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Television Network
P R E S E N T S
=================================================================
{Camera opens on a cloudy room. Figures and shadows seem to move
in the background, but they're no more than hazy silhouettes.}
[Voiceover]
Some men have laid claim to this sport, holding its heart
and soul in their hands for years.
{A scene rises from the mist; an old wrestling clip, of a
familiar looking man.}
[Announcer]
And this rookie from Winnipeg is going at it tooth and nail
with Carter! He's fighting like a man possessed, as if this
match was for a title!
{scene fades}
[VO]
They've performed the world over, and wherever they've
gone, they garner accolades, titles, and respect.
{scene fades in again, still an old clip, but the wrestler looks
more seasoned, and is bleeding from the head. An announcer is
saying something in Japanese, as he puts his opponent into a
suplex-driver; then, the scene fades.}
[VO]
Some critics say that these men are past their prime, that
these men hold back the sport from becoming what it could
be.
{A figure can be seen striding closer from the mist.}
[VO]
But they don't say it very loudly around this man.
{Jerry Straite strides out of the fog, stops, and cracks a grin.}
[JS]
Nobody's ever said it to *my* face. 'Least, not twice.
{Camera cuts to show Jerry Straite walking to ringside with his
baseball bat; an icon in the lower left corner indicates this is
a UAWF match.}
[AR]
Well, didn't you hear him, he's mad!
[TJ]
Look at him, he's beating on the cage with the bat now!!
[AR]
And Daniels is distracted long enough now for Vengeance to
hit a scissors piledriver!
{fuzz to different match}
[AR]
... Rick slipped out, and got hit with a bulldog. Jerry
picks him up ... HARD Straite Down!!! Jerry covers ...
1 ... 2 ... 3!!!
[RA]
The winner, and STILL UAWF WORLD CHAMPION, JERRY
STRAAAAAIIIITE!!!
{Fade to another clip, this time with a WOW icon.}
[AR]
Straite breaks out with a jawbreaker!! Picks him up ...
STRAITE DOWN!! Jerry covers ... 1 ... 2 ... 3!!!
{"Here on Earth" plays again}
[RA]
The winner, and NEW WORLD ORGANIZATION OF WRESTLING
WORLD CHAMPION, JERRY STRAITE!!
{fuzzes out, and fades to an interview clip}
[JS]
{starts to smile, though unpleasantly} Yeah, Vorpal. You're gonna
cry ... *heh* ... and you're gonna scream ... *chuckle* ... and
you're gonna *bleed*. And you are most *definitely* going to
lose. You want a title shot, Vorpal? Well, you're gonna get it.
But in name, only. 'Cause, really, this is just going to be one
HELL of a learning experience for you!!
{fades out to a miriad of announcer's voices..... }
"The Winne.... "Strait...
"..NEEERRR... JEE" "...rrryyy sstt..."
"...jjjeerrrrrryy...." "YOUR new....." ".... beat all....."
"CHHAAAMMMMpppeeeennnn...." "ssstttrraaaiiittteee...."
"Jeeerrrryy......" "Winnneerrrr...."
{combine to one overriding voice.}
YOUR WINNER ... JERRY STRAITE!
{fade back to Straite}
[JS]
Boys and girls, I'm here to stay. And if any of you young punks
got a problem with that, hey, I'm *real* easy to find.
{fade out}
=================================================================
{Fade into a view of a technological control room reminiscent of
NORAD, complete with Irwin Allen computer banks and three very
large television screens dominating the back wall. As the opening
bars to "The Final Countdown" by Europe begins to play, a young
African-American man in an executive suit (recognizable as Jamahn
Chamberlin) reaches out and presses a big red button marked
"Deploy". The outer TV screens begin shifting scenes rapidly
through random AWI action sequences, while the center one
displays a computer generated image of a missile launch. We see
a "warhead's eye view" of the missile's flight across a virtual
landscape of mountains and hills, approaching a city skyline,
zooming down a street and finally "locking on" to an athletic
stadium. As it begins its final approach, green "LED" style
numbers begin appearing superimposed over the central screen,
while the outer ones slow to recognizable clips:
[10] Angela Dante smacking Jade Tiger with a broom;
[09] Mist Angel backflipping out of a Reverend James chokeslam
in the midst of a battle royale;
[08] "Asylum" Smith taking a flying leap into a table with a
chainsaw;
[07] Perry Toxic w/a Toxic Bomb on Riverboat;
[06] Greg Gardner w/a Skywalk Slam on Tank Bradley
[05] Bryan Bachman hits Dan Lea with the Flying Bulldog;
[04] Perfection with the New Perfect Finisher on The Warbirds;
[03] Robbie Stevens & co. harassing Chad Duncan;
[02] The Fallen Angel with a double flying body press on Dream
Succubus;
[01] Steve the Insane gives Ken Mischief the Frontal Lobotomy;
At this point, the missile strikes home, all three monitors
explode in a shower of sparks, and a logo closes in like sliding
doors from top and bottom ...
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MCI CENTER, WASHINGTON, D.C.
{Camera fades to view of an arena crowded with thousands of
cheering fans; the view pans across the crowds while zooming
down to eventually center on a trio of people standing at a
"press booth" built into the front rows.}
[Heather Rasputin]
Heeeeeey, AWI fans! This is Heather Rasputin, coming to you live
and direct from our nation's capital, where I'm surrounded by a
capacity crowd of the world's greatest wrestling fans, all
anxiously awaiting the night of *incredible* action which lies
ahead! Of course, I'm also surrounded, as always, by the
irrepressible Paul Stone, and sport analyst Ellis Hamilton.
{The camera cuts to show Jerry Straite, a #desc# walking down
the aisle as "Here on Earth" plays over the speakers.}
JERRY STRAITE (6'3", 270 lbs.; From: Winnepeg, CA)
{Jerry Straite steps into the ring; as the bell sounds, he and
opponent Digger Douglas lock into a collar-elbow tieup; Jerry
gets the advantage and puts Digger in a headlock.}
[EH]: Watching Jerry Straite matches always leaves me with
this sense of anxiety, like when they cue up the wierd
music in a horror movie. Yes, he's a big name talent with
a career the size of my college credentials. But let's be
honest: the man's pretty much my age, and I'd be slapped
into a straightjacket for stepping into a ring.
{Digger works his way out, then alternates between kicks and
punches a couple of times.}
[EH]: Fans like to think of this wrestler or that as
"immortal" -- but there =are= no timeless talents in
sports. Age, even more than love, conquers all -- even
pool players get too old to cut it anymore.
{Digger whips Jerry to the ropes, while rushing into the opposite
ropes; Jerry catches Digger off the ropes with a clothesline,
and follows it with a bodyslam as Digger staggers up. He picks
Digger up again and scoops him into a side suplex, then leans
over for the pincount.}
[HR]: Are you really suggesting that Jerry Straite is over
the hill? Just look at =that=!
[PS]: It's a very small hill.
{Digger kicks out after a 2-count, and Jerry slaps a headlock on
him and pulls him to his feet, then powerslams him.}
[EH]: I'm not going to say the man doesn't have a few
good matches left in him. But every time you break a bone,
or tear a ligament or pull a muscle, you never *really*
come back 100%. It's a law of science, entropy always
increases -- you always lose a bit in every transaction.
[PS]: So, scientists are familiar with my accountant, I see.
{He plays to the crowd for a bit as Digger staggers back to his
feet ...}
[HR]: Jerry looks like he's getting ready for the end ...
{... then quickly lifts him up into a suplex driver and makes a
cover.}
[HR]: --and there it is! STRAITE DOWN!
[PS]: And one more clip for his montage reel!
=================================================================
{Camera cuts to the formal interview area, a platformed area just
to one side of the aisle where wrestlers enter, with the AWI logo
on a video wall forming the backside, and a set of marked contour
lines on the floor overlaid with the words "Blast Zone". Chad
Duncan is standing there with a microphone.}
[Chad Duncan]
Ladies and gentlemen, joining me at this time, "Way Cool Jr."
Corey Bonham and his manager -- I can't believe I'm saying this
-- the AWI World Television Champion ... Robbie Stevens!
{The crowd boos vigorously as "Pour Some Sugar On Me" by Def
Leppard comes over the speakers. Corey heads out first and kneels
down and points to the air as Robbie comes out and jumps up and
down with the belt held high over his head. Both jog down to
Ground Zero with Robbie taking a victory lap around the platform.
before joining Chad.}
[Chad]
Well, Robbie, I'm sure you have a lot to say about your most
recent victory--
[Robbie]
{snatches away the mic from Chad} What I have to say is ...
{sings} I AM THE CHAAAAAAAAAAMPION! I AM THE CHAAAAAAAAAAAMPION!
NO TIME FOR {pushes Chad away} LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSERS!
{Both men wave "bye bye" to Chad.}
BECAUSE I AM THE CHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMPION! OF THE
WORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRLD!
{The crowd boos as Chad throws up his arms is disgust and
leaves.}
[Robbie]
First of all ... How do you like my *NEW* belt?
{The crowd boos some more}
But rest assured that this will not be the last belt that Robbie
Stevens will wear.
[PS]
Robbie thereby announcing that he's an atheist.
[HS]
What?
[PS]
If there's anyone listening up there, it SHOULD be the
last.
[RS]
It would be wrong of me not to pay tribute to the former champ,
Toshiaki Hasegawa. My friend, you have left me some big Bruno
Magli shoes to fill ... and fill them I will with the Most Feared
Foot in Wrestling!
As much as I'd like to come out here tonight and defend my newly
won title, I can't because I've got another championship match
lined up. You know, I feel sorry for you people, I'm sure you've
all paid good money to see the first of many title defenses by
your champion, Robbie Stevens. And I've gone right to the top of
the contenders list. I've lined up the toughest competitors in
AWI history to defend this title against. Names that strike fear
in the hearts of many a man -- names like Farrell, Grey Guardian,
Mathers, and so on.
[HR]
Oh, jesus, he has GOT to be kidding. Tell me he's kidding.
[PS]
Actually, it kinda makes sense -- Robbie probably would
be scared of the Grey Guardians.
[RS]
But instead, tonight I have to go against two of my own men: Joey
Hasegawa and Tank Bradley. Now Hugo boy thinks that something
funny is going on ... there's nothing funny about this. I beat
Joey for the title, don't think he's exactly gotten over that.
And Tank, I think it's well-established his desire to cause great
amounts of pain on people -- he doesn't care who he does it to.
Now I've got to get in the ring with him over a title. I'm sure
this is just a conspiracy to bust up Team Stevens, but it's not
gonna work.
[EH]
Conspiracy theory? Now we know who #host# has been
watching "The X-Files" *with*.
[RS]
But tonight isn't just about me, it's also about my partner
disposing of a certain burned out star who doesn't know when to
pick up and blow.
[Corey]
That's right, dude! Like, tonight, I face that dude that like
walks around like he's got the water pipe working overtime.
Duuuuu-huuuude, I haven't seen so much smoke in one place since
my friend Jeff pulled his up in his van after that weekend
surfing the waves down in Malibu.
[PS]
Oh, boy -- we're gonna get sued over this, aren't we?
[HR]
Probably not. That would require somebody actually
*listening* to these two.
[CB]
But like, Mist Angel, dude, like, I'm on a hot streak and stuff,
and like, I'm in line to win that tournament for the world title
and like me and my main compadre Robbie are tearing up the tag
scheme ... like, I would have to be having some MAAAAAJOR bad
karma for you to pull of a win against me and as you can see
amigo, like that's just not the case.
[PS]
Uh, I'd have been voting *for* the major bad karma.
It'd explain why you're with Robbie.
[CB]
So like, I hate to do it dude, but like, I'm gonna have to do
something really, really bogus and like, drop you on your head.
No offense dude, but like it's totally business or something.
[HR & PS]
Something.
[Robbie]
Don't sweat it, Corey. After you give him the San Fernanado
Valley Driver, I'm sure he won't be feeling much. Now before we
go, just one last thing. I bet you all want to know who my
partner is tonight -- well, you morons are gonna have to wait!
Because I know I get all the ratings for AWI, because I am the
hero of all you pathetic losers.
[HS]
Okay, Paul, THAT might get us sued. Class action from
our entire fan base, defamation of character.
[RS]
And for me to get that fat paycheck, you mongoloids are gonna
have to stay tuned for the whole program, even during the boring
parts: when I'm not on.
[PS]
Darn, couldn't beat him to the punch that time.
[RS]
Rock on, Corey.
[Corey]
Rock on, Robbie!
{The crowd showers the pair with boos as both air guitar before
leaving the platform.}
=================================================================
THE FUTURE IS COMING ...
(An eerie canine howl can be heard in the distance as the camera
pans down a dark street suffering the effects of a day's rain,
with puddles scattered across the pavement ... it descends the
steps to enter a dimly-lit cellar, filled with strange equipment,
obviously advanced technology but its purpose undetermined, the
whole being a fairly good conjecture of what Frankenstein's
web-addict nephew might have designed ...}
{The sounds of machinery being powered up steer the scene's
focus to a corner of the room, where a wild-haired man in a
labcoat and his prep-school fugitive companion are leaning over a
computer console hooked to a complicated device reminiscent of a
TV-set on acid ...}
[Young Man]
But, Doctor, surely you haven't considered the dangers of such an
unprecedented experiment--
[Doctor]
DANGERS? Bah! Always, you speak to me of dangers! I'm speaking of
SCIENCE, of KNOWLEDGE! Man must always be pushing back his
frontiers, must be expanding his horizons, bending them to his
will!
[Young Man]
But this is simply too far--
[Doctor]
Nonsense! ANY fool can manipulate the world around him ... but to
pierce the veil of ignorance, to peer into the world beyond today,
to USE that knowledge to advance himself? That requires insight
-- GENIUS -- the brilliance of a device such as my Temporal Flux
Generator! Now stand back!
(The doctor tosses a few switches dramatically, and hits some
computer keys ... the screen flares to life, first filling with
strange colored fog ... then, with interspersed electrical
flashes, pictures of wrestling action begin to form: a lithe
wrestler moving down the aisle of a crowded arena, face
concealed by a mask with a stylized flaming skull on its front.
He tosses a ball of fire into the sky as he reaches the ring ...
Scenes of the wrestler in action follow, a dizzying array of
planchas, aerial maneuvers, and hurricaranas ... these scenes
are superimposed with a slow pan up the menacing form of a man
in a dark blue bodysuit covered with silver circuitry designs,
the mask forming a face from similar symbols ...)
[Doctor]
It -- it's WORKING! YES! This must be ... must be the future of
professional wrestling! And they said I was mad -- NOW who's
mad? HAHHAHAHA-- what? Wait, this cannot-- the machine-- too
much power-- NOOO!!!!
(The screen is filled with the flash of the machine exploding,
and slowly fades to black ... bright red words slowly fade into
view, as if emerging from underwater:
FUTURE SHOCK. THERE IS NO TIME TO PREPARE ...
=================================================================
{Camera opens on Corey Bonham in the ring, as the ring announcer
picks up the microphone.}
[HR]: Well, *that* was something ... different. I suppose
I *should* say something about the lengths the AWI goes to
to bring you the most exciting men and women in the sport
today ... but somehow, I'd feel like I was stepping on
Paul's toes.
[PS]: I don't mind -- just let me write it down so I can
use it on a different broadcast.
[EH]: Really, Heather, masked wrestlers are the biggest
gamble any league can invest in. Half the time, the
administration can be dazzled by the kind of smoke and
mirrors routine we've just seen -- only then they call it
a "boardroom presentation" -- that they're willing to sign
individuals without even asking who in samhain they *are*.
It'd be one thing to pick up men like Mr. Wrestling IV or
Black Manta, proven individuals who've shown their
credentials under *any* name. But people like this Future
Shock -- maybe they're everything they say they are, and
maybe they're just another Grey Guardians with little more
starting capital.
[RA]
Ladies and gentlemen ... the next bout is scheduled for one fall,
with a time limit of 10 minutes ... already in the ring, here
tonight with his manager Robbie Stevens ... weighing in at
pounds, from the San Fernando Valley -- "WAY COOL, JR." ...
COREEEEEEEEEEEY BONNNHAAAAM!!!
{The crowd boos heartily.}
And now ... the AWI Competition Committee has asked me to
announce that, due to unforeseen circumstances, his scheduled
opponent, the Mist Angel, can not be available to appear tonight.
{The crowd makes quieter noises of disapproval.}
[PS]: Gee, maybe Corey was right about that water pipe
thing.
[HR]: Don't even *start*, Paul.
A new opponent has been selected to fight in his place tonight
... standing six feet, ten inches tall, and weighing in at two
hundred and eighty pounds ...
{The lights dim, and green strobe lights begin the circle the
arena, as the sounds of "Time Stand Still" by Rush begins to
fill the air. The crowd begins a mild cheer, if only because
they're not being shorted a match.}
Hailing from from parts unknown, he is the man known only as
... OOOOOOOORRRRRRAAACLE!
[EH]: *WHAT?!?*
{A very tall, muscular, bald man with chiseled features,
wearing black shorts, knee and elbow pads, strides down to the
ring with a determined expression.}
[HR]: Oracle, an impressive athletic talent formerly
with the Frontier Wrestling Association, definitely looks
to be "totally business" tonight.
{Oracle opens with a kneelift, then knocks Corey down with a
shortarm clothesline. As Corey gets up, Oracle hooks him into a
DDT. Oracle picks him up, but Corey drives him off with a side
kick, then throws him to the ropes. Rushing to the opposite
ropes, he rebounds with a clothesline, and then drives Oracle
with a ribcrusher stomp. Corey stomps on his head for good
measure, but Oracle quickly stands back up unfazed.}
[HR]: Oracle takes a shot to the head -- and it only
seems to make him mad!
[EH]: All right, *this* is a little too much ...
{Corey rakes his eyes, then jumps for a dropkick, but Oracle
backs away.}
[EH]: What the *hell* does the front office think that
they're accomplishing by signing a match like this?
That conspiracy angle Robbie was trying to sell earlier
starts to look a *lot* more believable right now.
{Corey hits Oracle with a groin shot from the floor, then stands
up and wraps him in a bear hug.}
[EH]: Corey's a light heavyweight. He signed a match
against a light heavyweight, the Mist Angel. The Mist
Angel doesn't show, and instead of duly awarding Corey
his forfeit, they send him against a giant nearly half
again Bonham's weight?
{Oracle breaks the hold, and hits Bonham with a kneelift. Bonham
responds with a kick to the ribs, and whips him into the ropes,
catching him with a dropkick on the return.}
[HR]: Ellis, this hardly seems like the mob hit you're
making it out to be.
[PS]: Yeah, then it'd be one of Lupo's men out there
instead of Oracle.
[HR]: Oracle was already in the building preparing for
a preliminary match -- no doubt the Competition Committee
just felt it was a convenient way to avoid disappointing
the ticketpayers here tonight.
{Corey stands up and runs to the ropes, rebounding with a
kneedrop. He tries to stomp on Oracle, but Oracle rolls aside,
then stands up and knocks down Corey with a big boot kick. As
Corey rises to his feet, Oracle hooks his arms and drops him in
an underhook DDT.}
[EH]: *This* kind of "convenience" is what we invented
labor unions to put an end to.
{Oracle picks up Corey and whips him to the ropes, throwing him
in a backdrop on the rebound. He then dashes to the ropes
himself, and rebounds with a splash -- but Corey rolls out of the
way.}
[HR]: Big risk maneuver -- and nothing but the nothing!
{Oracle staggers back up and kneelifts Corey, then picks him up
and press slams him.}
[PS]: Heather, I gotta go with Ellis on this one. This
doesn't look fair to Corey.
[HR]: What?
[PS]: Robbie's obviously spent so much time training Corey
to dish out pain -- and this Oracle doesn't seem to know
what pain IS. So you see, he's completely off his game!
{Oracle stands Corey up, and Corey rakes his eyes. He attempts a
bear hug, but Oracle darts around and puts him in a full nelson.
Corey shakes off the lock, and kicks Oracle hard, then whips him
into the ropes, nailing him with a running clothesline on the
rebound.}
[PS]: Or, I could be wrong.
{Corey stomps on Oracle, then drives a knee into his head, but
Oracle again stands up visibly unfazed. He grabs Corey by the
arm and shortarm clotheslines him.}
[PS]: No, I was right the first time. Yikes.
{Oracle scoops up Corey onto his shoulders, then drives him
headfirst into the mat.}
[HR]: The San Fernando Valley Driver! Corey's own move
used against him!
[PS]: Whoa! All that, and trademark abuse, too?!?
{Oracle picks Corey up and tombstone piledrivers him, then makes
a cover.}
[HR]: It looks like ... it is ... the PROPHECY!!! Corey
looks like he's down for the count ... 1 ... 2 ...
THREE!!!
[RA]
The winner of this match ... OOOOOORRRACLE!!!
=================================================================
{The camera opens on Carlos Mendoza and Chris Sim in a locker
room, watching tapes of Ken Mischief on a video monitor. Sim
suddenly gets up and starts pacing around the room, then turns to
Mendoza.}
[Chris Sim]
I've been thinking ... well, I have something to tell you.
[Carlos Mendoza]
Is something wrong, amigo? I can see you are not your normal
happy go lucky self.
[CS]
Carlos, I would like to thank you for all the help you have given
me to break into the AWI, working with me on strategies on how to
be the best the AWI had to throw at me, but most of all for
watching my back.
[CM]
Aye -- so the time has come for the heartbreakers to break the
hearts of the two people closest to them, yes. That would be us.
[CS]
Please don't think I'm being ungrateful but I think it is time
we went our separate ways. We both have learned we are single
wrestlers ... that is where we excel and that is what we should
focus on.
[CM]
Ungrateful? No, Chris, no. I would never even consider for a
moment that the time we spent together as a tag team was
something I would be ungrateful for. I am very grateful we have
been partners here in the AWI. Even if we are no longer a team,
we are still best of friends, amigo.
[CS]
Besides, we both know we have huge egos {smiles to the camera}
and that we want to be the best, and I don't want to see us get
in a fight over something as silly, as a mistake made in a tag
match. I've seen it a million times, and I don't want to see
hat happen between us.
[CM]
Egos? I think you misunderstand us Chris. I know you have the
ego, I just happen to look better. But seriously -- maybe our
time has come, or maybe it is down the road aways. Either way
-- well, you know what I am saying.
[CS]
But, just between you and me, friend, I'll still have you back
if anyone tries to sneak attack you. You have my word, even if
that doesn't mean much to others, I know how much that means to
you.
[CM]
Your word is as good as gold to me Chris. And although the
International Players are no more, the Carlos Mendoza and Chris
Sim bond will never be broken! As long as you live, I will watch
your back like a brother!
[Sim]
Thank you, and good luck, I hope to meet you sometime for the
World title. But, for now I'll be happy with winning the
Lightweight title. Bachman, I accept your challenge be prepared
for a fight as this rookie has learned from the best and I'm not
one to settle for place. Carlos, if I win the title, if you want
it you can have the first shot -- you're the number one contender
in my books.
{Sim extends his hand to Carlos and they shake on it. Carlos then
gives Sim a big hug and turns to the camera and smiles...}
[CM]
You see -- you don't have to beat up your own best friends to get
ahead in the world. When it is all said and down, friendships are
forever. Besides -- you still owe me twenty bucks! Adios!
{fade to black}
=================================================================
[Ellis Hamilton]
{disgusted voice} Well, THAT was insipidly saccharine. I think
I'm going to need an insulin shot now.
[Heather Rasputin]
I can't say I'm happy to see the International Players leaving
our tag team scene, but ... you don't think it's a nice change of
pace to see a tag team, when they have to split up, do so without
the use of heavy steel implements?
[EH]
I think it's self-delusional for these two to believe that it's
going to be that simple. You could hear the pull of competition
in Sim's voice through that entire dialogue -- I'm going on the
record right now as saying that Carlos Mendoza would be *insane*
to ever step in the ring *against* Chris Sim. That boy is
hungrier than even he might know. And a hungry man will go a
*long* way to get what he wants.
[HR]
Maybe, but what we've seen from Chris Sim during his career has
been the epitome of sportmanship and professional courtesy. I
think Mendoza's trust is well-placed.
[EH]
I understand completely. John Robertson probably thought his
trust was well-placed, before Streetfighting -- excuse me, "Joe
Walker" -- planted a SLAMMO! trademark in his forehead. So did
Danny Boy McGill before Big Poppa cracked him across the
concrete. And Dr. Robert Lupo, before John Robertson walked out
of the league and a title evaporated from his stable. Fact of
life, honey: there *is* no well-placed trust in this sport.
[HR]
You're a tragically pessimistic man, Mr. Hamilton, and you have
my pity. In any case ... right now, Chad Duncan is standing by
for some live comments from the man himself, "El Scorpion" Carlos
Mendoza!
=================================================================
>>BLAST ZONE<<
{"Strange Face of Love" by Tito and Tarantula kicks in over the
arena system as pyrotechnics and explosions go off; Carlos
Mendoza styles his way to ringside slapping hands, smiling, and
posing for a few pictures with fans; he then returns to climb
the steps up to the platform. Carlos is sporting a shorter hair
style (ala Dave Duchovny), baggy blue jeans, dark sun glasses,
and a black t-shirt with a red scorpion on the back.}
[Chad]
Welcome, Mr. Mendoza ... it seems that you yourself have a new
look for this new year.
[EH]
You know, you really have to admire the way Chad always
goes for those tough, biting questions right at the start.
Just turn the thumbscrews on the important issues like
Mendoza's injury-prone career and the real reasons for the
International Players disbanding.
[Carlos]
Uno moment, Chad.
{With that, Mendoza leaps onto a fence separating the Zone from
the crowds, rips off his shirt and hits a couple of quick poses
as the flash bulbs from the many cameras in attendance light up
the arena.}
[Carlos]
Sorry, but I had to get rid of some of this pent up energy ...
{shouting} if you had a Happy New Year ... somebody
SCREEEEEEEEEAM!!!
{The capacity crowd responds with an overwhelming chorus of
cheers and screams for the young Spaniard's enthusiasm.}
[EH]: Thank you, Mr. Mendoza -- for a brief nanosecond,
I was worried the crowd had lost its Pavlovian instincts.
[Carlos]
Don't you just love this crowd Chad, yes? Of course you do!
No, what were you saying?
[CH]
About your new look, Carlos -- and, as long as it's prevailing,
your new attitude as well.
[CM]
Ah, Chad, you're making me blush. But it is true -- the Scorpion
has a new outlook on life, a new hair style, and above all, a
new attitude. You see Chad, in the past I've been way too caught
up in other activities that have taken away from my training and
wrestling mindset.
[EH]
Yes, the English word for those activities is
"hospitalization".
[HR]
*Ellis* ...
[CM]
This year things will be different. First of all, Santonio now
handles The Mendoza Line fashion wear. Second of all, I am purely
a singles wrestler. Not to knock =me amigo= Chris Sim, but we
decided it would be best if we both went our separate ways. And
finally, the attitude {smiles}. What attitude?
[CD]
Very well, let's follow the "new outlook" you mentioned ... just
what is "El Scorpion's" new outlook?
[CM]
You know, Chad -- it's 1998 ... and I'm feeling GREAT!!! {flexes
again to the delight of the ladies on hand} I've been in the AWI
for two years now, Chad, and let us just say that I've got a
*golden* opportunity in front of me. To put it simpler, let me
tell you about my New Year's Solutions.
[CD]
I think you mean RE-solutions, Carlos.
[CM]
I made some of those, too, Chad. One, I am not listening to
anyone but the fans. You made me and I owe you for that at
least.
{Nice pop from the fans for the recognition.}
Two, to carry the AWI into the year 2000. And there is only one
way to do that, which leads me to my next and final resolution.
[CD]
Which would be?
{Carlos gently takes the mic from Chad and looks intently into
the camera and waits for the arena to quiet down.}
[CM]
Three, to become the AWI's *NEXT* Heavyweight Champion!!!
{The crowd erupts into cheers for the Spanish heartthrob,
always a sucker for friendly audacity.}
[EH]
{dryly} I bet *that* took a lot of soul-searching.
[CM]
You see Chad, I've worked just as hard and long as some of the
other AWI stars and I've had my ups and downs. As a matter of
fact with my serious knee injury two years ago, I really
considered this my rookie year. Now that the learning process
is over, it's time to make my move into the limelight.
[CD]
You would be referring to the upcoming UNION III and the
Heavyweight Title Tournament, right?
[CM]
Of course! Me and seven other AWI stars all gunning for the
same goal: to be the best there is in the AWI. And with my new
found exuberance and attitude, and of course my adoring fans
cheering me all the way, I see myself as the next people of the
champion! Adios Chad! I'm off to sign some autographs and other
fun stuff like that and such. See ya!
{With the interview concluded, "Strange face of Love" kicks in
once again as Mendoza makes his exit. Tis time he heads through
the crowd and up the aisle towards the concession stands.}
[CD]
And there you have it folks. Three VERY lofty New Year's
resolutions from "El Scorpion" Carlos Mendoza, who is set to
kick his new year off with a blast.
=================================================================
{Camera cuts to locker room, with Susan O'Malley already in her
wrestling gear with her back to the camera. The sounds of last
week's action can be heard over the monitor she is watching. By
the faint sound of the play-by-play, one can tell it's the
Blackthorne/Taylor match-up}
[SOM]
Well here we go again. Enough of this crap!
{O'Malley cuts the power to the monitor off and tosses the
remote in a chair.}
[SOM]
Why is it every time I turn around there's some new kid in town
trying to figure out which way is the easy way to make it to the
top in the AWI. First Melissa Wright, then Sarah Victory, NOW
we've got another glamour girl by the name of "Kool" Kitty
Taylor.
It's obvious to me Taylor that you're product is not as good as
it's billed to be. With all the prestige you come in here with,
I can only wonder is it because of your skill, or because you
lie as well as you cheat. Well, you'd better be able to wrestle
as well as you talk because when I hit the ring it's ALL
business. It looks like you lost about four lives in your last
match.
{O'Malley starts tying off the laces on her boots.}
[SOM]
And that's too bad -- 'cause you're gonna need all nine of 'em
when you face me, banshee! I'll see you in five minutes, Taylor.
=================================================================
{Camera cuts to ringside, where the ring announcer prepares to
speak.}
[EH]: That may be the first time in *years* that anyone's
referred to Kitty Taylor as a "kid". You know what the
biggest difference between Taylor and O'Malley is?
[HR]: Moral terpitude?
[PS]: The ability to buy off the rack?
[EH]: Taylor's actually HAD gold around her waist before.
This is a proven star, someone who was winning titles
before the AWI ever *had* a women's division. And Susan
O'Malley's equating her with an upstart debuting in this
league with nothing but a big mouth and an empty head?
She must have confused her with Dacia.
[HR]: THAT was low.
[RA]
Ladies and gentlemen ... the next bout is for one fall, with a
time limit of ten minutes ... introducing first, from the city
of Baltimore, Maryland ... weighing in at one hundred and forty
eight pounds ... "Cool" Kitty Taylor!
{The crowd boos in harmony to "Cat Scratch Fever" by Ted Nugent
as Taylor makes her way down to ringside.}
And her opponent tonight ... weighing in at two hundred and
twenty-five pounds ... SUSAN OOOOOOOOOOOOO'MALLEY!
{Susan jogs down the aisle with a grim expression, looking almost
angry enough to skip her pre-match poses ... almost.}
[HR]: That is NOT a happy camper ... despite a lot of the
recent tension between them, it's obvious that O'Malley
and Dacia Blackthorne have a close-knit bond, even closer
than some formal tag teams. You'd think she was fighting
to settle the score on her *own* loss.
[EH]: That could very well happen in the near future, of
course.
{Susan O'Malley starts by attempting a clotheseline, which Kitty
ducks; Susan rebounds and tries again, and this time Taylor grabs
her arm and leverages her into an armlock on the mat.}
[EH]: This is practically a textbook result: wrestler A
underestimates wrestler B, goes off half-cocked, and ends
up learning the word "countermove". Only I expect Susan
will need to have the lesson repeated a couple dozen times
before it sinks in.
{Susan escapes, and Kitty grabs her with a headlock; when Susan
breaks that, she uses a front facelock. Susan escapes that, and
headbutts Kitty.}
[EH]: Oh, that makes sense. She couldn't take all that
actual wrestling, so out comes the barroom tactics.
[PS]: Careful, Ellis. After the McGill/Robertson feuds,
we're not allowed to mention alchohol in the same sentence
with anyone from the British isles.
{Susan dashes to the ropes, and hits Kitty with a clothesline;
she continues her momentum to the opposite side, and connects
with a second clothesline as Kitty staggers up.}
[HR]: Clusterbomb! AND ANOTHER! Susan O'Malley seems to
have found her rhythm now!
{Susan snags Kitty in a bearhug, which she then flexes into a
belly-to-belly suplex.}
[HR]: HIGH impact maneuver from the big woman!
{Susan pulls Kitty into a front facelock, and tries to turn it
into a DDT, but Taylor breaks away and snap mares her instead.}
[HR]: A surprising reversal from Kitty Taylor ...
[EH]: It's only a surprise to you, Susan, and anyone else
who doesn't bother to pay attention to what the lady says.
This is a woman who knows her business -- she's certainly
been in it long enough.
{Susan elbows Taylor, then reapplies the front facelock; standing
up, she drops it into a DDT.}
[HR]: It would seem Susan definitely IS paying attention --
and that she has Ms. Taylor's number!
{Susan drags Taylor up and snaps a belly-to-back suplex; Taylor
rolls out of the ring.}
[HR]: I'd say count one life down -- Taylor is NOT looking
very happy about continuing this match!
{Kitty reenters the ring; Susan catches her at the ropes and
neckbreakers her, then picks her up into a salto suplex. She
stands Taylor back up, and Kitty throws her down with an armdrag.
Both women get to their feet, and Susan grabs Kitty, throwing her
into a belly-to-belly suplex. Susan then tries to whip her to the
corner, but Taylor wraps her in a hammerlock instead.}
[PS]: That'd be the second lesson, right, Ellis? Only
twenty-two to go ...
{Susan breaks the hold, and Kitty rolls her in a side mare
takedown. O'Malley escapes that, and applies a front facelock;
standing Kitty up, she then suplexes her.}
[PS]: Guess that proves cats don't always land on their
feet. At least, not when being thrown around by
two-hundred pound Scottish women.
[HR]: I wouldn't have thought that ever would have been
in question, Paul.
{Susan dashes to the ropes as Kitty stands, and tries to
clothesline her, but Kitty ducks; she swiftly turns around and
drags Kitty into a shortarm clothesline. Picking her up, Susan
whips her to the ropes and powerslams her on the rebound.}
[HR]: Susan hooks a leg ... 1 ... 2 ... Kitty gets a foot
on the ropes ...
{Susan stands up, and powerbombs Kitty, and goes for a cover.}
[HR]: ANOTHER earthshaking maneuver from O'Malley ... AND
SHE GOT HER!!!
[RA]
Ladies and gentlemen -- the winner of this match ... SUSAN
OOOOOOOOO'MAAALLEEEY!
=================================================================
COMMERCIAL
=================================================================
: AWI EXPLOSION
Carlos Mendoza vs. Ken Mischief
[HR]: Welcome back, AWI fans! We're just getting underway on
this match between two men apparently now both on quest for
the AWI World gold!
{Carlos Mendoza starts with an armwringer; Ken Mischief
clotheslines him. Ken tries to kick him on the ground, but Carlos
dodges, and stands up to put on another armwringer. Ken grabs
his arm and whips him into the corner.}
[PS]: Iii'm getting the feeling that Ken doesn't like that
armtwist. How 'bout you guys?
[HR]: {Giggling} I wouldn't like the armwringer, either.
[EH]: Oh, great, he's *contagious*.
{Ken charges in after Mendoza with a clothesline, but Carlos
ducks out of the way, and snap mares Mischief as he bounces off
the buckle; he then moves swiftly into a reverse chinlock.}
[EH]: Smooth combination -- if Mendoza could maintain
that level of quality across a match, he may actually
KEEP that "New Year's Solution".
{Ken escapes the hold, and both men return to their feet; Carlos
hits Ken with a dropkick to the back of the head, but Ken
remains on his feet. He turns around and whips Carlos into the
corner, charging in with a clothesline again, but this time
Carlos cuts him short with a dropkick. He picks Ken up and
snaps on a Russian legsweep, then goes for a cover.}
[HR]: Carlos looking for a quick win -- pin Nazi! No count
for him ... Mulroney didn't even have time to hit the mat!
{Ken pushes Carlos off of him, then grabs him in a head vise.}
[EH]: *This* is probably the kind of match Ken Mischief
wants to be running -- a slow, surgical pace, keeping his
opponent pinned down as much as possible, letting him up
just to selectively wear down his resolve with high
impact maneuvers. You could see it when he fought the
Mississippi Kid, he was not controlling the match like
he wanted to.
[HR]: I think we've all seen, controlling the Mississippi
Kid is as far from a sure thing as you get. Even you have
to admit that Mischief might just have met his match.
[EH]: It's a possibility -- a remote possibility. But I
think it's a safe bet that if the Kid meets Ken in the
near future, he's going to have a lot harder fight on his
hands. I'm not going to say that was a fluke -- but I can't
say it wasn't, either.
{Carlos works his way to his feet to the rallying cries of the
crowd, and breaks out of the vise, then puts Ken in an
armwringer. He whips Ken to the ropes, dashing the opposite
direction himself; Ken hits him with a clothesline on the
rebound.}
[HR]: Good God! Carlos just went three-sixty there!
[PS]: There is no joy in Casa Mudville tonight ...
{Ken drags Carlos up and powerbombs him. He stands him again,
and sends him to the ropes.}
[HR]: This does not look good -- oh, no! BIG TROUBLE!!!
{Ken hits the tilt-a-whirl backbreaker, and makes the cover.}
[HR]: One ... two ... THREE! What a blow to Mendoza's
fans -- what a painful start to Mendoza's golden new
year ...
[EH]: What a predictable outcome! Come *on*, the man's
best friend just gave him a pink slip -- no matter how
much he wants to push the stiff upper lip routine, I
can't think his mind is really focussed.
[RA]
The winner of this match ... KEEEEEEN MISCHIEF!!!
================================================================
{Cut to the locker room where Chad Duncan is standing by with
Toshiaki Hasegawa and Scott "Tank" Bradley.}
[Chad]
Ladies and gentlemen, I'm joined at this time by the team of
Agony and Ecstacy. Tonight, as far as we know, you two men will
be facing Robbie Stevens and a mystery partner to see who will
advance in the North American Tag Team Tournament. Can I get
comments from you concerning facing your own manager?
[Tank]
First off, I hear people saying "Oh, Stevens is going to have
his boys lie down for him." WRONG! Tank Bradley doesn't lie down
for anybody! I go out and I destroy whoever they put in there
with me -- be it Justice, be it War Machine, be it Piersall or
be it Robbie Stevens. You know, I seem to recall a few
"accidental" super kicks that have come my way. I told Stevens
it will never happen again. And if I get in there with you,
Robbie, it won't because I'll shove "The Most Feared Foot In
Wrestling" down your own throat. Tonight we're advancing no
matter *who* he gets as a partner.
[Chad]
Strong words -- Joey, I'm sure you have something to add,
considering your recent loss to--
["Smilin'" Joey]
{interrupting} Chad, don't even go there. It's true, the Sensei
beat me, and while there is no shame in losing to a martial arts
master such as Robbie, I do NOT like to lose. It's true, Sensei,
you have taught me a lot -- but the Yakuza has also taught me
well. Choose your partner wisely, Sensei, because the Tank and I
aren't playing games tonight. {under his breath} He's just lucky
the TV belt clashed with my wardrobe.
=================================================================
{Cut back to ringside.}
[RA]
Ladies and gentlemen, tonight's final bout is a tag team match
set for one fall ... because it is an opening round of the AWI
North American Tag Team Championship tournament, there is NO
time limit -- there must be a winner! The first team ... weighing
in at a combined total of five-hundred and eighty-nine pounds ...
the combination of Toshiaki Hasegawa and Scott "Tank" Bradley ...
AGONY ... AND ... ECSTASY!!!
{The two wrestlers stride down to ringside to a chorus of intense
boos.}
And their opponents tonight ... first, from , weighing in at two
hundred and fifteen pounds ... the current Allied Wrestling
International World Television Champion ...
{The boos grow even more intense.}
ROOOOOOOOBBBIE STEVENS!!!
{Robbie struts his way down to ringside, blithely ignoring the
disparagements of the crowd, and takes the microphone from Rod
Allen.}
[Robbie Stevens]
You know, I search long and hard to find my partner for tonight's
match. And I found somebody. He's been my toughest opponent to
date ... except for Joey. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you,
my partner, the man who took the brother of the former World
Champ to school ...
[HR]
The return of Theodocious Ferocious Wilson?
[EH]
Reverend Jeremiah James?
[PS]
John Robertson, Sr.?
[RS]
... from Lansing, Michigan ... weighing in at 225 pounds ... it's
his way or the highway, the man more dangerous than Dalton
himself ... "ROADHOUSE" Chad Swayze!
{"Roadhouse Blues" by the Doors comes over the PA. Out comes
Chad Swayze dressed in blue jeans and a white tank top.}
[PS]: I'm dumbfounded beyond the capacity for wiseass
remarks.
[HR]: I feel your pain, Paul.
{Chad hops onto the ring apron and slaps hands with Robbie, as
the bell sounds. Robbie and Hasegawa start with a collar-elbow
tieup, which Toshiaki breaks using a legdrag takedown.}
[HR]: Looks like we get a repeat of last week's Traveling
Wrestling Show & Carnival.
[PS]: At least they're not lying down.
{Hasegawa follows up with an armdrag takedown, then picks Robbie
up and bodyslams him. He lets Robbie stagger back up, then pulls
him down with another legdrag; Robbie legsweeps him from the
floor, then rolls back and tags in Chad.}
[PS]: All right! Go, Chad, Go!
[HR]: Are you feeling OK?
[PS]: Hey, Chad's a professional! Even if he just gets
beat up, at least he'll get beat up in a classy and
interesting fashion.
{Hasegawa legdrags Chad on his approach, then shoves him back
to the mat when he gets back up. He lets Chad rise again, and
attempts a dropkick, but Chad ducks; Swayze elbowdrops Hasegawa
before he can get back up, then picks him up and bodyslams him.}
[HR]: I don't believe it -- Chad Swayze is actually
mounting an offensive?!?
[EH]: I've always said that there's more to Robbie than
anyone imagines, haven't I? Maybe this is just a cheap
stunt to let him get past Chamberlin's dictum -- or maybe
it's a chance to preview his newest protege.
{Chad drags up Toshiaki and gives him an open hand chop. Toshi
breaks away and tags in Tank; Chad delivers him a chop, too,
followed by a kick, and a whip to the ropes. When Tank rebounds,
Chad cuts him down with a savate kick.}
[HR]: Well ... it wasn't "wicked awesome", but it *was*
a superkick ...
{Chad climbs the corner.}
[HR]: He looks like he's going for broke, attempting a high
risk maneuver ...
{Chad leaps off with a bodypress, and Tank catches him, then
pivots on one leg into a powerslam.}
[PS]: I think you meant to say "He looks like he's going to
be broken" -- cause is he EVER ...
{Tank smacks Chad with a headbutt while getting up, then snaps a
belly-to-belly suplex. He drags Chad over to the corner.}
[PS]: Well, this was a short match ...
{Tank picks up Chad then climbs to the second rope; he leaps off
into a tombstone piledriver.}
[HR]: That's the Nail in the Coffin! Tank makes the cover,
but it's really just a formality ... 1 ... 2 ... WHAT?!?
{Robbie charges in and stomps Tank in the back, breaking the
count; the referee sends him back to his corner while Tank tags
Toshiaki.}
[HR]: Robbie stopped the pin?? What, is he a sadist?
[EH]: Is it so unbelievable to think he actually wants
to win this match?
[HR]: Not exactly, except that would require believing
Chad Swayze is the best partner he could find to work
with him.
[PS]: Why not? Chad offers something almost nobody else
in the AWI does: he has to look /up/ to Robbie.
{Hasegawa meets Chad with a flurry of kicks to the groin.}
[PS]: For my sake, and the sake of any children I or
my descendants may wish to have -- don't ever let me
step into a ring with part of Team Stevens. Not even
for a poker game.
{Hasegawa pushes Chad into a corner, backs away, then charges
in with a handspring rear avalanche. Chad staggers out, and
Hasegawa leaps onto the top rope, flying off with a moonsault
bodypress.}
[HR]: IMPRESSIVE aerial maneuver from the Fuji
Fashionplate ... one, two, -- AND THERE'S ROBBIE!
{Robbie charges in and drops a knee on Hasegawa; the referee
pulls him aside and sends him out of the ring again. Hasegawa
picks up Chad and whips him into the turnbuckle, then tags Tank.
Tank picks up Chad and climbs the corner.}
[HR]: Take two ... NAIL IN THE COFFIN!!!
{Tank flies down with the tombstone piledriver, then makes a
cover.}
[PS]: If Robbie keeps interrupting these pins, Chad's
going to have more coffins than Dracula!
{Robbie heads back in; Toshiaki intercedes, and Robbie knocks
him down with a savate kick.}
[HR]: Robbie's in for the save again -- WICKED AWESOME
SUPERKICK on his own man!!! BUT HE'S NOT IN TIME!!!
{The referee counts three and signals for the bell.}
[RA]
Ladies and gentleman ... the winners of this match, who will
advance to the semifinals of the North American Championship
tournament ... AGONY AND ECSTASY!!!
=================================================================
{AWI Logo appears on the screen.}
PROMOTIONAL CONSIDERATIONS PAID FOR BY THE
FOLLOWING:
[Voiceover]
Microsoft Windows 95: Where do you want to go today?
Kraft Macaroni & Cheese: It's the cheesiest!
Super FirePro Explosion: The most acclaimed wrestling arcade
game for the Super Nintendo Entertainment System, now
available with *60* AWI superstars from yesterday and
today!
=================================================================
>>PRESSBOX<<
[HR]
Be sure to be here next week, fans, when we'll have Robbie
Stevens' first television title defense, and--
{"Hail to the Chief" fills the air, and the camera cuts down to
the aisle to show Jamahn Chamberlin, AWI President, strolling
in, followed closely as always by his bodyguard Felony Slade. He
climbs into the ring and takes a microphone from Rod Allen as
the music fades off.}
[JC]
{grin} You can't say much for the beat, but when else am I gonna
get the chance to march to that in this city? HELLO, DEE CEE!!!!
{Crowd responds back unintelligibly but enthusiastically.}
I thought I'd put in my two cents while we still had some time
left, seein' as how my two cents buys the time. Now, I'm sure
I can guess what's on everyone's mind tonight. Y'all want to
know who's gonna be in the running for the World Title -- am I
right?
{Crowd pops heavily.}
Well, you know what? So would I! The Championship Committee have
got a lot of good names in the hat right now -- but nothing's
set in stone just yet. So, you're going to have to wait.
{Crowd makes a low rumble.}
Yeah, yeah, I know, it sucks. But, I CAN tell you, you won't
have to wait *long*. I'm going to be back next week to give you
all the goodies -- so just hang on!
But while I'm out here, there's one little thing I have to set
straight. Robbie Stevens -- I told you, your partner had to be
someone of *comparable* talent. Chad gave everyone a good show
tonight, but I'm not smokin' whatever you were when you picked
him. Sooooo ...
Next week, on this program, your men -- Agony & Ecstasy -- will
replay this round, against a team *I* pick. They're going to be
free for the night, they're going to be already under contract,
AND they're going to be GOOD.
That's all I gotta say -- I'm outta here!
{"Who Makes The Loot?" by the Brand New Heavies and Grand Puba
plays on the speakers as Chamberlin and Slade make their way
out of the ring}.
=================================================================
Copyright (c) 1998, Allied Sports Entertainment
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