(CUEUP: “Something In The Way.”)

(CUTTO: Joey Melton slingshot suplexing Mark Windham in 1988.)
(CUTTO: Five-hundred pound Dark Knight powerslamming Hornet.)
(CUTTO: Joey Melton getting the submission over Knight in a Figure Four.)
(CUTTO: Melton cutting a promo to a few friends and family of Merritt and Thomas in the Auditorium after winning. He eyes the belt, and his surroundings in distain.)
(CUTTO: Degadeth clotheslining Melton from the top of a cage.)
(CUTTO: Hornet thrilling a sold-out crowd my pinning Degadeth for the title.)
(CUTTO: Hornet and Wall dropkicking each other in exhaustion.)
(CUTTO: Hornet pinning Wall with a top rope flying body press to regain the title.)
(CUTTO: Mark Windham pinning Mike Roiter in ’94 to win the Unified title.)
(CUTTO: Hornet defeating Mark at Elvis Lives VIII.)
(CUTTO: Mike Randalls pinning Hornet to win the Unified title.)
(CUTTO: Montage of Randalls dominating opponents.)
(CUTTO: Ryan defeating Southern at CSWA15.)
(CUTTO: Southern pinning Melton to win the World title.)
(CUTTO: Boogie nailing Rabesque with right hands.)
(CUTTO: High Flyer hitting Cruise with a Five and a Half Star frogsplash outside the ring.)
(CUTTO: Vince Jacobs sneering at the crowd.)
(CUTTO: Close-up of UNIFIED title.)

(CUTTO: A wide-shot of the Cow Palace, thousands of fans screaming, mugging for one of the cameras with homemade signs. The lights go black, and the patented CSWA Laser Light show thrills to no end. Really. It does. Still, after all these years.)

BB: Welcome to the Cow Palace in San Francisco! We’re Live! On U-62!

SB: Wait for the red light, Bill…

(CUTTO: Bill Buckley and Sammy Benson at ringside, backs against the apron, parting the S and W in the CSWA logo.)

BB: Fans welcome to---

SB: Now, you’re on.

BB: Sammy!

SB: What?

BB: May I please do my job?

SB: The red light. Red light! Red Light Bill! Maybe if you attended production meetings you’d understand the business!

BB: Excuse me? I haven’t missed a meeting in yea---forever! Unlike you!

SB: It’s like Wilt Chamberlin once said..

BB: Oh Lord.

SB: Do you want me at the shoot around or the game? You only get me once.

BB: A well-known poet he was.

SB: You know who did get him more than once a day?

BB: We’re not going there.

SB: Your mother!

BB: Sammy! Momma Buckley being a Kansas grad doesn’t mean…

SB: She was soiled by Bombaata? Yes it does. The man went through women like your wife does allergy pills in the morning.

BB: They met briefly in study hall, that’s the extent of it. (SB: Wilt Shoots…he SCORES!) FANS! Sorry. Welcome to PRIMETIME I’m your host, BILL BUCCCCCKLEY! Joined, sadly, by my left hip Sammy Benson!

SB: What do you know. The CSWA runs in consecutive weeks for the first time since Michael Jackson took Macaulay Culkin’s virginity. (BB: Stop!) What? I’m gloating. I couldn’t be happier. A month ago the only challenge in my life was watching all of the “Three’s Company” episodes Tivo recorded for me. I soon realized it was impossible. Really. I think the show is running on ESPN Classic now. Jack Tripper in the Gay Games to save on rent. It happened.

BB: Can we talk about the show tonight? WRESTLING?

SB: Are you finally ready too?

BB: Ugh.

(A plastic cup thrown from the stands pops Buckley in the head.)

SB: Don’t move. Roll with it Buckley. I once saw Sting take a Frisbee in the chest, and then play for another hour at the Garden.

(A cup smacks Benson in the head.)

SB: SON OF A! (Benson rushes offscreen)

BB: Fans, great show tonight! More of the UNIFIED World Heavyweight Tournament! Last week we saw “Superstar” Vince Jacobs, Dan Ryan, and High Flyer move on! Tonight, the rematch between Boogie Smallz and Jean Rabesque! Vacant the masked man steps into the ring verse JA The Anglo Luchador! The Wolf battles against CSWA newcomer Alias! Hornet enters the unknown with Jaguar Mask! And finally, “The Phenom” Steve Savoy goes toe-to-toe with Troy Windham! All this, and paying commercial spots! Don’t you dare turn that dial!

SB: (off screen) BACK DEVILS! BACK!

(FTB)

Seventy-five cents of change in hand, and a Skor bar on the mind.

Now you'd think that 'the Pulp Original' wouldn't be indulging his sweet tooth on a fight night, you know wasted energy and all that crap. Too much sugar, what have you. Well, for a man with the vices of Alias... who already smoked way too damn much for a professional wrestler, and drank too much for a man with his history... a candy bar was elementary, I suppose.

Which probably meant it shouldn't be rocket science to get a hold of one, either.

Alias slipped the two quarters, two dimes and a nickel into the machine and pressed the necessary buttons to start that automated slide, to push that Skor bar forward. One thing that, when it reached the end, it stuck. You know, by stabbing itself into the end of the coil that was supposed to help spit it out.

Oh yes, elementary.

Alias cursed under his breath, "Now you listen, and you listen good you little (bleep)-er..." The way he said it, it sounded less like a threat and more like a lulling demand -- then again it was to a snack machine, "... you give that Skor bar and I'll let you li--"

"Listen to the Alias berates machinery hour?" It was the voice of none other than the Neighborhood Lunatic, High Flyer, walking around a corner with no destination in mind. He looked worse for the wear after his Cyberslam war with Craig Miles, who, mind you, is banned from CSWA due to his violent acts and pyromania. "I'd help you out, you know, with the punishing of said snack machine, but I've got kind of an issue." (He points to his injured ribs.) "Sure, it’s not a subscription, but it's annoying like a renewal request."

High Flyer had been successful in taking the Pulp Original's attention off of the inane candy bar issue, and onto more positive fare. Which, let's face it, was never bad on a night where you where being paid good money to punch your estranged friend in the face.

"And I was going to continue berating it, you know, maybe escalate into physical violence if the attempts at emotional violence didn't work. I've gotta say though, you've got that, 'I just danced with an ugly tree' look going on... no offense.

I mean, I haven't seen the aftermath of Miles yet... but here's hoping he's the 'other guy'."

"Sure, he's hurt, made sure of it. Wasn't enough though for what the jerkwad deserves." Flyer shrugged, sniffing as he did. "And after examination of your relationship with this vending machine, I'd suggest couples therapy. Those are telltale signs of future spousal abuse and I just can't sit by when innocent Krackel bars suffer." Flyer leaned his head and looked at the machine. "Wait a second... there isn't any Krackel?"

"Krackel?" Alias looked to his side, at the machine's contents. "You know, I never thought of that. I'm more of a Skor man, myself though." Alias then cracked his knuckles and then took a step to the side, putting a bit of space between him and the machine.

Suddenly though he snapped back, hooking a mean right hand, right into the glass in front of the chocolate bars place, fracturing the glass, but proving successful in jarring that frickin' candy bar loose. Flyer took a step back, surprised that the man had actually punched the thing. Alias shot out his right hand, while tugging the bar out of the tray at the bottom of the machine. He twisted his face, sort of amused at slightly broken glass. "Hmmm, hopefully that doesn't carry a fine with it."

Alias grinned, turning his head back to High Flyer, still shaking his right hand a bit. "Screw couples therapy, I'd consider this a divorce." He finally unwrapped the bar and took a bit.

"I noticed your win against that Cameron Cruise fellow last week,. Congrats on that... I suppose all things considered, CSWA seems to be great for the competition side of things and low on the overwrought violence." Alias turned his head and locked at the cracked machine." More or less."

"We're in the wrestling business, you should know that this is only short term." Flyer shrugged, checking the machine to see if any other bars had fallen. "I mean, all things tend toward violence and chaos... I'm not betting this place will be any different."

"Yeah, I should know better. Though after enough pessimism towards this business, with what's happening in ACW... and what's SURE to happen in NFW, I want to roll with those punches, but I can't help but hope CSWA holds a touch of the brighter side, right? Not to say that the welcoming committee and their choice of chaos, didn't help that any... coming to a business this old I'd hope for a little more, I don't know, internal stability.

S---, maybe I'm looking in the wrong place though. Lord knows the people in charge made sure to set enough things in motion to start turning towards chaos and violence. Optimistically, even with Mike standing in the way, or maybe because Mike's standing in my way... maybe the bright side for me is the competition, where the violence and chaos can lead to my advantage. Cause hell, it's all a fight in the end." Alias bit down on his lower lip, almost in thoughtful repose, before shaking his head a winking at Flyer. "Or maybe I should quit rambling and finish this hard earned bar, aye?"

"Isn't that what it's all about? Enjoying the fruits of your labor?" Flyer stepped forward. "Listen, I like you, I respect you, I'd think of us as friends in the making, but... we're in this tournament together, and since you're here, I should probably tell you that if we cross paths," Flyer rolled his eyes. "Do I even have to finish? It's such a crappy threat. I wasn't even trying, I was just stating the obvious." Flyer sighed, and lowered his head. "Why isn't there a candy bar shutting my stupid mouth from rambling idiotically?"

"I would help you out with that, you know by punching that machine again to see what comes out," brow furrowed, "but I don't take well to quasi-threats. Besides, the other way to help you out, in my books at least, would be shutting your mouth for you... but hell, to reiterate, I admire you and respect you, plus there's really nothing bad about this witty banter shtick at all."

Alias looked around for a moment to find a place to throw the wrapper he held in his hand, finally deciding to tuck it in the pocket of his jeans. "The good thing about us crossing paths, on top of everything... is the soonest possible time for that to happen is in the finals of this Unified title tourney we've found ourselves in. Which means hell, I certainly wouldn't mind that."

Flyer smiled, and started to walk off. "It's gonna be a fun ride." He threw up his arm waving toward Alias as he walked away. "See you at the sunset."

"Even if it means giving that ugly mug of yours another stitch." Alias replied, tongue-in-cheek, waving back before twisting around and walking in the opposite direction of Flyer. He smiled inwardly. "Yeah, at the sunset."

BB: We're bookending tonight's two-hour show with the preeminent UNIFIED Champions of all time. Up first, the man who made the title twelve years ago steps into the ring against an unknown quantity named Jaguar Mask.

SB: Come on now, Buckley, don't treat the fans as if they're any dumber than they really are. I mean, Corky could string a few sentences together, and even he's figured it out.

BB: Sammy...

SB: No seriously, look!

(CUTTO: A quick shot of "Corky" from "Life Goes On" pointing to an Eddie Mayfield shirt. Apparently he's joined by his aging parents and a friend, the man known as "The Flash," still wearing the blue shirt he had on when he hugged Ron Simmons oh those many years ago.)

BB: And later, in tonight's Main Event, former ACW Champ Alias makes his CSWA debut against the man who retired the UNIFIED Title -- Mike Randalls! After tonight, the field of 16 finally becomes a field of 8 men still with a chance to become only the ninth man to be able to call himself the UNIFIED Champion, and the 26th to step up and hold the CSWA's premiere title.

SB: Is that supposed to make sense?

BB: Check the title histories, Sammy.

SB: You mean there are title histories?

BB: Sure there are.

SB: I've never seen them.

BB: You don't have clearance.

SB: Clearance? To see title histories?

BB: I don't make the rules.

SB: But...

BB: Too late.

(CUEUP: "Like the Sun" by I Mother Earth. Hornet emerges from a cascade of white sparks as the lasers 'draw' his logo onto the ring. As Rhubarb finishes his introduction, Hornet finishes playing to the crowd and rolls into the ring. He loosens up, bouncing off the ropes, then turns to face the rampway as a "growl" echoes through the loudspeakers.)

BB: And here comes the masked man they call JAGUAR Mask!

SB: (laughing)

BB: What are you laughing at?

(CUTTO: As Rhubarb introduces Jaguar Mask, he steps out onto the rampway, spotlights covering him. The masked man has a Japanese-style mask on, complete with hair and whiskers. But one other thing immediately comes to our notice -- he's got a cigarette hanging out of the mouth hole of the mask, which he takes away from blows a large puff of smoke upward.)

BB: If that means what I think it means, Stephen Thomas is not going to be happy.

SB: (laughing) What? You mean Thomas doesn't like PROFESSIONALS?

BB: Not ones that he's banned from the company.

SB: Come on, Buckley, it's #464 in the CSWA playbook, suspended wrestler cons his way into the tournament under a mask only to win and throw it in the face of management.

BB: Well, it worked for Mark Windham.

SB: And if it's good enough for the Living Psycho, then it's good enough for good ol' Jaguar Mask (coughs "Eddie").

As the bell rings, Hornet steps in as if he's calling for a test of strength, then simply knocks the masked man back with a right hand, a move that generations have come to know as "knocking the taste out of someone's mouth." Jaguar Mask stumbles into the corner, then comes out firing, catching Hornet and turning him around in the corner. The masked man fires Hornet out of the corner, hard into the opposite turnbuckle, then follows in with a big spear.

BB: Hornet in trouble early, but he blocks a suplex attempt by Jaguar Mask and sends him over with a hip toss. Quick elbow drop, but Mask is up quick. He gets whipped across -- BIG clothesline by Hornet and the masked man goes through the ropes to the outside!

SB: Get up Eddie!

"Eddie" tries to taunt Hornet out of the ring, but the former UNIFIED Champ holds his ground in the ring, waiting for the masked man to break the count and roll back in. The two collide in the middle of the ring, leading to Hornet forcing Jaguar Mask back into the corner and delivering hard forearm shots before the ref calls for the break.

Hornet pulls Jaguar Mask out of the corner with a neckbreaker, with a quick cover giving only a two-count. The masked man uses the hair to keep Hornet down long enough to get in an elbow to the face. Continuing to use the hair, he pulled the US Champ to his feet, sending him into the corner and quickly following through with...

BB: He MISSES the elbow as Hornet rolls out of the corner. HARD elbow from the United States Champion... and now he's setting him up.

SB: Lord help us all. But especially Eddie.

BB: There's the whip across! Jaguar Mask is in the opposite corner... Hornet backs up, then charges. HORNET SPLASH!!!

(The crowd is on its feet as it senses the one-two combo that it knows so well...)

BB: He has the legs wrapped... if he steps over... and there it is! The SCORPION DEATHLOCK! And the masked man is right in the middle of the ring with no place to go, and possibly no way to save his UNIFIED Title hopes!

SB: EDDIE! EDDIE! EDDIE! (claps)

BB: What are you doing?

SB: It always works for the guys the idiot fans cheer for... I figured it might work for me, just this once.

BB: Jaguar Mask has his face buried in the mat, so we can't even see the eyeholes, but his whole body radiates the pain he's in as Hornet continues to pull back on the legs in the sit-down position. THERE IT IS! (Bell rings) HE TAPPED!!!!

SB: Oh boy...let's all cheer for Bugbrain.

BB: Hornet lets up on the Scorpion... but now he's going for the mask! And this crowd is cheering him on!

SB: Any chance that it's Mark Windham under the mask? It wouldn't be the first time.

BB: Hornet has Jaguar Mask trapped on the mat, and it looks like he's almost got the laces done on the back of the mask...and there it goes!!!! Hornet pulls the mask off and stands up, but the now-unmasked man is covering up his face.

SB: Hold up a second... that's not...

BB: Hornet delivers a kick to the midsection and the arms come down.... that's BLAINE HOLLYWOOD! What in the world is he doing here? He's supposed to be getting ready for NFW Season 2!

SB: (laughing) You know, no matter how crazy he may be, you've got to appreciate a man like Craig Miles.

BB: What? What does he...oh...

SB: Took you a sec, Buckley. Even banned from the league, Miles finds a way to set Hornet up. One way or another.

BB: Blaine tries to backpedal out of the ring, but Hornet gets hold of him and sends him into the ropes... BACK BODY DROP OVER THE TOP!!!! Good grief!! Hollywood just dropped about fourteen feet straight to the floor! Folks, we'll be right back!!!

(Fade-in to an extreme close-up of a aluminum-foil wrapped cardboard box with mean eyes and a circle that somewhat resembles a mouth painted on it. The camera zooms out to reveal that this box is part of a larger box with an outer wrapping of aluminum foil, replete with cardboard tubing for arms and legs and antennae coming out of the head made out of wire hanger. Next to the cardboard "robot" in the background is Lollipop, decked to the nines in a sequined dress and high heels. In the foreground is JA, dressed in his ring attire, a Weber State basketball sleeveless t-shirt and holding a Bob Barker-on-the-Price-Is-Right olden style microphone with a wire coming out the bottom.)

JA: Hello and welcome to this paid advertisement from Bori-Nation Enterprises, the same company that brought you the Promo-bot 7500X and CAPSLOCK MODULE 13-A.

My name is Jay-Aye. You may remember me from such events as JA/Dodd II, The War to Fight Off the Bore, and JA/Friendly IV, aka, JA gets his [bleep] handed to him yet again. But I'm not here to talk about wrestling, I'm here to shill a top of the line product from the Bori-Nation Corporation...

...The Promo-bot 12000: Angry Model X, or just Anger-bot for short.

JA points to the cardboard contraption behind him, as Lolli points and preens at the thing like one of Barker's Beauties

JA: As you can see, this is one mean hunk of steel and wires. It can help keep burglars out of your house with the menacing Voice Modulator, with three settings! The first one is Fed Destroying:

Anger-bot: (in robotic tone) Die, See-Ess-Dub, die!

JA: There's also Baby Whining, to annoy guests who've overstayed their welcome out the door:

Anger-bot: This soup is too cold! That makes me so mad I could bitch for hours and hours.

JA: And finally, there's Gimmick Infringing, so you can be the life of the frat party:

Anger-bot: Come on, fhqwhgads.

JA: That's right, and if that isn't enough, he also comes with Super Duper Evil Angry Glare!

X-TREEM CLOSEUP of Anger-bot's face again and zoom out.

JA: That's right, the Anger-bot, complete with all the clichès of nihilistic fed destroyers, voice modulation AND super egotism two times the size that of Troy Windham, will cost you only three easy payments of $29.95. THat's right, only three easy installments of $29.95 in You-Ess-Dees. But hurry up, supplies are limited. Get your order in before PRIMETIME in San Francisco ends, because after that, I will have dismantled the damn thing and all that will be left is scrap and broken circuit boards.

So act today!

(Fine print displays across the bottom of the screen.)

Offer not valid in Oregon, Wyoming, Washington, D.C. and Tajikistan. Price doesn't include taxes, shipping and handling and potential lawsuit fees to be incurred by CS Enterprises. Promo-bot 12000: Angry Model X not to be used by children under 12 or senior citizens over 75. Lease offer includes signing your soul over to Jericoholic Anonymous for a period of 10,000 years or the Apocalypse, whichever comes first.

BB: It’s time for another first round matchup in the Unified World Championship Tournament, this one pitting two newcomers in JA and well, the masked man who calls himself “Vacant”?

SB: Well, Bill, both of these guys are masked, so maybe you should think of a better way to describe luchador number two. I kinda like that “Anger-bot” description the other fruity guy in the mask said.

BB: His name is JA, Sam.

SB: Who cares, he’ll probably be gone in a week anyway. Stupid newbies.

BB: Well, not if he advances.

SB: Who knows, maybe he can find some way to mess up some luchador move against Hornet and give him a concussion or something.

BB: I’d pay to see that match. Let’s also not forget that Hornet’s been the UNIFIED Champ before. Who knows, he might be able to do it again.

SB: Not without his Geritol. Or maybe even his Viagra.

BB: Is sex all you think about?

SB: No, sometimes I do think about drinking.

(CUEUP: “Who Are You?” Crowd boos as mystery man enters the arena.)

RJ: Introducing first, from parts unknown the man called VACANT!

BB: This mystery guy is really going to great lengths to keep his identity up.

SB: Well, of course he is ya rube. He’s a multiple time world champion or something like that. He probably just wants to keep the angry mobs off him.

BB: Well, he’s in obvious excellent shape whoever he is. Flipping over the top rope, impressive. Still don’t know if I like what he stands for.

SB: Hey, if he gets his way, the See-Ess-Dub will be out of business, your Monday nights will be free, and hey, you get to collect a nice pension.

BB: You really think Stephen Thomas has a pension fund for us?

SB: Ha, no but it sounded inspirational, don’t you think?

(CUEUP: “Eat the Rich”. Crowd roars as JA and Lollipop come out.)

RJ: And his opponent, hailing from Philadelphia, Pee-Aye the Anglo Luchador JAY-AYE!!!

SB: Well, I will give this character some credit.

BB: What’s that?

SB: He has good taste in broads, ha.

BB: You’re too much. JA marches down to ringside and WHAT THE HELL! This mystery guy just nailed him with a suicide tope!

SB: I guess that infomercial put him over the edge.

BB: You’re telling me Sammy. Mystery guy’s up quickly, grabs JA and tosses him into the ring.

(DING DING DING)

BB: JA’s up, shaking out the cobwebs. He turns around -- kick right to the gut from the mystery man DDT, he’s going for a quick cover -- ONE! JA kicks out. I think this unknown luchador wants to get JA out of the tournament quickly.

SB: Well, this known luchador said there isn’t any room for more than one luchador in this thing. I’m guessing he wouldn’t mind an exit himself.

BB: I highly doubt that, Sammy. JA’s a proud competitor, but a proud competitor in a world of trouble. Mystery man with a knee to his throat, and another, and now a HOLY CRAP! Sammy, did you see that? Four hundred fifty degree splash from a standing position! Cover! ONE! TWO!! JA kicks out again.

SB: This guy really is impressive. I mean, I’ll be on the sunny beaches of Tahiti in no time the way this guy is taking it to JP or whoever he is.

BB: JA, Sammy. It’s not that hard. Mystery man picks JA up, Frank ‘n Parsons time! NO! JA reversed it into a powerbomb, and he rolls off. He really needed that move, Sammy.

SB: Well yeah Bill, he was getting his ass handed to him on a silver platter. Now we’ll see what he’s really made of.

BB: We’ll see now. Mystery man up, and JA greets him with a STINGING knife edge chop.

CROWD: WOOO!

BB: And another one

CROWD: WOOO!

BB: And ANOTHER one

CROWD: WOOO!

BB: Mystery man is reeling back, JA bounces back off the ropes and FLYING FOREARM! The unknown luchador down to the canvas.

SB: Slick, Buckley, slick.

BB: JA now down to the canvas, side headlock. JA’s a special competitor.

SB: Special…yeah I gotcha, like Thomas is ‘special.’ That would explain a few things.

BB: No, not that special. He’s won gold in two other companies before hitting the prime time here on PRIMETIME. He’s a blue chip prospect here for us, and you know he’s hungry. He’s only gotten two shots at any incarnation of the World Championship in his nearly five-year career in the major American circuit level.

SB: Well, that’s well and good, but the mystery man has won World titles before.

BB: True. JA still with the headlock in tightly, but the mystery man is getting some steam here, rising to his feet.

SB: Reserve your plane tickets now, Bill.

BB: I wouldn’t go that far yet, although the mystery man has regained his vertical base, shoves JA off him, JA on the rebound and WHOA! Big spinning heel kick from JA taking the mystery man back down to the canvas. JA quickly on him for the cover – ONE!! TWO!!! But the mystery man kicks out!

SB: You know, I just thought of something Bill.

BB: I don’t think I wanna know what it is.

SB: Too bad. Anyway, what if this JA character is really the vacant guy and the mystery guy is really JA?

BB: I’m going to forget you just said that, and concentrate on the ring action, where JA’s sizing up a recovering mystery luchador. Masked guy up and JA with a standing no-hold enziguiri kick! Holy moly, this JA’s got some agility.

SB: Yeah, but does he have the power to put this masked guy away?

BB: Well, we shall see, JA scoops up the mystery guy and TOMBSTONE PILEDRIVER! With authority, JA covers -- ONE! TWO!!! THR—NO! Vacant kicks out! JA back up and he’s signaling to the crowd!

SB: He’s got something up his sleeve. I hope it’s a naked picture of his valet.

BB: Pipe down Sam, I think he’s going for his patented Karelin Driver.

SB: Karelin? Didn’t he use to wrestle for us?

BB: Not that one! But that’s besides the point JA grabs -- what? Mystery guy just drove his fist into JA’s nether regions! And I don’t think the ref saw it!

SB: Destroying the See-Ess-Dub, two testicles at a time!

BB: And now the mystery man grabs JA! GORY BOMB! He just hit him with the Gory Special! Covers! ONE! TWO!!!!! THREE!!!! NO! Not like this!

SB: Like what? The masked schmuck lost, the other masked schmuck won, get over it, stop crying.

BB: But not like this, that’s -- well, I don’t think this is over. Vacant moves on to the second round, where he’ll face Hornet! We'll be right back!

(A video package begins to air to the song “Number One Spot” by Ludacris. CUTTO: a montage of clips featuring Jean Rabesque. CUTTO: a montage of clips featuring Boogie Smallz.)

(CUTTO: The Greensboro Championship being hoisted in the air with camera flashes flickering in the background.)
(CUTTO: White letters and a black background reading “PRIMETIME 500”.)
(CUTTO: White letters and a black background reading “Round One”.)
(CUTTO: Rabesque issuing the open challenge.)
(CUTTO: Boogie in the back standing up out of his seat and answering the challenge.)
(CUTTO: Boogie pissed off in Rabesque’s face and Jean just smiling.)
(CUTTO: Rabesque walking away, Boogie swinging him around and taking a shot at him.)
(CUTTO: Rabesque suplexing Boogie in the ring.)
(CUTTO: Boogie punching Rabesque on the floor.)
(CUTTO: Rabesque sending Boogie into the railing.)
(CUTTO: Rabesque covering Boogie, the referee making the three count while Boogie’s foot is on the bottom rope.)
(CUTTO: Post-match Boogie jumping up and getting in Rabesque’s face. The fight continues and referee Ben Worthington attempts to break them up.)

(The Unified World title appears on the screen and a shot of the tournament brackets, focusing on the names Rabesque/Smallz.)

(CUTTO: Shots of both men giving interviews for the match.)
(CUTTO: White letters and a black background reading “Round Two”.)
(CUTTO: Both men standing in the ring, the camera cutting back and forth between then in an intense staredown.)
(CUTTO: Rabesque attempting a figure-four and Smallz cradling him for the pin, only for Jean to kick out.)
(CUTTO: Boogie with a powerslam, for a two count.)
(CUTTO: Smallz kicking the bottom rope in frustration.)
(CUTTO: Rabesque with a belly to back suplex, for a two count.)
(CUTTO: Rabesque pounding the mat in frustration.)
(CUTTO: Both men fall to the floor.)
(CUTTO: Smallz and Rabesque brawling in the crowd, while the referee lays down the ten count.)
(CUTTO: Security pulling both men apart.)
(CUTTO: A shot of Commissioner Thomas ordering a rematch.)

(CUTTO: White letters and a black background reading…

“THERE MUST BE A WINNER!”

“ROUND THREE -- THE REMATCH -- TONIGHT!”)

(The message fades away. The two combatants are shown on a split screen. The music fades out and the shot cuts to Bill Buckley and Sammy Benson at ringside.)

(Cue up “Shapes of Things” by The Jeff Healy Band. Jean Rabesque makes his way to the ring with roaring approval from the crowd. He raises his arms in the air and the cheers intensify.)

BB: Jean Rabesque is in the ring, and here comes the opponent he now knows so well.

SB: Let me light a candle or something. This guy always stinks up the place…in the ring and in the air.

(Cue up “Black Superman” by Above the Law. Boogie Smallz comes out ready to fight. He charges down to the ring and attacks Rabesque before the bell rings.)

SB: It seems that every show we do, these guys are fighting each other. What gives? Sheesh, is Thomas struggling that hard to come up with matches?

BB: Well Sammy, as you know…this is a rematch from the show in San Diego. These two men cared more about punishing one another, than they cared about advancing in the World title tournament!

SB: I thought for sure both of them were goners, that way it could pave the way for the guy that is really gonna win this thing… but now that we found out Jaguar Mask was a fraud, who knows. I guess I can always hope that that "Vacant" guy turns out to be Eddy Love. But I have a feeling he's going to be as big a disappointment at Blaine Hollywood!

BB: Let’s get focused on what’s going on in the ring! Boogie rolls into the ring and ambushes Rabesque quickly, but the tide just turned. Rabesque ducks a punch and takes advantage!

(Rabesque kicks at Boogie’s knee and then drives his shoulder into his knee, taking the big man off of his feet.)

BB: He worked on the knee in San Diego, and it looks like he has opted to go with that strategy again.

(Rabesque drops an elbow on Smallz and another. Jean bounces off the ropes and drops a knee to Boogie’s face. He lifts him to his feet and locks on an abdominal stretch. He wrenches in and Smallz grunts in pain.)

SB: Stretch him out, Rabesque! Show him whose ring that is! You can’t let that oaf push you around.

BB: Rabesque has the stretch locked and is rubbing his forearm across the former Boogie Man’s face! Are you really pulling for Jean to win this match, Sammy?

SB: Like I said before, I can't stand either of them, but if I had to pick…I hate Rabesque less than I hate Smallz. Rabesque has talent, I can’t deny that. But Boogie...I don’t know…that guy creeps me out. Did you see those publicity photos he had a few months ago? He looked possessed! The guy could have been an extra in Dawn of the freakin’ Dead!

(Smallz lets out a battlecry and powers out of the stretch, flipping Rabesque over. Jean slides out of the ring and Boogie drops to a knee to collect himself. Rabesque slides back into the ring, but Boogie stands up to greet him. Smallz slaps him in the face and starts talking smack. Rabesque returns the slap with one of his own. Boogie rubs his face and drills Jean with multiple knees to the gut. Smallz grabs Jean by the neck and delivers a swinging neckbreaker.)

SB: Plus, he was half responsible for bringing us the Disco Midget. And you know how fond I am of midgets.

BB: Boogie now measuring Rabesque. Jean getting to his feet and Smallz kicks him right across the face! OUCH!

SB: He’ll eat your flesh! Run Rabesque…run! No one is safe! Somebody…anybody…get me a Banana Daiquiri…I need a drink!

BB: I hope you're kidding. You're not going to give up months of sobriety just because you don't want to watch a match, are you?

SB: I've heard worse reasons.

(Boogie bounces off the ropes and hits a legdrop across Rabesque’s throat. He grabs Rabesque’s leg and locks on a half-Boston Crab. He wrenches it in and applies more pressure. After a few moments, he releases his grip and maneuvers himself into position for the STF. He works it for a moment and tries to get Rabesque to tap, but to no avail. He releases the hold and start arguing with Ben Worthington.)

BB: I guess Boogie wasn’t happy with the ref’s persistence.

SB: He’s coming for you, Worthington! Shoot him in the head! It’s the only way to kill him!

BB: Are you sure you haven't tossed back a few?

SB: I only wish, Buckley.

BB: Well what is all this zombie-talk for?

SB: Look at Boogie’s eyes…you can’t tell me he’s not possessed! It's like that time on Days of our Lives when the demon was possessing people and running around...

BB: What in the world are you doing watching Days of our Lives? If he’s possessed…it’s so he can get the World title. I can assure you, the only thing that has taken over Boogie’s body is whatever he’s smoking on.

(Boogie runs his attention back to Rabesque. He goes to lift him to his feet, but Rabesque was playing possum. He cradles Boogie in a pinning attempt, but only gets a two count. Jean kips up and Boogie gets to his feet. Rabesque seizes the small window of opportunity and literally beats Smallz to the punch. The big man staggers and Rabesque bounces off the ropes and hit him with a double-axehandle. Boogie drops to one knee and Rabesque nails him with a dropkick. Rabesque begins to stomp on the prone Smallz.

The camera zooms in on some ringside fans enjoying the action.)

SB: IT’S SPREADING! Look at those red-eyed losers in the front row! Whatever Boogie has is contagious. I saw this movie once. If you take out the guy that started it, everyone will be saved. Bill, let me borrow your glock! I have no choice; it’s up to me to save the planet! I’m all we got!

BB: Park it, Benson. We’ve got a shot to do. You don’t need a murder rap added to the list of felonies on your permanent record. You came too close to one already?

SB: Permanent record? When did this turn into an episode of Saved by the Bell, Mr. Belding?

(Rabesque lifts Smallz up and places him on the top turnbuckle. Jean then climbs up to the second rope and is attempting to belly-to-belly suplex him off the top rope. Boogie fights with him and ends up reversing the move. Both men crash to the floor and the rans stand on their feet in disbelief.)

BB: Oh my gosh…did you see that!? Both men smacked that concrete with extreme velocity! We may need to send some medical attention. Neither man is moving.

SB: Oh no, it’s too late! NOOOO!

BB: What now?

SB: I don’t know how he did it, but I think he bit Rabesque! Now we’ll have two zombies on the roster. We need some Sarah Michelle Gellar type to come in and save the day. Maybe drink a few Mai Thaïs with yours truly.

BB: You're asking for Buffy now? You realize you just sound crazy.

SB: I do not. I’m a broadcast journalist. Everything I say has been thoroughly researched. I am not going to lie to these fine people.

BB: The referee stopped the count; he knows the importance of this match. Worthington is showing a little leniency here.

(Rabesque is the first to his feet. He walks over to Smallz and lifts him to his feet. Jean whips Boogie into the guardrail and follows it up with a clothesline…sending both men into the front row. Rabesque raises his fist and the crowd cheers him on. He nails Smallz with rights and lefts. He takes a fan’s beer and tosses it in Boogie’s face. This action somehow snaps Boogie out of it and the next punch Rabesque throws has no effect on Boogie. Smallz turns his eyes toward Rabesque and looks pissed off. Rabesque takes a step back and grabs a steel chair. Smallz shakes his head and grabs a steel chair.)

BB: Both men are swinging chairs at each other. This thing has gotten ugly.

SB: Like your wife?

BB: Why you little…

SB: I joke. I kid. She’s a lovely lady. At night. Late late at night.

(Rabesque somehow manages to crack Boogie’s hand, which releases the chair Smallz was holding. Boogie is rubbing his hand, trying to get the feeling back. Rabesque rears back and cracks the chair over Boogie’s head. The big man falls flat on his face and Rabesque drops the chair. He picks Boogie up and tosses him over the guardrail. Smallz looks to be out of it. Rabesque now helps him to his feet and tosses him into the ring. Rabesque climbs into the ring and whips Boogie into the corner. Rabesque runs into the corner charging full steam ahead.)

BB: Smallz crumbles to the mat and Rabesque connects with the steel ring post! That has got to hurt.

SB: Both look to be out of it.

(Smallz is the first to move. He notices Rabesque lying next to him and somehow musters the strength to place his arm over Rabesque.)

SB: No! Don’t tell me it’s going to end like this.

BB: Worthington drops to make the count. ONE! TWO! THREE! Smallz wins the match!

(Both men are lying motionless in the ring. “Black Superman” cranks up on the speakers. Rabesque and Smallz begin to stir around and regain their senses.)

BB: What a match, Sammy. That was a wild one!

SB: Wild one? Are you referring to Wild Turkey? That stuff packs a wallop.

BB: Some things just never change. We'll be right back.

The camera fades in to STEVE RADDER sitting on a bench in his locker-room, in his street clothes. His elbows are resting on his knees; his hands laced together, head bowed in thought. Through the fingers of his right hand, visible only to those paying close attention, is a scar which runs for the entire length of his hand, and goes at least to the cuff of his long-sleeved shirt.

Radder takes a moment to lift his head and look at the closed door across the room. He notes the relative quiet outside the door, and thinks to himself:

“This place sure has changed.”

During his first run in the CSWA a guy would be hard-pressed to find a quiet corner; most of the time, you’d be hard-pressed to find a guy who wanted to find a quiet corner.

“Except for that Poe guy,” Radder mutters to himself, and snorts. Dude was always a little … off.

Radder used to run with people just as everyone else did, usually involved in groups, either of his choosing or someone else’s. He’ll never forget that time that he was forced into attending a party with Vizzack … right after fighting him. As it is now, he’s perfectly happy hanging by himself, after all, there’s so many new faces that he doesn’t feel he really knows anyone, and the people he does … aren’t exactly favorites.

Of course, just as he’s noting, and enjoying the lack of interruption, someone starts pounding on the door.

The knocking is insistent; continuous; positively annoying. That means it could be only one person. She keeps hammering on the door, and though Steve Radder is in no hurry to speak with the person on the other side, he gets out of his chair, and walks to the entry.

“I know you’re in the-ah!” She’s shouting through the door. And it’s a heavy door. Radder opens it.

“What?” He asks, a decidedly exasperated tone in his voice.

“You bettah not go through with this Child Welfare crap, Steve, or I swea-ah …” Funny. Kelly threatening him, one of the soon-to-be-named 6 top contenders for the richest prize in wrestling. And how does he respond? By rolling his eyes.

“Right,” Radder says, closing the door. She sticks her hand out to stop him. He thinks he should have closed it harder. He could probably muster enough force to send her somersaulting backwards down the steps. The image brings a smile to Radder’s face.

“What’s so funny? I’m serious. If you don’t back off, Bo will come ovah and …” This doesn’t scare Radder either. Bo’s a good old boy, an annoying fella, like the terrier who forgets he’s a terrier when he goes up against a pitbull.

“Bo’s funny, that’s what. Do you think I’m afraid of him, or have you forgotten how messed up I’ve been by men like Eli Flair? What’ll Bo do, smash his banjo over my head? Get outta here, before I call the cops. And don’t come back.”

Kelly screws her face up like a two-year old who’s about to pitch a fit. Instead, she turns on her heel, fuming, mumbling under her breath, though still audible enough, and stomps down the walk, to her car, climbs in, and peels out. Steve Radder shakes his head, and closes the door. This is but one example of the behavior that forced Child Welfare into action. Their daughter is under no immediate danger, but after tomorrow …

The thought brings a smile to Radder’s face. He walks back into his house, and picks up the phone, dialing a number he’s had to call far, far too many times lately.

“Ross, Felcher, and Bell,” says the receptionist in her breathy, yet bored greeting.

“This is Steve Radder. Get Ross on the line for me, please.” Radder keeps his tone neutral, hiding his anger, for the moment.

“Mr. Ross is in a meeting …” begins the standard reply.

“Get him. Now. Tell him if he doesn’t talk to me right now, I’ll stop making my extra payments to his clients.” The time for restraint is over. He’s going to snap, and soon. Kelly’s lawyer gets some percentage of the “allowance” he sends her each month, the money he still gives even though he has no obligation to.

“Hold please,” comes the much-more polite response. After a couple seconds, the phone is picked back up.

“Mr. Radder! Is there a problem?” Ross has a snivelly, ratish quality to his voice. It probably destined him to his career from an early age.

“You’re damn straight there’s a problem. You can tell my estranged wife that if she ever comes to my house and … knocks on the door again.

Radder got lost in his thoughts, again, forgetting for a while that he was even in the arena. It’s been happening a bit lately, his return to the CSWA bringing back all of the memories of the events that caused him to leave in the first place. The knocking’s becoming more insistent, so Radder gets up and opens the door. Someone really wants to see him, and it better be important. It’s Stephen Thomas.

“We need to talk,” the boss says, and steps into the room.

The action for this match started out fast. Savoy, one of the best young wrestlers on the circuit today, came out quickly against Windham, who seemed to have taken his opponent lightly. Windham attempted to hot dog his way, showing off to the fans, attempting to impress a crew of young women at ringside. Savoy got the advantage of Troy, rolling him up for a series of near falls via cradles and pinning attempts. Savoy then connected with a quick DDT which injured Windham's hurt neck, a glaring target.

Savoy continued to work over Windham with a series of fine technical maneuvers, several targeting Windham's neck. Savoy hit a swinging neckbreaker, a Russian Legsweep and an old-fashioned FrankenSteiner. He then had Windham up.

BB: Savoy now whips Windham into the ropes -- no! Windham reverses! NO! Savoy safely leaps to the top rope! What balance!

SB: And Troy doesn't see it! He's busy gesturing to his head, pointing out to the world how smart he is! But he forgot... he's a WINDHAM!

BB: THE PHENOM OFF THE TOP ROPE! TOP ROPE BULLDOG! THIS COULD BE IT! WHAT AN UPSET! ONNNEEEE! TWOOOOO!!!! THRREEEENOOOOOO!!!! WINDHAM JUST GOT HIS FOOT ON THE BOTTOM ROPE!

Windham, after the near upset, then resorted to what he does best -- chicanery. He first kneed Savoy down low and followed it up with a rake to the eyes. He started choking Savoy with the ring ropes, and used his size advantage to suplex and slam Savoy repeatedly. He was then perched to hit Savoy with his trademark Quick Snap Reverse Neckbreaker -- the move formerly called The SlackKnife, now known as "The Autograph" -- when Savoy countered.

BB: Windham calling for The Autograph! NO! Savoy counters! Inverted Atomic Drop! Now Savoy turns around -- GERMAN SUPLEX! ALL IMPACT! NO BRIDGE!

SB: This kid has game, Buckley! Who would've thought it from a guy obsessed with showing off his butt in a thong?

BB: But Troy looks like he may be off his game right now, Sammy.

Savoy continued to hit Windham with a series of suplexes and clotheslines. But nothing could keep The Epitome down. Savoy then had the crowd reeling and thought he had the match.

BB: Savoy whips Windham into the corner, Windham bounces off.. SAVOY WITH THE BIONIC ELBOW! THAT SUPERCHARGED ELBOW!

SB: That's OLD-SCHOOL, Buckley! I'm starting to like this kid a lot despite the thong incident!

BB: Savoy is now perched, yelling to the fans! He wants to hit his Diamond Cutter! Windham slowly getting up -- Savoy with the Cutter -- NO! Windham counters! He twists Savoy around! AIRPLANE SPIN! And he now puts Savoy on his feet--

SB: And he just signed Savoy an Autograph!

BB: Windham just hit his Quick Snap Reverse Neckbreaker! And he covers! ONE! TWO! THREE! Troy Windham once again escapes with a victory!

SB: His move -- call it The SlackKnife, The Autograph -- that is this sports ULTIMATE equalizer. He can win a match at any time, from any angle. And that is why -- that is why he is my pick to win this entire thing! Even despite his last name.

BB: Windham has said this title is his ultimate goal -- and I don't know WHO can stop him! But one of the men in our Main Event match tonight will get the chance to try. It's Randalls and Alias -- up NEXT!

"What would've been the odds, Chris? Your hometown, my title."

'The Wolf' Mike Randalls sat in a lotus position, alone in his locker room and his presence illuminated by various lit candles. Incense burned in the background, while Randalls' eyes remained closed in concentration.

"We both have alot at stake tonight, don't we? The last time we met, you were unsatisfied...you've made the accusation that you never faced the 'true' Mike Randalls. Little did you know, of all the statements you've made Sheffield...that one hurt the most."

Randalls' eyes opened, but didn't fixate on the cameras circling around him...instead, they engaged the flames of the candles...

"I gave everything that night, Chris. What you failed to understand was that I didn't intend to take anything, and now I've learned those actions angered you more than I ever realized."

"I'm sorry we're different, Chris...but that won't take away the fact that it was your choice to put me in that position and my choice to give all I could before I had to let go."

Randalls' eyes closed again as he took a deep breath, "I do not fight out of glory, I only fight out of debt. This world will never see myself wrestle for any title, save ONE."

"I owe it to Godreign...Tyler...Tsunami...Karelin...Guns..."

Randalls' eyes opened, his emerald eyes flickering from the candles...

"...and even Hornet. I've held many titles, Chris..."

'The Wolf' looked to the camera, now focused intently into its view...

"...but I've never been a CHAMPION. That day will come, only when the Unified Title is wrapped around my waist...or it'll never come at all."

FADETOBLACK.

"You cannot see what you cannot fight...but Chris, do you now see the light?"

BUCKLEY (V/O): "August 17, 2004 -- Alias defended the tSC Championship against Mike Randalls. These are the final moments..."

Sheffield AGAIN took him up to the top…he begun to hook Randalls around the waist, hey folks when you gotta put the Wolf away you go for the:

BIG

FAT

KI— …

…Oh no, he didn’t…

REVERSED INTO A SUPER DIAMOND CUTTER!

…we could only HOPE!

Mid-Air, ‘The Wolf’ twisted his body and hooked Sheffield around the head and snapped it over his shoulder while landing in a sitting position!

“HOLY (bleep)! HOLY (bleep)! HOLY (bleep)!”

Greg Parker yelled, “What was that an Unsanctioned Decaptitation?” JT could only respond with a “HOWABOUTHEBROKEHIS(BLEEEEEEP!)ING NECK~!” In the left handed corner of the screen, tSC fans found out about how they could vote on it and possibly win a day hanging out at a petting zoo with Leigh Landers and Bradley Duncan.

Meanwhile, Mike Randalls finally got up to his feet….the crowd in ABSOLUTE SHOCK. The roar was only replaced by Christopher Declan Sheffield LIGHTS OUT on the mat. As Randalls stalked over, he remembered shades of his final match with Alex Lawson, the man primarily responsible for Christopher Sheffield’s and Mike Randalls’ Invictus bond.

Randalls grabbed both of Alias’ legs placing them in the Texas Cloverleaf formation, the crowd either screaming or booing, but nobody really sure of what was going on…their hero took a big, fat kill of his own…

Randalls looked down at Sheffield, a man who for several months now had competed in three of the toughest federations in wrestling. A man who had been subjected to violent attacks, mindgames and betrayals by friends and foes alike. But Mike Randalls also saw a man that brought the tSC Championship Title to this match for the title’s own glory, not his own. The tSC’s own glory and not his own. The public had willed him to this point, in many ways…but Randalls knew that drove Sheffield further, made him keep fighting…

If he turned Chris Sheffield over and took the title away…what would happen then? Randalls would only be sought further, men would subject themselves to even more dangerous matches…perhaps men like Brandon Youngblood…their careers wouldn’t survive, if Randalls chose to fight for the glory of the federation…for the title…

But it wasn’t in his heart…he only wanted to fight for nothing, for he would fight more true…no glory, no rewards, no promises of forgiveness or fortune…

“FINISH HIM! TURN TO THE DARK SIDE!” JT yelled as Randalls’ body slumped down, almost falling to a knee just as a desperate Chris Sheffield rolled him up in a Small Package to buy more time.

ONE!

Something was odd…there wasn’t a struggle…

TWO!

He wouldn’t…he isn’t…

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! NO! NO! NO!”

The bell rang, as Alias tried to BREAK up his OWN small package!

But was too late, the crowd acted confused for a moment – as Alias refused to get his arm raised, ‘The Wolf’ Mike Randalls retreating to his corner and slumping back!

The bongos wailed on as Chris Sheffield was red-faced and turned to Mike Randalls and started yelling something about “BULL(bleep)!” in his direction – before falling down, the adrenaline of the situation fading out of his body as luckily Monet Samuel was there to catch him! Sheffield wanted to get up, but couldn’t – the effects of the match coming back to haunt him. The Super Cutter, the ‘devastating’ attack on his knees.

Randalls walked over, only to get SHOVED by Alias! Randalls offered a handshake…

SLAPPED AWAY!

“BULL(bleep)! F(bleep) BULL(bleep)!”

Pain...

Perception...

Passion...

Perseverance...

(As the PRIMETIME credits roll, those viewers who have stuck around see a slightly different roll than they're used to...

CSWA PRIMETIME
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In conjunction with U-62
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(fadeout)