**The camera opens on the sold out OWF arena. A familar tune starts to play. It's Sex Type Thing. The fans and camera's all pan up the rampway. Could it be? No, it couldn't. Agent oo6?

The music continues to play but no one enters. The crutains rustle slightly. They flip open with a dramatic burst. The crowd gives a combination of cheers and booes, but all fall silent after a few moments. Above Average Man stands before the crowd. He wears an EOD tee-shirt with a black suit blazer over it, and a dark pair of dress slacks. His wingtip Rockports shine of expensive polish and give a loud clack with each step of his strut down to the ring. His steps echo out through the now silent arena. Reaching the ring, he runs his hand back over his nicely slicked hair, and smoothes out his thin mustache. The rest of his regular scraggly beard is gone, giving Above Average Man his first clean-shaven appearance since he arrived at the OWF in February. He reaches inside his suit pocket, taking out a pair of Oakley's and flipping them open with the flick of a wrist. He slides them over his face, giving the Agent appearance that much more obvious impersonation, and looks to the fans, trying to stand in a confident manner. Scattered snickers dot the arena, but he doesn't seem to notice as he takes the microphone.

Agent aaM: Come on, Mann. I'm already in the ring. You're supposed to be right here in my shadow.

Juvi steps through the curtains wearing a tie-dyed EOD shirt and a pair of skin tight white bellbottoms. Laughter twitters through the audience. Juvi stops to do a little Dude Love style charleston in the isle, but Above Average Man glares him down and he hangs his head and approaches the ring.

Agent aaM: Thanks for finally showing, Gr-Juvi Mann. I thought you were going to forget to stay right back there: in my shadow. But you didn't let me down. Through all of this, Gr-Juvi Mann, you've been the only one I let stay in touch with me. So I want to thank you. But I won't do it now, because someone might notice you.

Gr-Juvi Mann shakes his head, but is not allowed to speak as Agent aaM cuts him off and steps into the spotlight.

You know, I've given my heart and soul to this federation, and still I get treated like trash. All I ever wanted was somebody to be my friend. Well... aside from all those guys I threw out of the Golden Nugget, but still. DK, why didn't you love me? Why? What do I have to do earn your respect? I've done everything you've ever asked, and still you treat me like a slave! I'm sorry. I've let my emotions run away with me. I'm here on more pressing matters. It seems that even though I am the best US Champion of all time, with the exception of Above Average Man which I've said before, I can't get a World Title shot? I'm supposed to be that oh-so-precious Number One Contender just for holding that belt. But for some reason, I continueally get overlooked. It seems as if the Giant won't be getting his match against you, DK. And even if he did, I doubt I'd get much out of the contract re-negociation you promised. So how's this sound for a re-negociation. You give me a World Title shot and I leave you alone. I think you owe me that. After all the blood, sweat, and tears I put into the OWF. My loyal service since day one. Then having to come back out of retirement to "save the OWF". I deserve a World Title shot. And you do not want to be the one to be caught standing in my way. No DK, I am one man you do not want to trifle with. I made the OWF and I can unmake it. Two time World Champion. The belt I never lost. Giant? Boo hoo. I never lost it... twice. I beat Kremlin for it to claim my second World Title reign, and I'm sure everyone out there is eager to see me beat him again. So why don't you just give me the shot. You know all I need is one chance. One slim little opportunity, like the way you stacked the odds against me to win the US Title, and I walk away World Champ. So let's make things easier on everyone and just give me... Agent double-a M, a World Title shot before I have to go spreading copies of La Verdad Part II.

Agent aaM: I've done everything you ever asked me to and then some. Yeah, it's time to claim all my secret identities. I was really the TV Junkie. The mastermind behind your seldom but awesome commercials. And I was really Elvis, spotted in a somewhere in a backwater dinner in Louisianna. And I was also the second gunman on the grassy knoll. I sure learned JFK. One place you do not want to be is caught between the crosshairs of Agent aaM. Yes everyone, the entire world would cease to be if I weren't here to keep it going. And because of that, I request... no, insist... no, demand a shot at the belt I never lost TWICE. Yes, I am going to be the OWF World Champion for a third time. So DK, why don't you be the friend you never were and give me the shot, and Kremlin, why don't you polish up the belt you let me have so I could tie JayPac's record, cause I'm coming to have it handed over on a silver platter again.

**Above Average Man drops the microphone in the center of the ring as Sex Type Thing starts to play over the PA again. He slips out over the second rope and begins his strut up the rampway. He does the traditional hand-like-a-gun thing, pointing his index finger out at the fans and making the bang noise as he mock-fires at them. He gets horribly booed. Reaching the end of the rampway, Agent aaM pauses for a moment. He turns back around, his look much more serious. As if on cue of his whipping around, his neatly slicked hair falls out of place. He removes his Oakleys only to show that his eyes have become bloodshot in the past few minutes. Gr-Juvi Mann takes his sunglasses for him and Agent aaM nods in appreciation.

Agent aaM: Thanks Gr-Juvi Mann. I appreciate you being the only one I let stand by my side through all of this. And sooner or later, I might actually let you speak, instead of just dating my friend's valets. Even though we all know there's something a little fishy about a man with another man in his corner. Especially when it isn't his tag partner... or even a wrestler for that matter. But the era of Agent aaM is going to unfold once again, so everyone roll out a red carpet for me on the way to the ring for my World Title match, because I'm sure all the wheels are in motion right now. And if they're not, I'm sure this will speed things along. DK, Agent will not be leaving the OWF until he gets a shot at the World Title. This is something I earned. I didn't seaze the second highest honor in the OWF, only to have myself written off as a midcard nothing. I'm one of the three Trump cards. I'm a two time World Champion. I'm Agent Motherf'n aaM. And me and Gr-Juvi Mann aren't stopping until we get what we both want. That World Title around my waist. Beware, the most awesome force in professional wrestling, the man who's only lost five times, the man who single handedly made and saved the OWF is here, and if you've got a problem with it... tough. I only care about me. And maybe Gr-Juvi Mann sometimes. So you'd best just give in. I'm got the OWF held hostage. And nothing's getting done until I get my shot at the belt I never lost twice.

**Abvoe Average Man inhales deeply through his nose, making the sound of sucking snot. He scratches the back of his neck and the rest of his hair drops down to it's mild mid-ear length. The smile leaves his face.

Above Average Man: Seriously for a moment. What's it take to get a World Title shot? Cause Kremlin's line is getting long and I don't see my name anywhere on it. The US Title isn't my stopping point, it's my stepping stone.

Above Average Man and Juvi drop their impersonations and turn their backs. The arena breaks out in cheers. The two step through the curtain, Misery by Soul Asylum blaring over the PA.

Fade to Black