouncing his head off the
mat, and howling in rage.  Martinez' face is red and twisted in anger,
as he continues to choke the life out of Monosso.]

BW:  This has broken down, daddy!

GM:  I agree.  This has got to be stopped before it goes any further!

[AWA security seems to agree, as they swarm the ring.  They pull
Martinez off of Monosso, but the big man doesn't go easily.  It takes a
half dozen of them to get Martinez off, and another man has to pry
Martinez' fingers off Monosso's throat one at a time.  They finally
manage to push Martinez back into a corner, holding him as Martinez
struggles to get free, his arm extended, trying to grab at Monosso. 
More security stands in front of Monosso, blocking his way.]

BW:  I hope security gets health benefits and hazard pay! I got a
feeling we're about to see some guys gettin' tossed.

GM:  I.... wait a minute!  PERCY CHILDES IS IN THE RING?  WHERE DID HE
COME FROM?

BW:   He got the heck outta Dodge when he could, but now he's back in
the ring.

GM:  Monosso is ignoring his demands to exit the ring!

[As Martinez continues to struggle against the sea of security holding
him back, Childes continues to demand Monosso leave the ring, his words
falling on deaf ears. That is, until Childes produces his cane. 
Suddenly, Monosso stares, transfixed by the sight.]

GM:   That stopped Monosso in his tracks.   Monosso seems to be staring
at the crystal hilt of Childes' cane.

BW:  From where I'm sittin', it don't look like anything excitin' to me.

GM:  But it seems to have a hold on James Monosso.

[Childes uses the cane to slowly draw Monosso out of the ring, and into
the back.  Security continues to detain Martinez however, preventing him
from giving chase.]

GM:  Security is going to give Martinez a chance to cool off.

BW:  They're gonna be there for awhile then.

GM:  You might be right.  Fans, while we wait for the ring to clear,
let's hear a word from our sponsors.

[Cut to commercial.

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
the announcers stand at ringside.]

GM:  Man oh man... what a night this has been, fans.  We want to thank
WKIK for their help here tonight.  With just moments before the hour, we
are very obviously going to spill past our usual time here tonight but
WKIK is committed to bringing you the National Champion in action here
tonight and will stay with us until that match reaches a conclusion. 
But what wild action we've seen here tonight, Bucky...

BW:  It's been nuts, Gordo.  Absolutely nuts.  Monosso and Martinez
just... they just destroyed the ringside area.  We've got a barricade
down, we've got steel steps knocked over.  Crazy stuff.  

GM:  Plus, we heard the announcement that City Jack and Calisto Dufresne
will collide on The Main Event inside a steel cage!  Rough N Ready say
they'll defend the titles that night as well!  So much has happened here
tonight... whew boy... and we're not quite done yet, fans.  The National
Champion's about to step into that ring to face a mystery opponent...
and we STILL have no idea who it is!  But we're all about to find out
together so let's go up to Melissa for the announcement!

[We crossfade up to the ring to Melissa Cannon.]

MC:  The following contest is our Main Event of the evening!

[Big cheer!]

MC:  Introducing first... 

[The sounds of "They Reminisce Over You" by Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth
begins to play over the PA system.]

MC:  From Los Angeles, California... weighing in at 238 pounds... he is
the AWA NATIONAL CHAMPION...

JUUUUUAAAAAAAANNNNNN VAAASSSSSSQQQUUUUEEEZZZZ!!!!

[Vasquez bursts through the curtain to a huge roar from the AWA crowd!
He's clad in his usual tracksuit style attire, jogging down the aisle as
he leans over and slaps the hands of the ringside fans.]

GM:  For a man who doesn't know who is about to walk through that
curtain to face him, Juan Vasquez is looking pretty confident, Bucky.

BW:  He's gotta be, Gordo.  He's the champ.  If he's not confident, he
might as well hand the belt over right now.

GM:  Remember, this is a non-title match but a chance to beat the champ
is always a big moment.

[Vasquez steps through the ropes, holding the title belt high over his
head to the cheers of the crowd.  He pauses to pat Melissa on the
shoulder before handing the belt outside the ring to an attendant.]

MC:  And his opponent...

[The music fades... but isn't replaced by anything for a long moment.]

GM:  Who is it, Bucky?  Who's it gonna be?

[Suddenly, a voice shouts out from the darkness at the edge of the
ramp.]

"Did you really think it'd be that easy, Melissa?"

[The spotlight hits to reveal Lori Dane at the top of the aisle to a
shower of jeers from the AWA faithful.]

GM:  What in the... what is SHE doing out here?  We've got a match!  We
don't have time for-

BW:  That's exactly her point, Gordo!  There's never enough time for
women in the AWA!  There's never enough time for women's WRESTLING
anywhere in this business!

[Dane walks down the ramp with purpose, mic still in hand.]

LD:  Did you really think it ended like that?  You thought you got to
come back from your injury, grin and smile and show some leg to these
idiots, let Vasquez pat you on the back there, and all would be
forgotten?

[The First Lady of Extreme smirks.]

LD:  I don't forgive and forget, Melissa... you should know that.

[Dane steps through the ropes.]

LD:  Now, we have some unfinished business to take care of in my book. 
You have a choice to make... you have to-

[The crowd ERUPTS as Melissa throws down the mic, taking Dane off her
feet with a double leg tackle.  She lands two heavy blows to the face
before wrapping her hands around Dane's throat to the roars of the
crowd!]

GM:  SHE'S GOING AFTER DANE!!  SHE'S GOING AFTER DANE!!

[Lori tries to fight back, flailing her arms back and forth, finally
getting loose as she rolls to the floor.  She takes a knee on the floor
as Juan Vasquez and Marty Meekly hold Melissa back by the arms, both men
grinning.  Dane lifts a hand, running the back of her hand under her
nose and coming up with a trickle of blood.]

GM:  Melissa Cannon just busted up Lori Dane's nose!  She drew first
blood right here tonight in Dallas, Texas!

BW:  I can't believe it!  How DARE she?

GM:  What?!  Are you serious?!

BW:  That's her teacher!  Lori Dane did EVERYTHING to help Melissa
Cannon get her foot into this business!  How dare she go after her like
that?!

[A smirking Lori Dane nods her head, slowly backing down the aisle as
she watches Vasquez and Meekly restrain her attacker.]

GM:  I can't believe it!  What the heck else can happen here toni...


"WHO WAN' SIT ON SWEET DADDY'S LAP TANIIIIIIGHT?"


[The crowd ERUPTS in cheers as the curtain parts, revealing Sweet Daddy
Williams as his music blasts over the PA system.  The Atlanta fan
favorite walks into view, carrying a duffel bag in his left hand and a
wireless mic in his right.]

GM:  I don't understand.

BW:  Is HE the mystery opponent?

GM:  That doesn't make any... why is Sweet Daddy Williams out here?

[Vasquez walks away from the struggling Cannon, leaving her to Meekly as
he approaches the ropes, looking puzzled down the aisle at his fellow
fan favorite.  He can be seen saying "You?" as Williams approaches the
ring.]

GM:  Sweet Daddy Williams is heading out here to the ring.  I don't get
this, Bucky.

[Stepping through the ropes, Williams raises the mic.]

SDW:  Cut my music, please.

[Williams looks up at Vasquez with an almost sheepish expression on his
face.]

SDW:  Surprise?

[Vasquez doesn't laugh.]

SDW:  I know.  I didn't want to do it this way either.  Look, Juan...
you and I... we're friends, right?  We've been through a lot together
and been down a lot of roads together.  But you know as well as I do
that that belt around your waist is what it's all about.

It's what you wanted more than anything else.  It's what I want more
than anything else.  It's what anyone who straps on a pair of these
wrestling boots wants more than anything else or they shouldn't be in
this ring!

[A cheer for that.]

SDW:  So, yeah... I wanted a shot at ya.  I wanted to prove that I could
hang with the champ... and I wanted to prove I deserve a shot at that
hunk o' gold.

[Vasquez shakes his head, still looking confused.]

SDW:  But I'd be lyin' if I said that's all this is about.

[Williams raises the bag in his left hand.]

SDW:  It wasn't long ago that you did me a favor.  You put some money -
your money - on the line so that I could get a shot at the title.  And
you did that knowing that I'd probably never be able to pay ya back.

[Williams tosses the bag to Vasquez who catches it.]

SDW:  Now, we're even.

[Vasquez looks stunned as he reaches into the bag, producing a fist full
of dollars.]

SDW:  See, I didn't want this to be a big secret.  I wanted to stand
here, man to man, eye to eye, and challenge you to a match... 

...but he didn't want it that way.  

[Williams shrugs.]

SDW:  You know I couldn't afford to pay ya back on my own.  So, when I
got a phone call a few weeks ago, tellin' me to take this match...
tellin' me that I could make a nice payday to take this match, I
couldn't refuse.

[Vasquez shouts, "Who?"]

SDW:  I think ya know that, Juan.  And if ya know that, ya know they'd
likely give me a big ol' bonus if I busted you up and hurt ya bad.  

[The crowd buzzes at the implied threat.]

SDW:  But that ain't why I'm here, partner.  I'm here for a straight up
match.  I'm here to prove something to the world, to you, and to myself.

So, as our boss would say... "let's hook 'em up!"

[Williams tosses the mic outside the ring, tugging on the top rope as a
still-surprised Juan Vasquez backs away, bouncing off the ropes and
taking a few steps towards Williams as the two men circle, looking for
an opening to get an early edge.  The referee calls for the bell just
before the two men lunge into a tieup.]

GM:  Vasquez quickly into a hammerlock, wrenching up on the arm...

[The Atlanta native reaches backwards, trying to hook Vasquez around the
head and neck for a snap mare but as Vasquez increases the pressure,
Williams gives up on the counter.]

GM:  You've gotta believe that Vasquez is a bit shell-shocked in there. 
We heard a lot of speculation about who might be stepping up to
challenge the champion here tonight but I don't think anyone dreamed it
would be Sweet Daddy Williams, Bucky.

BW:  I certainly didn't.  And he's quite mysterious with what he's
saying.  Is he implying that someone paid him to take this match? 
Someone that Vasquez should know?  

GM:  I think he's talking about a certain former National Champion,
Bucky.  Perhaps a parting shot at a rival?

BW:  I can't believe it.

[A trapped Williams powers over to the ropes where he simply grabs the
top rope, forcing the official to call for a break.  As Vasquez releases
the hold, Williams quickly moves away, ready for a fight.]

GM:  Williams backs off, fists at the ready.  He's ready to throw down
at any given moment, Bucky.

BW:  Of course he is.  This is a sneak attack on Juan Vasquez and who
knows what Vasquez will do to fight back.

[The two men tangle up in a tieup again, this time Williams forcing
Vasquez back to the corner.  The referee steps in, calling for a clean
break.  But with a clenched fist, Williams winds up...

...and then stops, shaking his head as he backs up, giving the official
his clean break.]

GM:  And Sweet Daddy Williams breaks clean there, Bucky.

BW:  That may be a big mistake.  He should waffle him upside the head at
the first chance he gets.

[Vasquez looks surprised at Williams, nodding his head as he eases out
of the buckles.  The two men square off in the middle again, tying up...

...and Vasquez buries a knee into the midsection!]

GM:  Ohh!  Juan goes to the gut on Williams.

BW:  The soft spot, for sure.

[Grabbing Williams by the arm, he fires him across the ring.]

GM:  Big whip by the champion... Williams ducks the chop...

[Bouncing off the far ropes, Williams leaps into the air, taking Vasquez
down with a vertical bodyscissor tackle and lays in the heavy blows,
throwing right hands from the mount to the cheers of the crowd!]

GM:  Sweet Daddy Williams is takin' it to the National Champion!

[At the count of four, Williams breaks up the barrage of haymakers,
climbing to his feet.  He reaches down, dragging Vasquez up by the arm,
and flinging him into the nearest set of buckles.]

GM:  Into the corner goes the champ!  And the challenger follows him in!

[With a head of steam, Williams barrels towards the corner...

...and runs right into two raised boots to the mush!]

GM:  Ohh!  Big counter by Vasquez!  

BW:  And at this point of the match, these two are just countering
everything they throw at one another.

[A dazed Williams stumbles backwards as Vasquez hops up to the middle
rope, standing tall...]

GM:  Axehandle!

[But Williams catches him with a right hand to the gut on the way down,
flipping over the champ and dropping him on the canvas.  The crowd
cheers as Williams windmills his right arm behind him over and over as
he waits for Vasquez to rise up...]

GM:  BOOM!  Big right hand by the Sweet Daddy!

[The haymaker staggers Vasquez, sending him stumbling backwards into the
ropes.  Grabbing the back of the champion's head, Williams marches
across the ring...

...and SLAMS his face into the top turnbuckle!]

GM:  Facefirst to the corner!

[Williams holds up one finger to the crowd, still holding Vasquez by the
hair...

...and SLAMS his face into the buckles again, driving it in over and
over as the fans count along.]


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

[Vasquez stumbles away, staggering to the middle of the ring where
Williams grabs him by the hair again, marching to the opposite corner. 
Again, he holds up one finger and then drives Vasquez' face into the
buckle.]

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

[This time, as he finishes, Williams spins Vasquez' back against the
buckles.  With a whoop, he hooks a side headlock with his right arm,
swinging his left around in a quick gesture to the crowd who cheer.]

GM:  He's going for it!  He's calling for the Riley Roundup!

[Attempting the running bulldog that his friend Vernon Riley used for so
long, Williams rushes out of the corner...

...but gets shoved off by the champion at the last moment!]

GM:  Ohh!  Vasquez counters the bulldog and-

[And as Williams spins around to confront him, Vasquez leaps up into the
air, lashing out with his boot to the back of the head!]

GM:  OHHH!  KICK TO THE BACK OF THE HEAD!!

BW:  Us professionals call that an enzugiri, Gordo.

GM:  Whatever you call it, it may have turned out the lights for Sweet
Daddy Williams!

[Vasquez crawls across the downed Williams to apply a press.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  

[A big cheer goes up as Williams fires a shoulder off the canvas to
break up the pin.]

GM:  Only a two count off the head kick but Williams is slow to try to
get up after that.  Vasquez really rang his bell, Bucky.

BW:  Juan Vasquez loves that leaping enzugiri and he's knocked countless
opponents goofy with that very move.

[Back on his feet, the National Champion drags Williams off the mat,
popping him across the chest with a knife-edge chop.  A second one backs
Williams down a couple feet.  Nearing the ropes, Vasquez grabs the back
of Williams' head and smashes home a headbutt that knocks Williams back
into the ropes, both arms hanging over the top rope to stay on his
feet.]

GM:  What a headbutt!  Juan Vasquez has one of the fiercest headbutts in
our industry.

BW:  But as you watch this match, think ahead to The Main Event.  Think
about MAMMOTH Mizusawa challenging for the National Title.  Will these
weapons that work so well against Sweet Daddy Williams even faze the
giant?  Can Vasquez make something like an enzugiri or that headbutt do
any damage at all to the big man?

GM:  The world will find out the answer to that question in just about
six weeks.

[Backed into the ropes, Williams is drilled with another chop across the
chest by Vasquez who then grabs his arm, sending him sailing across the
ring.]

GM:  Whip by Vasquez... clothesli- ducked by Williams!

[Who blindly reaches back, hooking the champion's arms, and drags him
down to the canvas.]

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


"OHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


[The crowd groans with surprise at the near fall.  Both competitors
quickly scramble to their feet, each looking to get the edge as they
rise.  A wild right hand by Vasquez comes up empty over the ducking
Williams who hooks a side waistlock, hoisting Vasquez off the mat...

...and bringing him down on a bent knee!]

GM:  Atomic drop by the Sweet Daddy!

[A stunned Vasquez stands wobbly in one spot as Williams bounds off the
ropes in front of Vasquez and bowls him over with a running
clothesline!]

GM:  Big clothesline!  Vasquez is flat on his back in the center of the
ring...

[Winding up, Williams hits the ropes again, spinning his right arm
around and around...

...and leaps up with a loud bellow, dropping a big elbow down into the
chest!]

GM:  Sweet Daddy Williams lays down the thunder on the National Champion
with that elbowdrop!  And a cover now... he's got one!  He's got two! 
He's got- no, Vasquez is out at two!

[Trying to stay on the attack, Williams regains his feet and bends over
to pull Vasquez up...

...and gets POPPED with a loud uppercut to the jaw that can be heard
throughout the Crockett Coliseum, the impact of which sends Williams
falling backwards, landing in a seated position against the
turnbuckles.]

GM:  Good gravy, what a shot by Vasquez!  Did you HEAR that, Bucky?

BW:  I think even Justin Bieber heard that with his pre-pubescent ears!

GM:  Who?

[Vasquez staggers to his feet, also falling back into the closest set of
turnbuckles.  With a roar, he charges across the ring at top speed,
leaping into the air...

...and DRIVING both feet squarely into the must of the Atlanta fan
favorite!]

GM:  OHHHHHH!  He might've caved the man's face in with that!  A high
impact running dropkick in the corner and- 

[Grabbing Williams by the leg, Vasquez drags him from the corner to
apply a press.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  TH-  

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  Shoulder up!  Williams got the shoulder up!

[Climbing to his feet, Vasquez bends his arm, measuring his man as he
drops an elbow down across the chest.  He quickly scrambles back up,
dropping another one.]

GM:  Elbow after elbow, all being driven down into the heart of
Williams!

[Vasquez repeats the process over and over, each one connecting
perfectly before, after six elbowdrops, the champion attempts another
cover.]

GM:  Lateral press - he's got one!  He's got two!  He's got- no, he
doesn't!  Williams is out the back door again!

[This time, the National Champion looks a little frustrated as he gets
to his feet, reaching down to drag Williams up...

...and this time, HE gets popped with an uppercut!]

GM:  Ohh!  Sweet Daddy Williams returns the favor!

[The blow sends Vasquez stumbling backwards and allows Sweet Daddy
Williams time to get back to his feet.  He promptly grabs the champion's
wrist, firing him across the ring where he smashes into the buckles,
stumbling back out...

...and getting launched high overhead with a backdrop!]

GM:  HUUUUUUUUGE back bodydrop by Williams!  

BW:  Juan Vasquez should've changed some of the light bulbs while he was
up there, daddy!

GM:  Williams is waiting for him... 

[And as Vasquez gets up...]

GM:  Big clothesline by Williams!  And a second one puts Vasquez down
again!

[As the champion rises for the third time, Williams backs him into the
ropes, firing him across the ring...]

GM:  Off the far side goes the champion...

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  SLEEPER!  WILLIAMS HOOKS THE SLEEPER!!

[The crowd roars as the man from Hotlanta applies the sleeperhold in the
center of the ring, applying pressure on the neck to try and send the
champion into Dreamland.]

GM:  Vasquez is struggling against!  Vasquez is trying to find a way
out!

BW:  If he doesn't, this one's over, Gordo!

GM:  It certainly is and-

[Vasquez, knowing exactly where he is inside the ring, pushes off with
his feet, driving Williams' back into the corner.]

GM:  Into the buckles but Williams is hanging on!  He doesn't want to
let go!

[Moving out of the corner, Vasquez pauses...

...and drives his opponent's back into the corner again!]

GM:  Again to the buckles!  Williams is hanging on for dear life!

[Still in the corner, Vasquez twists his body slightly, throwing a trio
of elbows into the gut of Williams to finally break the hold.  A dazed
Vasquez grabs Williams by the back of the head and DRIVES his knee up
into the face with a kneelift!]

GM:  Ohh!  Million dollar kneelift by the champion puts Williams back
down on the mat, sitting against the buckles...

[Grabbing the top rope to steady himself, Vasquez LUNGES forward with a
knee to the face of the kneeling Williams!]

GM:  Hard knee in the corner!

[Vasquez repeats the attack, driving his knee into the face three more
times.  He reaches down, dragging Williams to his feet.  Bending over,
Vasquez scoops Williams up over his left shoulder...]

GM:  Wait a second!  Wait a second!  He's going for the City of Angels!

[Vasquez stumbles out of the corner, trying to keep the big man balanced
over his torso...

...but a pair of sharp elbows from Williams breaks the grip, allowing
the big man to get his feet back on the mat where he promptly hooks a
front facelock and with a shout SPIKES Vasquez' skull into the canvas!]

GM:  DDT!  DDT!  WILLIAMS PLANTS HIM!!!

[A tired Williams rolls the champion over, collapsing across him in a
lateral press.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE-

[A HUGE roar erupts as Vasquez fires a shoulder off the mat, the referee
holding up two fingers.]

GM:  He only got two!  Juan Vasquez got the shoulder up just in time and
he only got two!

[With both men down, the fans start clapping and chanting, trying to
inspire their favorite to their feet to finish this thing off.]

GM:  Listen to this Crockett Coliseum crowd going crazy for these two
men!

BW:  I can't even hear myself think, daddy!

[Both men stagger to their feet at roughly the same time, Williams
lashing out first with a right hand.]

GM:  Haymaker by Sweet Daddy!

[Vasquez fires back, throwing a jaw-rattling forearm smash!]

GM:  Forearm by the champ!

[Williams throws another right hand, spinning Vasquez around...

...but he keeps on spinning, throwing a devastating rolling forearm
smash that knocks the Sweet Daddy into the ropes where he slowly bounces
off into the waiting arm of Juan Vasquez!]

GM:  HIPTOSS!

[The crowd roars for the trademark hiptoss as Vasquez uses the
opportunity to bounce off the adjacent ropes, charging back in, leaping
into the air and tucking his legs...

...and SMASHING down backfirst across the chest of Williams!]

GM:  BACKSPLASH!!

BW:  Shades of Tommy Stephens!

[Vasquez promptly rolls over, throwing himself across Williams again.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR-


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


GM:  He couldn't get him!  He thought he had him!  I thought he had him!
 This whole building thought he had him but Sweet Daddy Williams is
showing the heart and will of a champion here tonight in Dallas!  The
title's not on the line but Williams is fighting like it is!

BW:  It's the chance to beat the National Champion.  A whole lotta doors
open for the guy who knocks off the champ - even in a non-title match.

[Rising to his feet and showing the slightest bit of frustration,
Vasquez rains down clubbing forearm blows to the back of the head and
neck on a kneeling Williams.  Grabbing him by the head, Vasquez pulls
him into a scoop...

...and SLAMS him down hard on the mat before pointing to the corner!]

GM:  Vasquez is going up top!

BW:  He REALLY wants to finish him off now!

[But instead of approaching from inside the ring, the usual path for the
Moonsault Trilogy, Vasquez exits the ring to the apron, climbing from
outside the ring.]

GM:  Where is he going, Bucky?

BW:  I'm guessing he's going up top but everyone in the building thought
he was going for the moonsault.

GM:  Vasquez to the second rope... showing some signs of fatigue... now
stepping up top...

[The crowd roars as the National Champion stands atop the turnbuckles,
looking down at the stunned Williams.  He looks out over the sea of
flashbulbs, pointing to the fans...

...and takes flight!]

GM:  VAAAAASQUEZ!

[Flinging out his arms and legs to full extension, Vasquez sails through
the air, and CRASHES down across the chest of Williams with a picture
perfect splash!]

GM:  OHHH!  HE GOT ALL OF THAT!!

[Having knocked the wind out of Williams, Vasquez reaches back to hook a
leg.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE-

[But at the very last possible second, Sweet Daddy Williams FIRES a
shoulder off the mat to a shocked roar from the crowd!]

GM:  HE GOT THE SHOULDER UP!!  CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?!

BW:  This is a different Sweet Daddy Williams, Gordo!  This isn't the
shuckin' and jivin' goofball idiot we've seen wrestling for years - this
is a man who wants to wear gold in 2011!

[Vasquez pushes up to his knees, shaking his head back and forth as the
referee holds up two fingers.  With a nod, Vasquez climbs to his feet,
leaning over with his hands on his legs, watching as a hurting Williams
rolls over to his stomach, trying to push himself up off the mat...]

GM:  What is Vasquez doing now?  The champion's just standing there...
waiting... watching...

BW:  He might be trying to get a breather while he waits.

GM:  You might be right about that.  This match is around the ten minute
mark and both men are showing some signs of fatigue.  Williams now to
one knee...

[Vasquez steps forward, looking down at the kneeling Sweet Daddy
Williams.  He balls up his right hand, shaking his head at his opponent,
and shouts loud enough for all to hear...]

"STAY..."

[And uncorks a hellacious right cross on the jaw, stepping forward to
deliver maximum impact on his follow-through, screaming "DOOOOWN!" as he
connects.  Williams recoils from the blow like he'd been shot with a
rifle, falling flat on his back.]

GM:  My god!  My god in heaven, what a right hand!

[Vasquez falls to his knees, throwing himself into a final cover.]

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


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[The crowd roars for the National Champion as he pushes right back up to
his knees, nodding his head and patting Sweet Daddy Williams on the
chest before the official helps him the rest of the way up.]

MC:  Here is your winner... the AWA National Champion...

JUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN VASSSSSSSSSSSSSSQUEZ!

[BIG ROAR FROM THE CROWD!]

GM:  Vasquez has done it!  A big win for the champion here tonight on
Saturday Night Wrestling!

[The champion looks elated as they hand him his title belt back.  He
steps up to the middle rope, holding the belt high and soaking up the
cheers from the crowd when suddenly...]

BW:  HERE COMES TROUBLE!

[The crowd explodes in warning boos for Vasquez as MAMMOTH Mizusawa
along with Louis Matsui come charging from the back, moving swiftly down
the ramp (or as swiftly as a giant moves anyways.)]

GM:  Mizusawa!  Mizusawa's coming out here and I'm not sure Vasquez even
knows it yet!

[The giant swings a leg over the ropes, striding into the ring.  He
approaches Vasquez from the blind side, grabbing his hair with both
hands.]

GM:  He's got him!  The giant's got the champion!

[With a loud bellow, Mizusawa delivers a crushing headbutt to the back
of the skull!]

GM:  A headbutt by the giant!

[Still holding the hair, Mizusawa nods as Matsui screams, "AGAIN! 
AGAIN!" from the floor and the giant obliges, smashing home a second
massive headbutt to the skull!]

GM:  Mizusawa with a second headbutt!  Vasquez is out on his feet!

[Spinning him around, the giant grabs Vasquez by the throat.  With a
roar, he hoists him high into the air, holding him there for the entire
world to see...

...and DRIVES him down to the mat with a thunderous chokeslam!]

GM:  Chokeslam!  Mizusawa just chokeslammed the National Champion!

[Vasquez is motionless on the canvas, lying flat on his back as Louis
Matsui steps into the ring...

...and picks up the National Title belt off the canvas.]

GM:  Hey!  Put that down!  That's not yours!

BW:  Not yet!

[With a wide grin, Matsui presents the title belt to Mizusawa who takes
it...

...and lets loose a loud roar as he hoists the title belt high
overhead!]

GM:  Mizusawa's got the belt!  And this could be... it could be a
preview of what we'll see in six weeks' time!

BW:  Get used to this, you idiots.  Because after The Main Event, you're
going to be seeing a lot of this.  MAMMOTH Mizusawa... the AWA National
Champion!

GM:  We're out of time!  We've gotta go!  We'll see you next time, fans!

[The shot holds on Mizusawa, still holding the title belt high overhead
as the fans shower him with boos... and garbage.  The giant stands over
the motionless Vasquez, an image that will be burned into the minds of
AWA fans for six weeks as we fade to black.]