Saturday Night Wrestling

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                            American Wrestling Alliance 
                                   Proudly Presents 
                         AWA Saturday Night Wrestling

                 Live from the Nashville Municipal Auditorium
                               Nashville, Tennessee
                                   June 25th, 2011
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[As we fade in, we hear the closing theme to the Fishing With Orlando
Wilson show as the shot starts to fade.  It is replaced with footage
marked "TWO WEEKS AGO" from the end of Saturday Night Wrestling where
Juan Vasquez and Jim Watkins have gripped a 2x4 between them, rushing
forward to knock Kolya Sudakov over the ropes and out to the floor where
Jim Watkins quickly joins him, continuing the attack...]

GM:  We've got fights raging all over the place!  Fans, we're almost out
of time!  We're almost-

[Vasquez is standing alone in the middle of the ring, the Russian flag
gripped in his hands.  He seems prepared to rip the flag in half.]

BW:  He can't do that!  Get the flag away from him!

GM:  Do it, Juan!  Tear that filthy rag apart!

[But before he can...]


"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


[The crowd reacts as someone came rushing from the back, steel chair in
hand and CLUBBED Juan Vasquez over the head with it, the National
Champion just barely getting an arm up to absorb some of the blow!]

GM:  It's the West Memphis Assassin!  And by God, he just DRILLED Juan
Vasquez over the head with that steel chair!  That vile, vile chairshot
just leveled the National Champion!

[The masked Assassin stands over the motionless Vasquez, throwing the
now-dented chair down on the mat.  He glares down at the National
Champion before spitting on his prone form.]

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

BW:  He just clubbed him over the head with a steel chair and you're
worried about him spitting on the man!

[Reaching down, the Assassin hauls Vasquez up to his feet, revealing a
heavy stream of blood pouring out of the skull of the National Champion.
 The Assassin nods his head slowly, gesturing at the busted-open
Vasquez.  He leans close, shouting loud enough that our camera can pick
it up.]

"YOU THOUGHT IT WAS OVER?!  YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD TREAT ME LIKE THAT?!"

[The Assassin slowly lifts a heavily taped right thumb...

...and JAMS it into the side of the throat, pulling Vasquez back down to
the canvas!]

GM:  The Assassin's Spike!  He's got the Spike hooked in!  

BW:  Just like Vasquez did when he wore that mask!

GM:  The man's already unconscious!  What does this prove?!  It doesn't
prove a damn thing!  He's unconscious from the steel chair to the skull!

[After a few more moments, the Assassin breaks the hold, climbing to his
feet before the jeering Little Rock crowd.  He stands over the bloodied
and motionless Vasquez, planting a foot on his chest...

...and raising his right arm in triumph as the crowd hurls jeers in his
direction!]

GM:  The West Memphis Assassin has struck and struck HARD here tonight
in Little Rock, fans!  We're out of time!  We've gotta go!  But Juan
Vasquez, the National Champion, has been bloodied and beaten here in the
middle of the ring tonight!  And the question is - how much damage was
done?  How bad of condition is Juan Vasquez in?

BW:  I've got a better question for you, Gordo.

GM:  Which is?

BW:  Who IS that masked man?!

[The masked man stands over the motionless Vasquez 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 Nashville Municipal Auditorium where over 8,000 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.

Steel barricades also line the long aisle leading up towards the locker
room, security personnel stationed every twenty feet or so up the aisle.
 There's a gap in the railing towards the back that leads to an elevated
platform where the set of Todd Michaelson's "Money Pit" has been
assembled with fake walls and bags of money that is supposed to look
like everyone's vision of the inside of a bank vault.

As we cut to the ringside area, atop thin black mats that cover the hard
floor of the basketball arena, 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 three-time Announcer
of the Year, Bucky Wilde.  Bucky, we are just over a week away from
Wrestlerock which will be coming to you LIVE from Durham, North Carolina
and there are a whole lot of questions still unanswered about that big
night to celebrate America's birthday.

BW:  Like just how badly is Vasquez' melon cracked?  Who can Supernova
find to actually want to team with Old Man Watkins?  And of course, just
how long of a line will Eric Preston have to wait in to get his
unemployment check?

GM:  Oh, that's very funny, Bucky.  The fact is- wait a second, fans...
look at this!

[The camera shot abruptly cuts to the aisle where Juan Vasquez, the AWA
National Champion is stepping through the ropes into the ring.  He is
dressed in a black
skeleton hoodie, a new school EMWC "Triumvirate" t-shirt, and dark, torn
jeans. The National title is slung over his shoulder and an angered look
is on his face.]

JV: When I first saw the West Memphis Assassin pop up again, I thought
one of the boys in the back was trying to play a joke on me.

[Juan shrugs his shoulders.]

JV: Well, I laughed too...-at first. After all, it takes some real nerve
to take up that mask and that name around these parts. But ya' know
what?

_This_ is not a joke.

[He lowers his head, pointing to where the stitches are, as a result of
the chairshot he took from The West Memphis Assassin.]

JV: Things stop being really funny real fast when someone SMASHES A
CHAIR OVER MY HEAD.

[His voice grows loud and agitated, but doesn't quite reach the level of
screaming. Juan tries to speak as calmly as he can, but he's mad,
there's no doubt about that.]

JV: At that point, it stops being a joke...and it just becomes a very
serious problem. A very serious problem that I plan to take care of...

...AT WRESTLEROCK!

[The crowd applauds Vasquez's announcement, but the champ isn't in the
mood for soaking in cheers.]

JV: That's right! Juan Vasquez vs. The West Memphis Assassin!

You wanna' haunt me as a ghost from the past?

You think you can play that game with me???

[Juan reaches into his back pocket and holds up a black mask with a gold
bull emblem between the eyes. If you've followed the career of Juan
Vasquez, you would know that this is the mask of another mystery man
that he once masqueraded as in the land of extreme: The Ribera Kid.]

JV: Then here! Take this mask!

[He runs to the ropes and tosses it angrily into the crowd, where a mob
of fans leap up to grab it. Reaching into his back pocket again, he
pulls out another mask...that of The Man in Black.]

JV: Heck, take this one too! Complete the whole damn set!

[Juan tosses that one into the crowd as well, stomping around the ring
in a rage. He then turns and points angrily to the backstage area.]

JV: I mean, just who do you think you're trying to fool, Stevie!?!

[There's some shocked reactions from the crowd at the mention of the
former National champion, but the fans for the most part, jeers at the
mention of his name. A shout of "YOU SUCK, STEVIE!" from the crowd
brings a slight smile to Juan's face.]

JV: It wasn't that long ago when I offered you that rematch, but you
backed down like the coward I always knew you were. Well...not this
time, amigo!

[Pop!]

JV: You can deny it all you want, but that's just fine with me,
Mister...

[He air quotes.]

JV: ..."West Memphis Assassin." You can play dress-up and call yourself
whatever the hell you want. It doesn't matter what you cover your face
with, 'cause I know _damn_ well who you are! So at Wrestlerock, you keep
that mask on, 'cause that ain't what I want. What I want, is something
I've already taken!

[A grim, serious look forms on Juan's face, as he speaks through gritted
teeth, the anger and rage barely contained in him now.]

JV: _Your career._

[Vasquez pulls away from the camera, ignoring the cheering fans as he
steps through the ropes out onto the apron...

...when he finds himself confronted by the West Memphis Assassin who is
standing at the top of the aisle, mic in hand.  The Assassin is wearing
a plain black t-shirt with the sleeves cut out and a pair of blue jeans
along with his trademark mask.]

WMA:  How is it... after all these years... you STILL don't get it?

[The Assassin takes a few more steps down the aisle, being berated from
both sides by the Tennessee crowd.]

WMA:  Some things about you never change... AMIGO...

[The masked man points a finger down the aisle.]

WMA:  You're arrogant.  You're self-centered.  And you're delusional.

You think I couldn't have finished you off two weeks ago if I had wanted
to?  I had you dead to rights, son... and there wasn't a single soul
rushing down that aisle to save your skull.

[Vasquez shouts something off-mic.]

WMA:  You think everything revolves around you.  You've spent too much
time reading your own press clippings.  This... 

[The masked man gestures to the surroundings.]

WMA:  This isn't the Juan Vasquez Show and we aren't your supporting
cast.  But you've never been able to understand that... not here... not
there... not anywhere.  To you, this will always be your world and the
rest of us just don't matter.

You're a man no one trusts and rightfully so.  

You're a user, Vasquez.

[The masked man nods at the jeering crowd.]

WMA:  They may be fooled.  But me... we... we know.  The path to your
success is paved with the bodies of those you've used and abused...
those you've stepped on and over to get you to right where you always
felt you deserved to be... to the top...

But no more, Vasquez.

It ends.  Not now... not tonight.

But at Wrestlerock, it ends.

[A soft chuckle.]

WMA:  There's a whole new day coming for the entire wrestling world.  

A day without Juan Vasquez... and what a glorious day it'll be!

And you... amigo... ain't ever gonna see it comin'.

[Another laugh.]

WMA:  See you next weekend.

[The masked man simply turns his back, walking away.  A fired-up Vasquez
shouts after him, hopping down off the apron and heading back up the
aisle towards the locker rooms...

...where a sea of security steps in, holding him back as the masked man
disappears out of sight.]

GM:  Wow.

BW:  You can say that again.

GM:  That was an intense few minutes, fans.  Juan Vasquez - he believes
it's Stevie Scott under that mask!  He made that quite obvious right
there and he says the price for this masquerade is Scott's career!

BW:  Well, he already tried to take that once.  Good luck in going after
it again, chump!

GM:  But the masked man... he... well, he had some strong words as well.

BW:  All true too!  Vasquez is a user!  He's a self-centered jerk who
has the wool pulled over all these sheep in the crowd's eyes!  I can't
wait for Wrestlerock when the West Memphis Assassin puts him down once
and for all!

GM:  That's part of our lineup for Wrestlerock... we just heard that
announced.  But is it a title match?  Is the mask on the line?  What is
going on?

BW:  No idea.

GM:  I'm sure we'll find out later tonight but coming up next, fans...

[The sounds of Ugly Kid Joe's "Everything About You" kicks in to a big
burst of mixed reactioness from the crowd.]

BW:  It's our special guest commentator!

GM:  Our whaa... I didn't know anything about this!

BW:  We only wake you up for the important meetings, Gordo.

["Hotshot" Stevie Scott emerges from the entrance curtain, dressed in a
pair of jeans and a black t-shirt with the sleeves cut out.  An irate
Juan Vasquez is still on the side of the entranceway, security holding
him back as he shouts in Scott's direction.   A puzzled Stevie Scott
looks over at his angry rival, lifting his right hand to wave.]

GM:  Oh, come on!  He's just mocking Vasquez now!

BW:  Yeah, what of it?

[Scott slowly walks past Vasquez, grinning at the furious reaction as
makes his way down the aisle towards the ringside area.  He shakes hands
with both Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde.]

GM:  Welcome to Saturday Night Wrestling, Mr. Scott.

HSS:  Mr. Scott?  We're so formal, Gordo!  I'm bringin' the
Stevietainment to SNW and that's all you've got for me... amigo.

GM:  Amigo?!  That sounds a little too familiar, Mr. Scott!

HSS:  Huh?  Everyone knows I've spent some time South of the border. 
Gotta be able to spew the linguistics down there or you might end up
with your head under a bridge while your body's jammed under a toilet in
Mexico City so Gordo, I, of course, hablas me some espanol.

GM:  I see.  What do you have to say about what just happened out here a
few moments ago?

HSS:  What do you mean?

GM:  I mean the fact that the West Memphis Assassin was out here again -
just two weeks after he clubbed Juan Vasquez over the head with a steel
chair, one of the most vile acts you can do to another human being in
this sport!

HSS:  Oh yeah, that.  It's just awful, you know?  I never endorse
hitting someone in the skull with a chair... well, unless they have it
coming.  It's bad though.  Real bad.  Almost as bad as... say,
piledriving somebody after the match in a deliberate attempt to end
their career.  Didn't see you all up in arms over that one, Gordo.

GM:  I expressed my dismay at what happened.  I did not support what
Juan Vasquez did to you at all!

HSS:  Yeah, you sounded real broken up in mid-cartwheel celebrating my
title loss.

GM:  Well, I can see this is getting us nowhere.  What brings you out to
ringside tonight?

BW:  I told you, Gordo!  He's joining us on commentary!

GM:  But why?

HSS:  Wrestlerock is just about a week away, right?  

GM:  Yes.

HSS:  Shouldn't I be doing some scouting for it?

GM:  You're not scheduled for a match to the best of my-

HSS:  All the more reason to be out here and see... what pops up.

[STEVIEGRIN~!]

GM:  Alright, well... let's go up to Phil Watson for the opening
matchup!

[Cut to the ring where Phil Watson is standing.]

PW:  Tonight's opening contest is a handicap match scheduled for one
fall with a fifteen minute time limit.  Introducing first... in the
corner to my right... from Memphis, Tennessee and Cleveland, Ohio
respectively... at a total combined weight of 426 pounds.... they are
the team of Jimmy Joseph and DK Carter!

[The two young men spunkily raise their arms to some cheers.]

PW:  And their opponent...

[Cue the sound of the horrific screaming.  The shrill shouts of a woman
in terror is enough to set you on edge as the curtain parts, revealing
the hooded form of the Prince of Darkness, Anton Layton.  Layton is
nodding under his dark hood, waving his arms about as the screams turn
into the sounds of Nine Inch Nails' "Burn."  The crowd's jeers are
bordering on the out of control as ringside fans hurl themselves at the
barricade, shouting and screaming at the demonic one.  A few steps
behind him walks the monstrous Polemos.  The God of War's face is
covered in a white mask, holes cut for his eyes and mouth, and gigantic
horns coming off the top.  His shoulders are draped in what appear to be
the skins of animals as he stalks down the aisle after Layton.]

GM:  And here are two men that I wouldn't want any part of at
Wrestlerock.

HSS:  Well, luckily for you, Gordo... the Lynch boys took that spot on
the dance card.

BW:  Wrestlerock's gonna be a glorious night, Gordo!  We're gonna see
the Lynch boys' heads mounted on spikes by the Unholy Alliance and the
end is near for Juan Vasquez as well?  I wish Wrestlerock was tonight!

[Layton reaches the edge of the ring, spreading his arms wide as he
throws his head back violently, flipping his hood off to uncover his
face, black circles painted around his eyes with red streaks on each
cheek.]

GM:  This guy's not playing with a full deck.

HSS:  Not arguing that one but Polemos just might be his Ace in the
hole, Gordo.

[Layton steps aside, allowing Polemos to climb up on the apron.  The big
man slings a leg over the top rope, followed by the other...

...and the bell sounds as Jimmy Joseph and DK Carter decide their best
plan of attack is to attack now.]

GM:  Here we go!

[Polemos is caught off-guard by the sudden assault, buckling under a
barrage of rights and lefts as he falls back to the ropes.  The crowd
roars at the first sign of weakness... but that cheer dies abruptly as
Polemos grabs a handful of face and shoves Carter down to the mat.]

GM:  Uh oh!

[He reaches out a beefy hand, wrapping it around the throat of Jimmy
Joseph who is struggling under the powerful grip...

...and hoists him into the air, bodily throwing him into the buckles.]

GM:  Ohh!  Joseph slams hard in the corner!

[Polemos grabs Joseph's left arm with his right hand and one-hand whips
him from corner to corner before rushing across...]

GM:  OHHHH!  BIG SPLASH IN THE CORNER!!

HSS:  That'll do some damage.  This big man's gotta be well North of
three hundred pounds, Gordo.

GM:  I would say so, yes.

[The God of War spins away from the crumpled Joseph who is now seated in
the buckles...

...and launches himself at the incoming Carter, throwing a big boot to
the jaw that sends Carter SAILING over the ropes and down to the floor
to the demented cackles of Anton Layton!]

GM:  Carter's out of here!  Carter gets sent out the hard way!

HSS:  You know, I'm not the biggest fan of these Unholy Alliance
goofballs but this guy's got the goods, Gordo.  Polemos is a force to be
reckoned with.

BW:  And just imagine when you put him alongside Anton Layton and Ebola
Zaire at Wrestlerock with those do-goodin' Lynch boys!  It's gonna be a
massacre!

HSS:  Ehhh, I wouldn't count the Lynch boys out, Bucky.  They may be a
bunch of baby-kissin' Boy Scouts but they can fight when they need to. 
I've seen some footage of them in their old stomping grounds and you
might be surprised to see what they're capable of.

[With Carter disposed of, Polemos grabs the downed Joseph by the throat,
physically yanking him to his feet...

...and hoisting him off the canvas, holding him high for a moment before
DRIVING him down to the mat with bone-shaking force!]

GM:  GOOD GRIEF!!

BW:  I think he bounced about three feet off the mat, Gordo!

[The God of War arrogantly places a foot down on the chest of the
motionless Joseph.]

GM:  That's a one... that's a two... and that's a three.  This one is
over thankfully.

[Polemos lifts his foot off the downed Joseph, not even acknowledging
his victory as Anton Layton rolls under the ropes, clutching a mic.]

GM:  Oh, brother... Anton Layton's got a microphone and-

[Layton's screech cuts off Gordon.]

AL:  THE TIIIIIIIIME DRAWS NEAR!

[Layton stomps around the ring, circling the monstrous Polemos.]

AL:  For months, they've told the world that the darkness was coming -
that a dark cloud is hanging over the entire AWA.  

A storm is brewing, they say.

I say that if the Unholy Alliance is a storm...

[Layton spins, slapping Polemos HARD across the chest.]

AL:  THIS MAN IS THE BOLT OF LIGHTNING THAT WILL ELECTROCUTE THE WORLD!

EHEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEH!!

[Layton throws his head back in his cackle.]

AL:  Soon, the Lynch boys will understand what it means to be white
knights.  They will understand that heroes are made to be crushed by the
villains.  The good guys don't always win in the end...

...and the monster in the movie usually racks up a pretty high body
count.

[The Prince of Darkness grins all evil-like.]

AL:  Which brings me to Jonas Olrikke.

[Layton cocks his head to the side.]

AL:  A puzzle, I must admit.  It's common for the so-called heroes to
the masses to walk into a town overrun with evil and aim their pistols
at the nearest demon of the dark.

But not so common for a fellow demon.

You are not a hero, Jonas Olrikke.  You are not a white knight.  

So why?  Why delve into the darkness and risk your own neck?

[Layton glares into the camera thoughtfully, tapping his temple.]

AL:  I don't know.  I don't care.

But realize that your most treasured posession is very much at risk when
you climb into the ring with me later tonight.  

I am not a man who cares to have my hand raised at the end of the night.
 I am a man who is only pleased when my Master is pleased as well.

And for that to happen, I must take what you treasure most.

[Layton grins.]

AL:  And I shall, Jonas Olrikke.  I shall.

[Layton throws the mic down, gesturing to Polemos who follows him in
exiting the ring, heading back up the aisle towards the locker room as
we fade to black.

Cut 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 live action where we
find four men already in the rin- whoops, make that three as Vladimir
Velikov FIRES a young man through the ropes to the floor.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans!  And as you can see, the Russians have hit the
ring hard!

HSS:  They ain't messin' around tonight.

[The crowd jeers as Kolya Sudakov lifts young Kevin Lester up in a
double handed choke, strangling the air out of him.  The Russian War
Machine flings Lester down to the canvas at the referee's four count,
breaking the illegal hold in time.]

GM:  These two men, and that man at ringside with them, will be inside
that massive Tower of Doom in just over a week's time.  We know that
Sultan Azam Sharif will be with them... but who else will be on their
squad?

BW:  Both teams are a man down and both teams have gotta figure it out
fast.

GM:  We've heard a lot of wild rumors over the past couple weeks - a lot
of names being tossed around on both sides of the aisle.  But we're
extremely hopeful that we'll find out both teams here tonight in
Nashville.

BW:  You couldn't pay me enough to climb into that Tower.  There's some
tough people in that thing.

GM:  You ever been in a Tower of Doom, Stevie?

HSS:  Hrm?

[An obviously-distracted Stevie Scott is silent as Kolya Sudakov corners
Kevin Lester, rocking him with roundhouse kicks to the ribcage over and
over before he biel throws him halfway across the ring...]

GM:  You're taking a long, hard look at Kolya Sudakov in there, Stevie.

HSS:  He and I have a history if you recall.

GM:  Oh, I think we all recall that.  Almost two years to the date
actually, you nearly caved in his skull with a metal briefcase to become
the AWA National Champion.

HSS:  Eh, nobody's perfect.

[Sudakov hoists Lester up, slamming him down with a thunderous crash
before slapping the hand of his Uncle who steps in, winds up, and drops
a big elbow down on the chest!]

GM:  Big elbowdrop by the burly Russian - quick cover gets a two...

[Outside the ring, Ivan Kostovich is barking orders to his men as
Velikov climbs to his feet, dragging Lester up with him.  He delivers a
knee into the gut, doubling the young man up before a heavy forearm
smashes across the back of the neck, knocking Lester to a knee...

...and a crushing headbutt to the bridge of the nose knocks Lester
flat.]

GM:  You just have to wonder though... when is the last time Ivan
Kostovich has competed in a match?

HSS:  The Tower Of Doom ain't your normal match, Gordo.  It's a war up,
down, and all around a steel prison.  There's only one way in and only
one way out... and to get out, you gotta fight your way out.  He may be
up there in years but Kostovich is a fighter... you can bet on that.

GM:  So is Jim Watkins, Stevie.

HSS:  No doubt.  That's what makes it a real interesting match.

GM:  One-half of your double Main Event to go down at Wrestlerock and I
can't wait to be ringside for that one.  

[Another tag brings Sudakov back into the ring who tosses Lester across
the ring in a picture perfect butterfly suplex.   Kostovich shouts an
instruction to Sudakov who hauls Lester into a gutwrench, hoisting him
up across his massive shoulder before slapping the hand of Vladimir
Velikov...]

GM:  Velikov's heading up...

[And leaps off the top, smashing his arm down across the throat of
Lester, flipping him over and back down to the mat!]

GM:  Ohh!  Impressive double team by the Russians... and there's the
one-two-three!

[The bell rings as Velikov rises to his feet, ordering his nephew to
raise his hand.  The crowd jeers as Ivan Kostovich slips into the ring,
mic in hand.]

IK:  Victory!

[The crowd jeers!]

IK:  You can boo all you want but you can not deny that the scene you
witness here and now - the Russians triumphant - is likely the very
scene you will see in just over a week after the Tower of Doom.

[Kostovich chuckles.]

IK:  And THIS... this very scene in front of you is also very likely the
scene you will see at the Stampede Cup when these two men outlast all
the others to become the 2011 Stampede Cup champions!

[The crowd buzzes at the idea.]

GM:  The Russians are entering the Cup!

BW:  Of course they are!  The Russians are unstoppable as a team!

HSS:  Not completely unstoppable.

[Kostovich claps Velikov on the shoulder.]

IK:  But we are not here to discuss the Cup.  We are here to discuss the
Tower Of Doom.  We are in need of a fifth man to complete the team that
will destroy Jim Watkins, Supernova, and their band of merry men once
and for all.

It has been a difficult decision... one that our entire team does NOT
agree on, I must add...

[Kostovich pauses.]

IK:  But it quickly became clear that there was only one true option for
the Russians and Comrade Sharif.  There is only one man in the entire
AWA who has shown the ability to look past jingoistic national pride and
stand alongside men of true honor, conviction, and fighting spirit.

There is only one man who has proven worthy of standing alongside the
Russians in the past...

[Kostovich turns, pointing a finger.]

IK:  Comrade Stevie Scott.

[The crowd ERUPTS in a shocked reaction.  The camera abruptly cuts to
ringside where the two-time National Champion actually looks surprised,
as do Myers and Wilde.  The fans immediately begin to loudly discourage
Stevie from accepting the offer.  Scott raises his eyebrows.]

HSS: You want me...to join your team.

[A statement rather than a question, but Kostovich answers anyway,
stepping out to the apron and then to the floor, his comrades joining
him.  Scott rises to his feet as do the announcers at the sight of this
incoming group.]

IK:  Was that not clear?  You are the man chosen to stand alongside the
winners in the Tower of Doom.  Consider it an honor.

[Stevie nods once, a slow, long nod.]

HSS: An interesting offer.  An interesting offer indeed.

[Suddenly, the Hotshot snaps his head toward Sudakov, who for his part
looks unhappy.  But then again, he always does.]

HSS: What about you, Koles?  You good with this?

[The Russian War Machine stares a hole through his former rival but
doesn't respond.  Stevie smirks, then turns back to face Kostovich.]

HSS: Alright, Kostovich.  In that case, I got one question for ya.

What's in it for me?

[Velikov opens his mouth to respond, but Kostovich holds a hand up to
stop him.  Kostovich actually smiles.]

IK:  You Americans... always looking for the negotiation...

[A nod.]

IK:  We shall play your game, Comrade Hotshot.  What do you have in
mind?

HSS: Look, man.  I don't give two piles of donkey dung about your war
with Jim Watkins, or Supernova, or anyone.  Y'all got your own thing
going on and that's fine and dandy...
 
...but it doesn't involve me.
 
[Stevie smirks again!]
 
HSS: But...if you _want_ it to involve me...I need to be getting a
little something out of the deal.

[Kostovich rubs his chin thoughtfully.]

IK:  Money?  It is money you speak of?

[Stevie doesn't reply.]

IK:  Money I can provide, Comrade Scott.  Money is something that the
Russian nation does not lack.  So, name your price, Scott.  Ten
thousand?  Twenty?  Thirty?  More?  Name your pri-

[But then Kostovich stops in mid-sentence as something has caught his
eye'

'or should we say, someone.

And that someone would be Supernova, who is dressed in a black T-shirt
and blue jeans and has his face painted black and yellow as usual.]

GM: Hold on' we've got Supernova joining us!

BW: Now wait a minute' what gives you the right to stick your nose into
The Russians' business?

S: Gordon and Bucky, let's just say I think a couple of foreigners are
thinking Stevie Scott will just forgive and forget!

IK: You have no business out here.  You had best-

S: [interrupting] Hey, you had your chance to talk, now I get mine!

[Ivan does not look pleased and Vladimir looks like he's ready to
advance, but Koyla holds up an arm' as if instinctively' drawing a glare
from Vladimir. Supernova turns to Stevie.]

HSS: What do you want?

S: First of all, let's just say the last time you and I crossed paths,
it led to an outcome I wasn't particularly happy with' but hey, I'll
admit I got a little caught up in the moment, was a little too pumped
up' it's just my nature, what can I say?

[Scott glares at him, pointing a finger.]

HSS: I don't know what _you_ can say, but _I_ say that you need to get
to the point.

['Nova raises his hands in a "fair enough" backaway.]

S: I know enough about my AWA history to know that two of these men
chose to abandon you after a certain War Games match' and here they are,
wanting to kiss and make up' well, maybe not Kolya, because I doubt he
just wants to grovel for your forgiveness, unlike Vladimir and Ivan
here.

[That statements draws a glare from Kostovich and Velikov appears to be
itching to go on the offensive, but this time, it's Kostovich who holds
up his hand.]

S: But the point is' when you and I were on the same team last time, it
wasn't set up by your choice in the first place, but you were voted in.
So I might understand that you, Stevie, wouldn't be comfortable of
somebody else deciding you are going to be part of a team' and that you
want it by your choice.

That's why I'll say this: Watkins, Corax, Lee and I need a partner as
well' 

[Dramatic pause.]

S:  ...and I'm serious when I say I'm extending the offer to you.

[A surprised reaction goes up from the crowd. Stevie also looked a bit
surprised, as does Koyla, Gordon and Bucky, while Ivan and Vladimir have
a mixture of surprise and anger on their faces.]

HSS: Whoa, whoa, hang on, 

_YOU_ want _ME_?

[Stevie hooks a thumb at his own chest.]

HSS: To be _YOUR_ partner, too?

[The former National Champion stares at 'Nova, then turns and looks at
the Russians.  He shrugs, and returns his attention to the Rumble winner
and smirks.]

HSS: Only a fool wouldn't explore all his options.  So...keep talkin'.
 
S: First of all, I figured you'd like a little more payback against a
couple of people who left you for dead.
 
Second, I know you had your difference with Jim Watkins in the past, but
I also know you drew the line at a physical altercation with him and
settled things with the men who step into that ring on a regular basis.
 
And third, if you believe that I stole the spotlight from you in that
ten-man tag team match' then I apologize for that.
 
[Another surprised reaction from the crowd and those at the broadcast
position.]
 
S: And for those you who think I may be crazy' and hey, I never said I
wasn't a little crazy' I just want to find out where Stevie really
stands. He doesn't have to like me or anyone on my team' I just want to
find out where he really stands.
 
I'll leave it that' and I'll bid you gentlemen a good day'
 
[Then he motions to Velikov and Kostovich.]
 
S: 'except you two, as the word 'gentlemen' isn't something I'd ever
apply to you.
 
[With that, Supernova departs the broadcast position.]

GM:  Stevie Scott, you've suddenly got a big decision to make.  The
Russians have offered you a spot on their team for Wrestlerock as has
Supernova!  What are you going to do?

[Scott strokes his chin for a moment and then snaps his fingers.]

HSS: Tell ya what I'm going to do, Gordo.  I'm going to go back to my
dressing room and I'm going to contemplate both of these offers.  And at
the end of Saturday Night Wrestling?

I'll announce my decision.

[HUUUUGE POP!]

GM:  Well, you heard it- oh, be quiet!

[Gordon's words directed at the angry Russians shouting in another
language in his direction lead us right into a crossfade back to the
locker room area where we find Jason Dane with an irate Johnny Casanova
- in a new silk robe, which at a conservative estimate has rather more
diamonds than a small town jewellery store. Standing next to him on one
side is the ever-present Big Mama, while on the other is a
sullen-looking Jack Holland.]

JD: Johnny Casanova, last time I spoke to you, you were confident of a
victory in the Memorial Day Mayhem Rumble. Unfortunately, you came up
short...

[He's presumably about to ask a question, but tails off as Casanova's
eyes look like they may explode out of his head.]

JC: I came up short? You're saying I'M the one who came up short?

[Big Mama reaches out and takes him by the arm as the Playboy looks like
he may be about to take hold of his interviewer.]

JC: See this robe, Dane? See this new silk, and the diamonds? You wanna
know why I bought it?

[Dane nods slightly, clearly not wanting to anger him any more.]

JC: It's called comfort shopping, Dane! Because you're right, I DID come
up short. But I didn't come up short back at Memorial Day Mayhem. I came
up short when I was dumb enough, and charitable enough, and generous
enough, to hire this bonehead here as a bodyguard!

GJH: I admit some things got messed up, but--

JC: I don't wanna hear it, Jack! I gave ya chance, after chance, after
chance! I ignored the way ya nearly cost us the tag match. I ignored Big
Mama telling me that ya were no good for me. And in the Rumble, ya let
me down, Jack!

[He takes a deep breath.]

JC: Well, no more! I'm listening to her now! Jack Holland, ya just got
fired!

[Casanova waves his finger in Holland's face to emphasise his point,
then turns to walk off. Before he does so, however, the Gentleman clears
his throat.]

GJH: Hold on a second, Playboy, don't get rid of me so quick. Y'know,
keepin my ear to the ground like I do, I heard the Stampede Cup carries
a five hundred grand prize for each member of the winning team. I mean
to get that money, but I need a partner, and you... well, you might
could use a partner as well, if ya catch my drift.

[Casanova is calmer now, and is clearly considering the idea.]

JC: Now ya know, Jack, while I appreciate that for someone like
yourself, half a million dollars is probably more than ya had planned on
earning in your entire lousy life, then for the independently wealthy,
it ain't as much as it sounds.

[He looks Holland up and down.]

JC: But I guess, winning the Stampede Cup sure does sound appealing.  To
get that level of fame, and to do it with a partner like you as a
handicap...

[Holland's upper lip curls and he turns away from Casanova, but he
manages to control the anger rising inside him.]

JC: Well, that sure would write the Playboy's name into the history
books, wouldn't it? Ya got a deal, partner!

[Casanova holds his hand out with a big, cheesy grin on his face. 
Holland turns around and sees the hand. He goes to shake, but Casanova
pulls back at the last second and wags his finger in Holland's face.]

JC: But if ya come up short now, Jack... if we don't win this doggone
tournament...

Ya gonna owe me big time.

Got that?

[Holland grunts and nods as Casanova strides away, leaving Dane behind
with Jack Holland.]

JD:  Jack Holland and Johnny Casanova are joining the Stampede Cup
tournament as well?!  Fans, now let's go back down to ringside for more
tag team action!

[We go to the ring where Phil Watson stands by to announce the
competitors for the next match.]

PW: The next match is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute time
limit. Introducing first, at a total combined weight of 504 pounds, they
are the Pride of Music City...

ROCKABILLY RIGGINS...

And...

RICK "WAILER" JENKINS!

[The larger Riggins is all long, stringy, blond hair and dressed in a
blue sequinned jumpsuit. Jenkins has short, brown hair, a neatly-trimmed
beard and is wearing a tasseled shirt and tasseled black leather pants.]

PW: And their opponents...

[The fans cheer as "Go U Northwestern," as performed by the Northwestern
University Marching Band, starts to play over the arena speakers. A
scowling Nick Anton is out first, looking the audience over intently.
His brother Alex follows, arms raised, before pumping his fist and
pointing at the audience with the other hand.]

PW: They hail from Chicago, Illinois, at a total combined weight of
547 pounds, Nick and Alex...

THE ANTONS!!!

GM: These Northwestern alums, Nick and Alex Anton, were victorious in
their debut two weeks ago in Little Rock. Can they hope to do the same
here in Music City against these hometown athletes?

BW: Are you seriously calling these American Idol rejects athletes,
Gordo?

[Nick has his eyes locked on the ring as he makes his way down the
entrance ramp, occasionally slapping the hand of a fan on the near side
of it. Alex, however, is trying to slap hands and high-five as many fans
as he can. When he reaches the ring, he steps through the ropes and
heads towards their corner, pointing a warning finger and jawing with
his opponents as he does so. Nick walks along the apron towards the
corner and climbs onto the middle rope. He rests his hands on Alex's
shoulders, who raises his arms in the air, pointing to the sky, as the
music fades to a stop.]

GM: Like two weeks ago, Alex starts it of for the Antons against
Riggins.

"DING! DING! DING!"

[They lock up, with Alex getting the upper hand. He transitions into a
hammerlock, but a back elbow to the side of his head allows Riggins to
break away. Riggins swings his arms like Elvis and directs a couple of
hip thrusts towards Anton, who only smiles as he rubs the side of his
face.]

GM: Riggins charges Anton. Anton ducks, grabs Riggins' arm and draws him
back INTO A FIREMAN'S CARRY TAKEDOWN!

[It's Alex's turn with the arm swinging and hip-thrusting before he
drops an elbow on Riggins' chest.]

GM: Riggins scrambling to his corner... And here comes Jenkins!

[Jenkins comes charging in, but Anton catches him and tosses him into
the air with an overhead belly to belly!]

GM: Whoa! What a throw!

BW: The Wailer sure is wailing now, daddy!

[Indeed, Jenkins is yelling and holding his back. He motions the referee
over and continues pointing at his back. Referee Mickey Meekly looks
confused, while Alex Anton looks on, hands on his hips. Of course,
neither men see Rockabilly Riggins come back in and smash his forearm
into the back of Anton's head.]

GM: Here comes Nick. Stopped by the ref!

BW: In the meantime, Jenkins seems to have recovered and both men are
stomping Alex into the mat!

[At Jenkins' instruction, Riggins pulls Alex to his feet and holds him
up for Jenkins. Jenkins with a right jab, a left hook and some theatrics
before teeing off with a forearm... Which connects with Riggins' jaw, as
Anton slips out and ducks under. He lunges towards his corner and tags
in his brother.]

GM: Nick Anton in there like a house on fire!

BW: Or a wildcat in heat.

GM: Ye... What?

[Nick levels Jenkins with a clothesline, before grabbing Riggins and
tossing him through the ropes to the outside. He turns around and
motions for Jenkins to get up...]

GM: And the flying shoulder tackle knocks Jenkins back down! Nick heads
to the top. Could we see another one from the top rope?

[Jenkins gets up, looks around confused, then realises where Anton might
be, and makes for his corner.]

GM: Tag to Riggins, and Anton's right there to cut him off as he comes
in. Both men exchanging punches!

[But Nick gets the better of it as he traps both of Riggins' arms under
him. Headbutt! Followed by another! Followed by an arm trap suplex!]

GM: Whoa! That's another impressive throw! I'm telling you, Bucky, I
cannot get tired of seeing the Antons toss their opponents about.

BW: They can do that with these Nashville nobodies, sure, but let's see
how far they can throw the likes of Brother Cain or Rough 'n' Ready.

[Nick, having yelled in Riggins' face enough, pulls him by his blonde
hair to his feet, wraps his arms around Riggins' waist and...]

GM: Textbook overhead throw. Into a bridge. One! Two! Shoulder up!

[Again, Anton pulls Riggins to his feet. Only this time he throws him
towards his corner, motioning for Jenkins to make the tag. The Wailer
does so with slight hesitation.]

GM: Jenkins might literally be quivering in his boots as he stands
across the ring from a fired-up Nick Anton.

BW: And Anton's literally slobbering as he stares down his prey. Or
victim, I should say.

[After considering his options, Jenkins decides to rush Nick anyway.
Nick ducks a clothesline attempt and catches Jenkins with a boot to the
gut as he turns around. He applies a front facelock...]

GM: A crisp snap suplex! Float over into the cover. One! Two! Kickout!

BW: Nick Anton signalling for the end. I wonder what we are going to
see, Gordo.

[Anton picks Jenkins up and lifts him onto his shoulders in a fireman's
carry. He lets out a loud yell, but whatever we are about to see does
not quite come together, as Jenkins elbows his way off Nick's shoulders.
He cockily motions for Nick to turn around, but does not count on Anton
turning and charging in with a double leg tackle takedown!]

GM: Wildcat Attack! Wildcat Attack! And there's a tag!

[Nick, still in the ring, yells instructions to Alex, who pulls Jenkins
up and positions him in the center of the ring, in a belly to back
position. He wraps his arms around Jenkins' waist as Nick hits the
ropes. On the rebound, Nick hits Jenkins with a clothesline as Alex
lifts him overhead and brings him crashing back down with a German
suplex.]

GM: Overhead belly to back throw into a bridge! One! Two!

"DING! DING! DING!"

PW: Here are your winners... Nick and Alex... THE ANTONS!!!

[Alex gets up and the brothers hug, before the referee holds their hands
up in victory. The shot cuts to a slo-mo replay of the match finish.]

BW: They call it the Windy City Windup, daddy, and it is a thing of
beauty. Watch here as Nick comes charging in with the clothesline, while
Alex holds the opponent in place and only when Nick makes contact does
he hoist the opponent up into the German suplex.

GM: Like I said, Bucky, there are so many ways of throwing your opponent
about and I think these Anton boys might know all of them.  Let's see if
Jason Dane can get a few words from them.

[We return to Jason Dane, standing by on the interview platform with
Nick and Alex Anton, the latter still smiling from their.]

JD: Another week, another victory. But tell me, gentlemen, do you have
any plans for your future here in the AWA?

AA: Plans, Jason? The only plan we have is to keep training, keep
working on our game and keep knocking down the opponents the powers that
be put across the ring from us. All the teams that pass through this
company have got their eyes on one prize: the National Tag Team titles!
And we are no different, but we know we've got a ways to go before
anyone would consider us legitimate contenders to the championships. And
as we head into Wrestlerock, nothing could make two former All-Americans
prouder than competing on the Fourth of July, but that card's already
stacked, without throwing in these two greenhorns.  So, we'll see,
Jason; take it one match at a time and try not to make too grand a plan
and, maybe, just maybe, the Antons will find themselves headlining one
of these shindigs.

NA: JASON! While Alex has mentioned the biggest prize of them all in the
AWA National Tag Team championships, he might have neglected to mention
a prize of a different kind in the form of the Stampede Cup and its
accompanying oversized check! And I think now is a good time as any for
the Antons to throw their names in the hat!

[FACE POP!]

JD: Hang on here, Nick! Are you announcing your entry in the Stampede
Cup?

NA: I'm saying we want to get in the ring with all them teams already
announced and more to come and if the AWA suits want a tournament to
remember, they could do worse than putting the Antons in there, Jason!

JD: There you have it, folks, Nick Anton announcing his team's intention
to enter the Stampede Cup. I personally think they'll be a great
addition to the field.  Fans, we've got to take a quick break but we'll
be right back with more AWA Saturday Night Wrestling so stick around!

[Fade to black.

We cut to the living room of a house, where two kids are playing with
plastic army men.  The little green army guys are spread out in attack
formations, with all kinds of objects being used as cover/sniping
positions/barricades/etc, but the kids don't seem real enthused.]

Kid #1: This is boring.  

Kid #2: I wish we had toys that could _really_ fight.

[Suddenly, a body is flung through the large front window with a loud
crash.  A hard-rock background track plays as the body gets to his
feet... wait, is that Calisto Dufrense?]

Kids: *gasp*

[And... is that Juan Vasquez running through the broken window to attack
him again?!]

Kids: Juan Vasquez!

[And... did James Monosso just kick down the front door to attack Alex
Martinez from behind while he was grappling with MAMMOTH Misuzawa in the
dining room for no apparent reason?!  And is that Nenshou leaping down
the staircase at Stevie Scott?  And why are Rough & Ready beating up the
mailman?  Oh, there's Violence Unlimited turning them around and
brawling with them on the lawn!]

Kids: WOAH!

[Yes, these two kids are about to have a very badly-acted simultaneous
cardiac arrest and orgasm.  It happens.  Especially when Supernova is
jumping off your kitchen cabinet to hit Sultan Azam Sharif with a flying
clothesline, Eric Preston is hiptossing Johnny Casanova across your
family room, and the Aces and First Family are brawling across your
driveway.  Joe Petrow takes a dish from the china cabinet and breaks it
across the back of Sweet Daddy Williams as he had Mark Langseth in a
headlock, Percy Childes and Count Adrian Bathwaite are in a shouting
match, Kolya Sudakov tries to Sickle Robert Donovan, who ducks... poor
Kolya hits the boys' father who was coming in to check out the noise. 
Then Anton Layton wanders by and double-stomps the poor guy.  Because he
can.]

AL: Ehehehehehehehe!

Kids: THIS IS AWESOME!

[And cue the sales pitch!] 

Announcer: And now you can bring the awesome home with new AWA action
figures from Hasbro!

[We cut to the product line, where action figures of all of our favorite
AWA characters stand in dramatic action figure poses~!]

Announcer: Relive the greatest matches!

[Stevie Scott Irish-Whips Juan Vasquez into the family entertainment
center!  Then we see the kids playing with the Scott and Vasquez action
figures.]

Announcer: Create new dream matches never before seen!

[Nenshou tries to blow mist at Calisto Dufrense, but he pulls the
kitchen door open to block!  Then we see the kids playing with the
Nenshou and Dufrense action figures.]

Announcer: Form brand new alliances and teams that you'd never see live!

[Danny Morton and Eric Cooper double-clothesline Vladimir Velikov in the
kitchen... then both grab for the paper towels to wipe off their hands
with disgusted 'yuck' expressions.  Then we see the kids playing with
these three action figures.]

Announcer: Perform the great signature moves of the AWA wrestlers, or
invent totally new ones!

[The magic of blue-screen editing makes it look like Alex Martinez is
doing a double-somersault chokeslam to Johnny Casanova.  Well, his body
is doing flips in the air as if someone were just spinning the footage
around (because that's exactly what it is.  Then we see the kids do the
same 'move' with the action figures.]

Announcer: The base set comes with the Crockett Colisseum ring and four
of the top stars in the AWA!

[Cut to a posed shot of Sweet Daddy, Velikov, Preston, and MAMMOTH. 
See, you have to buy the ring, and you get some
reasonably-popular-but-not-first-choice guys (plus one who is, but he's
off TV right now so this keeps him in exposure!) and then you HAVE to
spend money to get the popular guys!  Clever!]

Announcer: AWA Action Figures... get them today!  Because it's the only
way to get this close to the action... AND SURVIVE.

[With that, we cut to the post-fight devastation of the house... it
looks like a tornado went through here.  And exploded.]

Announcer: Ages 8 and up!

[And a cut to the back reveals the next challenger for the Longhorn
Heritage championship, Robert Donovan, standing next to Jason Dane, who
came equipped with cameraman and microphone.  Donovan is wearing his
usual ring gear, black jeans, black boots, and a blood-red tank top. 
For a man who recently received a match he's been wanting for months, he
looks remarkably sour, however.]

JD:  We're here with Robert Donovan, the man who will face Nenshou at
Wrestlerock for the Longhorn Heritage title, a match he's been wanting
for awhile.  That said, last week you all but challenged the entire
Unholy Alliance to come and make their presence felt during your title
match.  What prompted you to do something like that?

[Donovan chuckles quietly.]

RD:  Well, Jason, I know you pay attention to what's goin' on around ya
-- so, what's the one thing that's happened anytime Nenshou's been in
the ring defendin' his title?

JD:  I'm not sure what you mean...

RD:  It's pretty simple -- somethin' funny always happens, and it always
happens in Nenshou's favor.  When I faced him in the Longhorn Heritage
tournament, that little leech Childes got involved.  When he defended
against Sweet Daddy Williams, Sweet Daddy caught a faceful o' mist. 
That's leavin' out all the other occasions where the Unholy Alliance, in
some for or another, showed up to screw somebody out of a match -- ya
follow me, Jason?  I challenged the entire Unholy Alliance to show up
'cause there's no way they can mind their own business -- an'
apparently, there's no penalty the AWA officials can offer to discourage
'em.

[Dane raises an eyebrow slightly.]

JD:  Are you saying the office has failed in some kind of way?

RD:  See, Jason, I ain't usually the kind o' guy to point out somethin'
like that...but in this case, I gotta.  People are losin' faith in the
office, Jason, losin' faith that they can maintain any kind of order. 
You saw what happened with Eric Preston -- if you were gonna guess
anybody in the AWA might take a swing at a senior official the way he
did, I know for a fact that Preston'd be one o' the last guys anybody
ever thought might do somethin' like that.  You know why he did it,
Jason?

[Brief pause.]

RD:  He got pushed into it.  Preston ain't that kinda guy -- you know
that, an' so do I.  He's so fed up an' tired an' frustrated about the
junk goin' on with the Unholy Alliance, with Monosso in particular, that
he belted a guy that did nothin' at all to warrant that kinda treatment,
Dane.  That ain't Eric Preston, punchin' out a guy twice his age an'
half his athletic ability -- until frustration an' desperation conspire
to make him that guy.

JD:  What would you suggest be done, then?

RD:  ...heck if I know, Dane.  I'd say start throwin' out suspensions,
fines, take your pick, but Monosso proved that nobody really cares about
that kinda thing.  If that don't work, ya gotta start droppin' the axe
on people -- and you an' I both know the AWA ain't wantin' to do that. 
There's an old sayin' that goes something like, "Controversy creates
cash," an' as much as some of us hate it, in this business, that's the
absolute truth.

JD:  If fines and suspensions won't work, and you don't think the office
is willing to fire people...then do you have any ideas at all?

RD:  I got one idea, Dane, an' I pretty much guarantee they ain't gonna
go for it...but if groups like the Unholy Alliance, the Foreign Legion,
an' whoever else wanna stack the deck, that's fine -- start stackin' it
against 'em right back.  Take the handcuffs off those of us willin' to
get dirty to stop this kinda stuff.

[Donovan cracks his knuckles, a sound remarkably similar to bones
cracking.]

RD:  For instance, I'm pretty sure Nenshou's goin' to defend the
Longhorn Heritage title tonight.  I think I might just wander on out
there...see if I can get a chance to stack the deck a lil' myself.

[Donovan nods slowly, as if to himself, then turns and abruptly strides
away.]

JD:  We could be on the verge of seeing a preview of Wrestlerock right
here tonight!  Fans, let's go back down to ringside for more action!

[Crossfade to the ring.]

PW: Our next match is scheduled for one fall.  Introducing first,
hailing from Capetown, South Africa and weighing in at two-hundred and
seventy-one pounds. He respresents all that is pure, here is... COLONEL
P.W. DE KLERK!

[There is no entrance music as de Klerk appears in the aisle. The crowd
boos relentlessly as de Klerk takes a few steps and stops, his left arm
behind his back. He uses his right arm to twist his handlebar mustache
and peer out at the crowd. He offers them a military salute and
continues to the ring. He climbs into the ring and raises his right arm
above his head, hand balled into a fist and then offers another military
salute to the crowd.]

PW: And his opponent..

["Bad To The Bone" by George Thorogood and the Destroyers kicks up over
the PA, quickly bringing the fans to their feet.  It doesn't take long
for the reason for their excitement to walk into the arena, complete
with his blue tights, white boots and rockin' black nylon jacket.  The
extremely good-looking youngster sports curly black hair that comes down
to his shoulders and flashes a big smile.]

PW: From Hollywood, California, weighing in at 240 pounds...here is...

RICKY ARRRRRMSTROOOOOOOONG!!!

[Armstrong claps his hands together twice and pumps a fist in the air
before trotting down the aisle, taking extra time to slap hands with
fans along the way.  He does the same when he gets to ringside, going
the distance around the front row on all four sides.  Finally, he climbs
onto the apron, grabs the top rope and slingshots himself over to the
delight of the crowd.  As soon as he lands, he spins in a circle with
his arms outstretched, soaking in the cheers of the crowd, showing off
the word "Armstrong" written across the back of the jacket in a white
script.]

GM: And here we have the hot youngster, Ricky Armstrong, ready for a
tough test against a seasoned opponent in Colonel Pieter Wilhelm de
Klerk.

BW: Did you just call him "hot", Gordo?  Get your mind outta the gutter!
 Ugh!

GM: Will you stop?

[As Armstrong turns to remove his jacket, de Klerk takes advantage of
the opening and attacks before the bell, placing a hard axhandle to the
back of Armstrong.]

GM: de Klerk wasting no time, attacking Ricky Armstrong before the match
even starts!

BW: Hey, de Klerk is no fool, daddy!  This so-called hot commodity made
a key mistake of taking his eyes off his opponent and now he's paying
the price!

[de Klerk spins Armstrong around in the corner and peppers him with hard
forearm shots to the head.  He then grabs him by the arm and Irish whips
him to the far corner; Ricky hits hard enough to bounce out of the
corner, where de Klerk flattens him with a stiff clothesline.]

GM: And there's a big-time clothesline from the Colonel!

BW: The veteran is teaching the rookie a thing or two about the
business.  And one of those things is that he doesn't belong in it.

GM: It's a little early to say that, but de Klerk is well in control
here.

[The Colonel grabs a handful of Ricky's hair and pulls him up to his
feet, slapping on a standing side headlock.  Armstrong quickly runs back
to the ropes and shoves off de Klerk.]

GM: Here comes de Klerk on the rebound...and a BIG shoulder tackle sends
Armstrong to the mat once again!

BW: Did that punk really think he could knock down a man that outweighs
him by 30 pounds _and_ had force coming off the ropes?  This kid has a
lot to learn.

[de Klerk hits the ropes again, this time stepping over Armstrong as
Ricky rolls underneath him.  Armstrong leaps to his feet and elevates
over de Klerk with a leapfrog, planting and waiting for the Colonel to
come back off the ropes...and takes him down with a hiptoss!  Pop!]

GM: Beautifully executed maneuver by Armstrong!  de Klerk back up and
charging...right into a deep armdrag takeover by Ricky Armstrong!  He
does not, however, hold the armbar and that allows de Klerk to roll to
the outside.

[A fired-up Armstrong follows the Colonel to the ropes, but that proves
to be a mistake as de Klerk grabs his feet and pulls him under the ropes
to the floor, where he then greets him with a HARD right hand to the
jaw!]

BW: And there's yet another rookie mistake by Armstrong.  The Colonel
led him right into his trap and that idiot fell for it hook, line and
sinker, daddy!

GM: de Klerk indeed back in control as he grabs...what is that...an
electrical cord?

[Yes it is, Gordon.  And he proceeds to wrap said cord around Ricky's
throat and pulls away.  Heel pop!]

GM: P.W. de Klerk choking the air right out of the sails of young Ricky
Armstrong!

BW: But it's outside of the ring and that makes it perfectly legal. 
Once again, that's what happens when you make rookie mistakes.

GM: de Klerk finally releases the choke and pulls Ricky back up...and
slams his head into the canvas!  So the Colonel from South Africa in
firm control here and as Bucky said, it has been his experience that has
made the difference thus far.

BW: That's right, daddy.  Don't doubt me!

[Having had enough on the floor, and because the referee's count is
nearing 10, de Klerk rolls Armstrong back into the ring and follows him
in, wasting little time in depositing the California native back onto
the mat with a bodyslam.  He then hits the ropes and leaps for an
elbowdrop, but...

POP!]

GM: Nobody home on the elbowdrop!  Armstrong rolls out of the way and is
quickly on his feet...HIGH ELEVATION DROPKICK!  de Klerk back up, and
there's another!  Ricky Armstrong is a house of fire!

[After the second dropkick, de Klerk retreats into a corner, holding up
a hand to beg off of the fired-up Armstrong.  Armstrong goes right after
the Colonel in the corner...and gets caught with a thumb to the eye!]

BW: How dumb is this kid?  That's the third big mistake he's made by not
paying attention to the places he's leaving himself open.  He could
really use my managerial services, were I still a manager.  Of course, I
wouldn't want him.

[de Klerk hops up and Irish whips Armstrong to the opposite corner, then
charges in...but Ricky deftly leaps up over the charging Colonel,
hooking his heels under de Klerk's shoulders and taking him down in a
sunset flip!]

GM: SUNSET FLIP COUNTER BY ARMSTRONG!  ONE!  TWO!  AND OH SO CLOSE!

[Disappointed pop from the crowd, and Armstrong's face shows that he
thought he had the match won as well.]

GM: Both men on their feet, right hand by de Klerk, blocked by
Armstrong!  Ricky fires off with a right of his own!  And another!  And
one more for good measure!

BW: Hey, those are closed fists!  That's a DQ!

[A stunned de Klerk staggers back into the ropes, allowing Armstrong a
chance to send him for the ride.]

GM: de Klerk on the rebounds...TILT-A-WHIRL BACKBREAKER!  Ricky quickly
to the ropes... 

[Armstrong leaps to the second rope, springing back off with a legdrop
down across the chest!]

GM:  OHHH!  LEGDROP AFTER SPRINGING OFF THE ROPES!!  COVER!

[The referee slaps the mat once...twice...but not a third time as de
Klerk is able to power out of the pin.  Disappointed pop again!]

GM: Another near-fall for Ricky Armstrong, and the fans here in
Nashville are really rallying behind this talented young man!

[Armstrong keeps the pace of the match moving fast, pulling de Klerk to
his feet, but the veteran catches Ricky again with an eye rake.  Heel
pop!]

GM: OHHH!  de Klerk goes to the eyes and that puts a quick stop to
Ricky's momentum!  The Colonel spins him around into a side salto and
lifts...belly-to-back-

[Or not, as Ricky flips through the belly-to-back suplex attempt,
landing behind de Klerk.  He quickly applies a waistlock and runs him
chest-first into the ropes, then uses the momentum to take him over into
a pinning predictament.]

GM: ROLLING REVERSE CRADLE...INTO A NATURAL BRIDGE!  ONE!  TWO!  THREE! 
HE GOT HIM!  RICKY ARMSTRONG GETS THE WIN!

[The fans go crazy as a jubilant Armstrong rolls away out of the hold,
jumps to his feet and thrusts his arms into the air.]

PW: Here is your winner...

RICKY ARRRRRMSSTROOOOOONG!

[Big pop!]

GM: An impressive win here tonight in Nashville for Ricky Armstrong, who
continues to show that he has what it takes to compete in the AWA,
Bucky.

BW: I'll give him a little credit for beating de Klerk on a lucky
roll-up.  But he still has a long way to go.

GM: Armstrong remains undefeated here in the American Wrestling
Alliance.  And we will be joined at this time by Ricky...

[On cue, a visibly excited Armstrong walks into the camera view.]

GM: ...and while you are indeed unbeaten so far, your record is not
without blemish.  I am of course talking about the thrilling time-limit
draw that you and Tommy Fierro battled to down in Alabama just a few
days ago as we saw recently on AWA Access.

[Ricky nods.]

RA: That's right, Mr. Myers.  First off, before I talk about that...and
I have some things I want to say about it...but first off, I want to
thank these great fans here in Nashville, Tennessee, for cheering me on
to a hard-fought win tonight!

[Cheap pop!]

RA: de Klerk is a tough customer, Mr. Myers, but you know what?  I'm
feeling better, I'm feeling stronger, and I'm feeling more prepared
every week, and getting this win tonight is gonna do nothing but put
more fuel on my fire to keep on climbing the ranks here in the AWA!

[Ricky claps his hands together twice and pumps his fist.]

RA: Now...I do want to talk about that time-limit draw I had against Mr.
Tommy Fierro.  You know, when I came to the AWA, I expected to be tested
and I didn't expect it would take long before I was.  And I got my first
real test in Huntsville against Mr. Fierro.  Now some may say because of
his age that his best days are behind him.

[Armstrong emphatically shakes his head.]

RA: Well, to those people?  I say that you haven't been in the ring with
him.  I have and I can say without question that Tommy Fierro is still
quite a competitor and still has what it takes to be a top performer in
this sport.  It was an honor to be in the ring against him and if I only
had a few more seconds, I truly believe I'd have hit the Hollywood
Hangover, gotten the three count and scored a great win over a great
wrestler.

[Ricky shrugs.]

RA: As it was, we both left it all on the canvas, we put on a great show
for the fans but most importantly?

We did it the right way.  No cheating, no underhanded tactics, just good
old-fashioned wrestling.  And it-

[A cheer from the crowd greets Tommy Fierro, as the former world
champion steps into view. He's dressed in a red-and-black bowling shirt
and his long blond hair has been slicked back into a ponytail. Looking
more like everyone's favorite uncle than a legend of wrestling, Tommy
acknowledges Ricky and Jason Dane with a nod of his head before
beginning to speak.]

TF: I was hanging out backstage when I heard what ya' had to say, Ricky,
and I just had to come out here and tell ya', the feeling's mutual.
You're one heck of a wrassler, kid, and I see bright things in your
future!

[The crowd applauds the show of mutual respect.]

TF: I hadn't been in a dogfight like that in quite awhile, but going
all-out in the ring like that with you...it made feel ageless! Like I
could wrassle for the next hundred years! That was exactly how wrasslin'
should be. I can't say for certain what would've happened if the match
didn't end when it did...ya' had me in a bad spot, I'll admit it...but
if ya' ever want a rematch, I'm more than willin' to step into the ring
with you again.

[Ricky doesn't respond immediately, instead taking a hard look at the
former World Champion for a few moments...and then the proverbial light
bulb goes off.]

RA: Actually, Mr. Fierro, I think I have a better idea.

[A nod.]

RA: See, there's this tag team tournament coming up.  I believe it's
called the Stampede Cup.

[And a smile.]

RA: And I don't have a partner.

[Realizing where this is going, the crowd begins to buzz.]

RA: So what do you say, Mr. Fierro?  Me, you, and a chance to pocket one
million dollars?

TF: A million dollars, huh?

[He chuckles.]

TF: That's what I like about you, kid...ya' got moxy!

[He extends his hand out to Ricky.]

TF: Shake my hand, Ricky...'cause you've got yourself a tag team
partner!

[HUGE POP!  An excited Armstrong wastes no time in accepting the
handshake.  The duo raises each others arms in the air before walking
away from the broadcast table.]

GM:  Another team aiming for the Stampede Cup!  Tommy Fierro will team
with Ricky Armstrong and that's a combination of experience and
enthusiasm that might take those two a long, long way towards a million
dollars!

BW:  I learned a long time ago to never count Tommy Fierro out of a
situation but do you actually believe he and Armstrong can go the
distance on Labor Day weekend?

GM:  That's why they wrestle the matches, Bucky - to find out one way or
the other.  Fans, WrestleRock is just over a week away but, as you can
see, we're already looking forward to Labor Day Weekend.  The AWA has
opted to move the Stampede Cup forward in the annual schedule to create
a Labor Day tradition for the whole family!

BW: I love me some Stampede Cup, daddy!  There's somethin' about a
tournament and a big, big payday that gets my blood pumping.  You get
'em out of the woodwork for a million dollar prize.  And look who we
already got lined up, outside of the best tag team division in wrestlin'
today!  Dynasty... the Wild Cards... those are two of the best tag teams
that ever laced a pair of boots!

GM: No guest team has ever managed to come away with the Stampede Cup,
though there will probably be a first time some day.  With the likes of
Rough N' Ready, Violence Unlimited, the Blonde Bombers, and the Lynch
Brothers, though, this will be a tough road for everyone!  Tonight,
Bucky, we have two young teams who are hungry to work their way up
through the ranks and qualify for a coveted spot in that tournament.

BW: Yeah?  They better be good... this ain't a field that just anyone
can waltz into.

[The opening loop of "So What'Cha Want" by the Beastie Boys starts up
over the PA, and the lights dim down.  Multi-colored spotlights and
strobe lights flash all over the place.  A pair of individuals strut out
from behind thecurtain, moving in time to the music... they are quite
possibly the most bizarrely-attired individuals in the history of the
AWA.  They have hair dyed in a rainbow of colors, and wear matching
shiny silver vests with Lazer-Tron sensors attached to them.  

One of them, whose nationality is... hard to tell, certainly something
unusual... is wearing dark green denim baggy pants with patches in
various bright neon colors, and banana yellow-and-turquoise laceless
'moon boots'.  He has seven bandanas tied around each arm, one for each
color of the rainbow (if you count indigo as a color).  His wristbands
are brass-colored thick metal things, and he is wearing orange goggles. 


His tag team partner is... a completely different obscure nationality. 
Aside from the vest, he wears baggy fire-engine-red denim pants with
patches in various dark-but-vivid colors, and
deer-hunter-orange-and-violet laceless 'moon boots'.  He seems to have
wrapped his arm in multi-colored rubber bands, and he wears the same
brass-colored thick metal wristbands as his partner.  He is wearing
sunglasses with triangular rims in opaque colors... checkered
orange-and-teal on one side and fuschia on the other.

The fans make a collective 'what the F&*%' murmuring noise as these guys
strut on down to ringside like they own the place.]

GM: ...my eyes!  My eyes!

BW: Can we unsuspend James Monosso for just five minutes?

GM: If you throw in their fashion consultant as a third man?  Yes.

BW: They have a fashion consultant?

GM: It takes more than two people to make decisions that bad.

[The two men strut on up to the broadcast booth, and motion Gordon to
stand up.  He does so... and we see that they're not all that much
bigger than he is.]

GM: Gentlemen, you have a tremendous opportunity tonight!  Tell the AWA
all about yourselves.

[The duo turns away from Gordon, huddles up, discusses the question, and
then turns back to him.  One of them answers, with a strange dialect.]

First Bizarrely Dressed Person: We can't do that.  Top secret. 
Classified.  Totally filbritz.  Orders of Senator Wilde himself.

GM: Did you just say SENATOR Wilde?

[The second person slaps the first in the back of the neck.  The first
one looks sheepish, so the second one speaks up.]

Second Bizarrely Dressed Person: Fine, fine, you scoppled us out.  I am
Shizz Dawg OG and this is Jerby Jezz.  We are the Rave, and we cannot
reveal the specifics of our mission!  The fate of the future of
humanity, and even some of the dehumanized sectors like New Jersey and
Toledo, depend on us.  We are here from the year 2032 to prevent World
War Five, as well as the release of the sequel to Battlefield Earth, and
we will let noone stand in our way!

JJ: But don't be alarmed, jacksaws, we come from a time when the sport
of... you still call it 'wrestling' in these primitive days, but in the
year 2032, wildstyling has been perfected!  We are so far beyond the
obsolete ways you used to use, with your "pins" and "submissions"... ha
ha ha.  I can't believe I even said those words!  Squizzy!

SDO: We did our research on... what year is this?

[The Rave looks at Gordon, who has the same wide-eyed slackjawed
expression that most people get when confronted with incomprehensible
stupidity.  He is incapable of responding to the question because his
mind has shut down in self-defense.]

SDOG: Yes, I know, it is megabulous to be face to face with the future. 
Anyway, we did our research.  We know that the Stampede Cup, before it
evolves into the one-hundred-and-fourty-eight team international
spectacle that will one day determine whose genes are selected for
eugenetic ascension, is in its neogenic stages.  We must win so that we
are entered into the history books, and can tell ourselves that we have
to go to the past after we have set right what once went wrong! 
Otherwise the chonological paradox will cause us all to cease to exist.

JJ: So when Shizz Dawg and I saw you people in the Holodeck, we couldn't
BELIEVE that you knew nothing of the creed of the Rainbow Warrior!  The
Intersquib is still 10 YEARS away from becoming reality, as is Senator
Wilde's plan to establish world peace by supplying free Borscht to
everyone!

SDOG: You people need hope!  You need to believe in a better tomorrow! 
That's why The Rave is in the flippity floppity floo to beat all those
other people who try to prevent it from happening, and to look really
shwiz while doing so!

JJ: So no one will stop us...

[Jerby Jezz and Shizz Dawg OG start headbutting each other in the
shoulder, raising a fist to he sky as they do.]

JJ & SDOG: RAVE, RAVE AGAINST THE DYING OF THE BORSCHT!! 

[They then slide into the ring.  Gordon blinks.  He still hasn't moved a
muscle.]

BW: So, I think Gordo just had a seizure.

[Pause.]

BW: I can't say I blame him.

[The percussive open to "Rocket" by Def Leppard pumps out through the
sound system, and anothe pair of young men enter through the curtain. 
Thankfully for poor Gordon's sanity, these two look like more
traditional wrestlers.  The one in the lead is a well-built young man
wearing knee-length shiny sapphire-blue trunks with a marble pattern,
and blue wrestling boots.  He has short black hair in a Caesar haircut,
is clean-shaven, and wears athletic tape around his wrists.  His partner
has a leaner "wrestler's" build, sports full-length royal blue trunks,
with dark blue kneepads, blue wrestling boots, taped wrists, and black
short hair.

The youngsters are slapping hands with the fans all the way down the
aisle.]

BW: Aw, geez.  More pandering.  Gladhanding an' babykissin'.  Gordo,
since you're already up, see if these guys are at least sane.

[The tandem approaches Myers, pumping their fists at the crowd and
getting a good reaction.  Gordon shakes himself out of the horror of
what he has just heard in order to conduct another pre-match interview.]

GM: Well, not from the future, but from the San Antonio territory comes
these men... Mark Carney and Mark Workman, the tag team known as Mark
II.  Welcome to the AWA.

[Carney, the more muscularly defined of the two, starts the interview. 
He has an energetic voice, tinted with a bit of a Midwest accent.]

MC: Let me tell you something, Gordon Myers!  You know, the whole world
of professional wrestling is talking about the AWA!  They say it's the
place to be, man.  All the top tag teams are coming in, for one reason
and one reason only... because this is the crucible.  This is where the
best of the best come to shine, and that's why one million dollars and a
big silver cup is hanging in the balance on Labor Day, dude.  Me and my
brother-by-blood, we want the big check.  We want the big cup.  But most
of all, Gordon Myers, we want to be the best tag team in the world, and
you can't do that if you don't go where the talent is.  Tell 'em, Mark!

[Workman has a more measured tone... it drips with a bit of cockiness,
and a New England accent.]

MW: You wanna see the future?

[He points in the ring.]

MW: The future isn't in a bag of hair dye and the consignment bin at the
Salvation Army!

[The crowd cheers that snide comment a bit, and the Rave start yelling
down at Mark II.]

MW: The future isn't in a crystal ball, or a Mayan calendar, or in a
documentary on the Discovery Channel.  Uh-uh.  The future is here.  

And I mean... HERE.

[Workman hooks a thumb at himself, and one at Carney.]

MW: The only time travel you're going to see tonight, is when we step
through those ropes and set these two lunatics' career back about six
months by embarrassing them on television.  And the only Rave is going
to be from the people raving about Mark II.  We don't need to blind
people with our ring attire.  We don't need to claim a noble title
because some retiree said we could.  We don't need to claim we're the
baddest men on the planet because we can throw around Japanese kids half
our size.  We don't need a blowhard manager to toot our horn.  All we
need is one wrestling ring, one referee...

MC: ...and hold on to your seats, kids, because you're about to hit Mark
II!

[The duo slides into the ring in tandem to some decent cheers as the
introductions begin.]

PW: The following contest is a tag team match, set for one fall and a
fifteen minute time limit!  

Introducing first, to my left!  From New Seattle, in the year 2032... at
a total combined weight of three-hundred ninety-two pounds...

    ...JERBY JEZZ and SHIZZ DAWG OG...  THE RAVE!

[The Rave jumps to the middle of the ring, and swing out their hands. 
Streamers fly from their brass wrist-casings with a loud POP, leaving
multi-colored ribbons around the ring in all directions.  Phil Watson
actually does a full stop just to stare incredulously at them.  Max
Meekly demands that they clean up the mess, but they ignore him.  The
crowd doesn't know whether to cheer, boo, or laugh.  Individuals are
doing each of those things.]

PW: And their opponents... from Manchester, New Hampshire and Muscatine,
Iowa respectively... at a total combined weight of four-hundred
ninety-four pounds...

    ...MARK WORKMAN and MARK CARNEY...  MARK II!

[The young-but-well-travelled tag team raises their fists, and walk
around the ring working the crowd up.  This seems to stir the masses...
until they are ambushed!]

GM: THe Rave is not waiting!  A blindside ambush before the bell, and
all four men are in the ring!  Jerby Jezz and... Dawg OG.

BW: Shizz Dawg OG.

GM: I am not saying that!  The Rave are giving up a great deal of size
here, but they'd be doing that in any contest as both men seem to be
under two hundred pounds.  They are fearlessly going at it, pounding
away at Mark II with the blindside start!  

[Each member of Mark II has been backed up into a corner, on the same
side of the ring.  The Rave look at one another, nod, and Irish-whip
their oppoents into the center of the ring, hoping for a collision!  But
Carney reverses the Irish-Whip attempt from Jerby Jezz, and Workman
catches him with a running one-hand bulldog as the two men meet in
center ring, running in much the same direction.]

BW: Woah!  I've never seen a double Irish-whip from THAT angle before!

GM: The Rave do things rather differently, but Mark II seems to be able
to adapt.  Carney and Workman have experience in Phoenix, in San
Antonio, and in a variety of independent shows across the country.  They
are especially known for their finishing move, which is a devastating
backbreaker-neckbreaker combination called the Beckbreaker.

BW: Well, if the Rave came from the future, they'll know not to get
caught with that!

GM: Workman using the chinlock on the much smaller man, moving him
towards his corner where Carney has already stationed himself.  Tag is
made... good fundamentals, isolating Jerby Jezz in their corner.  Mark
Carney in, and a double hip toss by Mark II.  And a double elbow drop! 
Workman rolls out of the ring, and Carney... blindsided by Dawg OG!

BW: Shizz Dawg never left the ring!  Meekly's trying to get him out, but
he's going at Carney like he's the legal man!  Dropkick by the Shizz
Dawg!

GM: You cannot allow that to happen!  If the... Dawg OG won't exit the
ring, disqualify them!  And make them wear normal wrestling attire next
time.

BW: I don't think Shizz understands what Meekly's saying?  Huh?

[The 65-year old Max Meekly grabs Shizz Dawg OG by the ear like a parent
would respond to a petulant child, grabs the tag rope, and points at it.
 Shizz Dawg points at the tag rope with an incredulous look on his face,
asking what that is for.]

GM: ...I can only assume this means that in the year 2032, they do not
actually TAG during tag team matches.

BW: Considering how tag wresting goes a lot of the time in 2011, I bet
that development ain't real far away.

GM: Poor Max Meekly... he took on a match to get himself in ring shape
for duty at WrestleRock, and look what he has to put up with.

[Jerby Jezz executes a nice satellite headscissors takedown on Mark
Carney as this goes on in the other corner.  Jezz looks at Workman with
a puzzled stare, seemingly not understanding why one of his opponents is
just standing on the apron and holding a rope.  But even in 2032, they
know not to look a gift atomic transit board in the central regulation
board, so he just goes back to stomping Carney.  But Carney is already
up.]

GM: Jerby Jezz is whipping Carney to the ropes... leapfrog by Mark
Carney... off the ropes...

[* W H A C K ! *]

GM: ...WHAT A DROPKICK!  HE KNOCKED JERBY JEZZ OUT OF HIS BOOTS!

BW: Woo!  That was a restaurant-quality dropkick, daddy!  Jerby Jezz
probably thinks he's in 1827!

GM: Tag made to Workman!  Mark Carney with the snapmare... and a rolling
neck snap!  Workman running off the far ropes... baseball slide dropkick
to the head of a prone Jerby Jezz as he recoiled from the neck snap! 
What a combination maneuver by Mark II, who seem to be quite well-oiled
in the teamwork department!

BW: What I need to see is whether they've grown a spine since I saw them
last.  Killer instinct, Gordo.  They need that if they wanna hang with
the Rough And Readys, the Blonde Bombers, the Moonshiners, and the First
Families of the world. 

GM: Not to mention the likes of Violence Unlimited.

BW: Yeah, even the also-rans would be tough for them if they don't step
it up!

GM: Workman hoisting up Jezz... and a textbook vertical suplex sends the
rainbow-haired one to the canvas, right near Mark II's corner.  They are
cutting off the ring and making frequent tags.  An offense like this
would be hard to stop.

BW: It doesn't help that Max Meekly is having to explain to Shizz Dawg
that he's not only got to hold the tag rope, but stand on the apron.

GM: "Did the research" indeed.  Workman tags Carney.  Carney off the far
ropes as Workman hits the atomic drop... right into a high cross body by
Carney!  Jezz bounced off the knee and was hit in mid-air!  The cover...

BW: Okay, at least no one had to explain to Shizz Dawg that he had to
run in and break up certain pins!

GM: Shizz Dawg OG leapt at Mark Carney, and raked his eyes!  Carney up
and decking Shizz Dawg with a hard right!  That fifty-plus pound weight
disparity is tough to overcome.  Carney tagging Workman back in, and
Mark II rushing the Dawg OG!  Double clothesline, ducked under by Dawg
OG!  Jerby Jezz is up...

[The Rave, now comfortable in a more chaotic environment, catch Mark II
coming off the ropes as Jerby Jezz slides to dropkick Mark Workman in
the shins... sending him faceplanting into a jumping double knee by
Shizz Dawg OG, which he rides back into the mat like a Codebreaker!]

GM:... WHAT A MOVE BY THE RAVE!

BW: And boy, did they need one!  They were getting their clocks cleaned
when this turned into a tag match!

GM: The Dawg OG...

BW: SHIZZ Dawg OG!  Say it right or don't say it.

GM: He is explaining the tag rules to Jerby Jezz, who goes to the
corner.  I did NOT see a tag, but it looks like Max Meekly is so
exasperated that he's letting it slide!

BW: I'm half-expecting him to start shouting "GET OFF MY LAWN" at the
Rave.

GM: Dawg OG stomping away on Workman as Carney goes to his corner.  The
Dawg OG sliding Workman's neck under the bottom rope... OH NO!

[Shizz Dawg OG executes the old slingshot move, falling back while
holding Workman's ankles.  This causes his neck to be propelled straight
up into the bottom rope!]

BW: Good to see they still got some of the classics in 2032!

GM: And Jerby Jezz with a jumping legdrop on Mark Workman, as his head
and neck were draped over the apron!  He is not the legal man!

BW: The Rave play by their own rules, daddy, and Senator Wilde says that
is A-OK.

GM: They couldn't have been talking about you, Bucky.  In 2032, you'd be
about...

BW: OHLOOKATTHAT!  WHAT A MANEUVER!

GM: Dawg OG with a wild arm-swinging fistdrop on Workman, who was
rolling himself under the ropes so that his head was no longer exposed
on the apron.  The Dawg OG now looking at Max Meekly and... there is a
tag.  Meekly having to correct them as Jerby Jezz wasn't holding the tag
rope. Okay, the second attempt at the tag works.

BW: And these two want to make it to the Stampede Cup?!  Didn't they say
they didn't even use pins or submissions?  What the heck are they trying
to DO out there?

GM: The Dawg OG whipping Workman off the ropes, drop down underneath...
WHAT A VICIOUS FLYING FOREARM BY JERBY JEZZ!  He caught Workman as he
was leaping over Dawg OG, and flattened him!

BW: Man, he creamed him with that.  The Rave might only weigh a buck
ninety each at best, but it looks like they can pack a punch when they
get the speed behind them!

GM: Very true!  These strange youngsters may be threats if they stop
with this time travel madness.  The Rave kicking and stomping and
punching Mark Workman... this is well past a five count!

BW: Hey, Meekly never said anything about a five count!

GM: Ignorance of the rules is no excuse, and if anything, I think these
two young men are putting on this facade in an attempt to get away with
more! 

BW: I dunno, Gordo.  I don't think anyone would make a conscious
decision to look like that unless they were really from another place
and time.  They got Mark Workman set up on the ropes... AND OVER THEY
GO!

[The two Ravers both run at Mark Workman, each jumping into a
clothesline that sends them flipping over the top rope!  The Rave both
land on their feet as Workman hits the floor hard!]

GM: Double tumbling clothesline over the top to the floor, and that had
to do major damage to Mark Workman!  The Dawg OG on the apron and Jerby
Jezz in the ring... they are calling for Max Meekly to count out Mark
Workman!

BW: Well... maybe that's how you win matches in 2032.

GM: Max applies the count!  Two!  Up to three now!  Workman is getting
up, and here comes the Dawg OG off the apron to knock him down with a
flying axehandle!  That will break the count.  Jerby Jezz off the far
ropes...

[The fans give a loud response as Jerby Jezz flies through the ropes
with a perfect plancha, crashing into Mark Workman!]

GM: A DIVE OUTSIDE THE RING!  What a reckless maneuver, and the Rave
back in the ring.  They're asking for the countout again!

BW: 2032 is weird.

GM: I'll say.  Meekly applies the count!  One... two... but Workman
already up, and rolling into the ring before he reaches three.  Jerby
Jezz with a double bootrake, and calling over the Dawg OG.  He forgot to
tag again!

BW: Meekly's reminding them, relax.  Okay, there's the tag.  The Rave
back in, in force.

GM: Both men hooking Workman.  Double vertical suplex coming up...
Workman sinks the knees and blocks it! 

BW: They need to soften him up... here we go.

[Jezz and OG straighten up, and both pepper Workman across the back of
the head and shoulders with some rapid-fire forearms.  They then go for
the double suplex again... and again it is blocked!  Workman swings his
right arm from over Jezz' head, and brings it all the way down to crush
Shizz Dawg OG with a furious European Uppercut, staggering the man back!
 He continues the motion and spins into a corkscrew clothesline that
levels Jerby Jezz!  The crowd cheers as Workman falls, crawling for his
corner!]

GM: What a swift turnaround, as Mark Workman clobbers both men in one
fluid motion!

BW: He's gotta get to Carney, though...

[Shizz Dawg and Jerby Jezz both throw the elbowdrop... and hit each
other as Workman diverolls out of the way and makes the tag!  The fans
cheer!]

GM: TAG TO CARNEY!  Mark Carney in, and he is like a house on fire!  An
armdrag on Jezz, and one for the Dawg OG!  Now standing up both men...
DOUBLE NOGGIN KNOCKER!

[Jerby Jezz falls straight to his butt after coliding head-first with
his partner.  Carney sees this, and circles behind Shizz Dawg OG... a
two-step start slingshots him into that crushing dropkick of his,
connecting right in between Shizz Dawg's shoulderblades to send him into
his partner... his knee whacks into Jezz' skull as he is sent barreling
into him!]

BW: And a two-fer on the dropkick!  Carney's gonna kill us all, Gordo! 
He'll make it so World War Five happens twice!

GM: I won't dignify that with a comment.  Mark Carney hoisting up the
Shizz Dawg, bending him backwards... AND WHAT WAS THAT MANEUVER?!

[It was the Final Cut-slash-Eye Of The Hurricane-slash-Nightmare On
Helms Street-slash-elbow-assisted reverse DDT thing that nobody has a
technical name for.] 

BW: He calls that the Pulsechecker, Gordo!  And the Rave might be DOA if
he goes for the pin!

GM: He is doing just that... one, two... Jerby Jezz with the sliding
dropkick save!  Here comes Mark Workman!  We have chaos in the ring! 
All four men in a Pier Six brawl!

BW: But do they still brawl on Pier Six in 2032?!

GM: We'll find out!

[Carney is combating Jerby Jezz while Workman is fighting Shizz Dawg OG!
 Jezz rakes Carney in the eyes, and runs to knee Workman in the back. 
The Rave then run to double dropkick Carney!]

GM: The Rave have taken control!  This chaos is their element!

BW: I guess they still do brawl on Pier Six in 2032... probably a space
dock by then!  And it looks like they're going for a moon shot!

GM: The Rave have set Mark Carney on the top rope!  And a double flying
forearm to keep Workman down!  Now... what?

[Jerby Jezz climbs to the top rope with Carney, and hits him in the head
repeatedly.  Shizz Dawg OG slides out and waits on the floor below.  The
Rave point at one another.]

GM: They can't possibly be thinking... is Jezz going to throw Carney to
the Dawg OG for a move?!  That's crazy!

BW: They think they're from the future, Gordo.  Crazy is their idiom.

GM: Jezz with the launch... no!  Carney blocks with both hands on the
top turnbuckle!  And here comes Workman...

[They took too long; Mark Workman has recovered.  Workman hops on the
middle turnbuckle, grabs Jerby Jezz by the waist, and belly-to-back
superplexes him into the ring with a loud THUD to the cheers of the
crowd!]

GM: BELLY TO BACK SUPLERPLEX, AND A BEAUTY!  Jerby Jezz is finished!

BW: But Shizz Dawg is the legal man!

GM: The Dawg OG slides back in the ring, and charges Workman... CARNEY
OFF THE TOP WITH A TREMENDOUS FLYING CLOTHESLINE!  Shizz Dawg OG was
leveled!

BW: I think he's about to have his life flash in front of his eyes,
Gordo... but since he's probably not even born yet, it'll be a real
short show.

[Carney and Workman scoop up Shizz Dawg, hold him up, and flip him over
as if for a high elevation double slam.  However, Carney buries his knee
in Shizz' spine, and Workman pounds his knee into the back of Shizz'
neck!  The crowd goes crazy for the move that has been red hot all over
the country...]

GM: _BECKBREAKER_!

BW: See ya in twenty-one years, kid!

GM: One... two... and the three count is academic after that!

"DING!  DING!  DING!"

PW: Here are your winners... MARK II!

GM: Well, the future may indeed be now for Mark Carney and Mark Workman!
 A tough win over a very game Rave, and let us take a look at the
replay!

[The Castrol High Performance Replay of the Week kicks up as "Rocket" by
Def Leppard begins to play over the speakers.  It shows Mark II lifting
up Shizz Dawg OG.  They get him up almost in a double military press,
but they don't stop the motion.  Instead, they drop down the front arm
to get their opponent's upper body moving down, flipping the back over
for the double slam.  Workman lays into Shizz' descending skull with a
knee, as the lower back of Shizz eventually collides with the point of
Carney's knee.  It's like a reverse Go 2 Sleep and backbreaker at the
same time, and it is brutal.]

BW: Here you take a gander at it.  Workman's knee hits first, and that
might knock the man out.  But if that ain't enough, Carney just buries
the point of the knee into the spine of Shizz Dawg, who is comin' down
from WAY up in the air!  This is it, daddy... it don't matter if it's
the Rave all the way on up to Rough And Ready.  If these kids hit this
move, it is O-V-E-R!  They'll break your beck, daddy!

GM: Fans, we'll be beck... er, back after these messages!

[Not so fast, Gordo!  We're going backstage!  With breathless
anticipation, Jason Dane stands in front of a dressing room door.  There
is an old-school yellow star on the door.  Oooh, somebody has his own
dressing room.  They must be important!]

JD: Fans, the question is on everyone's lips.  Will Stevie Scott accept
the offer from Ivan Kostovich to be the fifth man for his team in the
Tower Of Doom at Wrestlerock?  I am right here by Stevie's dressing
room, and I'm going to try to...

SAS: Men fahtlek, Mistair Jahsun Dan...

[Uh, oh!  Sultan Azam Sharif, clad in his reddish-brown bisht and white
kaffiyeh, has entered from the side.  He is curiously alone... Adrain
Bathwaite is nowhere to be seen.]

JD: Uh, Sultan, I'm about to go ask Stevie Scott if he is joining your
team at WrestleRock.

SAS: Is Mistair Steefie Scott in his dressing room?

JD: Yes.

SAS: Shokran!

[The Sultan turns and knocks.  His big flowing robe crowds Dane out of
the picture.]

JD: We're on camera, Sultan!

SAS: Mistair Count Batwaite tell me dot you do not film bock here! 

[The Sultan is clearly confused, but as he speaks, the door opens.  We
can see Stevie in the doorframe a bit, but his view of the camera is
pretty well impeded by the Sultan's bisht.  Sharif turns to the former
National Champion and extends a hand.]

SAS: Mistair Steefie Scott, asalaamu 'alaikum!

[The former National Champion is caught a little bit off-guard, partly
by the Sultan's showing up and partly because he didn't understand what
he said.  At least that's what we can deduce from the blank look on his
face.]

HSS: Um...yeah...hakuna matata to you too.

SAS: Dot is vot ve say ven ve greet a honorable man, dot Allah
(Subhannah wa t'ala!) vill bless you.  Now!  I come here because Mistair
EE-von Kostovich say dot you vas gonna be on our team in vatevah dey
call dot cage motch vid all dot towairs.  Sitt wa-garyiteen 'ala 'aly
beDteen!  I vont to dank you very much dot you do this, to help make dot
punk Supairnova pay for dot what he do, un dot cowaird Coorvax, un dot
carrupt Jumm Vatkin, un dot jehbronie Tylair Lee!  Jazaku allahu khair!

[Stevie, who has been listening with an overly-attentive look on his
face, pauses, rubbing his chin before the proverbial light bulb goes
off.]

HSS:  Oh!  Wait!  I get it.  You're speaking in some sort of secret
code, right?  Like where one letter is actually another letter?  Because
I heard way too many vees in that diatribe for it to be for real.

SAS: Aasef, Mistair Steefie Scott, I know dot my Ainglaish is not so
good.  BUT RAMEMBAH!  Ve not gonna need to worry about dot in Towair Of
Doom!  Ve have two AWA Nateyunal Shampwon, un formair Vurld Shampwon, un
den ve got Olympic Shampwon, Ahsun Game Shampwon!

[Sharif slaps both sides of his chest when he reaches his own
accomplishments, clearly proud of them.]

SAS: So I vant to personally say dank you, shokran jazleean, all
ontollEgunt AmerEcun un all Iranian peepell know dot Steefie Scott is
very good wrestlair!  Un it is honair to be on a team vid you.

[The Sultan holds his hand out for a handshake.  Stevie now has an
overly-confused look on his face as he slowly accepts the handshake.]

HSS: Um...right...I still didn't understand a word you said so I'm just
gonna assume you were telling me how great I am and leave it at that.

[Sharif nods, then turns around to see the camera.  The one that he was
told about.  And he's still surprised to see it.  Nonetheless, he says
what comes to mind.]

SAS: DOT'S RIGHT!  Now dot ve got Mistair Steefie Scott, ve gonna beat
dot jahbronie Supairnova un his team at WrustailRock!  IRAN!  NUMBAH
WUN!  ROOSIA!  NUMBAH WUN!  STEEFIE SCOTT...

[Sharif turns, apparently to proclaim Steef... I mean, Stevie Scott
"numbah wun".  But his door is already closed again.  The Sultan pauses
for a beat, then turns back around.]

SAS: ...HE'S GONNA BE NUMBAH WUN WHEN HE TEAM WID US!  CAMARAMAN, ZOOM!

[Sharif flexes... inside of his bisht.  

Fade to black.

And then back up on an animated Jason Dane... no, he's not just moving a
lot.  He's LITERALLY animated - like Porky Pig style.]

JD:  They say I'm the man with all the answers.

[A cut to a different angle of animated Dane.]

JD:  They say I'm the man who gets all the scoops.

[Another cut.  Another angle.]

JD:  They say I'm- is all this really necessary?  It's not like I'm
Geraldo, guys.

[A voice off camera shouts "CUT!" and animated Jason Dane walks off a
green screen set through a crowded studio.]

JD:  I'm not the "most feared man in America," fans.  What I am is a
pretty good reporter who has an eye for the stories you're gonna want to
know about.  That's why AWA Access has been one of the most downloaded
apps ever and that's why the AWA gave me permission to start my own
website!

I'll be bringing you the hot news, the big stories, and the stuff not
fit to air.

[Animated Dane strokes his animated chin.]

JD:  Maybe I AM the most feared man in America!

[A "BZZZ!" sound of electricity is heard as animated Jason Dane fades
away and a title graphic appears.]

"JASON DANE - COMING TO A BROWSER NEAR YOU!"

[Fade to black.

Red lettering forms on the screen; Your Worse Friggin' Nightmare, slowly
it fades to black as a voice begins to speak.]

V/O: Big

[A black and white image of an arm with six cross tattoos, each one of
them has a name etched upon them comes across the screen.]

V/O: Bad 

[The image flashes to another arm that is covered in a flame from the
wrist to the elbow, which transitions into a spider web. Slowly the
image fades once again.]

V/O: Bruno 

[The image becomes the face of a man. His bald head has a spider web
tattooed upon it. An angry scowl is plastered upon the his face. Around
his eyes are dark circles that seem to force his dark brown eyes deeper
into their sockets. His face is covered in a full beard, slowly a smile
crosses his lips.]

V/O: Bradley

[The image of Bruno Bradley fades into black and Coming Soon appears in
red lettering before slowly fading to black.

And then back up to live action where Mark Stegglet stands backstage
with "Dirty" Dick Bass, who is decked out in usual ring gear and well
worn brown duster. He gazes out from underneath his black Stetson, the
trademark Handlebar moustache, rainbows tense lips. Gripped tightly in
his taped right hand is his "leading lady", the bullwhip he lovingly
calls "Delilah". Stegglet looks a little intimidated as he speaks....]

MS:  We are back live in Nashville on Saturday Night Wrestling where I'm
joined backstage by "Dirty" Dick Bass. The question on most minds, Dick,
is that you have been very quiet as of late.

[Dick Bass snarls.]

DB: So?

[Stegglet looks a little perplexed.]

MS: Well, some people want to know why.

[Bass shakes his head and rubs his stubbled chin while staring off of
camera. He shakes his head in an annoyed manner before staring holes
through the interviewer.]

DB: It's quite simple actually, Mark.  Here I thought ya were a little
smarter then yer friend Dane, but obviously the two of ya's put together
still wouldn't be smarter then a newborn. But if you and all the AWA
need clarification, then I'll make it clear for ya's.

[Bass glares at the camera as it zooms in closer to his weathered face.]

DB: I do my talking [points off camera] in the ring. I told ya when I
first came here. When I have a problem with somebody or they have a
problem with me- I do my *talking* in the ring. You want to settle
something, [points off camera again] then climb yer carcass into the
ring and let's settle it like men, plain and simple. There is _no_ man
I'm not afraid to get in the face of. You rub Dick Bass the wrong way
and I can *guarantee* you will have a long night in front of you because
win, lose or draw, you'll know when the dust settles- that you have been
in a fight with me!

[Mark nods in understanding as Bass turns his attention back to the
announcer.]

MS: Last week you fought Johnny Sone. Any comments on that match?

DB: None. No, wait.

[shakes head and smirks]

DB: I give that young boy credit for having the *guts* to come out and
face me. I've been challenging everybody and anybody since I came her,
only for it to fall on deaf ears. He wanted to find out what Dick Bass
could do? He found out I'm no joke. As did the rest of the pixies in the
back.

MS: You did surprisingly well in the Rumble until you were eliminated by
a man you have clearly shown no respect for, Travis Lynch. Last Saturday
Night Wrestling, Travis Lynch made it a point to make sure you knew it
was him that eliminated you. your thoughts?

[Bass angrily chuckles and shakes his head.]

DB: In typical Stench fashion, once again only half the story was told
Mark, and that's the part that will make a Stench look good. But the
little _boy_ forgot two very important pieces of the plot.

[holds up index finger]

DB:  One- he used that clearly illegal spinning punch to take me out
from behind.

[holds up two fingers]

DB:  And two- I threw out his snot nosed brother Jack just before that.

With that being said, I want that little golden haired pretty boy to
listen very carefully.

[Close-up of Dick Bass' scowling face.]

DB: Whether you want to admit it or not son, I've been smackin' around
your family since the day I stepped foot into a ring. From your washed
up ol' man ALLLLLLL the way down to that little pansie I threw out of
the Rumble, Jack. So you can walk around pretending it never happened
Travis. You can look at the scars on your older siblings and yer ol' man
and pretend they didn't come from me. But I promise you this _boy_. You
keep wagging your gate youngster, your family and all the girls who
croon yer name won't have to worry about you being so pretty anymore.
*THAT* is a promise. Put up or shut up kid, before I end you.
 
[Dick Bass turns to Mark Stegglet who is speechless. Bass scowls at the
camera and Mark one more time before walking out of view.]

JD:  That's a man who has a very clear goal in mind these days and that
goal is the end of Travis Lynch.  Fans, let's go back down to the ring
for more great AWA action!

[Crossfade to the ring.]

PW: The following contest is scheduled for one fall... introducing
first, to my left, from Canada and weighing 265 pounds... this is James
"The Man Of" Steele!

[A bald man dressed in black trunks and kneepads raises his arms to the
crowd, a smug look on his face.  Ram Jam's version of "Black Betty"
signals the arrival of the opposition.]

PW: His opponent hails from Louisville, Kentucky, and weighs 270
pounds... he is "THE LOUISVILLE SLUGGER" TYLER LEE!

[Tyler Lee is dressed in a pair of black trunks with white kneepads and
wrestling boots. He holds aloft a Louisville Slugger baseball bat,
marching down the aisle toward the ring.]

GM: Tyler Lee will be one of those men joining Supernova and Jim Watkins
for that Tower of Doom match.

BW: That idiot Lee is the number one reason why Stevie Scott should just
say no to joining Watkins' team!

[Lee ducks between the ropes, pointing the Louisville Slugger in
Steele's direction.]

GM: It sure looks like Lee is sending a message to James Steele.

BW: He's being a bully, Gordo! That's another reason why Stevie should
just say no!

GM: I'd say the word bully describes Vladimir Velikov perfectly.

BW: No, the words that describe Velikov are tough love.

GM: Give me a break, Bucky.

[Lee drops the bat in the corner of the ring as the referee signals for
the bell.]

GM: This one is underway... both men match up well size wise.

BW: But in the brains department, everyone has the advantage over Lee!

[Lee and Steele lock up, with Lee able to push Steele back into the
corner.]

GM: Lee backs Steele into the corner... the referee calling for the
break... Steele taking advantage!

BW: As any wrestler with half a brain should!

GM: Steele hammering away on Lee... now spins him around and shoves him
into the corner... shoulder to the midsection!

BW: He's just softening him up... here's an Irish whip...

GM: Lee reverses! Steele sent into the corner... Lee follows in with a
hard clothesline!

[Lee pauses to salute the crowd, before dragging Steele out of the
corner.]

GM: Lee hoisting Steele up onto his shoulder... he's setting him up.

BW: Runs out of the corner... powerslam!

GM: Indeed, quite the show of power from Tyler Lee!

[Lee drags Steele off the canvas again, but then is slowed by a shot to
the midsection.]

GM: James Steele fighting back... a pair of shots to the breadbasket.

BW: Headbutt by Steele... he's got Lee stunned. Doubt it knocked any
sense into Lee, though.

GM: Steele sending Lee into the ropes... goes for a clothesline but Lee
ducks.

[Lee comes off the ropes and floors him with a clothesline of his own.]

GM: And Lee does not miss his clothesline!

BW: He's pulling him up... what is he setting up for?

[Lee has hoisted Steele onto his shoulders, then comes running out of
the corner.]

GM: Whoa! A running Death Valley Driver!

BW: I've never seen a move like that!

GM: I understand he calls that the Derby Driver... and there's the three
count!

[Lee rises to his feet after the three count is made, saluting the
crowd.]

PW: The winner of the match... TYLER LEE!

[Lee allows the referee to raise his hand in victory, then turns to pick
up his baseball bat.]

GM: And Tyler Lee with another victory... I can only imagine how much
he's looking forward to his next opportunity to face Vladimir Velikov,
and he'll get that chance at Wrestlerock in the Tower of Doom match.

BW: Hey, what is that goof doing coming over here?

GM: Tyler Lee making his way to our broadcast position.

[Lee has his bat slung over his shoulder and greets Gordon with a
handshake.]

GM: Tyler Lee, you had another impressive win... certainly you have a
lot to settle with Vladimir Velikov.

TL: Gordon, you better believe I'm looking to take a big piece of
Velikov's hide in that Tower of Doom match at Wrestlerock... and while
I'm at it, I'll take a piece of Kostovich's hide as well!

GM: How are you faring after that attack on Access?

TL: Velikov may have banged me up a bit, but it'll take a lot more than
breaking a wooden chair over my back to take me out for good! Velikov
and Kostovich better understand one thing... there's no way that I or
anyone else on my team is going to let any of those Foreign Legion
members ruin things for all the great Americans on the Fourth of July!

BW: Well, when Stevie Scott here makes the right choice, the Foreign
Legion is guaranteed a win!

TL: Bucky, understand one thing... the wrong choice for Stevie to make
is to join the Foreign Legion! Now, I'm not going to claim to be friends
with Stevie, but I'll say this... Stevie, it was those no good Russians
who abandoned you in that War Games match some time ago and they only
want you on their side so they can use you again! I'm not saying you
have to be my friend or a friend of anyone else on our team, but I can
tell you that, if you join our team, we're not gonna abandon you at any
point and you'll be on our side because we truly believe you can get the
job done and show the Foreign Legion just why what they did to Jim
Watkins was the biggest mistake of their lives!

BW: And who says you and your pals aren't just planning to use Stevie?

TL: Let me put it to you this way... anything that comes out of your
mouth, Bucky, is a load of horse manure and nobody should ever believe
what you say... big boy!

[With that, Tyler Lee heads back up the aisle.]

GM:  Horse manure.... hehehe...

BW:  Laugh it up, fuzzball.  SENATOR Wilde deserves more respect from
him AND you, Myers!

GM:  I'm sure.  Fans, you heard what the Russians think Stevie Scott
should do, we've heard what Supernova thinks he should do, what Sharif
thinks he should do, and now what Tyler Lee thinks he should do... but
what is Stevie Scott thinking he should do?  Let's find out!  Jason?

[Cut backstage again to Jason Dane standing in front of the same door as
he was before.]

JD: Thanks Gordon!  I am indeed here waiting for Stevie Scott, who has
agreed to come out and talk about the comments that we heard moments ago
by Tyler Lee.

[On cue, the door opens and a stone-faced Stevie Scott steps out beside
Dane.]

JD: Stevie, you heard what Tyler Lee had to say and, if I may say so
myself, he made some excellent points.

HSS: You know what all this comes down to, Dane-o?

[Stevie pauses, staring hard at the interviewer.  Jason uncomfortably
loosens his tie before Stevie slowly turns his head to face the camera.]

HSS: Trust.

It seems a little odd to me that you've got a total of eight men, all
who seem incredibly willing to put their trust in me.  And if you take a
look at my track record?

[The former champion chuckles.]

HSS: It ain't exactly a record that promotes trust.

But that's the thing about this business, Dane-o.  It's hard, and quite
frankly, it's stupid to trust _anyone_.  So that's why I have to wonder
the same thing.

Who can _I_ trust?

[A pause.]

HSS: The truth of the matter is that I have absolutely nothing riding on
the outcome of this Tower of Doom match.  The Foreign Legion?  Jim
Watkins?  Supernova?  This is _their_ war.  Not mine.  Win, lose, draw,
for me?  It changes very little when I wake up the morning after.  So
why does everyone want Stevie Scott on their side?

[Steviesmirk~!]

HSS: Other than the obvious, I mean.

But the question remains.  Can I take these guys at face value?  Or am I
being set up for something?  It seems like they all trust _me_.  So I
guess what I have to figure out...

...is who can _I_ trust?

Now excuse me, Dane-o.  I got some more thinking to do.

[Stevie abruptly turns and heads back into his dressing room, slamming
the door behind him as we fade to black.

We fade from Jason Dane to a blackened screen.  Suddenly, the sounds of
ZZ Top's "La Grange" begin to play as we hear Mark Stegglet playing the
role of pitchman over the music.]

"The rock and wrestling connection lives once more as the American
Wrestling Alliance presents... WRESTLEROCK!"

[The Wrestlerock logo appears on the blackened screen and then fades as
we start to see footage of our favorite AWA superstars.]

"It'll be a tremendous night of AWA action on America's birthday - the
fourth of July - when we head down to Durham, North Carolina for a big
OUTDOOR event!"

[A shot of Juan Vasquez diving off the top rope with a splash.  Robert
Donovan chokeslamming a helpless foe.  Supernova slingshotting over the
ropes to the floor.]

"Come for a huge wrestling event and stay for a special post-show
concert by rock and roll legends... Z!  Z!  TAHHHHHP!"

[The music continues to blast over shots of AWA action from the past.]

"The Durham Bulls Athletic Park will be ROCKIN' for one of the biggest
nights of AWA action of the year!  Tickets are available now at the
stadium box office as well as Ticketmaster.com!"

[More AWA action - Eric Preston flying off the top with a crossbody, The
Rockstar Express connecting with a double dropkick, Alex Martinez
Firebombin' a fool down to the mat.]

"So, call your local ticket outlet now and tell 'em that the AWA's
comin' to town and YOU WANNA ROCK!"

[Fade to black.

...and then fade to ringside to our announce duo.]

GM:  Welcome back to Saturday Night Wrestling, fans!  We are just over a
week away from Wrestlerock and things are certainly heating up around
here for a hot, hot summer.  In case you're just joining us, we found
out two major pieces of new here tonight to start the show - Juan
Vasquez will be meeting the West Memphis Assassin in one-half of the
double Main Event at Wrestlerock but we have yet to hear whether or not
the National Title will be on the line.  In addition to that, we have
heard BOTH teams in the Tower of Doom ask Stevie Scott, the former
two-time National Champion, to be their partner inside that steel cell!

BW:  Both teams have dropped all their eggs in one basket.  What happens
if they get rejected?!

GM:  Stevie Scott is deliberating on his choice but he's promised we'll
all know before we go off the air here tonight, fans.  But for now,
let's- what the...

[The camera abruptly cuts to an enraged Joe Petrow, already halfway down
the aisle. The normally calm, cool, and collected fine suit wearing
Petrow is anything but, coming out without a jacket and an untied tie
hanging loosely around his neck. Seemingly caught off guard, the sound
guy abruptly starts to play Petrow's music:

"Tonight's story is somewh--"

And just as abruptly stops, as Petrow is at the timekeeper's desk. He
rips away Phil Watson's mic, screams for him to get up, then takes away
his _chair_, and heads back to the front of the aisle, screaming a
challenge towards the back:]

JP: Morton! Haynes! The honorable Sultan has inspired me to do something
about my problems! You want to be a thorn in my side for months on end!?
You want to break the custom throne that I had designed for King
Langseth!?

[With his free hand Petrow raises the chair high above his head and
CLANGS it down on the cement floor, and LOSES it!]

JP: THE THRONE DOESN'T FIGHT BACK! I FIGHT BACK! YOU GOT A PROBLEM, THEN
FIGHT ME! I FIGHT BACK! GET OUT HERE AND FACE ME LIKE MEN, YOU COWARDS!

GM: Joe Petrow is challenging Violence Unlimited by himself!?

BW: Those punks humiliated Joe Petrow and Royalty and ruined his
celebration! You knew he wouldn't stand for that!

GM: Well I hope he realized what he's asked for, because here they come!

[While the fuming Joe Petrow stands waving his chair at ringside, the
fans break into thunderous applause at the arrival of Danny Morton and
Jackson Haynes. Always ready for a fight, the duo both walk up the aisle
to dismantle the chair-wielding manager.  But when they get halfway up
the aisle, Petrow's demeanor changes completely, imploring the men to
listen to him.]

JP: Now hold on, hold on a second guys! I don't know if you're just
dimwitted or, simply got caught up in the emotion of the moment or
something, but you seem to have forgotten that, wherever Joe Petrow
goes, Lord Eric and the Professional are not far behind!

[Not only is Rough 'n Ready not far behind: they _are_ now behind
Violence Unlimited, both men emerging from the back with chairs of their
own.  Both sides begin to close in on Danny Morton and Jackson Haynes,
their fists raised, daring the members of Royalty to attack.]

JP: You also seem to have forgotten the most basic tenet of warfare:
never fight a battle on two fronts.  But fear not, guys! Royalty is
_not_ like the other insane guys running this asylum.  We are
_gentlemen_!  And I brought you out here that we settle our issues like
gentlemen!

You guys have been a nuisance to us for months now, and we're getting a
little tired of it. So even though you don't deserve it, if you agree
right here and now, then at Wrestlerock, you will finally get the chance
to wrestle the guys that you've got a problem with!

[Petrow lobs a microphone to Danny Morton, who catches it out of the
air. He stands back-to-back with Haynes, still weary of a potential
fight. Staring directly at Petrow, the Oklahoman laughs.]

DM: You got a lot of nerve, Petrow. We've been asking for a fight for
months! _Begging_ for one, as you and your boys ducked us at every
opportunity! You think we're going to turn it down now? What did you
*think* our answer was going to be?

[As Haynes yells, "Bring it on!" at Rough N Ready, Morton grins at
Petrow and nods emphatically.]

DM: Of course we'll fight you at Wrestlerock!

[BIG POP!]

DM: We'll fight! We'll win! And we'll take those tag team titles from
Rough N Ready!

[The eternal world champion merely nods his head.]

JP: So you agree to what I proposed?  Good! Now, I'm not going to say
that the titles are not on the line.  I'm going to tell you that, by
your own agreement, the titles CANNOT be on the line!

[An audible and angered "WHAT!?" can be heard from Haynes.]

JP: Because the AWA National Tag Team Champions are Dave Cooper and Eric
Matthew Somers.  They and they _alone_ can defend the tag team titles. 
But you agreed to a match with ALL the men you got a problem with! And
after the last show, it's obvious that you don't just have a problem
with Rough 'n Ready!  You have a problem with ALL of Royalty!
Specifically, you have a very...big...problem...with the King of the
AWA, MARK!  LANGSETH!!

["Great Gate of Kiev" begins to play, bringing everyone's attention to
the entrance way. The music plays for a bit before the one and only King
Langseth steps out, illiciting a chorus of boos from the crowd.
Langseth's dressed for the part, wearing the royal blue & white robe
over his dark suit and the jewel-encrusted golden crown atop his head.

Langseth walks down the aisle at a quick pace - making sure to avoid the
dirty, outstretched hands of the fans he passes. He walks around the
ring for a moment, pointing and yelling angrily at the members of VU.
Finally, through, Langseth ascends the steps and steps through the ropes
as the rest of Royalty joins him.]

GM: I'd be wary if I were Violence Unlimited - all four members of
Royalty are out there now.

BW: Unlike either of those disrespectful punks, Gordo, Royalty's about
honor and keeping their word! They won't do anything unless those two
maniacs start it!

[The King - making sure to be near the rest of Royalty - reaches under
his royal garment to produce a microphone only a person of his stature
could wield.]

GM: Good grief.

BW: Now that's a microphone fit for a King!

[Langseth holds a golden microphone with a diamond bezel around the mic
head.]

ML: Swine! You broke my chair! MY THRONE!

[Haynes and Morton let out smug grins.]

ML: Very proud of yourselves, aren't you? Destroying Royalty's property!
Laying your grubby, gritty, disgusting hands on MY THRONE!

[The crowd cheers, bringing a sneer to the face of the King.]

ML: How dare you!?! A king without a throne is like Sir Petrow without
the Eternal World's Heavyweight Championship! It's like Lord Eric and
Lord David without the AWA Tag Team Championships! It's like you two
animals without the stench of failure!

[The Hall of Famer puts a finger to his nose, blocking out this apparent
odor.]

ML: You more than ANYONE here in the AWA need to learn to respect those
deserving of it! Just who do you two think you are, anyway?

JH: Who are we??? WHO ARE WE???

_WE_ are the greatest damn tag team in the world, boy!

[POP! Haynes' eyes grow wild and big, as if it's about to go off into
one of his tirades as he slides into the ring and takes a few steps
towards Langseth. Morton senses trouble and tries to hold Haynes
back...but suddenly the big man from Moscow, Tennessee stops and an
unsettling grin forms on that ugly mug.]

JH: But keep talkin' to me with that bass in your voice and I'M gonna'
be the man that shoved that damn microphone down your gullet!

[POP! Langseth is taken aback by Haynes' profane imagery.]

ML: You two... You two filty, disgusting, boorish commoners! How dare
you!?!

[Langseth shakes his head before briefly discussing something with
Petrow.]

ML:  You know what, you two hooligans? At Wrestlerock -

[The King lets out a bit of a painful groan after uttering the event's
name.]

ML: You don't just have to contend with the Lords of Wrestling - the one
and ONLY tag team champions in ALL of wrestling... You'll also have to
deal with THE ONLY undefeated and Hall of Fame inducted -

[Langseth, never letting an opportunity to show off his ring pass,
flashes up his jeweled hand.]

ML: Wrestler today! Cause I WILL be at Wrestlerock and I WILL make sure
you learn proper respect!

[Dave Cooper motions to Mark Langseth' and Langseth points the mic in
Dave's direction.]

DC: I'm amazed men of your low level of intelligence can understand your
own situation! Given that you have upset the King of Wrestling, you will
be facing the three of us at Wrestlerock! Now, if by some stroke of luck
you manage to come away with a win, then we'll talk about another shot
for our tag team championship.

But at Wrestlerock, you will be taught some manners' manners Eric and I
thought you had been taught back at The Main Event, but apparently
didn't stick with you! So if it takes all of Royalty to ensure those
manners stick with you, then so be it.

[Haynes is incensed...but then again, when isn't he angry?]

JH: Boy, just say it in plain English! In order to get our title shot,
we're gonna' need to go through all three of you?

[Cooper sneers at Haynes.]

DC: Like I said, we'll talk about that shot if you somehow pull out a
win' until that time, the only thing you need be concerned about is
learning manners and learning proper respect!

[Eric, at that point, puts his hand on Dave's shoulder, drawing Dave's
attention and he motions to Langseth' who moves the mic up toward Eric.]

EMS: And just remember' the way we teach people respect' is by beating
it into them!

[Dave, Mark and Joe all smirk at Eric's remarks. Meanwhile, Danny Morton
steps in, a picture of calmness compared to Jackson Haynes, who is
red-faced and ready to explode at any second, as he curses at Royalty,
daring them all to fight him.]

DM: Royalty, it stopped being about respect a long, long time ago! The
moment you cheated us out of those tag team titles, the moment you
attacked us and made us kiss Langseth's feet...respect went flying out
the window!

[Those grins on Royalty's faces only grow at the memory of humiliating
Violence Unlimited.]

DM: You can talk about respect and honor and morality all you want, but
face it...you guys are just like school in the summer.

NO CLASS!

[POP! Those smirks are quickly wiped from Royalty's faces.]

DM: You're right, though. There *is* a lesson to be learned here, but
not from you three! At Wrestlerock, me and Jack are gonna' teach you a
lesson...

[Morton and Haynes proceed to take a step forward and stare eye-to-eye
with Royalty.]

DM: ...a lesson in pain!

[The roar from the crowd grows near deafening as Violence Unlimited and
Royalty continue to stare each other down.]

GM: OH MY STARS! Violence Unlimited and Royalty will do battle at
Wrestlerock!

BW: That's going to be one heck of a battle, Gordo! Maybe after Royalty
puts those two barbarians in their place once again, they'll finally
learn some respect!

GM:  The tag team situation here in the AWA is EXPLODING! 

[We abruptly cut to the locker room area where Jason Dane stands
alongside Larry Doyle.  Doyle wears a neon green jacket and slacks,
salmon dress shirt and hot pink tie.  Dane, by comparison, seems dull
but then so would a peacock.]

JD: Hello fans, Jason Dane here with the "Hollywood Man" Larry Doyle,
manager of the Blond Bombers.  Larry, tonight your team has a match
against the Rockstar Express.

LD: That's right Daaane, and it's just another sad rehash, like the
remake of a remade movie that's been colorized by Crayola.  Nobody wants
to see my team trouncing that wannabe garage band into dust again. 
Let's be frank; those two boys are as bad as that crap music they
represent.  Music peaked with the publication of "Personal Jesus" by
Depeche Mode, anything after that is pure garbage.

JD: I'm pretty sure the Rockstar Express' theme is considerably older
th--

LD: Your incorrect opinion is duly noted, Dane, but it remains as
invalid today as the day you decided to believe you could be a broadcast
journalist.

C'mon boys, get in the shot.

[From behind Doyle, "The Machine" Johann Avalon and "Ravishing" Robert
Baldwin step into frame.  Avalon tweaks his slicked back shoulder-length
'do while Baldwin wrings his hands in anticipation.]

LD: You see these two here?  These men, two men who could challenge at
any time for the National Championship, are the ultimate tag team
specialists.

First you have the aerialist Baldwin whose hands are like twin boulders,
a man who has already pinned Juan Vasquez to the mat one time and ALMOST
took that title off him.  Would've too if the AWA had a lick of justice
left in it.

On the other hand you have Johann Avalon, still a Machine, but the kind
that does more than one thing.  Oh sure, he's still a "Love Machine" but
he's also a Suplex Machine and the best example of perpetual motion this
side of science fiction.

JD: You sound like you're taking the Rockstars lightly, Larry.

LD: It's hard to take a feather heavily, Dane.  Oh, sure, they had a
little bit of success--

JD: They had a pitched battle with the Bombers last year that played out
over several months, as I recall.

[Doyle jams a finger in Dane's face, actually poking his nose.]

LD: I'm sorry.  Did I give you the impression that I was done talking? 
Okay, sure, you wanna dredge up ancient history? Maybe they did okay for
themselves, but as I recall, they came up short most of the time.  Let's
give credit where credit is due, they might be, MAYBE, the second
greatest tag team in AWA history ... at best.  That STILL makes the
Blond Bombers number one.

JD: You say that but the Bombers still haven't captured the AWA Tag Team
championship.

LD: You are enjoying playing the devil's advocate tonight.  That's
right, we didn't win the title in our first and only match for it, Dane.
 BUT we took what worked, subtracted what didn't, and added a whole heck
of a lot of other good stuff.  Scotty Storm? Marty Morgan?  It's just
the same old song and TONIGHT ... we're gonna silence the music.  Why? 
Because we are the attraction.  We are the talent.  We are the AWA. 
Tonight, again, the Bombers are gonna prove it.  Now get that stick out
of my face.

[Pushing past Dane, Doyle makes his exit.  The Bombers follow, Baldwin
clapping a heavy hand on the interviewer's shoulder and shooting him
what could pass for a friendly grin.]

JD: Doyle sounding confident.  I guess we'll see later tonight if that
confidence is well founded.  Bucky, Gordon, back to you.

[Crossfade back to the ringside area.]

GM:  Thanks, Jason.  The Blonde Bombers will take on the Rockstar
Express later tonight in a match that is sure to have some Stampede Cup
seeding impact in tonight's Main Event.

BW:  It's gonna be a beautiful thing to see the Bombers walk that road
to redemption.  They're still trying to live down what happened in their
first shot at the National Tag Team Titles and winning tonight would go
a long way towards doing exactly that.

GM:  Just imagine what winning the Stampede Cup would do for them!  But
that's coming up in September...  up next, however, the Longhorn
Heritage Championship will be on the line. Nenshou will defend against
one of the biggest men in the AWA, a young prospect we saw this past
weekend on AWA Access! This will be the Saturday Night Wrestling debut
of B.C. Da Mastah M.C., Bucky Wilde, and if he wins tonight, it would be
one of the most impactful debuts in the history of the AWA!

BW: Please tell me that Bee See Duh Mee is up in the ring, quietly
waiting for the introduction.

[A different generic hip hop beat, kind of sounding like E.U.'s song "Da
Butt" starts playing over the PA as a small pop is heard from the kids
in the crowd.]

# YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

BW: Oh no! I was afraid of this... we've gotta hear this guy again?

GM: That's right, Bucky! Or should I say.. Bee-dubs?

BW: Call me that, Myers, I dare you.

[Gordon, seeing as Bucky is probably thinking about doing something mean
to him, clams up. Emerging onto the aisleway is B.C. Da Mastah MC,
dancing down the aisle with a mic in his hand as a few of the younger
people in the crowd start to dance along. He is a really heavyset white
guy with a high top black fade; he looks like a guy stuck in 1989. B.C.
is wearing bright green sunglasses, a big fake gold chain around his
neck, and a skull cap as he raps his way down to the ring. His ring
attire is basically a bright red singlet with "B.C." in black across the
front.]

BC: YO! LEMME RAP AT Y'ALL HERE IN DA HOUSE!
I'MMA TAKIN' ON A MAN THAT'S QUIET AS A MOUSE!
I SIT 'ROUND BACK, WATCHIN' NENSHOU SPITTIN' MIST!' 
THE ONE THING I KNOW IS THAT I'M ABOUT TA GET....

[B.C. pauses for a moment, realizing that he's about to say something
very family unfriendly.]

BC: MAD!

BW: Oh come on. I'd at least have a little respect for this guy if he
actually said what I thought he was about to say!

GM: That's right! Save those rhymes for Suge Knight and the rest of the
Mean Street Posse!

[Bucky groans. B.C. bobs his head as he bounces down the aisle. B.C.
hops onto the apron, and looks over the crowd.]

BC: I GOT A SHOT AT NENSHOU'S BELT!
I'M GONNA DO MY BEST TA MAKE HIM MELT!
I'M GONNA PIN HIM TO DA MAT, 1-2-3!
THE NEW LONGHORN HERITAGE CHAMP WILL BE ME!

YO! YO! YO! YO! YO! YO!
GO! GO! GO! GO! GO! GO!

BW: Go! Go away!

[B.C. steps through the ropes and makes his way to one corner of the
ring as the rap beat fades, awaiting the arrival of the Longhorn
Heritage Champion.]

BW: I swear, his rap doesn't even match up to the beat. 

GM: Don't be such a party pooper, Bucky, B.C. is just here having fun!
Now let's hear the introduction of our Longhorn Heritage champ!

[A clap of thunder peals over the PA, shortly followed by the ominous
beat of "Raijin's Drums" by George Sakalis. The fans stand and boo as
one; as if in response to this, a hooded figure dressed in a
black-and-red silk coat parts the entrance curtain and bolts through
into the arena. Nenshou halts, already in a fighting stance. His sudden
rush through the entrance apparently intended to ferret out any
potential ambushers or adversaries. The coast being clear, Percy Childes
walks though the curtain behind the Asian Assassin, carrying his
crystal-tipped cane in one hand and the Longhorn Heritage Championship
Belt in the other. Childes, garbed in a grey sport jacket and brown
pants, marches straight to the ring, and Nenshou follows close behind.]

GM: Is it me, or does Nenshou seem jumpy tonight?

BW: That ain't jumpy. "Jumpy" is when ya go runnin' and screamin' at
every little thing. No, Nenshou ain't jumpy; he's ready. Ready in case
those thugs Robert Donovan and Sweet Daddy Williams are layin' in
ambush.

[Nenshou is wearing baggy red pants, matching boots, and a red silk belt
around his decorative jacket. His face is obscured by the hood on the
jacket; his lower chin is visible, suggesting black face paint today. As
BC Da Mastah MC tests the ropes in the ring, the Longhorn Heritage
Champion slowly circles the ring, keeping a wary eye on his
surroundings. Percy Childes heads straight for the commentary table, and
seats himself.]

GM: And joining us at the table for some uninvited commentary is the
"Collector Of Oddities" Percy Childes!

BW: I invited him.

PC: And I extend my gratitude, Bucky Wilde. I guarantee your safety
should Ebola Zaire snap and attempt to kill everything in sight.

GM: I'm on my own, then?

PC: I will get the mad Monosso reinstated somehow, Gordon Myers...
remember that when you attempt to sleep tonight.

[Nenshou springs into the ring in one smooth motion, pivots on one foot,
and whips his hood off to reveal his face... black paint covers the
surface, with some kanji stamped in red with gold highlights. Nenshou's
hair is styled in a short brush cut, with a kanji shaved into his head
that matches one of the ones on his face.]

GM: And what do those symbols read, Percy Childes?

PC: "You will be consumed by the flames in the darkness." The one on his
hair is "Darkness". Fitting, yes?

GM: I was thinking "disturbing".

PC: You will see more disturbing things than you have already seen,
Myers.

BW: I doubt that. Bee Cee Duh Mee rapped on his way to the ring. You
could split open an eight year old and it couldn't top that.

PC: I concede the point.

[Introductions are now forthcoming, as "Raijin's Drums" have died down.]

PW: The following contest, set for one fall and a ten minute time limit,
is for the AWA Longhorn Heritage Championship!

[Title match cheers!]

PW: Introducing first the challenger! From Alpharetta, Georgia...
weighing in at three hundred and sixty-six pounds...

...he is the Master of the Mic... B.C. DA MASTAH MC!

[There are cheers for the superheavyweight, which he acknowledges by
rolling his fist in the air. he has a big goofy grin and is enjoying the
moment.]

PW: His opponent is managed by "The Collector Of Oddities" Percy
Childes...

PC: Charmed, I'm sure.

PW: He hails from Japan... weighing two-hundred and thirty-nine
pounds... 

...he is the AWA Longhorn Heritage Heavyweight Champion...

...NENSHOU!!

[Nenshou leaps up on the top rope, does a quick kata into a throat-slit
gesture, and spews green mist straight up into the air!]

GM: And THAT is what should be banned!

BW: Showin' off before a match? YES! I agree, let's get half these
fan-paderin'...

GM: WHAT WAS THAT?!

[That? That was Nenshou backflipping off the ropes, and spewing red mist
at BC Da Mastah MC's feet. He takes two steps back and assumes his
meditative stance, with two fingers extended in front of his face. BC
looks down at the red spot on the mat with a perplexed look. he turns to
the referee and asks "How did he DO that?"... the referee shrugs.]

GM: He sprayed the green... and then the red? 

PC: Heh heh heh... a parlor trick. And look at how it affected this B.C.
He is already befuddled.

GM: How did he do that?

PC: I'd tell you, but then Nenshou would have to... not answer any
questions as to whatever happened to Gordon Myers, who disappeared
following a show in Nashville, Tennessee.

BW: You can tell me afterwards, right, Percy?

[No answer. The opening bell rings... as the above banter goes on,
Nenshou circles the wide-shouldered frame of BC Da Mastah MC. He swoops
in, collar-and-elbow tieup... and BC easily shoves Nenshou halfway
across the ring.]

GM: Unwise move there. Nenshou can't possibly match power with BC Da
Mastah MC, though he does look a bit more muscular than the last time we
saw him.

PC: Nenshou has been strength training to inflict greater damage with
strikes. This is a necessity against Robert Donovan. This match against
this large person is something of a training exercise for Nenshou,
getting him re-accustomed to battling a much larger man. Though,
clearly, the "Mastah MC" is no Robert Donovan.

GM: "Training exercise"!? The title is on the line! That attitude could
cost you the championship tonight!

PC: I assure you, Nenshou doesn't see anything as a mere "training
exercise". It isn't in his mindset. I am the one who selects his
opponents.

GM: A second lockup, and the same result as the first. BC Da Mastah MC
feeling more confident, and moving in... an attempt to grab Nenshou
fails as the much faster man rolls away easily.

BW: Why's Nenshou even tryin' ta tie up with Big Mac Da Mastah With
Cheese?

PC: He is trying to gauge how strong the man is. Those flabby arms could
hide muscle or more flab. There's no way to know without testing him, or
performing an autopsy. And believe me, we'd prefer the latter. Ebola
Zaire has done several in his day.

GM: I'm sure.

[BC and Nenshou lock up again, but this time the Longhorn Heritage
Champion wheels out into a drop toehold. Sadly, there's more toehold
than drop as he cannot take BC down. Da Mastah MC stomps Nenshou in the
midsection, causing the Longhorn Heritage Champion to abandon ship.]

GM: BC landing a shot on Nenshou! The Asian Assassin rolls to standing,
Da MC follows in... oooh! Nenshou with a hard chop to the pectoral stops
BC dead in his tracks!

PC: Precisely aimed at a nerve cluster. Science fiction overplays the
effect, but you can indeed stun a man by targeting the nerves in his
trapezius.

GM: SPINNING HEEL KICK BY NENSHOU! A ferocious blow, but the Alpharetta
native does not go down! 

BW: Easiest way ta take down Blimp Pee da Mastah Fat Tee would be ta
throw a Hershey bar on the mat, and when he goes for it, put the boots
to him.

PC: I brought one just in case.

GM: Nenshou climbing up on the shoulders... alright, this is a
chokehold! Referee!

[What Gordon is complaining about is that Nenshou has hopped up on BC's
shoulders, brought his right calf across BC's throat and used his left
leg to hold his ankle in place. With his legs in a figure-four-like
position, Nenshou leans back, ending up hanging over BC Da Mastah MC's
back to add his body weight to the chokehold with his legs!]

BW: That's real dangerous, Percy! What if he...

[HUGE CHEER!]

BW: ...does that?!

[The cheer ends in an "Awwwww!". BC fell straight back, trying to squash
Nenshou into the mat, but the quickness of the Japanese superstar
enabled him to simply release the choke and roll to the side an instant
before Da Mastah MC hit the canvas!]

PC: Exactly what Nenshou wanted him to do! He forced this rookie into a
position where falling down seemed like the best option! That is the
easy way to take a man down.

GM: But Robert Donovan is no rookie.

PC: We have much better things in store for him; we would never waste
them on such an inexperienced competitor. This Mastah MC has no killer
instinct. He needs a man like Anton Layton to mold him.

GM: I do not want to even think about that!

[Da Mastah MC tries to get up, but he's met with a hard kick to the
nose. Nenshou rolls BC to his stomach, wraps BC's knee with his own, and
falls back into a single-leg deathlock.]

BW: I don't wanna think about havin' ta carry eleven hundred twenty-six
pounds around with a blown knee, but that's what Bee Gees Da Wannabe is
lookin' at if he don't get outta this hold soon!

GM: We often see Nenshou bridge back and cup the chin with this hold,
but tonight he is strictly using the leglock portion. BC may be just too
big to apply the full hold to.

PC: No. In fact, the bridging deathlock would be incredibly effective on
such an inflexible foe. But the man is not sufficiently worn down for
that.

[The fans start cheering!]

GM: Fans, I take it from the crowd's reaction that something is
happening... there!  In the aisle!

[The camera cuts to the aisle, where the titanic frame of Robert Donovan
is making his way to the ring.  The seven footer is wearing a pair of
jeans and a black t-shirt with "REDEMPTION" written across in red
lettering.  He pauses in the aisle, eyeing Nenshou from the floor.]

PC: Scouting.  Very well.  That had better be all he is doing, if he
wants to make it to WrestleRock.

GM: Strong words.

PC: I have Ebola Zaire awaiting my command to attack anyone and
anything.  And Anton would need very little provocation to join in with
Polemos.  So I can use language as strong as I please.

GM: These fans are urging BC Da Mastah MC on, and he is reaching out to
them! The young children especially are calling out to him... and he
answers! BC Da Mastah MC reaches the ropes! And of course, Nenshou
refuses to break it!

BW: Are you kiddin'? He's been tryin' to break it the whole time!

GM: The hold, Bucky... he breaks at five, and that was VERY close to a
disqualification! BC tries to use the ropes to pull himself up, and
Nenshou is simply unloading on him! Punches, kicks, chops... but the
young rapper from north Atlanta is on his feet! A big meaty forearm to
the chest floors the champion!

BW: That was more 'fatty' than 'meaty'.

GM: Nenshou is up, and a rake to the eyes stops Da MC! And... that
horrid thrust chop to the windpipe! Absolutely illegal, Percy Childes!

PC: I absolutely do not hear a bell ringing.

GM: Robert Donovan looking on in disapproval.  Nenshou hopping up on the
second turnbuckle, and coming down with a hard chop to the trapezius,
much like the one he hit earlier! This one drops the Mastah MC! And
Nenshou for the cover... one, two... but not three! BC isn't finished
yet!

BW: Given that I.B. Notonthe Mar Quee hasn't hit Nenshou with anything
useful, he don't have much time before he's finished off like the
Chinese Buffet after he gets done with it.

GM: Nenshou with a snapping elbow drop. The "powerdrive" elbow, it is
called by some, and it was a brutal blow! Now waiting for BC to
ascend... I suspect that step-up knee smash, the Shining Wizard!

PC: As do I. This contest is finished.

[Nenshou sprints off the ropes, and runs headlong into two big feet! 
The crowd explodes as all three-hundred sixty-six pounds of Mastah MC
elevates for a dropkick!]

GM: OH MY WORD! A DROPKICK! DID YOU SEE THAT?!

BW: Oh, no! This idiot's rap was so bad that it broke Physics!

GM: NENSHOU IS STUNNED!

BW: NO! MOVE, NENSHOU!

GM: ELBOW DROP! BC DA MASTAH MC GOT ALL OF IT! ALL THREE SIXTY-SIX! AND
THE COVER! HOW COULD NENSHOU KICK OUT FROM THIS GIRTH?!

BW: NO!

GM: ONE... TWO... AND somehow Nenshou slipped out the back door! You had
to have seen your life flash before your eyes, Percy Childes!

PC: Oh ye of little faith. It will take more than that to defeat
Nenshou, by far.

"FIVE MINUTES HAVE EXPIRED!  FIVE MINUTES REMAIN!"

GM: We're halfway through the time limit for this one as BC gets up, and
rolling that arm to get the fans on their feet! He whips Nenshou to the
corner... AND NOBODY HOME FOR THE AVALANCHE!

BW: Way too slow! Nenshou would never be caught by that!

GM: BC now slumped in the corner... Nenshou with a jumping spin kick to
keep him there. Now he backs up! Nenshou with a head of steam...
HANDSPRING EL... NO! WHAT ON EARTH WAS THAT?!

[As the Japanese grappler handsprings in, BC takes a step out, turns,
jumps, and thrusts his rear end out! The back of Nenshou's head collides
with Da Mastah MC's buttocks, and launches him face-first to the canvas!
Nenshou smacks his forehead into the mat, rolls over onto his back with
the momentum, and is still!  The crowd is going crazy, and Donovan has a
huge smile on his face.]

BW: NO!

GM: Some kind of a... butt-bump! And it dropped Nenshou in a heap! AND
HE'S GOING UP!

BW: NO! STOP HIM!

GM: BC DA MASTAH MC IS CLIMBING THE ROPES! HE'S GOING FOR THE TURNTABLE
ON NENSHOU! IF HE HITS THAT, WE WILL HAVE A NEW LONGHORN HERITAGE
CHAMPION!

BW: That fluke hit might have knocked Nenshou loopy!

GM: Percy Childes is standing! His life must be flashing before his
eyes! BC DA MASTAH MC IS ON THE TOP ROPE!

[The fans roar as the hip-hop beat that accompanies BC Da Mastah MC
starts to play! As the opening scratch concludes, he leaps!]

[*B O O O O O O M !*][*SKKKKKKKRRRRawwww!]*

[And the music cuts with a record-needle-scratching sound as BC Da
Mastah MC hits nothing but mat!]

BW: NENSHOU ROLLED AWAY! HE WAS PLAYING POSSUM!

GM: Oh, no! After that fall... BC hit the canvas with all three
sixty-six! And Nenshou leaping up top...

[The fans boos echo across the arena, as Nenshou's one-hop ascent to the
top is much faster than the ponderous climb of BC Da Mastah MC. As such,
his moonsault finds the mark!]

GM: SPECTACULAR MOONSAULT!

BW: And it's all over but the crying!

GM: One, two... and no question about that! Nenshou retains!

PC: As always.

"DING!  DING!  DING!"

PW: Here is your winner...

...NENSHOU!!

[As "Raijin's Drums" begins, Nenshou hops to his feet, turns to face
Donovan, and makes the quick throat-slit gesture/thumbs down at him. 
Donovan points at him, to let him know that he will be coming for him. 
The fans are on edge to see what will happen.]

GM: An impressive victory for Nenshou, overcoming some misfortune and a
late run by a game challenger!  But now he is locked in on Robert
Donovan!  Will we see a preview of WrestleRock?

PC: If Donovan doesn't clear the aisle, there won't BE a WrestleRock! 
Not for him!

BW: Well, Donovan ain't moving!  He wants Nenshou to have to walk past
him to leave!

PC: Ha ha ha, no.  I have a better idea.  Anton, bring them.

GM: Wait, who were you just talking to?

PC: You do realize that this audio feed is carried backstage, don't you?

BW: Aw, yeah... Donovan's played the last punk card from his deck,
daddy!  Here comes the troops!

[Anton Layton leads the way, grinning sadistically as he waves on
Polemos.  Ebola Zaire follows behind, and he is carrying a sharp
fragment of wood he splintered off of something.  Donovan turns to see
the oncoming Unholy Alliance, and he waves them on.  Nenshou mounts the
top rope behind Donovan, and is perched, ready in case the veteran
decides to backpedal into his range.]

JS: NO!  That is enough!

PC: Oh, of course.  HIM.

[Jon Stegglet marches out with a microphone.  The fans cheer this,
because it's pretty obvious that Donovan would be overwhelmed without
someone stepping in.]

JS: Layton, back them all up or you're going to be joining Monosso on
indefinite suspension!

[Layton shouts something unintelligible in the direction of Jon
Stegglet.]

JS: I don't care!  I'm not about to sit there while a major WrestleRock
match gets blown up because you're hearing voices from the beyond!  Get
some medication!  And Childes, yes, that broadcast booth feed IS carried
backstage, which is why the likes of you are not invited to use it
whenever you feel the need.  

At WrestleRock, Nenshou WILL defend the Longhorn Heritage Championship
against Robert Donovan, and he WILL do so by himself! 

[The crowd roars!]

JS:  If you don't have a manager's license for Nenshou or Donovan... and
by AWA bylaw, only one person can be a manager for each man... you are
BANNED from ringside!  The contest will be held under Locked Door Rules!

And if I see a member of the Unholy Alliance OTHER than Percy Childes
and Nenshou out there, the bell will be rung and there be an IMMEDIATE
disqualification!

[The fans erupt in cheers.  Donovan grins, nodding at the decision made
by the former Play By Play announcer.  Anton Layton seems to be seething
as he glares down the aisle at Stegglet.  Childes seems unconcerned, and
Nenshou hasn't moved a muscle... he's still on the top rope, ready to
leap.]

PC: Fine.  Done.  Acceptable.  Those are exactly the conditions under
which Nenshou defeated Donovan on his way through the tournament to
claim my Longhorn Heritage Championship in the first place.  The very
match, the very night where I set the record straight on Mr. Donovan's
beloved "heritage" once and for all, I believe.  I even mailed him the
ashes afterwards, so he could bury them where he saw fit.

JS: No, Childes, it's not "quite" the same.  That match you're talking
about?  I watched the tape this past week.  While no wrestlers
interfered... you did.  You hit Donovan with that urn full of the ashes
of the memories of the Longhorn Wrestling Council...

[Donovan's fists clench as he remembers the night.  Percy simply
smirks.]

PC: You don't have the time to try and ban me from ringside, Stegglet. 
My lawyers will have that held up...

JS: I know, I know.  You have the contractual right to be at ringside. 
As does Robert Donovan's manager.

[Jon pauses to let that last sentence sink in.  The smirk slides right
off of Percy's face as the crowd cheers... they can sense something
awful about to happen to Percy.]

JS: But don't worry.  Neither one of you will be interfering much...
because you'll be handcuffed to one another!

[The cheers grow louder!]

PC: NOW WAIT JUST A MOMENT!  I AM NOT A CRIMINAL!  And... I refuse to be
shackled to another manager!  I am the finest manager in this business
today!  Who would even invest longterm in Robert Donovan, anyway?  What
kind of...

RD: Oh, you want to meet my manager?  Okay, done.

PC: I doubt you even have a...

#WHO WAN' SIT ON SWEET DADDY'S LAP TANIIIIIGHT?#

PC: ...manaJKLASFDJKASFDKL;ASL;!!!

[HUGE POP!  Sweet Daddy Williams appears at the top of the aisle as his
music begins, holding aloft a sheet of paper for the world to see.

His manager's license.

Percy is reduced to incredulous sputtering, as his eyes widen in horror.
 Layton points at Stegglet, Donovan, and Williams, swearing that they
will pay for this.  Donovan raises the finger to point once again at
Nenshou, who alone seems totally unfazed by this series of events.]

GM: SWEET DADDY WILLIAMS HAS A MANAGER'S LICENSE!  AND HE'LL BE IN
ROBERT DONOVAN'S CORNER AT WRESTLEROCK... HANDCUFFED TO PERCY CHILDES!

BW: THIS IS RIDICULOUS!  Percy, you should sue!  That big goon is going
to hurt you!

GM: We've got to clear this place out, fans, we'll be back!

[A furming Percy Childes is still muttering to himself inaudibly as we
fade to black.

We fade 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 the locker room area,
and wrapping up his preparations for his match tonight is the Pride of
Sweden himself, the Beautiful One, Jonas Olrikke. Olrikke's by himself,
by request, as he didn't seem to be too pleased with Jason Dane's line
of questioning the last time Olrikke had a chat with the AWA viewing
audience. Olrikke looks a little bit tense, as he knows he's going to
deal with the psychotic Anton Layton tonight.]

JO: I hate to admit it, but something Mr. Anton Layton said earlier in
the night hit me close to home.

I'm not a hero, or a white knight, and that's an unfortunate truth.

[Olrikke shakes his head.]

JO: People over the years have always embraced the wrong kind of people
for their heroes, especially in this business.

We've had illiterate cowboys, chewing tobacco and spitting it out every
time they mumbled incoherently to whoever would listen. We've had brutes
who would spit out an expletive every other sentence, and the
non-expletives made their lack of an education stand out. We've had
idiots swinging around light-tubes and punching people in the face with
sock puppets, when they had the talent to not resort to such barbaric
rubbish.

...and now we have a Mr. Eric Preston who had to dig deep within himself
to find his dark side, which apparently is nothing more than a petulant
crybaby who has to hit innocent people because he couldn't get what he
wanted. For shame. 

[Olrikke shakes his head as you can hear the crowd booing Olrikke
running down some of wrestling's good guys over the years.]

JO:  What makes me stand out from the rest is that unlike people like
Mr. Preston, I have never needed to resort to digging out my inner
darkness, to resort to having to go 'hardcore' in order to beat my
rivals. I have left many men battered and broken just by using my own
two beautiful hands, and tonight shall be no exception. My face is my
most prized possession.. but my flawless wrestling ability is a close
second, and I think that Mr. Layton will find it almost as difficult to
take away in order  to please his 'Master'.

Sadly, these people don't accept the way I handle things. I'm the
perfect white knight and hero that these people need, and tonight, in
that ring against Mr. Layton, I'm going to prove it the only way I can.

[Olrikke grins his handsome grin as he stands up and walks out of the
shot. The camera fades back to the ring where Phil Watson is standing.]

PW:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a fifteen
minute time limit.  Introducing first... already in the ring at this
time... he is accompanied to the ring by the God of War, Polemos...
weighing in at 258 pounds... he is the Prince of Darkness...

ANNNNNNNNTONNNN LAAAAAAAAYTON!

[Layton throws off his hooded robe, hurling it down on the canvas as he
stalks back and forth across the ring.  Outside the ring, Polemos stands
stoic as he watches.]

PW:  And his opponent...

[The sounds of Duran Duran's "Save A Prayer" kicks in to a mixed
reaction from the Nashville crowd.]

GM:  These fans don't know what to think of Jonas Olrikke, Bucky.

BW:  Of course not.  They don't appreciate true wrestling talent.

GM:  He's, of course, very skilled inside the ring but outside, he's an
arrogant jerk.  But at the same time, he's sworn to do battle with the
Unholy Alliance.  Like I said, these fans - and I - don't know what to
think of him!

[Olrikke is ALMOST to the ring when Anton Layton has decided he's waited
long enough, stepping out to the apron.  He throws back his head in a
cackle before leaping off with a double axehandle...

...and gets caught in the midsection with a right hand!]

GM:  Ohh!  Olrikke caught him coming off the apron!

[With Layton down on all fours on the floor, an angry Olrikke buries a
boot into the ribcage, knocking him over onto his back.  The Pride of
Sweden shouts a few harsh words in Layton's direction before dragging
him off the mat, hurling him back under the ropes.]

GM:  And Jonas Olrikke will make every effort to keep this match inside
the ring.  The man from Nynashamn, Sweden will NOT want this to break
down into a slugfest on the floor with Anton Layton.

[Olrikke slips under the ropes as well, climbing to his feet as Layton
down the same.  The Beautiful One immediately secures a side headlock,
popping his hips to flip Layton onto his back.]

GM:  Nice takedown by Olrikke...

[Layton immediately begins to flail around on the canvas.]

GM:  And you can see just how uncomfortable Anton Layton is in a
situation like this.  He's not used to mat wrestling and this could
cause a real problem for a brawler like Layton.

BW:  You're absolutely right, Gordo.  Layton can't be pleased to be tied
up like this.

[Olrikke tightens up the headlock, shouting "ask him, ref!"]

GM:  Are you kidding me?  You think you're going to get Anton Layton to
submit to a side headlock?

[The ref informs Olrikke that there's no submission.  Olrikke shakes his
head, tightening the hold... "Ask him again!"]

GM:  Jonas Olrikke is just toying with Anton Layton here.

[Layton throws a few hard fists into the ribs of Olrikke, slowly working
Olrikke up to his feet.  The Swedish Sensation keeps the hold applies,
clenching his teeth as he shouts at the official.]

GM:  Did he just ask the referee to check again?

[Layton fires Olrikke off to the ropes...

...and just kinda runs into him with a rush of fists, knocking Olrikke
down to the mat.  The Prince of Darkness drops on top of him, throwing
fists to the face again...]

GM:  Layton's all over him!

[Olrikke promptly rolls from the ring, freeing himself from Layton's
grasp.  He immediately brings his hands up to check his face, turning
red with anger as the official tells him to get back in.  The man from
Sweden walks around the ring...

...and then spots the monstrous Polemos.]

GM:  I don't think you want to go that way, Mr. Olrikke.

[Olrikke points a finger of warning at the big man before shaking his
head, climbing up on the apron...

...where Layton rushes him, throwing a foot through the ropes to catch
Olrikke in the midsection.  Reaching over the ropes, Layton grabs two
hands full of hair, rushing down the length of the ropes!]

GM:  Look out!

BW:  He blocked it!

[Olrikke raises a boot at the last moment, blocking his face from being
slammed into the steel ringpost.  He throws an elbow back into the jaw,
sending Layton spinning away before he steps back in, approaching Layton
from behind and hooking a loose side waistlock...]

GM:  Olrikke sets for the belly-to-back suplex...

[But Layton JAMS his thumb into the throat of Olrikke as he's being
lifted, causing Olrikke to stumble backwards, gasping for air.]

GM:  Layton goes to the throat - and Olrikke may not want to cheat but
Anton Layton has no problem with that...

[Layton turns around, driving a boot into the side of a gasping,
doubled-up Olrikke's head, knocking him down to a knee.  Holding a
handful of hair, Layton hammers away at Olrikke's face with right
hands...

...and then leans over, sinking his teeth into Olrikke's forehead!]

GM:  AHHH!

BW:  He warned him, Gordo!  He said he was gonna take Olrikke's most
prized posession!

[The referee's count hits four, forcing a break by Layton who steps back
before smashing an overhead elbow down on top of the skull, knocking
Olrikke flat on his back.  Grabbing the top rope, Layton lets loose a
barrage of stomps to the upper body, forcing Olrikke under the ropes and
out to the floor.]

GM:  Layton's all over him!  Layton forces him out...

BW:  And he's going out after him!

[Layton steps out to the apron, walking down to the ringpost...

...and rushes down the length of the apron, stomping the skull of
Olrikke!]

GM:  Ohhh!

[The kick, having knocked Olrikke down on the floor, causes Layton to
hop down off the apron, leaning down to drag Olrikke back to his feet by
the arm...]

GM:  Irish whip coming up...

[But as Layton attempts the big whip into the railing, Olrikke snaps off
a desperation reversal...]


"CLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANG!"
"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


GM:  AND IT'S OLRIKKE SENDING LAYTON INTO THE STEEL!!

[The Swedish Sensation wipes his hands off, sneering at what he just was
forced to do.  With disgust, he grabs Layton by the hair, hurling him
under the ropes into the ring.  Olrikke pulls himself up on the apron,
stepping through the ropes where he measures the crawling Layton...

...and DROPS a big kneedrop to the back of the skull, smashing Layton's
face into the canvas!  Olrikke promptly rolls him to his back, hooking a
leg...]

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

[But Layton fires up a shoulder at two.]

GM:  The kneedrop was very effective but it wasn't enough to keep him
down for a three count.

[Olrikke promptly pulls Layton off the mat, hooking a front facelock...

...and snaps the slightly larger man over in a suplex!]

GM:  Whoa!  Some deceptive power there from Olrikke on the suplex. 

BW:  He nearly took the Prince of Darkness out of his hooves and horns,
daddy.

[Olrikke presses his forearm down across Layton's cheekbone as he
applies another cover.]

GM:  We've got one!  We've got two!  But again, Layton's out at two!

BW:  The man is used to crazed and wild brawls.  I'm not sure headlocks
and suplexes are enough to finish him off.

[The Swedish Sensation swifly gets back up, reaching down and pulling
the rolling Layton back up by the back of the trunks, hooking a rear
waistlock...]

GM:  He's got Layton hooked!  

[But before Olrikke can snap off the German suplex, Layton fires a pair
of elbows back into the cheek of Olrikke, spinning him away...

...and then balls up his fist, SMASHING it into the nose of Olrikke!]

GM:  Good grief!  What a shot by Layton!

[Olrikke rolls to the floor again, this time checking his nose for
blood.  The crowd jeers him for his escape as Layton wastes no time
again in coming out to the floor, grabbing Olrikke and spinning him
around for another right hand to the mush.]

GM:  Another haymaker!  And there's another!

[Layton spins Olrikke around, SMASHING his face into the ring apron!]

GM:  Layton drives him into the hardest part of the ring!

BW:  Is Olrikke's face okay?!

GM:  I think he's got bigger problems right now!

[Layton grabs the back of the head, dragging Olrikke towards the
ringpost...]

BW:  Anton, don't do it!

GM:  The referee's count is up to four!

[Olrikke throws a pair of elbows back into the midsection of Layton,
preventing any dark and evil plans...

...and then tries to get into the ring, pulling himself up on the
apron!]

GM:  Olrikke's going for the ring...

[But Layton grabs the ankle, YANKING it hard to pull Olrikke's legs out
from under him, sending his face SMASHING into the edge of the apron
again!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHH!

[Layton spins Olrikke around on the apron, hammering away at the face of
the Beautiful One with right hands.  He grabs a hand full of hair again,
dragging him towards the post as the official's count hits seven...]

GM:  Get him off the man!  Layton's snapped!

[The Prince Of Darkness prepares to slam Olrikke's face into the steel
ringpost but Olrikke raises his arms, blocking the shot...

...and then DRIVES the point of his elbow back into the throat of
Layton!]

GM:  Ohh!  Hard shot there!

[Olrikke grabs Layton by the back of the head...]


"CLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANG!"
"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


GM:  STEEL!  STEEL!  INTO THE STEEL!!

[And Olrikke HURLS himself under the bottom rope just as the referee's
count hits ten!]

GM:  Did he make it?  Did Olrikke make it?!

[The bell rings as the official converses with Phil Watson.]

PW:  Ladies and gentlemen... Anton Layton has been COUNTED OUT!  Your
winner of the match... JOOOOOONAS OLLLLLRIKKE!!!

[Olrikke, celebrating his victory, raises both arms as he quickly exits
the ring before Anton Layton can come for him...

...and retreats up the aisle as fast as he can.]

GM:  Jonas Olrikke scores a win over Anton Layton but he's running for
it! 

BW:  A countout win for Olrikke and Layton's not pleased about that,
Gordo.

GM:  He certainly isn't.  And you would have to imagine that this might
not be the end of this particular situation.  Fans, there's another
situation that developed on this broadcast two weeks ago that has drawn
a serious amount of attention from AWA fans and that has to do with Alex
Martinez.  For those who missed it, two weeks ago, one of the owners of
this company and one of Martinez' best friends, Jon Stegglet, approached
Alex about taking some time off to recover from his various injuries.

BW:  And that coward Martinez decided to run for it instead!

GM:  Well, that's not exactly how it went down, Bucky.

BW:  Did he not leave?

GM:  He appears to have left, yes.

BW:  Did he not tell the world he was never coming back?

GM:  That was certainly the implication.

BW:  So, how is that not Alex Martinez RUNNING from the Dragon?

GM:  The man needed time off, Bucky.

BW:  I won't argue that.

GM:  But the question is - WILL Alex Martinez return?  Let's go
backstage and get an update on this situation...

[Cut to backstage, where Jason Dane stands with the AWA's Interim
Chairman of the Championship Committee, Jon Stegglet. The latter sports
an obvious black eye, no doubt a result of being punched by Eric Preston
two weeks ago.]

JD:  Mr. Stegglet, I understand you're here to update us on the status
of Alex Martinez. What can you tell us?

JS:  Officially, Alex Martinez is on a leave of absence, due to
injuries. It is unknown at this time when - or IF - Mr. Martinez will
return to the active roster.

JD:  Is there any other information you can give us? 

[Stegglet's expression grows very troubled.]

JS:   Look, this may be more than I should say but I think the AWA fans
deserve full disclosure about what's going on here.  So... yeah, I'll
give you more info.  We haven't heard from Alex since he walked out of
Little Rock two weeks ago.  Calls to his house?  No answer.  No response
to e-mails from myself or the rest of the office.  Even calls to his
family members have proven useless.

It is, quite frankly, as if Alex Martinez has fallen off the face of the
earth.

[Dane prepares to ask another question, but before he can, another man
(at least, we assume it is a man) makes his presence known. The masked
Minion, servant of the Dragon, steps into the scene.]

MINION:  Is it true, what you say? Has the Mighty Martinez fled? 

[Stegglet looks quite irritated.]

JS:  Listen to me.  I don't know who you are... but you've gotten away
with a lot because of some quirks in a contract that is fully executed. 
But I can tell you right now that the Championship Committee has begun a
formal review of your status here in the AWA because the best I can
tell... you're not a wrestler and you're not a manag-

MINION:  Silence! 

[Stegglet glares at being told to shut up.]

MINION:  I seek not to discuss such petty matters.  I come only for news
of the man marked for destruction. 

Tell me of Alex Martinez. 

[The Minion has a tone to his voice unlike we've heard in the past. 
Excitement?  Joy?  His hands are clasped in front of him like a kid in
front of a stack of Christmas gifts.]

JS:  You heard what I said I'm sure.  Due to what you've done and what
the so-called Dragon has done, Alex Martinez has gone silent.

[A soft chuckle can be heard from the masked man.]

MINION:  Excellent.  Excellent.  However, this man you call friend and
that I call enemy... he is known for his deceit, Jon Stegglet.  He is
known to be, at his core, a craven.  And so, I do not believe that he
has been rid from this world.

Not yet.

[Stegglet shakes his head.]

JS:  Look, like I-

[The Minion interrupts again.]

MINION:  SILENCE!

[Stegglet reaches out, grabbing the Minion's raised hand.]

JS:  If you tell me that again, I'm going to deal with you myself!

[The Minion backs off, hands raised.]

MINION:  I am merely the messenger.  And as you know, the Master I
server, the Dragon has decreed that Alex Martinez must be utterly
destroyed.  He is not convinced that this so-called silence is not a
trap.

So, it is to be that the gauntlet is laid down once more...

[The Minion looks off camera.]

MINION:  Laid down by the man who once was betrayed by the Mighty
Martinez... the man who has forever been tainted by Martinez' original
sin...

This man...

[Minion gestures off stage, and in walks Jeff Matthews, who made his
surprise appearance only a few weeks ago.]

MINION:  Speak, my friend.  Let your words be heard.

[Jeff Matthews stands in front of the camera, slowly looking up with
cold, hard eyes.]

JMM:  Let's take a stroll down memory lane. 

[Matthews raises a hand, pointing at the camera.]

JMM:  It was nearly 15 years ago when I saw a huge talent wrestle in a
promotion that was owned and run by a dear friend of mine. I saw this
raw talent... a giant amongst boys. He dominated, he embodied everything
that I respected and that I loved in wrestling.

[Jeff shakes his head.]

JMM:  A few years later... I was in one of the biggest matches of my
entire life... I called upon two friends that I had made. I called upon
them for help and to help them make a name for themselves in the
wrestling world. One man was "Nighthawk" Nick Leshenn... the other.... 

[A look of disgust crosses his face...]

JMM:  Alex Martinez.  

[Matthews spits on the ground.]

JMM:  You saw Alex Martinez became who he was because of who I was!

[The anger is apparent in the Madfox's voice.]

JMM:  Alex Martinez got the attention, because of what he did to me.
Alex Martinez built his entire career and reputation on his betrayal.
Nothing more and nothing less. Alex Martinez is a leech. He used me to
get further into the business. He turned his back on everything that I
and my friends helped him achieve. He was like every other young buck
trying to make a name for himself. Except that he forgot who he was
trying to use at his expense to make a name of...
 
"If ye be come to betray me to mine adversaries, seeing there is no
wrong in my hands, the God of our fathers look thereon, and rebuke it."

[The Minion nods approvingly as Jeff continues to speak...]

JMM:  Alex Martinez was more concerned with dropping to his
knees....than being a friend... or a man. 

You owe me, Alex. 

You owe me... you owe your "fans"... you owe everyone that has ever
watched our story.....

Wrestlerock...

[Dramatic pause.]

JMM:  At Wrestlerock, Alex... I want you. 

I want to beat the ever-loving crap out of you. 

I want to make sure that those weak knees of yours never bend again. I
want to make sure that the soul inside of you... the soul with no
backbone..... crumbles....but I know how you are, Alex...

[Matthews buries his head in his hands for a moment before snapping his
head up, eyes wide with anger.]

JMM:  If you don't show.. others will pay. 

If you don't atone for your sins, who will? 

If you don't repent, who will? 

If you don't bow down before the grace of God, Alex.... when will you
realize? When will you be a witness to the truth? When will you pay
homage to the one true savior?

[Matthews abruptly drops to his knees, the Minion taking the mic to hold
it as Matthews spreads his arms wide at his sides.]

JMM:  If you do not show up, Alex... then others will suffer for your
sins. If you do not atone, others will lose their lives for atonement.
If you do not repent, others will stand before us... and repent or face
judgement. 

SHOW ME THAT YOU ARE WILLING TO ACCEPT YOUR FAITH! 

SHOW ME THAT YOU ARE WILLING TO ATONE... TO REPENT...

[Matthews drops his head...]

JMM:  [nearly whispering] Show me that you believe...

[He looks up again...]

JMM:  And I will guide you to absolution. Dominus noster Jesus Christus
te absolvat; et ego auctoritate ipsius te absolvo ab omni vinculo
excommunicationis (suspensionis) et interdicti in quantum possum et tu
indiges. Deinde, ego te absolvo a peccatis tuis in nomine Patris, et
Filii, + et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.

[Matthews climbs to his feet, walking away with a nodding Minion and
leaving a troubled Stegglet and Dane behind.]

JD:  Mr. Stegglet?  Thoughts.

[Stegglet, still in disbelief, shakes his head.]

JS:  A challenge has been offered apparently.  Alex Martinez, despite
his medical leave, was scheduled to appear at Wrestlerock.  He can
answer the challenge if he chooses.  

But... I don't know.  Those words from Matthews? 

[Stegglet trails off, shaking his head again.]

JD:  They reminded me of a priest... like someone about to absolve
someone or...

[Stegglet cuts him off.]

JS:  You weren't there, Jason.  You didn't see those two men tear into
each other.  You don't remember all that blood... all the...

[Stegglet closes his eyes in memory.]

JS:  If Matthews wants to absolve Martinez, he's not going to do it by
speaking a few words, Jason.

This is... this is just not good.

[Stegglet's face has gone pale.  With both Dane and Stegglet speechless,
we fade to black...

And then back up on an animated Jason Dane... no, he's not just moving a
lot.  He's LITERALLY animated - like Porky Pig style.]

JD:  They say I'm the man with all the answers.

[A cut to a different angle of animated Dane.]

JD:  They say I'm the man who gets all the scoops.

[Another cut.  Another angle.]

JD:  They say I'm- is all this really necessary?  It's not like I'm
Geraldo, guys.

[A voice off camera shouts "CUT!" and animated Jason Dane walks off a
green screen set through a crowded studio.]

JD:  I'm not the "most feared man in America," fans.  What I am is a
pretty good reporter who has an eye for the stories you're gonna want to
know about.  That's why AWA Access has been one of the most downloaded
apps ever and that's why the AWA gave me permission to start my own
website!

I'll be bringing you the hot news, the big stories, and the stuff not
fit to air.

[Animated Dane strokes his animated chin.]

JD:  Maybe I AM the most feared man in America!

[A "BZZZ!" sound of electricity is heard as animated Jason Dane fades
away and a title graphic appears.]

"JASON DANE - COMING TO A BROWSER NEAR YOU!"

[Fade to black.

And then back up to ringside.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling where we're
about to enter our third hour of action here tonight in Nashville.  And
fans, we've got HUGE news that just hit our desk during the commercial
break.  Jon Stegglet, the interim Chairman of the Championship Committee
has declared that the National Title WILL be on the line in just over a
week at Wrestlerock when the West Memphis Assassin meets Juan Vasquez!  

BW:  The crazy thing, Gordo, is that Vasquez INSISTED upon it.

GM:  That's what we have heard, yes.  The Committee did not want to make
it a title match because the Assassin is not a ranked challenger but
Juan Vasquez demanded he be given the chance to defend his title.  So,
the title will be on the line at Wrestlerock!

BW:  Huge news, Gordo.  Huge news.

GM:  Indeed it is.  And now, fans, up next will be the singles match
debut of Percy Childes' latest acquisition, Ebola Zaire.  We've seen the
Botswana Beast in action before, and we saw him at the Memorial Day
Rumble... but now we... OH NO!

[A young wrestler was making his way down the aisle to the ring for the
match.  No fanfare, and no introduction yet; he would have been
introduced after getting into the ring.  It just so happens that Ebola
Zaire isn't waiting for any of that.]

GM: EBOLA ZAIRE IS ATTACKING ALREADY!

[With a manly THWACK, Zaire brings an overhand chop across the back of
the neck of his prey.  The wrestler, a young man with brushcut blonde
hair, clad in blue tights with red boots, hits the concrete as the
three-seventy-plus monster drills him with his body weight behind a very
precise strike.  The crowd boos!]

BW: Man, that's efficiency, daddy.  Why bother goin' all the way to the
ring?  More effort than this is worth, that's probably what Zaire is
thinkin'.

GM: Young Henry Porten didn't suspect Zaire would attack so soon...

[The dark-skinned obese madman snatches the fresh-faced Porten with two
hands full of hair, rears back, and bashes his face into the aisleway
barricade with a loud CLANG!]

GM: ...AND THERE'S NO CALL FOR THAT!

BW: Porten's as dumb as rocks, Gordo.  He signed to fight Ebola Zaire. 
You have to be stupid to sign to fight Ebola Zaire.  And you have to be
doubly so to come to the ring without watchin' your back!

[As the jeers continue to roll down, Zaire begins to choke Porten...
pressing his windpipe against the steel barricade.  Percy Childes has
now caught up to Zaire, and is watching this with an amused
expression... like a sadistic child watching a slug writhe in a pile of
salt.  Wearing white baggy pants with a dark crimson-colored swathe of
color resembling dried blood down each side, red boots, and a large red
headcloth, the wild-eyed Zaire leans his weight on Henry Porten's upper
back.]

GM: This could very easy cause permanent damage to the larnyx or the
trachea... and this isn't a match!  This doesn't even qualify as "before
the match"!  The referee isn't there, and the ring announcer hasn't left
his seat!

BW: Again, Ebola Zaire saving everyone the time and effort!

GM: Snapping Henry Porten back to the concrete!  This is a mugging! 
Zaire backing up... OH NO!  NO!  

[The massive arm of Ebola Zaire swings up into the air as he hustles
forward, and swings down, driving the elbow into the neck with all 375
pounds!]

BW: And that's the end of Henry Porten.

GM: ON THE CONCRETE!  And... NOW WHAT?!

[Zaire reaches into the side of his pants, and from an interior pocket
he pulls out a gleaming metal object.  It looks like a fork... no, a
barbecue fork!  Two long, sharp tines at the end of a foot-long metal
implement.  The fans react in horror... surely he can't be planning to
use THAT!]

GM: He wouldn't... HE WOULDN'T!

BW: Oh yes he would!

GM: THAT'S A LETHAL WEAPON!  SOMEONE GET HOLD OF THIS MANIAC!

[The shrieks outweih the boos as Zaire raises Porten to a seated
position, tilts his head up, raises the barbecue fork...


...



...  



...and thrusts downwards...



...



...just as a blur comes in from the side, knocking him off-balance and
away from his victim!  The fans cheer!]

GM: THANK GOD!  JAMES LYNCH!

BW: Stab that barefoot little freak right in his big toe!

GM: The fastest of the Lynch brothers to the rescue and... ONE SHOT FROM
ZAIRE FLOORS HIM!

[Though he was taken off-guard by James' running knee to the back, the
combat-readiness of Ebola Zaire is obvious as he immediately starts
fighting, sending a stiff-fingered thrust chop to the upper chest of the
smallest of the Lynch brothers.  The swiftness of the strike takes James
by surprise, and he is sent to the floor. But Zaire doesn't even have
the chance to take a step in James' direction before he is accosted
again!]

BW: Hey!  No fair!

GM: Jack Lynch was right behind his little brother!  Big shot to Zaire,
and another!  And...

BW: And wham!  Ebola Zaire flattened him, too!

GM: Zaire with one mighty blow, felling Jack Lynch!  But here comes
Travis!

[SQUEEEEE~!]

BW: One thing's for sure, he'll never be able to sneak up on anyone as
long as there are adolescent girls around!

GM: Travis Lynch... hammering away!  Zaire is reeling!  Travis backing
up... DISCUS... NO!  BLOCK BY ZAIRE!  AND HE FELLS TRAVIS!

[This time it is a double-chop, both hands swinging sideways in a
baseball-bat like motion and landing flush on the chest, extended
fingertips first.  All the wind is knocked out of Travis Lynch as he,
too, crumples to the concrete!]

BW: HA HA HA!  Ebola Zaire took out all three Lynches!

GM: No, he did not!  He knocked them down... but they're far from out! 
James Lynch up again, and what a high kick to Zaire's head!  Zaire with
an elbow shot to knock him back down, and here comes Jack with a double
axehandle!  Zaire with the headbutt puts Jack Lynch down, but Travis is
already up, and a wild clothesline makes Zaire stumble!  The African
Madman firing back with both hands to the pectorals, but James is back
up with a dropkick!  Zaire staggering... fighting back with a hard
knife-edge!  Jack Lynch with the elbow smash, and Zaire countering with
a one-two!  Travis is up with a big kick to the midsection, and Zaire
fires back with a headbutt!  Zaire's attacks are knocking the Lynches
down, but they are coming back faster and faster!

BW: No way!  

GM: James with a leg sweep, doesn't drop the big man but unsteadies him!
 Travis with the flying forearm!  Zaire is wide open... AND JACK LYNCH
SLAPS ON THE IRON CLAW!

[Massive cheers!]

BW: Are you kidding?  Ebola Zaire isn't gonna be held in check by
squeezing his head, Gordo.

GM: Zaire was swarmed, and he couldn't keep up with the recovery and the
durability of the Lynch brothers!  Zaire grasping Jack's wrist and
pushing... but he cannot dislodge the claw!  AND HERE COMES THE UNHOLY
ALLIANCE!

[No further time is wasted, as Anton Layton leads the charge.  He
barrels into Travis Lynch with a hard right, knocking the handsome
grappler back, but Travis lunges back at Layton with a haymaker of his
own!  The titanic Polemos is in the fray almost immediately, grabbing
James Lynch by the neck.  His effort to apply an immediate chokeslam to
the agile James turns out to be ill-advised, though, as all he does is
lift James up to where a snap kick can easily reach under the chin of
the God Of War!]

BW: WE GOT WRESTLEROCK BREAKIN' OUT EARLY, DADDY!

GM: Layton hammers Travis... Layton hammers James!  Travis fires away at
Polemos!  James locks Layton in a headlock and is absolutely peppering
him in the forehead!  Layton for the back suplex, but Travis kicks him
in the gut!  Polemos clotheslines them both!  And... LOOK AT ZAIRE!

[Ebola Zaire is absolutely POUNDING on Jack Lynch... who is glaring at
him with sheer intensity and focus!  The Iron Claw is locked tight, and
none of Zaire's strikes can move Jack even a millimeter.  The hold is
completely entrenched, and Zaire is desperately trying to unlatch the
eldest Lynch brother from his head.]

BW: Jack Lynch musta put Crazy Glue on his hand!

GM: Jack Lynch is the master of the Iron Claw!  And not even the titan
that is Ebola Zaire can wrench himself free from his grasp!

BW: Oh, yeah?  Give him time, daddy.

GM: He doesn't HAVE time!  The Iron Claw is excruciating!

BW: He'll break it in a minute!

[With a horrendous CRASH, Anton Layton grabs the flowing locks of Travis
Lynch and propels him into the steel barricade!  Travis reflexively
tucks in so that he hits the barricade back first instead of head first.
 Layton then reaches over the barricade, piefaces a screaming Lynch fan
away from his chair, and pulls the chair over the barricade!  But James
hits him high with a swinging double axehandle, and Layton tumbles over
the barricade and loses the chair!  Polemos boots James in the head,
sending him sprawling over the barricade and landing on Layton... who
starts punching him from his back!]

GM: What an insane brawl!  They're in the crowd!  But Jack Lynch still
has the Claw applied!  Zaire is... no!  NOT THAT!

BW: Of course THAT!  When you attack a man wielding a barbecue fork,
what ELSE would you expect?

GM: No...

[Zaire has found the fork, originally stashed back in his pocket when
the attack started.  He reaches a meaty hand around to grab Jack by the
hair, tilts his head back...]


GM: ...NO...


[...raises the fork to screams of the crowd...]


GM: ...NO!!


[...and DRIVES IT INTO JACK LYNCH'S FOREHEAD!]


BW: Holy... can we even show this on TV?!


[Someone in the editing booth is obviously not sure as we abruptly cut
away from it.  But the screaming of both the fans and Jack Lynch make it
very clear what Ebola Zaire is doing.]

GM: THAT SAVAGE!  THAT MONSTER... IS STABBING A MAN!  STABBING A MAN IN
THE HEAD!

BW: He deserved it for using that illegal clawhold!  At least it should
be illegal!

GM: ZAIRE STABBING JACK LYNCH WITH A BARBECUE FORK... AND THE IRON CLAW
IS STILL APPLIED!

BW: WHAAAAAT?

[Jack Lynch cranks on the Iron Claw... and Zaire digs in the barbecue
fork!  Neither man will concede!  The fans are in shock!]

GM: INCREDIBLE FORCE OF WILL FROM JACK LYNCH!

[And from the barricade, James Lynch reaches over and knocks the fork
out of Zaire's hand!  Layton uses the distraction to start throttling
him with both hands!  Travis Lynch picks up the monstrous Polemos for a
bodyslam in the aisle... 

...but the big man ain't goin' up for that, hammering his arms down into
the ribs of Travis Lynch who straightens up and pops Polemos with a
right hand to the jaw!]

GM: The Unholy Alliance is vicious, but the Lynch brothers are giving
them all the fight they want!

BW: They gotta be saving up energy for WrestleRock, Gordo!  That's gotta
be it!

GM: Polemos fires back, smashing Travis Lynch with a hard forearm!  

[The sounds of chairs crashing and clattering earns a quick camera cut
that finds James Lynch sprawled across them, having been hip-tossed into
them by Anton Layton as the fans scatter.]

GM:  And Jack Lynch still has the Claw locked in!  Jack is bleeding from
the fork... but look at Zaire!  LOOK AT HIM!

[Red rivulets begin to drip from between the fingers of Jack Lynch, as
Ebola Zaire is flailing.  He launches some expert martial-arts attacks,
but these don't have as much gusto as his earlier attacks did... and the
blood begins to dribble down his head!]

GM: EBOLA ZAIRE IS BUSTED WIDE OPEN!

BW: But... but... 

GM: Jack Lynch was bloodied with that horrible implement, and now he has
returned the favor with the Iron Claw!  And Zaire _still_ can't get out
of the hold!  He's practically out on his feet!

BW: That's... how?  HOW?

[Out on the floor, we see James Lynch battling back, throwing Layton
over the railing!]

GM: James Lynch sends Anton Layton for the ride over the barricade in
return for the ride he just took into the chairs!  Polemos and Travis
Lynch toe-to-toe... the monster Polemos knocks Travis down with a big
boot to the head!  And now he's moving up to Jack...

[Polemos winds up and snatches Jack Lynch around the windpipe with the
goozle.  The fans shriek, knowing that the chokeslam is on tap.  James
Lynch dives at him, but Layton intercepts.  And Polemos lifts!]

GM: POLEMOS HAS JACK LYNCH UP FOR THE CHOKESLAM, BUT HE'S STILL GOT THE
CLAW ON ZAIRE!  POLEMOS CAN'T EVEN PULL HIM LOOSE!

BW: I swear, he really IS usin' Crazy Glue!

[With a mighty heave, Polemos finally dislodges Jack Lynch... the effort
of doing so sends Jack out of the God Of War's chokeslam grip, turning
the move into a shove about ten feet down the aisle.  Jack hits and
falls to his back, skidding another five feet.  Zaire staggers... and
with the Claw off, we can see exactly HOW MUCH he is bleeding.  The
answer: a lot.]

GM: MY STARS, EBOLA ZAIRE IS BLEEDING LIKE HELL!  HOW MUCH DAMAGE DID
THAT CLAW DO?!

[Zaire answers by snapping up to attention, raising an arm to point at
all three Lynches... and waving them back on!]

BW: HE STILL WANTS TO FIGHT!  THE CLAW RIPPED HIS MELON OPEN LIKE BEIN'
HIT WITH A BRICK, AND IT NEVER TOOK HIM OFF HIS FEET!

GM: Zaire isn't fazed!  And Jack Lynch is ready to get right back at
him!  He was stabbed in the head and he doesn't care!  Travis Lynch
kicks Anton Layton halfway down the aisle!  James Lynch with a running
tackle on Polemos... shoved off by the God Of War!  Layton rolls to his
feet and thunders back into the fray!  This is chaos!

[Zaire hammers Travis in the side of the head with a palm strike,
Polemos clubs James in the side of the head with a brutal forearm, and
Layton lays into Jack with a haymaker.  Travis comes back with a double
chop, James kicks Polemos in the back of the head, and Jack pounds Anton
on the chin with an overhand right.  And then security swarms the scene!
 The police are there!  It is, as Gordon Myers said, chaos!]

GM: Fans, we have to go to commercial!  We have to go to commercial! 
This is anarchy!  What is going to happen at WrestleRock?!  What is
going to happen when these men get in the ring and let it fly?!  We'll
be back!

[Fade to black.

A voiceover comes from the blackness.

"The following announcement has been paid for by Royalty."

[Cut to a backstage AWA backdrop, and an all-to-familiar manager...]

JP: Greetings humanoids, this is the Eternal World Champion and founder
of Royalty Joe Petrow, here to introduce the latest Royalty goods,
available on awashop dot com!

[Petrow snaps his fingers, and a cute blonde with a poofed up 80's style
hairdo walks into the shot wearing an oversized dark blue t-shirt]

JP: Let the world know that you are a loyal follower of King Langseth
with this all-new Royalty t-shirt!

[The smiling woman faces the camera, allowing us to get a good look at
the air-brushed visage of King Langseth, arrogantly sitting on a throne
with his royal robe and crown, flanked on either side by the tag-belt
wearing, Rayban glaring Rough 'n Ready members, a smiling Joe Petrow
behind them all, spreading his arms out to encompass his charge, and the
large old-English script word ROYALTY written underneath.]

JP: These shirts are made with 10% cotton, and are sold right here in
the good old U S of A!

[Petrow twirls his finger, imploring the woman to turn around, upon
which we see that the back of the shirt has three words, all with
old-English capitalization:

Hustle.

Royalty.

Respect.]

JP: These shirts come in American sizes of double, triple, and quadruple
XL for the low low price of $29.99!  And all proceeds go directly into
the pockets of Royalty! [quiet aside] alright, beat it toots!

[The lady's painted smile turns into a disgusted scowl as she stalks out
of the shot.  Petrow continues his shill, holding up a small thin box
with many pictures of Mark Langseth in action.]

JP: And coming soon on DVD, The Definitive AWA Mark Langseth Collection,
containing every winning moment of King Langseth's two decades of AWA
dominance, all overdubbed with special commentary by the King himself!

[Cut to a shot of match footage. A hard stomp to the shoulder forces
Martinez to roll to his stomach, wincing in pain and cradling the
injured arm.  Langseth stands above him, his feet by the head of his
downed rival.]

ML: That's it!  Crawl, crawl at my feet you worthless scum!  Apologize
to the greatest wrestler of all time, and your better in every way!  I
am King Langseth!  ALL HAIL KING LANGSETH!

[Cut back to a smiling Petrow, who finishes off the hard sell]

JP: So show your pride, your appreciation, and your dollars to Royalty
by visiting awashop dot com slash royalty today!  And ALL HAIL KING
LANGSETH!!

[Pause on Petrow's cheesy grin for an uncomfortable number of seconds
before fading out...

...and back to live action where Jason Dane is backstage, surrounded by
the Lynch family.]

JD:  After what we saw moments ago, I'm told that you have some words
for us...

[Jack Lynch has been pacing back and forth, building up steam, howling
in anger.  He turns towards Dane and grabs the microphone.]

JL:  Some words?  You want some words?

[As he turns to face the camera, we see that blood is pouring from
Jack's forehead. Even through the blood however, its easy to see that
the normally laconic Jack has completely lost his cool.]

JL:  ZAIRE!  YOU THINK THIS MEANS SOMETHIN' BOY?  YOU THINK I CARE ABOUT
A LITTLE SCRATCH?

[If his yelling isn't a clue about Jack's frame of mind, the pissed off
expression has got to be.]

JL:  I've bled before.  You listen and you listen good Zaire.  You tell
Layton and Polemos and all the rest that this don't mean anything!  I
still got a lotta blood in this body.  And my brothers and I will fight
you TO THE LAST DAMN DROP!

[Seething with anger, Jack takes his hand, already covered in Ebola
Zaire's blood and slaps his bloody forehead.  He presents his hand to
the camera, the mingled blood dripping down his palm and sliding off his
wrist.]

JL:  They say Zaire is a monster.  Well this is my blood, and its the
blood of a monster. And this?

[Jack's fingers curl forward.]

JL:  This just brought a monster down.  And I promise you this. 
Polemos, God of War?

There's a damn claw in your future!

[Bristling with fury, its clear that Jack is beyond ready to go.  James
takes a deep breath and steps forward, ready to chime in and back his
brother up.]

JL: We didn't travel all this way to be pushed around.  Zaire, you out
of _everybody_ here should know that.  We were born ready!  Anytime ...
any place ... any where, we are ready to go.  You see, you guys have
yourselves a little alliance; a couple of loose cannon's with a common
goal.  Right here it's blood.  And this war's roots run deep.  We've
felt the piercing sinister strike of the weapon of choice from you.  It
hasn't kept us away.

[There's plenty of fire in the Lynch boy's bellies tonight!]

JL: Zaire, you have felt the claw.  It hurts don't it?

[James pauses as if he is waiting for a response.]

JL: It's time for the rest of you to get a little good old fashion Texas
style, Lynch style retribution.  And when we are done with you, stabbing
a fork into anyone's flesh is going to seem like a walk in the park.

[The pretty boy of the family steps forward and slaps the shoulders of
both his brothers and like him there's a fire in his eyes.]

TL: Tonight Jason, you witnessed first hand that the porch light's on
but no one's home! The Unholy Alliance figured they would unleash the
beast and that everyone would stand back shaking in their boots. But not
the Lynches! No way! We came out and took the fight to the beast, the
so-called God of War and the puppet of darkness!

Anton, night after night we hear you babble about your dark master ...
your prince of evil, who controls your actions and places insane visions
of the Lynch boys bleeding in your dreams ...

[Travis looks at Jack as he once again wipes blood from his forehead.]

TL: While Jack here is bleeding cause of a fork, your beast,  Zaire, was
busted opened by the CLAW! Your savage beast bled Anton ... your savage
beast felt pain and suffering at the _hands_ of the Lynches! Anton, if
you look closely at Zaire, deep into his eyes you'll see fear!

Something you don't see in the eyes of Jack, James or _MYSELF_!

[You can almost hear the ladies of Nashville swooning as Travis smiles
broadly.]

TL: Tonight was just a brief preview of Wrestlerock ... a brief preview
of the Lynches rising up against the darkness ... a preview of the new
knights of the AWA.

[The Lynch boys all nod their heads in agreement as we crossfade to
footage marked "EARLIER TONIGHT!"  Shot comes to the interview area with
Jason Dane stands by one half of the former AWA Tag Team champions
Kentucky's Pride, Tin Can Rust.]

JD: Tin Can Rust, tonight you have a tag team match - your first match
since Jack left and, we're all wondering... Who are you teaming with
now?

[Rust looks Dane up and down, kind of annoyed at the question.]

TCR: I think you'll see whenever we're done here.

JD: Oh... True, but... Is this...

TCR: Dane, I don't have the time, so I'll do the interview for you.
Jack's an irreplacable man. But I have to move on and keep Kentucky's
Pride around. I came to the AWA to establish the best tag team in the
world...

JD: And does -

TCR: I did it with Jack and I sure aim to do it again without Jack.

JD: But can you?

[Rust snarls his upper lip.]

TCR: Can I? Look... Alright, Jack's gone. Whether I can or can't succeed
without him, I HAVE to try! I ain't at the place where I can go walk off
into the sunset, alright?

JD: But what if the person you picked tonight doesn't pan out?

[Rust throws his arms open, acting as if that's an obviously answer.]

TCR: Then he don't belong in Kentucky's Pride.

[The Kentuckian shakes his head before exiting the scene.]

JD: Well, direct answers from Tin Can Rust moments before this tag team
match. Let's go back to the ring for the official introductions!

[The shot crossfades to the ring where Phil Watson stands, mic in hand.]

PW: The following contest has one fall and a fifteen minute time limit!
Introducing first, from Central City, Kentucky and weighing in at 259
pounds...

[Merle Haggard's "The Fighting Side of Me" begins to play.]

TIIIIIN CAAAAAAAAAAN RUUUUUUST!

[The crowd sounds out a cheer from one half of the former AWA tag
champs. The grizzled veteran - dressed in his normal attire of black
wrestling tights and boots - steps down the aisle, ignoring the fans
mostly.]

GM: Tin Can Rust, back in tag team action after a long layoff while his
former partner City Jack made his own run to the National Title.

BW: Gordo, honestly, who's going to tag with this guy?

GM: With Rust? He's a former champion! There's plenty of people in the
locker room willing to give it a shot with him for that million dollar
prize at the Cup!

BW: Sure, plenty want those greenbacks, but not with this guy. We all
know City Jack carried Kentucky's Pride - Rust, he's... he's a bit
player, WAY past his prime. Hitching your wagon to him, you might as
well kiss any chance of grabbing the Stampede Cup goodbye.

[Rust stops at the top of the aisle before the ring as Watson brings up
his cue card.]

PW: And his partner... weighing in at 280 pounds...

[The Marine Corps Hymn starts to play over the PA, which brings the fans
to patriotic attention!]

PW: From Charlotte, North Carolina...

CLAYTON SHAAAAAAAAAW!

[The popular former Marine steps through the entrance, vigorusly waving
Old Glory, which gets the Nashville fans cheering some more.]

GM: Clayton Shaw, Mr. "Stars and Stripes" himself! How appropriate, just
over a week away from our nation's independence day!

BW: Ugh, spare me. You have a guy old as a dirt teaming up with a guy
who has dirt for brains. Perfect match, I guess.

GM: I know that Tin Can Rust has been searching for the right partner to
team with for the Stampede Cup and I can only assume that Clayton Shaw
stood out above everyone else!

BW: I guess Rust skipped the tour last week when this goof got crushed
by Sudakov.

[The big-bodied Shaw - dressed in his black singlet, camo fatigue shirt,
and stars & stripes boots - hands off the US Flag before coming down the
aisle to meet Rust. Shaw slaps Rust's back before the two enter the ring
at the same time.]

GM: You're referring to the incident in Huntsville where Shaw was put
under that Russian flag by Vladimir Velikov and Ivan Kostovich. A
sickening sight for this proud American!

PW: And their opponents... 

[Robert Palmer's "Addicted to Love" plays causing the crowd to boo for
the entrance of Johnny Casanova and the always noticeable Big Mama.]

PW: Weighing in at a reported 486 pounds... 

"PLAAAAAYBOY" JOHNNY CAAAAASAAAANOOOOVAAA

and

JAAAAACK HOLLLAAAAND!

[Holland, in his normal ring attire, trails behind AWA's top couple,
looking like he wishes he could anywhere else. Casanova, in his normal
gear along with a black robe, as the evening grown-clad Big Mama on his
arm as they walk to the ring. He seems to try to calm down the first
lady of wrestling before barking an order to Jack Holland to go up ahead
and open the ropes for them.]

GM: It's still sad to see what's become of Jack Holland and how these
two abuse his misfortune.

BW: Abuse?! Gordo, Johnny Casanova has SAVED this man from ruin! He's a
saint for what he's doing for Holland. If Casanova should want some help
in return, I think that's a fair deal.

GM: "Fair deal" isn't controlling and degrading a man at every
opportunity!

[Holland holds the ring ropes open for both Big Mama and Casanova. Big
Mama immediately darts over to ring announcer Phil Watson and wags her
sausage-like finger in his face.]

GM: Big Mama giving Phil Watson some strong words now, apparently angry
at not being introduced.

BW: He should be fined for that. How can not announce a woman of the
beauty and grandeur of Big Mama?

GM: Yeah, how could he miss her, right?

BW: Ugh...

GM: This match was signed earlier tonight by the Championship Committee
who are trying to get their eyeballs on as many tag team matches as
possible leading up to the Stampede Cup in the month of September.

[Shaw, looking extra amped, agrees to go first while Johnny Casanova not
surprisingly orders Jack Holland to remain in the ring as the bell
sounds.]

GM: There's the bell to start off this match between these two
make-shift teams.

BW: Make shift? Playboy Enterprises already has a win under their belt!
Casanova and Holland certainly know how to tag better than the two goofs
their fighting!

GM: Only if you mean Holland's been doing all of Casanova's work.

[Holland and Shaw lock up in the center, with Shaw getting the better of
the tie up and sending Holland into the ropes. Shaw goes for a
clothesline attempt, but Holland ducks through. On the ensuing rebound,
Shaw goes for a shoulder toss, but Holland spots it early and hits Shaw
with a knee lift that sends the former Marine backwards.]

GM: Holland had that shoulder toss scouted and Shaw paid the price!

BW: You have to wonder whatever pea Shaw's got working in his skull
isn't still rattled from the Sickle last week.

GM: Shaw's a strong man, so I'm sure he's recovered - especially if
tonight means a chance to join a team to fight for a million dollars!

[Holland follows up on Shaw, peppering him with some rights to glee of
Big Mama at ringside. After the third punch, though, Shaw answers back
with some strong punches of his own to rile up the crowd!]

GM: Shaw with PLENTY of fight in him tonight as he puts the fists to
Casanova's hired hand!

[Casanova's shouting madly at Holland, who tries to cover up from the
mad onslaught by Clayton Shaw. The former Marine backs Holland into the
corner, continuing to deal lefts and rights, but gets caught by a
desperation kick to the midsection. Stunned, Holland takes Shaw by the
head and slams him down back to the mat.]

BW: Yeah, Jack, that's how it's done! Listen to The Playboy's advice!

GM: Listen? He didn't say anything.

BW: Didn't have to - they're on the same mental wavelength, Gordo!

[Holland goes over to Shaw and drops a knee to the face before covering,
but Shaw kicks out at two.]

GM: Early cover there, maybe too early.

BW: But did you see the look on Old Man Dust's face? Look like he was
having a heart attack seeing Shaw pinned!

GM: It is-

BW: Or maybe it was a heart attack.

GM: Ahem... It wasn't a good sign for the team, if that's what you mean.

[Holland gets Shaw up and whips him into the ropes, but immediately
afterwards gets tagged on the shoulder by a steaming mad Johnny
Casanova. As the Playboy reams Holland for his slight miscue, neither
men seem to see the large former Marine approaching rapidly.]

GM: Casanova's in - Oh my! Clayton Shaw with sends both men to the
outside, courtesy of a HUGE double clothesline!

[Both Casanova and Holland hit the outside with a thud, causing Big Mama
to shriek (squeal?) and the fans to roar! Shaw pumps his fists as the
fans start to chant...

"USA! USA! USA!"]

BW: Stupid Holland, you should have just left the ring! You should have
listened to the Playboy!

GM: I thought they were on the same wavelength?

BW: They were - they are! But Holland... it's his fault!

[Big Mama tries to help Casanova up into the ring... but that's mission
impossible, so she yells at Holland to get up and into the ring.]

GM: Holland the first one to stir and... and he gets into the ring!
Shaw's all over him, but he's not the legal man!

[Shaw continue to batter a groggy Holland, laying out his frustrations
from the Sudakov match on his opponent tonight as the crowd cheers on.
Rust tries to yell at Shaw to stick to Casanova, but the crowd's too
loud.]

GM: Shaw continues to work over Holland and... and I think the ref's
trying to get him off, but Shaw won't let up! He's still steamed! He's
still worked up from what happened in Huntsville!

[Shaw gets behind a wobbly Holland and lifts him up, only to smash him
down over his knee.]

GM: Huge backbreaker! But again, Holland shouldn't be there!

BW: Tell Shaw that!

[Shaw springs back up and grabs Holland, lifting him up over his head
with all his might as the fans cheer loudly for the display of raw
power!]

GM: Military press! Shaw has Holland up over his head and we all know
what this means!

[Well... not really cause with Shaw's back turned, a slowly scrambling
Johnny Casanova wiggles into the ring and clips the back of the knee of
Shaw. Buckling, Holland falls backwards but his right arm is able to
somehow hook the head of Shaw on the way down.]

BW: YES!

GM: What an awful fall! Johnny Casanova out from behind, clipping the
knee of Clayton Shaw as he held Holland up for the US Express!

BW: Did you see the way he fell? It was great, wasn't it? Holland caught
Shaw's head on the way down! Probably hurt him good - I guess the
Playboy told him to do that.

GM: Great? It was terrible!

[Not wasting this opportunity, Casanova dives on top of Shaw as the ref
makes the count.]

GM: He's the legal man! One! Two! Three! 

[The fans immediately boo the pinfall as Johnny Casanova pops up - sort
of - and swivels his hips over the fallen Shaw as Big Mama gets in the
ring to congratulate her man.]

GM: And through all the confusion... cheating, Johnny Casanova pins
Clayton Shaw for the three count! 

BW: You mean Johnny Casanova had to come in a clean up the mess Holland
made! Ha, and Ol' Rusty didn't even get into the match!

[The camera cuts to a shot of Tin Can Rust on the apron, looking over at
his fallen partner. Rust gets a look of disgust on his face as he steps
through the ropes.]

GM: Not an ideal start to this new team of Tin Can Rust and Clayton
Shaw.

[Rust looks down and shakes his head at Shaw, who's just now coming
around. Rust abruptly turns around and leaves his tag team partner in
the ring.]

BW: Start and maybe end, Gordo - Rust wasn't happy to see Shaw eat that
loss! When you've got teams of the caliber that AwA"s getting for the
Stampede Cup, you can't afford any losses to prove you belong in the
field!

[Rust continues to walks away, mutter to himself as Shaw finally gets to
his feet.]

GM:  You may be right, Bucky.  This might be the end of that tag team as
Tin Can Rust's search to rebuild Kentucky's Pride takes a hard bump in
the road here tonight in Nashville.

BW:  And after seeing Rust do a whole lotta nothing here tonight, will
ANYONE be willing to team with him next time?  I don't think so!

GM:  That remains to be seen.  Fans, last time out on SNW, the Money Pit
saw one of the shocking moments in AWA history when Eric Preston
physically assaulted the interim Chairman of the Championship Committee,
Jon Stegglet.  And now, it's time to pay the piper so to speak.  Let's
go to the Money Pit!

[It's a panning shot of the audience as the sounds of the O'Jays' "For
The Love Of Money" is playing over the PA.  A voice rings out.]

"Ladies and gentlemen... TODD MICHAELSON!"

[Todd Michaelson strides out.  Absent is the stylish black suit that he
usually wears on the show and in its place is a pair of jeans and a red
and white "COMBAT CORNER" t-shirt.  He smiles, waving to the crowd.]

TM:  Thanks, guys.  Welcome to the Money Pit.

[Big cheer!]

TM:  Two weeks ago, something happened on this show that quite frankly,
I'm not very proud of.  And if we want to get right down to it... it
makes me a little sick to think about it.

My best friend in this world is Jon Stegglet - I don't think that's a
secret to anyone.  

And two weeks ago, I stood by helpless while my best friend got his
clock cleaned by a kid I trained... I trusted... and I believed to be a
friend.

[Michaelson shakes his head.]

TM:  It's just not acceptable to me... and it's not acceptable to this
company.  And the AWA has asked that man, Eric Preston, to return here
to the Money Pit tonight to hear his punishment for those actions.

But first, the man who will be dishing out that punishment...

My best friend...

The acting Chairman of the Championship Committee...

JON STEGGLET!

[The crowd cheers for Stegglet as he emerges from the curtain, climbing
the stairs up onto the elevated platform the hosts the set of the Money
Pit.  He shakes hands with his friend, taking an offered mic.]

JS:  Thanks, Todd.  The Championship Committee has had a long couple of
weeks.  We've had a lot to deal with heading towards both Wrestlerock as
well as the Stampede Cup... and we really didn't need this situation
piled on top of it.

[Steglet sighs.]

JS:  But nevertheless, here we are... and as much as I don't like it,
we've got some business to take care of tonight.  So, Eric Preston...
bring yourself out here, young man.

[With no music, Eric Preston quickly steps on the set of the Money Pit.
Preston is dressed in khaki pants and a white button down shirt left
open, and glares at both men for a moment. Michaelson holds out the
microphone for Preston to speak into, and the former Combat Corner
student holds nothing back.]

EP: I don't have anything to explain, Jon, because I think my actions
are pretty clear. The people in the audience aren't stupid. Neither are
the people watching at home.

I've been a model employee from the moment I walked out of the Combat
Corner. I've been respectful, I've been deferential, I've done
everything you've asked me to do. Every charity, every autograph
signing, every photo op, every appearance at every corner store, I've
been there. With a smile on my face. And I don't say that to pump myself
up, or to put myself on a pedestal. I'm _proud_ to be in the AWA. I'm
_proud_ to work here, in this ring, in front of these people.

[Preston points at the crowd while keeping his eyes on Stegglet.]

EP: It's been my lifelong dream, for as long as I can remember. _This_
is what I've wanted to do.

And you know what that's gotten me? 

A litany of no's.

Can I have a rematch with James Monosso?

[Preston pauses, then answers his own question.]

EP: No.

Can I have a match for the Longhorn Heritage Title? No.

Can I have a match for the AWA National Title?

[Preston feigns shock.]

EP: Hell no! Can I have an itinerary, can I have a plane ticket, how
about a damn email? No, no, no. You know what I've found out, _Jon_?

I'm sick of hearing you tell me no. I'm sick of hearing Watkins say no.
So I'm not going to ask anymore. I've stood by like a good boy and
watched a bunch of people pass me by, while I stick my hand out and wait
for you to do me a favor. While I wait for you to give me what I
deserve. 

[Preston holds his index finger up and wags it.]

EP: No more. I'm done waiting. I'm going to start taking what I need,
and apologizing later. So yes, Jon, I apologize for busting you in the
mouth, but you're blocking me from what I want... so I had to knock you
down. And if that means you've got to suspend me, or even fire me, then
that's how it's gotta be. I'm a big boy, I can take it.

But know this... the minute you tell me I'm out, I'm walking right out
those doors, into my car and I'm hitting the road. It might take me to
Canada, it might take me to Mexico, it might take me to Vegas, who
knows. It might be a bar room or a back alley, but I'm not stopping 'til
I find Monosso and when I do... he gets sent back to Percy Childes in
pieces.

Now you could either take that suspension off and sign the match, or
kick me out the door and I go do it where there's no witnesses. Either
way, I'm through waiting.

[With that, Preston measuredly moves Todd's hand (and the microphone in
it) over to Stegglet, so he can respond.  Stegglet stares at Eric
Preston for a long, long while.]

JS:  You know something, kid?  An old friend of mine said you'd say
something like that.

[Preston looks over at Michaelson who doesn't acknowledge him.]

JS:  Now, the Championship Committee deliberated long and hard about
this.  There were several scenarios discussed.  But in the end, we came
to a conclusion.

For you... this was a first offense.

[The crowd cheers as Preston looks surprised.]

JS:  Unlike Monosso, there is no history of behavior like this from
you... and with testimony by that same old friend... the Committee was
willing to chalk this up as a one-time thing.

But in the end, they left the decision in my hands.

[Stegglet stares at Preston... and then raises a sole finger.]

JS:  One chance, Eric.  That's all you get with me.  One.

If you ever... EVER... do anything like that again, you're out of here. 
Got that?

[Preston nods.]

JS:  So, consider yourself on probation right now for an extended period
of time.  You're also being fined $25,000 for an assault on an AWA
official.

[Preston winces but nods again.]

JS:  That settles that.

But there's one topic left for discussion...

[The crowd buzzes with anticipation.]

JS:  Monosso.

[Stegglet nods.]

JS:  While every instinct in my body tells me to let him rot on the
shelf...

[Stegglet looks at Michaelson.]

JS:  I've been persuaded to try a different approach.

But the AWA wants nothing to do with this - nothing to do with him.  You
two are too explosive when you're around each other and have been for
far too long.  

So, here's our offer...

[Dramatic pause.]

JS:  You can have Monosso.

[HUGE CHEER!]

JS:  BUT...

This is it, Eric.  Your last chance.  Win, lose, or draw - you and him
are done with each other for a long, long time.

Agreed?

[Preston nods.]

JS:  AND... like I said, the AWA wants no part of this...

So, this match is UNSANCTIONED!  That means ANYTHING GOES, kid.  You up
for that?

[Another nod as the crowd roars.  Stegglet shakes his head.]

JS:  I figured you'd say that so I had the AWA legal team prepare a
contract and waiver for this Unsanctioned match to take place in one
week...

...at Wrestlerock!

[Another big cheer as Stegglet produces the paperwork.]

JS:  And now, at this time... if I can have James Monosso come out here
as well to sign this contract...

[And the cheer very quickly morphs into a loud shocked buzz... Monosso
is here?  Even Preston's eyebrows quirk wider... his hands ball into
fists.]

EP: He's here?  Right now?

[The opening shrill piano of "The Theme From Halloween" answers the
question, and the fans erupt into an extremely loud torrent of boos.]

BW: Ready or not, kid, here he comes.  Eric Preston's gonna be the
poster child for the old adage, "Watch what you ask for; ya just might
get it."

GM: I can't believe this!  How can Jon Stegglet let James Monosso off
the hook like this?!

BW: Thanks, Eric!

[The boos and the music continue, but no Monosso.  Preston instinctively
starts looking around, as if expecting Monosso to come from anywhere at
any time.  Michaelson also grips a heavy set piece, just in case.]

JS: I know you're here, Monosso.  I saw you an hour before the show.  No
stupid games.  Get out here now.

[Finally, a looming form fills the entranceway, striding out into the
light.  The man is greeted with horrible boos, which die down for a
moment when they see that it is not James Monosso.  However, they pick
back up when it registers that the new arrival is Monosso's manager,
Percy Childes.  Childes is carying his crystal-tipped cane, as well as
Nenshou's Longhorn Heritage Championship Belt.  The bald, pudgy manager
with the mustache and Van Dyke arrives at the Money Pit set, and
immediately gets on the microphone as Monosso's music fades away.]

PC: Stegglet, first of all, thank you for being reasonable, and reducing
Monosso's sentence to an understandable level.

[Preston steps in, leaning over the mic.]

EP: Where is he?!  Where is Monosso?!

[Childes turns to the questioning Preston, grinning slightly.]

PC: Calm yourself, Preston.  Your aggression is why he is not, in fact,
in this building right now.  I sent him home once I caught wind of what
Jon Stegglet wanted to do.  There's no need to jeopardize anyone's
health or well-being prematurely... surely Eric Preston's aggressiveness
would goad the mad Monosso into assaulting him, and ending this match
before it ever began.  

You needn't worry; as James Monosso's manager, I am legally empowered to
sign matches on his behalf.  And I insist on reviewing this
"unsanctioned" match contract before it is signed.  I want to know
exactly what the AWA's legal and financial committees think an
"unsanctioned" match that they must still sign a contract for indicates.
 James Monosso does not fight for free. 

[Percy starts to look the contract over as Stegglet explains.]

JS: That's a fair question.  It means that the match will be treated
like an independent exhibition.  We'll pay the listed appearance fee,
and hire an independent referee.  We'll provide the arena and the ring. 
But we are not legally responsible for anything that happens during that
match.  The results will not be factored into contendership, rankings,
or the official record.  Our hands are clean.

PC: I'll be the judge of that.  But before I do...

[Childes walks up to Preston, and points at him with his cane.  Preston
slightly raises his hands, ready to slap the cane away if it gets too
close.]

PC: You.  Preston.  I watched you reach back your fist and strike Jon
Stegglet, removing the impediment from your path.  And lo and behold,
you have what you want.  You have spoken many bold words about taking
control and mastering your own destiny.  You are learning.  And so I
wonder, Eric.  How far would you really go to end the menace of Monosso?
 You've already risked everything... you gambled your career, did you
not?  What else would you dare?

[An agitated Preston glares at Childes.]

EP:  Is there a point to all this, Childes?  What the hell are you
getting at?

PC: I should ask you that question.  What exactly do you expect to do
with James Monosso?  Defeat him?  You tried that already.  You pinned
him at SuperClash.  How did that turn out for you, Preston?

[Preston stands silent, looking down at the ground.]

PC: Exactly.  And now you think you can end the reign of terror of James
Monosso?  You SAY you'll do anything.  But it's not so.  For if it were,
you'd realize that there is an easy way.  A very easy way, actually.  

[Preston looks up at Childes now, his head cocked to the side in query.]

EP:  What are you talking about?

PC: Are you not aware that James Monosso's release from the Happy Valley
Mental Institution is a conditional one?

[Both Preston and Michaelson's expressions change.  Now Percy has their
attention.]

PC: I can see that you weren't.  So let me elucidate.  I am the one who
signed the release form.  I am the one who signed as a contingent
guardian.  And with one phone call, either by myself or by my proxy who
is prepared should something happen to me at James Monosso's hands... I
can rescind that guardianship.  And do you know what that would mean?

[This time, it's Todd Michaelson's turn to speak up.]

TM:  What are you getting at, Childes?  What's your price to lock that
maniac away for good?

[Childes' grin turns predatory.]

PC: Wielding Monosso gives me great power.  But that power does not come
with great control, or a great future.  Now... if I had someone younger.
 More pliable.  Trainable.  Who has learned anger and hate, and shown
the will to survive...

[Percy's eyes narrow in on Preston.  Preston's jaw has visibly dropped a
bit in shock at what he's hearing.]

PC: ...someone who would do anything to achieve his goals.  So, Eric
Preston.  What does "anything" mean to you?

[Preston snatches the mic close to him.]

EP:  Are you saying what I think you're saying, Childes?  Are you trying
to BUY me with Monosso getting locked back in a rubber cell?!

[Childes does not reply, simply smirking.]

EP:  I've stood by for almost a year now and watched you and yours run
roughshod over this entire place.  You've hurt - badly hurt - men I
would consider friends of mine.  You've attacked announcers who've done
absolutely nothing to you.  You even attacked my trainer - my friend's -
own wife!

[Preston's getting heated now.]

EP:  You can claim that you had no part in some of that - that Monosso's
a loose cannon that can't be controlled - but I ain't buyin' it.  I've
seen what you do with that cane... I know the power you've got over
him...

[Preston shakes his head.]

EP:  So, will I join you to get rid of him?

The answer is no, you sick son of a bitch!

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  Fans, we apologize for the langua-

[The voice of Percy Childes interrupts Gordon Myers.]

PC: We thought you would say that.

[Preston nods.]

EP: You and Layton?

PC: No, myself and Monosso.

[Preston looks puzzled.]

EP:  Did he know?  He knew you were gonna sell him out to-

PC: Of course.  It was his idea.

[The crowd buzzes with confusion.]

EP:  What?  I don't understand.  Why would he-

PC: Because the intrigue of the offer would make you lower your guard.


"CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!"


[The back wall of the set practically EXPLODES as James Monosso comes
running through the thin backdrop and brings his meaty hands crashing
down on Eric Preston's upper back with a running double axehandle! 
Preston is sent flying off of the elevated platform, and smashing into
the metal barricade which separates the crowd from the interview area! 
A shout of "NO!" from Michaelson is heard off-mic as he tries to
intervene, moving to aid his friend and student...

With the crowd roaring, going absolutely nuts, Monosso grabs a
distracted Michaelson from the blind side, headbutting him hard at the
base of the neck and HURLING him physically into the "moneybags" piled
up on the set.  Fake bills, "Gold" coins, and the wood blocks that
comprise most of the actual contents of the moneybags go flying in all
directions as the host of the Money Pit slams into his own props... and
the cinder blocks under them which make them look like a huge pile. 
Todd probably wishes that Don Rosa had drawn Scrooge McDuck as swimming
in dollar bills rather than gold coins, or that the set design team had
taken something else as a design inspiraion, as he hits the ground
stunned.

Turning an evil eye back down towards Preston, the broad-shouldered
six-foot-seven lunatic with the stringy black greying hair twists his
face into a psychotic slasher smile as he takes a few steps back.]

GM:  Oh my god.  What is he-

BW:  He's gonna do it, Gordo!  He's gonna END Eric Preston tonight!

[Seeing what the madman's going to do, the fans scream even louder,
imploring Preston to move out of the way.  We get a brief shot of
Preston rolling to his hands and knees, right at the back corner of the
floor seating.  Most of his body is in the aisleway, but his head is
next to the corner of the steel barricade.  The camera then cuts back to
Monosso, who runs to the edge of the set and jumps from all four feet
up...

...soaring gracelessly, but very speedily, through the air in almost a
straight line, no arc whatsoever...]


"CLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANG!"
"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


[...and at the last moment, unfurling one mighty kick to the side of
Preston's head which drives his skull right into the steel barricade to
the horror of almost every human behing in the building!  Even Childes
flinches at the sight, though his smile indicates approval.  Stegglet
frantically screams for security, but they rush in far, far too late. 
Eric Preston is no longer moving, courtesy of the most vicious
Concussionizer we've seen yet.]

GM: NO!  NO!  HOW COULD THEY HAVE LET THIS ANIMAL BACK IN HERE!  LOOK
WHAT HE HAS JUST DONE!

BM: Provided the single greatest object lesson of all time, Gordo! 
Never, ever wish yourself more than you can handle, daddy!

GM: A Concussionizer off of the interview set, down into the steel
barricade!  We need paramedics!

BW: Ya need the National Guard!

[Monosso picks up a cinder block from the set, hefts it over his
head...]

GM: THIS IS CHAOS! THIS IS OUT OF CONTROL, SOMEONE NEEDS TO GET OUT
HERE!

[...and the block comes down and shatters on the floor, a foot short. 
Only because security has arrived alongside a rush of fan favorites from
the locker room and is pulling Monosso away!]  

GM:  GET HIM OUT OF HERE!!  

[A bumpy camera shot reveals the Rockstar Express, Robert Donovan, Sweet
Daddy Williams, and the Lynch brothers among others - including Jonas
Olrikke - trying to intervene.  Security and a sea of AWA officials have
wedged themselves into the mix, trying to force James Monosso and Percy
Childes out of the arena as the crowd is roaring, hurling trash in the
direction of the dastardly duo.]

GM:  ERIC PRESTON IS DOWN!!  ERIC PRESTON MAY BE BADLY HURT!!

[As security attempts to chase off Monosso, a team of medical personnel
come to Preston's side.  We abruptly cut to commercial.

We're staring at the black screen when suddenly, the sounds of ZZ Top's
"La Grange" begin to play as we hear Mark Stegglet playing the role of
pitchman over the music.]

"The rock and wrestling connection lives once more as the American
Wrestling Alliance presents... WRESTLEROCK!"

[The Wrestlerock logo appears on the blackened screen and then fades as
we start to see footage of our favorite AWA superstars.]

"It'll be a tremendous night of AWA action on America's birthday - the
fourth of July - when we head down to Durham, North Carolina for a big
OUTDOOR event!"

[A shot of Juan Vasquez diving off the top rope with a splash.  Robert
Donovan chokeslamming a helpless foe.  Supernova slingshotting over the
ropes to the floor.]

"Come for a huge wrestling event and stay for a special post-show
concert by rock and roll legends... Z!  Z!  TAHHHHHP!"

[The music continues to blast over shots of AWA action from the past.]
 
"The Durham Bulls Athletic Park will be ROCKIN' for one of the biggest
nights of AWA action of the year!  Tickets are available now at the
stadium box office as well as Ticketmaster.com!"

[More AWA action - Eric Preston flying off the top with a crossbody, The
Rockstar Express connecting with a double dropkick, Alex Martinez
Firebombin' a fool down to the mat.]

"So, call your local ticket outlet now and tell 'em that the AWA's
comin' to town and YOU WANNA ROCK!"

[Fade to black.

And then back up to live action.  We've got a wide panning shot of the
arena, the crowd still buzzing about what they just saw.  We can still a
glimpse a sea of people surrounding the Money Pit set as the voice of
Gordon Myers is heard.]

GM:  Fans, thanks for sticking around... we're back on Saturday Night
Wrestling in the midst of another chaotic scene at the hands of James
Monosso, and we have some footage here for you from during the break.
Eric Preston, as you will see, was tended to by Dr. Bob Ponavitch and
his medical staff and it was, it was a wild scene, Bucky.

[The shot cuts back to footage marked "MOMENTS AGO" as Ponavitch is
taking to a standing Preston, who is vehemently shaking his head no and
screaming at the doctor.]

"NO, YOU CAN'T DO THAT! NO YOU CAN'T- YOU CAN'T DO THAT! NOTHIN'S WRONG,
I'M FINE! NO YOU CAN'T!"

[Ponavitch calmly repeats himself to Preston, who is getting dangerously
close to bumping into the doctor, and a security team comes down to make
sure there's no further issue.]

BW: Gordo, I'm just gonna throw this out there, think what you want, but
these two are dangerous together. Ya can't get Monosso and Preston in
the same building without a scene like this, it seems like it's a powder
keg with them. They literally can't be in the same area code as the
other.

[In the footage from during the commercial break, Preston screams at
Ponavitch from behind the wall of security and starts to struggle past
them, when Todd Michaelson comes into the picture and begins to shout at
his protege from the other side of the security guard wall. Preston
again shouts, this time in frustration rather than insane rage and calms
down enough to let himself be taken away by security.]

GM: Our security team was able to get Preston to the backstage area,
away from Dr. Bob Ponavitch, but it was awful close to another fiasco.

BW: It seems like them things just run together, Gordo, and I'll point
this out: if Preston would have decked the good doctor, that would have
made it two AWA officials he slugged in two weeks time. Monosso's out of
control, but Preston ain't far behind him.

GM: At this point I can't disagree with you, Bucky, as it seems like
those two are on a collision course for destruction. Todd's back on the
Money Pit with Dr. Bob Ponavitch now, who can hopefully shed some light
on things. Todd?

[Cut live to Michaelson, looking agitated, standing next to a flushed
Dr. Bob Ponavitch.]

TM: Thanks Gordon. Dr. Ponavitch, we just saw it, another melee between
Eric and  that maniac, Monosso. The kid... uhh... well, he got knocked
for a loop there, can you give us any more information?

[Michaelson is obviously distracted, looking around the whole time.]

Dr. P: Preston obviously suffered a hard shot to the back of the head,
as you could plainly see. He seemed momentarily disoriented, but was
able to answer the questions we asked him, regarding time, place and
things of that nature.  I would speculate that the injury could have
been far worse but Mr. Monosso was unable to get the full impact behind
his kick. 

TM:  Thank god for that.

Dr. P:  Indeed.  Todd, normally I would clear Mr. Preston to wrestle,
but due to his past history of head injuries and specifically
concussions, we're taking him out of the ring for about three weeks.

[The fans explode in boos at this, which amuses the doctor.]

Dr. P: We're going to check back on Eric tomorrow, and probably place
minimal restrictions on him. However, we'll need to see a CAT scan to
make sure there's no bruising of the lobe. I would expect Eric to be
back to work in the middle of July, but he _will_ miss Wrestlerock.

[A frustrated Michaelson says something off mic before nodding.]

TM:  Thanks, doc.

[Michaelson turns away as Ponavitch quickly exits the scene.  The shot
cuts back to ringside to the announcers.]

BW:  What does that mean, Gordo?

GM:  I think it means exactly what it sounds like.  Eric Preston has
been medically suspended because of the assault we just witnessed at the
hands of James Monosso and he will be UNABLE to compete as scheduled
against Monosso at Wrestlerock.

BW:  The Unsanctioned match is off?

GM:  It certainly appears that way.  Preston will be unable to compete
at-

[A voice cuts in.]

"MONOSSO!"

GM:  What the...

BW:  It's Michaelson!

[The shot cuts back to the wrecked stage of the Money Pit.  An angry
Todd Michaelson is standing in the middle of it all.]

TM:  MONOSSO!  I KNOW YOU'RE BACK THERE!!  AND I KNOW YOU'RE LISTENING!!

[Michaelson shakes his head.]

TM:  Robert Donovan said earlier tonight that the AWA wasn't doing
enough to stop... well, to stop stuff like this from happening.  He said
the fines, the suspensions - they don't mean a damn thing to people like
Childes and Monosso and the rest.

And he's right.

This?

[Michaelson points at the set.]

TM:  And Eric?  Eric back there laid out with a doctor telling him he
might have another concussion because of you... this is MY fault.  Kid,
I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... Steggs wanted to end this his way.  He
wanted to leave Monosso on the shelf and let you move on.

But I wouldn't let it happen.  I said that we had to do this your way. 
That you'd never be able to move on from this unless you got this
chance.

I told him the losing streak... the hell you went through... it's all
because of Monosso... and it'd never truly be over unless you ended it
yourself...

[Michaelson shakes his head.]

TM:  I was wrong.  This needs to end.  But maybe you're not the one who
needs to end it.

Monosso, for over two years now, I've listened to you badmouth me and my
school... I've watched you brutalize kids who have one dream - to be a
professional wrestler... and I let it happen.

Not anymore... not after this...

[He paces back and forth...]

TM:  Gordon?  You went after Gordon Myers!  The man is a LEGEND in this
industry and has done nothing but entertain the fans of this great sport
for DECADES!

[The shot cuts to Gordon Myers who looks a bit sheepish.]

TM:  And you attacked him because it gave you a cheap thrill.

[The shot cuts back to Michaelson who is getting more and more angry
with every moment.]

TM:  And I guess that's why you went after Lori and Melissa too, huh? 
YOU WENT AFTER MY WIFE, MONOSSO!

And I let it slide because the office said I needed to.

[Another shake of the head.]

TM:  No... no more.  This is gonna end.

[Michaelson leans down, picking up a sheet of paper.]

TM:  Even if I have to do it myself!

[BIG CHEER!]

TM:  In just over seven days... James Monosso... Todd Michaelson...

UNSANCTIONED MATCH!!

[HUUUUGE CHEER!]

TM:  And it's gonna HAVE to be Unsanctioned for me to get away with what
I'm gonna do to you, you sick freak!

Throw out the rules... throw out the ring for all I care...

We're not gonna need it, Monosso... 

[A slight grin crosses Michaelson's face.]

TM:  'Cause if you want to get... hardcore...

[BIG CHEER!]

TM:  If you wanna get... extreme...

[BIGGER CHEER!]

TM:  You've come to the right man.  It just so happens...

... I know a thing or two about extreme, big man.

See you next weekend.

[Michaelson holds up the sheet of paper, signing it...

...and SLAMS it down on a wooden podium, storming off the set of the
Money Pit to the roars of the crowd.]

GM:  What in the...

BW:  He's crazy, Gordo!  He's crazy!  He's nuttier than Monosso!

GM:  Todd Michaelson just... he just signed a contract to face James
Monosso in an Unsanctioned Match at Wrestlerock!

BW:  Monosso's going to break him like an egg! 

GM:  Todd Michaelson with an incredibly bold gesture but... well, it
might also be the craziest idea I've ever heard of!  Todd Michaelson is
NOT a wrestler anymore.  Todd Michaelson hasn't wrestled on a regular
basis in YEARS!  And to climb inside the ring with James Monosso on just
over a week's notice may be the worst idea I've ever heard of!

BW:  And you'd have to be INSANE to think otherwise.

GM:  Oh, that's just great.  This is no time to be making jokes, Bucky!

BW:  You're right, you're right.  Hey, when Michaelson's a cripple, you
think he can bring back Larry Doyle's golden wheelchair?

GM:  Give me a break, Bucky.  Fans, let's go backstage to the Control
Center!

[We crossfade to the Wrestlerock logo with ZZ Top's "La Grange" playing
in the background.  After a moment, it fades to Jason Dane standing in
front of a bank of monitors showing various AWA footage on them.]

JD:  Hello, fans, and welcome to the Wrestlerock Control Center!  We are
just nine days away from that big event in Durham, North Carolina in
that big outdoor stadium show.  It's gonna be a heck of a night of
action for the AWA with all the big stars in action - so let's look at
the final rundown of what we'll be seeing on the 4th of July!

The AWA National Title will be on the line when Juan Vasquez goes
one-on-one with the mysterious West Memphis Assassin!  Remember, the
Championship Committee did NOT want to put that title on the line at
Wrestlerock due to the Assassin's recent entry into the AWA and his lack
of standing in the Top 10 rankings.  However, the champion has INSISTED
that the match be a title defense so the gold WILL be on the line in
Durham!

The other half of our double Main Event will be the dangerous TOWER OF
DOOM!  For the first time in AWA series, three steel cages, each smaller
than the one below it, will be stacked on top of one another.  Two teams
of five will enter the top cage.  In timed intervals, they will enter
the cage one-by-one, battling their way through trapdoors to the bottom
where they must exit the cage.  The first team to get ALL FIVE MEMBERS
through the Tower and out to the floor will be your winner.  On one
side, it'll be Supernova, Jim Watkins, Tyler Lee, Corax, and a fifth man
taking on Sultan Azam Sharif, Ivan Kostovich, Kolya Sudakov, Vladimir
Velikov, and a fifth man.

Now, there are two big stories still in the air about this match...

One, both teams are a man short at this time.  Both teams only have four
men on them.  We know that Stevie Scott has received an offer from BOTH
teams to be the final member but as of right now, we do not know from
who - or IF - he has accepted the offer.  We hope to know before we go
off the air tonight.

And in the other piece of breaking news about this match, we have
learned that Count Adrian Bathwaite will be the KEEPER OF THE KEY for
this match.  That is, Bathwaite will be stationed at the door of the
bottom cage and he MUST open the door to allow the competitors to
escape.  We are told this ruling was made at the request of Jim Watkins
who stated, "I might like to smack Bathwaite around a little too!"

[Dane grins.]

JD:  It's going to be a wild night in Durham.  But what else is going to
happen that night?

We saw a wild, wild brawl break out because of it earlier but we will
see the fabulous Lynch brothers - all three together in six man action -
taking on the Unholy Alliance team of Anton Layton, the monstrous
Polemos, and the Botswana Beast himself, the Human Horror Movie, Ebola
Zaire!

There will be a Longhorn Heritage Title match as well when Robert
Donovan challenges Nenshou with the gold on the line.  The match will be
conducted under LOCKED DOOR rules with anyone who is not a licensed
manager for one of those men being BANNED from ringside.  If anyone DOES
appear, the result will be an instant disqualification for the offending
party.  And to ensure no interference from the managers, Percy Childes
will be HANDCUFFED at ringside to Donovan's manager for the evening,
SWEET DADDY WILLIAMS!

[Dane looks so excited, he might burst.]

JD:  How about the big handicap match?  The team of Royalty - Dave
Cooper, Eric Matthew Somers, and Mark Langseth - teaming up for the
first time to take on the Number One contenders to the National Tag Team
Titles, Violence Unlimited!  And where Royalty is, you can bet Joe
Petrow will be as well!

Plus, we just heard the announcement moments ago... it will be an
UNSANCTIONED showdown when James Monosso meets... can you believe it...
Todd Michaelson in a one-on-one encounter!

That makes SIX huge matches already announced!

And that leaves one more match to be announced...

[Dane pauses.]

JD:  Before we come on the air LIVE on the 4th of July, there will be an
open invitational Tag Team Battle Royal exclusively for the fans in
Durham to witness.  The final two tag teams remaining in that match will
compete in tag team action on the live broadcast...

...with the winning team getting a GUARANTEED Top Eight seed in the
Stampede Cup!  We've already learned that teams such as the Rockstar
Express, the Blonde Bombers, Tommy Fierro and Ricky Armstrong, Jack
Holland and Johnny Casanova, and so many more will be competing in this
big tag team battle royal but only ONE team can win the oh-so-important
seed in the tournament!  

It's gonna be a huge night of action in Durham, North Carolina, and for
you fans who will be there LIVE in the Durham Bulls Athletic Park, don't
forget a special post-show concert from ZZ TOP!

Enjoy your BBQs and your picnics, wrestling fans, 'cause when the night
falls - the only fireworks you're gonna wanna see will be RIGHT HERE on
WKIK so don't you dare miss it!

For the Control Center, I'm Jason Dane and we'll see you at Wrestlerock!

[We crossfade from the bank of monitors to a shot of Mark Stegglet
standing between Scotty Storm and Marty Morgan, the Rockstar Express.]

MS:  Gentlemen, we are moments away from your tag team Main Event here
tonight on Saturday Night Wrestling as you take on the Blonde Bombers! 
Your thoughts?

[Scotty Storm lets loose a whoop.]

SS:  Since we first stepped foot in the AWA, we've had two goals as a
tag team, Marky.  We've wanted to be the AWA National Tag Team
Champions... and we've wanted to win the Stampede Cup.

MM:  Tonight, we get a chance to take a big step forward towards both,
Mark.  If we beat the Bombers here tonight in Nashville, there's a
pretty good chance that the Championship Committee will slap a big ol'
seeding on us for the Stampede Cup.  And if we rack up a win over the
Bombers tonight, we may take another step closer to another shot at the
National Tag Team Titles.

MS:  The Blonde Bombers seem to be taking you very, very lightly, guys.

SS:  That's fine with us.  They don't think we're able to throw down
with 'em?  They're dead wrong.  And we're gonna prove that right here
tonight.  The Bombers are a top notch tag team, there's no doubt about
that.  

MM:  And if we don't win the Stampede Cup, there's a pretty good chance
that they will - we know that.  But tonight, it's time for the Rockstar
Express to step up to the plate and make sure the whole world knows
exactly what we're capable of - wooo!

[A high five between the two partner signifies the end of the interview
as they make their exit towards the ring.]

MS:  You heard 'em, guys.  Let's head down to the ring for the Main
Event!

[Crossfade down to ringside where Phil Watson is standing.]

PW:  The following contest is a tag team match set for one fall with a
fifteen minute time limit and is your MAIN EVENT of the evening!

#REACH OUT AND TOUCH FAITH#

[The crowd ERUPTS in jeers at the sight of the group coming down the
aisle.]

PW:  Introducing first... being led to the ring by "Hollywood" Larry
Doyle and the Masked Menace... they are "Ravishing" Robert Baldwin and
"The Machine" Johann Avalon...

THE BLONNNNNNNNNDE BOMMMMMMMBERRRRRRS!

[With Depeche Mode's "Personal Jesus" blaring over the PA, the
aforementioned foursome quickly make their way down the aisle towards
the ring.  Baldwin slingshots over the ropes as Avalon steps through. 
Larry Doyle decides to mount the midbuckle, shouting at the Nashville
fans as the music starts to fade.]

PW:  And their opponents...

[The sounds of KISS' "Rock And Roll All Nite" kicks in to a HUGE CHEER!]

PW:  FROM ROCK AND ROLL CITY, USA... 

SCOTTY AND MARTY...

THE ROCKSTAAAAAAAAR EXPRESSSSSSS!!

[The curtain parts and two of the biggest fan favorites in the entire
promotion breaks into view.  They each head to a barricade, slapping the
hands of every fan with a hand outstretched.  They pause along the way
to hug various female fans as well before reaching the ringside area. 
Morgan pulls himself up on the apron, pointing a finger at the pacing
Bombers before stepping into the ring...

...where the Bombers immediately strike!]

GM:  HERE WE GO!!  It's MAIN EVENT TIME!!

[Baldwin and Avalon quickly hammer Morgan down to the mat, each grabbing
an arm to fire him across...]

GM:  Double clothesli- ducked by Morgan!

[And when the Bombers turn around...]

GM:  SLINNNNNNGSHOT CROSSBODY BY SCOTTY STORM!!

[The crowd roars at the sight of Storm slingshotting himself to the top
rope and springboarding off onto a stunned Bombers!  Avalon and Baldwin
quickly bail out to the ring, leaving the Rockstars to celebrate with
their fans...

...when Marty Morgan suddenly rushes forward, grabbing the top rope...]

BW:  LOOK OUT, GUYS!!

[Morgan slingshots himself over the ropes, wiping out both Bombers as
well as the Masked Menace to a roar from the crowd!]

GM:  THE ROCKSTAR EXPRESS HAS COME TO FIGHT, BUCKY!!

[Morgan grabs Baldwin off the floor by the hair, swinging him under the
ropes into the ring as the referee calls for the bell.]

GM:  All that took place before the bell?

BW:  The referee should disqualify the Rockstars for that!

GM:  Did you not just hear me say it took place BEFORE the bell?!

[Scotty Storm pulls "Ravishing" Robert Baldwin to his feet as Marty
Morgan takes a spot on the apron, slapping the buckle and shouting
encouragement to his partner who lets loose a pair of boots to the gut,
knocking Baldwin back into the turnbuckles.]

GM:  Baldwin's pushed back in the corner... Storm to the second rope...

[Storm raises his right hand to the cheers of the crowd...

...when Larry Doyle hops up on the apron, shouting at the official.]

GM:  Get him down from there!

[The momentary distraction is enough for Johann Avalon to roll under the
ropes, hook the back of Storm's tights...

...and YANK him down off the ropes, the back of his head SLAMMING into
the canvas!]

GM:  Oh, come on!

BW:  Hey, the Rockstars wanted to fight dirty!  The Bombers can oblige!

[Baldwin stumbles out of the corner, delivering a pair of stomps to the
downed Storm before slapping his partner's hand...]

GM:  There's the first legal tag of this match as Avalon tags into the
match.

[Avalon and Baldwin measure Storm before leaping up in unison, Baldwin
dropping a leg across the throat as Avalon drops a senton across the
torso!]

GM:  Ohh!  Nice doubleteam by the Bombers!

[Baldwin exits the ring at the referee's orders as Avalon hauls Storm
off the canvas, firing him across the ring...

...and BURYING a knee into his midsection, flipping Storm over and down
to the canvas.  Avalon drops to his knees, applying a press.]

GM:  We've got a cover for one... and two... but that's all.

[Avalon grabs a handful of Storm's hair, battering his skull with right
hands for a few moments to the protests of the official before climbing
back to his feet.  He pulls Storm up as well, hoisting him into the air,
and dumping him down in an inverted atomic drop before charging to the
ropes behind him...

...and DRILLING a stunned Storm with a running clothesline!]

GM:  Good grief!  What a clothesline there by Johann Avalon!

BW:  The Machine, daddy!

[Avalon attempts another lateral press off the clothesline.]

GM:  We've got one!  We've got two!  But that's all once again.

[In the corner, Marty Morgan shouts to his partner, earning a few words
from Avalon as he gets to his feet.  Avalon leans down, hauling Storm up
by the arm...]

GM:  Irish whip to the corn- 

[But Storm leaps up to the midbuckle at the last moment, blinding
leaping backwards and catching Avalon across the chest with a
crossbody!]

GM:  OHHH!  HE CAUGHT ALL OF THAT!!

[But instead of attempting a cover, Storm rolls out of the press,
crawling towards the corner...

...but Robert Baldwin rushes in, leaping up and dropping an elbow on the
back of Storm's head to cut off the tag attempt!]

GM:  Oh, come on, referee!  He's not the legal man!

[The referee steps in, forcing the illegal Baldwin across the ring back
towards the corner...

...while a dazed Storm reaches up, slapping the hand of his partner!]

GM:  TAG!!  IN COMES MARTY!!!

[Marty Morgan rushes through the ropes to the cheers of the crowd,
drilling a rising Avalon with a right hand to the jaw.  A second one
sends him falling back into the ropes where Morgan pursues...

...only to be cut off by a protesting official!]

GM:  What?!

BW:  The ref didn't see the tag!

GM:  The man made the tag, ref!

BW:  But he didn't see it!  He can't allow it if he didn't see it!

[The argument between Morgan and Meekly allows Robert Baldwin time to
come back in, grabbing Scotty Storm by the ankle and dragging him all
the way back across the ring before the official gets Morgan back out to
the apron.]

GM:  Unbelievable.  Marty Morgan should be legally in this match right
now!

BW:  Well, there ain't no instant replay in the world of pro wrestling
so keep your challenge flag in your pants, daddy!

[Avalon staggers to the corner, slapping Baldwin by the hand.  The duo
drags Storm back to his feet, double whipping him across again...

...and catching him with a double boot to the midsection.  Baldwin
promptly drops to a knee as Avalon hoists Storm up in a gutwrench...]

GM:  Look out here!


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


[The crowd groans as Avalon DUMPS Storm gutfirst down across the bent
knee!]

GM:  Good grief!  A brutal doubleteam right there - and there's a cover!

[Baldwin applies a press, reaching back for a leg.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR-

[The crowd roars as Marty Morgan rushes in, stomping the back of
Baldwin's head to break up the pin.]

GM:  Marty Morgan breaks the pin!  He saves his partner!

BW:  Where's your outrage now, Myers?!  Why aren't you crying "oh, come
on!" now?!

GM:  Marty Morgan should be legally in this match!

BW:  So that gives him carte blanche to cheat his tail off now?!

GM:  That's not what I'm implying at all!

[The referee forces Morgan out as Baldwin drags Storm to his feet,
rocking him with a right hand to the jaw that sends him falling back
into the ropes, dropping through them and crashing down to the floor.]

GM:  Baldwin knocks Storm to the floor with a crushing right hand!

[Baldwin attempts to go after Storm but Marty Meekly steps in his path,
pushing him back...

...which gives the Masked Menace an opportunity to pull Storm up off the
floor, hoisting him into the air, and SLAMMING him down on the thinly
padded concrete floor!]

GM:  OHHH!  That danged Menace!

BW:  Hehehe... I love it!

GM:  You would.  There's illegal interference outside the ring and-

BW:  Just like Morgan's illegal interference a moment ago!  I'd say
they're even!

GM:  That's not... arrrgh... I can't even argue with you sometimes.

BW:  That's right, daddy.  Just admit I'm right and call it a day.

[The Menace shoves Storm back into the ring to a waiting "Ravishing"
Robert Baldwin who drags Storm to his feet, teeing off with right hands
to the ribcage against the ropes.]

GM:  Baldwin... what's he doing now?

[He holds up his hands like he's "framing" a shot, checking out Storm
from all angles before charging to the ropes behind him, sprinting
across...]

GM:  FLYING KNEE-

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  HE MISSED!  HE MISSED!!

[The crowd explodes as Storm drops down to the mat, causing Baldwin to
sail into the ropes, crotching himself on the middle rope and getting
all tangled up as Storm drags himself towards the corner!]

GM:  Scotty's heading for the corner - Marty's waiting for him!

[The fans are roaring, clapping, stomping, screaming, and shouting -
trying to inspire Scotty Storm to make the tag...]

GM:  Scotty's getting close!  Larry Doyle is screaming at-

[BOOOOOOM!]

GM:  HE MAKES THE TAG!!!

[Marty Morgan slingshots himself over the ropes into the squared circle.
 He promptly rushes across the ring...

...and leaps into the air at the last moment, smashing Johann Avalon
with a back elbow that sends him sailing off the apron and down to the
floor!]

GM:  DOWN GOES AVALON!!

BW:  He's not the legal man!  What a cheapshot by Morgan!

[Springing back up, Morgan pumps a fist at the cheering crowd before
rushing across the ring and DRILLING the rising Baldwin with a right
hand on the jaw, knocking him back into the corner...

...where he mounts the midbuckle!]

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

[Morgan leaps backwards, catching an incoming Avalon with a back elbow
again!]

GM:  WHOOOOOA!

BW:  How did he even know he was there?!

GM:  I have no idea!

[Morgan pulls Avalon off the mat, firing him into the ropes...

...and TAKES HIM UP AND OVER with a backdrop!]

GM:  HIIIIIIIGH BACK BODY DROP!!

[With Avalon down on the mat reeling from the hard fall, Morgan waves in
his partner...]

GM:  The Rockstars are ready... they're set...

[And they take flight in unison, striking with a double dropkick that
sends Avalon SAILING over the ropes to the floor!]

GM:  OUT GOES AVALON!!

BW:  ILLEGAL!  ILLEGAL!!

[Grabbing Baldwin out of the corner, the two Rockstars double hiptoss
him halfway across the ring and down to the canvas hard...]

GM:  They're setting up for it again!  They're calling for the double
dropkick!

BW:  Get him out of there, Larry!

[Larry Doyle has a hand on the middle rope, one knee on the apron,
SCREAMING at Robert Baldwin as he starts to stir, slowly pushing up off
the canvas, completely unaware of what is waiting for him...]

GM:  Baldwin's to his feet... he doesn't even-

[The Masked Menace suddenly gets up on the apron...]

GM:  MENACE!!

[The Rockstars spin around, throwing a double dropkick at the Menace,
sending him sailing off the apron where he CRASHES down hard on the
barely-padded basketball floor!]

GM:  OHHHHHH!   THE MENACE GOES DOWN HARD!!!

[Larry Doyle seizes the momentary distraction to get up on the apron,
shouting at Baldwin...

...an ominous cowboy boot dangling from his right hand!]

GM:  Doyle's on the apron!  He's got the boot off too!

[Scotty Storm moves to the apron, grabbing Doyle by the back of the head
as Marty Morgan grabs Robert Baldwin by the arm...]

GM:  Morgan with a whip- no, reversed!

[Johann Avalon rushes past, grabbing the dangling boot out of Doyle's
hand...

...and CREAMS Morgan in the back of the head with it as he hits the
ropes, stumbling off from the impact!]

GM:  Morgan got cracked in the back of the skull with that loaded boot
and-

BW:  Who said anything about it being loaded?!

GM:  You know darn well that boot is loaded, Bucky Wilde, and-

[Baldwin hooks a front facelock, swinging the dazed Morgan down into an
inside cradle as Doyle frantically hangs on Scotty Storm who is trying
to help his partner as the referee spins around, dropping down to the
mat...]

GM:  NO!  NO!!

BW:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREEEEEEEE!!  I LOVE IT!!!

[Baldwin rolls out to join Avalon on the floor as Doyle drops off the
apron, one foot completely bare as he hobbles over to join his charges!]

PW:  Here are your winners...

THE BLONNNNNNNNDE BOMMMMMMBERRRRRS!

[The crowd jeers the announcement as Avalon and Baldwin somehow manage
to get the Menace off the floor, holding him up between them - a beefy
arm over each of their shoulders as they work their way back up the
aisle towards the locker room.]

GM:  I can't believe it!  The Blonde Bombers just stole this one!  

BW:  A win's a win, daddy!  And the Bombers just scored a big win in the
eyes of the Championship Committee!  In a year where seeding in the
Stampede Cup may be more important than ever, the Blonde Bombers just
took a big step towards securing a top seed in the tournament!

GM:  It was a showdown between the #2 and #3 contenders to the National
Tag Team Titles and I have to think we'll see those two teams swap spots
after this victory here tonight in Nashville!

BW:  You'd better believe it!

[With the Bombers fleeing up the aisle, Scotty Storm helps his partner
up to a seated position against the ropes.  Morgan is clutching the back
of his skull, wincing in pain.]

GM:  Let's look at the replay on that for those who missed it...

[We crossfade into the replay where we see the Rockstars knocking the
Masked Menace to the floor with a double dropkick.]

GM:  The Menace gets taken out first - put on the floor...

[Morgan goes after Baldwin as Storm tries to keep Larry Doyle at bay. 
Morgan attempts a whip but has it reversed just as Johann Avalon
snatches the loaded cowboy boot out of Doyle's hands...]

GM:  And here it is... right here, Bucky...

[Avalon rears waaaaay back and DRILLS Morgan in the back of the skull
with the boot, sending him stumbling into the arms of a waiting Robert
Baldwin who drags him down to the canvas in an inside cradle.]

GM:  The boot... the rollup... and the one, two, three.  The Blonde
Bombers steal our Main Event LIVE from Nashville, Tennessee, fans.

BW:  All this talk about theft.  Call the cops if they stole something,
Gordo!

GM:  Very funny.  The Rockstar Express... well, you know this isn't the
end for them either, fans.  They'll be back - you can count on it!

[The camera holds on the disappointed Rockstars for a moment before
fading to black.

We're staring at the black screen when suddenly, the sounds of ZZ Top's
"La Grange" begin to play as we hear Mark Stegglet playing the role of
pitchman over the music.]

"The rock and wrestling connection lives once more as the American
Wrestling Alliance presents... WRESTLEROCK!"

[The Wrestlerock logo appears on the blackened screen and then fades as
we start to see footage of our favorite AWA superstars.]

"It'll be a tremendous night of AWA action on America's birthday - the
fourth of July - when we head down to Durham, North Carolina for a big
OUTDOOR event!"

[A shot of Juan Vasquez diving off the top rope with a splash.  Robert
Donovan chokeslamming a helpless foe.  Supernova slingshotting over the
ropes to the floor.]

"Come for a huge wrestling event and stay for a special post-show
concert by rock and roll legends... Z!  Z!  TAHHHHHP!"

[The music continues to blast over shots of AWA action from the past.]

"The Durham Bulls Athletic Park will be ROCKIN' for one of the biggest
nights of AWA action of the year!  Tickets are available now at the
stadium box office as well as Ticketmaster.com!"

[More AWA action - Eric Preston flying off the top with a crossbody, The
Rockstar Express connecting with a double dropkick, Alex Martinez
Firebombin' a fool down to the mat.]

"So, call your local ticket outlet now and tell 'em that the AWA's
comin' to town and YOU WANNA ROCK!"

[Fade to black.

The camera fades in on a green band preview header.  This preview is
approved for all audiences.  This feature is rated R.

The green fades, replaced by a black screen with red lettering fading
into view "AWA Pictures Presents..."

With a whooshing noise, the camera swoops through a black and white CGI
city...white comic book style boxing rolls out over the sound of
rustling paper, filled with black text as a steady base guitar riff
plays in the background.]

"In AWA..."

[The camera continues as cars drive through the stylized streets, their
headlights casting pure white light into the inked black of night in
front of them...more text boxes roll out with the same paper-noise as a
police helicopter's 'thump thump thump' acts as a harbinger of the
same's arrival.]

"There is a war..."

[The camera cuts to a shot of the MDM Rumble...of various wrestlers
lying on the ground in pain...]

"Between those that speak for the fans..."

[The camera cuts to shots of Juan Vasquez...Supernova..City Jack...Tyler
Lee...Corax...Sweet Daddy Williams...and other faces in the ring...all
highly stylized and in black and white.  More text rolls out.]

"And those that speak for themselves..."

[The camera cuts to The Unholy Alliance...to The Russians...to
Monssso...to Rough N ready...to Langseth...again all highly stylized in
black and white.
The base riff speeds up slightly, with drums beating in time...]

"The darkness has held sway in AWA..."

[Camera cuts to a building...exploding suddenly as background music
kicks in...]

Deep Voice: The power holding AWA will be shattered...

[Camera cuts to a man standing, long coat blowing in the wind behind
him, his features blacked out.]

Mystery Man: Time to let 'em go.

Deep Voice: Coming Soon...to an arena near you...

[And a countdown clock fills the screen, reading 83:22:56:30 - and
ticking down second by second before fading to black.

We fade back up to a close-up shot of the American flag, the Stars and
Stripes.  A voice can be heard over the shot, the voice of "Big" Jim
Watkins.]

JW:  This flag means the world to me.  What it stands for, what it
represents.  It means everything to me.

All around this world, men have stood in the jungles of Vietnam, the
deserts of the Middle East, the beaches of Normandy... they have stood,
fought, and many cases died for what that flag stands for.

[The camera pulls out a bit to reveal Watkins standing in front of the
flag.]

JW:  It means the world to me.  

In my life, time and time again, I've dressed in those colors - the red,
the white, and the blue... or I've carried that flag on a pole... or
I've worn that flag in a t-shirt or bandana...

And then I've stood up...

AND I'VE FOUGHT!  AND I'VE BLED!

[Watkins is getting fired up now.]

JW:  KOSTOVICH, YOU DON'T DESERVE TO HAVE YOUR FILTHY COMMIE HANDS ON
THIS FLAG!  YOU, VELIKOV, SUDAKOV - YOU FILTHY, STINKING, YELLA COMMIE
DOGS DON'T DESERVE TO LAY YOUR HANDS ON THIS FLAG!!

AND NOW... YOU'VE CROSSED THE LINE!  YOU'VE GONE TOO FAR!!

[Watkins slams an open hand into his jaw.]

JW:  YOU'VE GONE TOO FAR AND NOW WE GONNA DO IT TOGETHER!!  WE'RE GONNA
FIGHT!  WE GOIN TO WAR!  WE'RE GONNA BLEED!  WE'RE GONNA BLEED!  WE'RE
GONNA BLEED!  

THE WHOLE DAMN TOWER'S GONNA BE COVERED IN BLOOD!!  MY BLOOD, YOUR
BLOOD, THE BLOOD OF THE FALLEN WHO'VE SACRIFICED SO MUCH SO I CAN STAND
HERE IN FRONT OF THIS FLAG AND CALL YA DIRTY, FILTHY YELLA DOGS!!

[Watkins goes silent, shaking with intensity.]

JW:  We're gonna light the world on fire - the Tower's gonna burn from
the top all the way down to the bottom!

And I... can't... wait.

[We fade away from a red-faced and shaking Jim Watkins to ringside to
Gordon and Bucky.]

GM:  Jim Watkins is ready for war but who will he go to war with?  All
night long, we've been wondering just who will be the fifth man on that
team as well as on the side of the Foreign Legion.  And now, we're about
to find out!  Let's go up to the ring where Stevie Scott is waiting with
his decision!

[Cut to the ring, where indeed stands Stevie Scott.  Just like Gordon
said!]

HSS: So...the _moment_!

[Dramatic pause!  And so early in the promo, too.]

HSS: That you have all been waiting for.

But before I announce my decision and _guarantee_ one of the teams a win
in the Tower of Doom match at Wrestlerock...I want _you_, Ivan
Kostovich, and I want _you_, Supernova...to come down here at get a
front-row seat for this historic announcement.

[Stevie lets his mic-holding arm fall to his side, obviously waiting for
the two men he called out to show up before he goes on.]

GM:  Well, Stevie Scott is really milking this moment, Bucky.

BW:  He's got every right to do so!  He's basically making the Tower of
Doom a LOCK for whoever he gives the thumbs up to right here right now. 


GM:  We'll see about that.

[Finally, we see Supernova emerge into the aisleway to a HUGE pop!  He
climbs into the ring, keeping his distance from Stevie but not his eyes.
 Scott returns the stare for a moment, then turns back up to face the
aisle and raises the mic.]

HSS: Come on, Ee-vahn.  Chop chop, comrade, we ain't got all night.

[Only a few seconds pass before Kostovich appears, but he didn't come
alone as Velikov walks beside him carrying the big chain.  Kolya Sudakov
is also there but a couple of steps behind.  The Russians reach ringside
and start to climb into the ring, but Stevie cuts them off.] 

HSS: Ah, ah, ah!  I just said Kostovich, not the entire Kremlin.  You!

[He points at Velikov, who is standing on the apron.  He then points to
the floor.]

HSS: Down.

[Velikov protests but Kostovich puts a hand on his shoulder and tells
him to go along with it.  Vladimir does reluctantly, and Stevie moves
back to allow Ivan to enter the ring on the opposite side of Supernova. 
The Hotshot moves into the center of the ring, right between the two
foes.]

HSS: Nice.  He can follow orders, too.  Hey, Kolya!

[A smirking Stevie stares down at a not-at-all smirking Sudakov.]

HSS: Aren't you glad to see you're not the only one missing a spine
tonight.

[Big pop!  Velikov continues to scream at Scott, while Sudakov's
expression never changes.]

HSS: OK, now...decision time.

As I sat in the back, in my very own private dressing room...which was
very nicely catered, by the way...but as I sat there and pondered, and
was interrupted several times by various members of each team as well as
members of the broadcast media...I thought about both sides of this
equation here.  Which side made the most sense for Stevie Scott to join?
 Because let's be honest...this is _your_ war, not mine.  I really don't
care about all the bad blood between Supes and the guy who I can't
understand.

[Stevie shakes his head.]

HSS: I don't care about the years of brutal history between Kostovich
and Jim Watkins.  And honestly...

[The Hotshot looks at Supernova.]

HSS: I really don't care about the beating he took two weeks ago.  Far
as I'm concerned, he got what he was asking for.

[Bit of a heel pop for that one.  Stevie shrugs and goes on.]

HSS: But I can tell you what I _do_ care about.

[He nods, looking at Kostovich...then at Supernova...and then at
Kostovich again.]

HSS: Stevie Scott is a lot of things.  And one of those things is that
Stevie Scott is a man with a long memory.  I don't easily forget...

[Slowly, he turns his eyes from Kostovich in the ring...

...to Velikov on the floor.]

HSS: And I don't easily forgive.

[Not surprisingly, pretty much everyone can see where this is going. 
The crowd's buzz grows louder.]

HSS: Supernova and Tyler Lee didn't need to give me a history lesson. 
Believe  me, I haven't forgotten what _you two_...

[Another point toward Velikov and Sudakov.]

HSS: ...did to me nearly three years ago.

[Stevie looks up and grins.]

HSS: You know...it's kind of ironic that this match is taking place on
the 4th of July.  Because two years ago on that very day, I did what no
one thought could be done.

I derailed the Russian War Machine.

And now, two years later, isn't it funny...

[Stevie makes a rather sudden movement, getting right up in the face of
Ivan Kostovich.]

HSS: That I'm going to kick!  Your!  Buttockses!  One!  More! 
Tiiiiiiiiime!

[HUUUUUUUUUGE POP!  An excited Supernova claps his hands while Velikov
slaps the apron hard from the outside and shouts what we can only assume
are Russian obscenities.  Kostovich handles himself a bit more coolly,
simply asking for Stevie to hand him the microphone.  For whatever
reason, Stevie does.]

IK: Comrade Scott...you just made...

[The Russian Terror steps forward, nose to nose with Scott.]

IK: The biggest mistake of your life.

[He then shoves the microphone hard into Stevie's chest, and without so
much as a glance at Supernova, exits the ring.  Supernova, still
excited, grabs Stevie's arm to lift it up...

...but the Hotshot pulls it away.]

HSS: Hang on there, Paintalicious.

[A surprised Supernova takes a step back.]

HSS: Let's make sure we get a couple of things straight.  Stevie Scott
is on your team for one thing and one thing only, and that is to kick
some Rooskie bootie.  I'm not interested in getting all chummy with you,
Watkins, Tyler Lee or that weirdo with the bird.  I'm there to bring a
delivery of pain to Kosto-what, Veli-who, and Sudafed, and maybe to
Sultan Azee Azula if he gets in my way.

And when the job is finished?  Stevie Scott is done.  Gone, out the
door, sayanora and don't wait up for me at the victory party.

Now, if you understand all that?  Then we's gonna be awwwlright.

[Supernova eyeballs the former champion for a moment...and then, slowly,
he nods.]

HSS:  Then I think we've got ourselves a deal.  See you next weekend.

[The face-painted young lion nods, stepping through the ropes to drop
down to the floor.  He starts back up the aisle as "Everything About
You" kicks in to another mixed reaction from the crowd.  Stevie Scott
grabs the top rope, shaking his groove thang to the music...

...when suddenly things change very drastically!]

GM:  What the-?!

[A mysterious individual - never before seen in the AWA - has hurdled
the ringside barricade, rolling into the ring behind Stevie Scott...

...and DRILLED him between the eyes as he turns with a metal Haliburton
briefcase that he was clutching in his hands!]

GM:  OHHH!  STEVIE'S DOWN!!  STEVIE SCOTT IS DOWN!!

[Tossing the briefcase aside, the man begins stomping the prone form of
the former two-time National Champion...]

BW:  Wait a second!  I know that guy, Gordo!  That's The Mercenary!

GM:  The Mer... my stars, you're right, Bucky!  The Mercenary?!  What
the heck is he doing here?!

BW:  It's brilliant!  Absolutely brilliant!  You think Bathwaite and
Kostovich would put all their hopes on Stevie Scott?!  This is Plan B! 
The Mercenary was here in the building on contract with the Foreign
Legion in case Scott turned them down and now he's showing them that
he's worth the price they paid!

GM:  This guy is scum!  He's a bottom-feeder on the lowest rungs of this
sport!  He's a hitman - a hired assassin!  The man sells his soul to the
highest bidder on a near-daily basis!

BW:  He's also a tremendous talent and potentially one of the best
people you could have inside a steel cage going to war with you!

GM:  We don't even know if-

[The camera cuts to the top of the aisle where Count Adrian Bathwaite is
standing, grinning a very bad teeth smile.  He is softly clapping as he
watches the Hotshot be pummeled by the Mercenary.]

GM:  Well, I guess that says it all, Bucky!

BW:  Are these guys brilliant or what, Gordo?

GM:  I can't believe-

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  SUPERNOVA'S COMING BACK!!

[The face-painted young lion shoves his way past a surprised Bathwaite,
racing down the aisle where he dives headfirst under the bottom rope. 
The Mercenary, having seen him coming, turns to confront him, kicking
him before he can get to his feet.  As Supernova battles up, the
Mercenary is right there to hammer him with right hands...

...but to the delight of the crowd, Supernova starts to fight back!]

GM:  'Nova's fighting him off!  He's fighting him off!

[A barrage of haymakers from Supernova knocks the Mercenary back into
the corner...]

GM:  Look at this - whips across... 

[Supernova drops back to the corner, letting loose a loud howl...]

GM:  HEAT WAAAAAAA-

[But before he can take flight, he runs headlong into Sultan Azam Sharif
who buries a hooked boot into his midsection.  The Mercenary charges
from the corner, BLASTING Supernova with a boot to the skull!  Together,
Sharif and the Mercenary begin stomping the fan favorite into the
canvas.]

GM:  We've got a two on one on Supernova and Stevie Scott is in no
condition to help the kid out!  He got his skull cracked with that metal
briefcase-

BW:  Irony!

GM:  -and now he's down for the coun-

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  HERE COMES THE CAVALRY!!  CORAX!!  TYLER LEE!!  JIM WATKINS!!!

[And all three are armed, two with baseball bats and one with a heavy
piece of lumber...]

GM:  This is unified force we're gonna see in the Tower!  They're comin'
to help Supernova and-

[But before long, the Russians come pouring out of the locker room as
well, joining the fray inside the ring!  Soon, there are battles raging
all over the ring as well as the ringside area with the crowd absolutely
roaring.]

GM:  We've got a fight on our hands!  We've got a war on our hands! 
We're out of time!  We'll see you next week in Durham!  

BW:  IT'S BREAKING DOWN IN NASHVILLLLLLLLLLE!

[And with wars being waged all over the ringside area...

...we fade to black.]