Ever since the uber annoying Tyler Rayne was dispensed at UltraViolence, Lisa Tyler has had a lot less stress on her shoulders. She no longer needs to have eyes in the back of her head throughout the entire show, expecting at any moment for the Enemigo Security Staff to come bolting into her office, masks bleeding. She's able to kick her feet up and cherish her position at the top of the PRIME ladder.

But it also means that her face doesn't appear on camera as often. Sure, she's around, walking through the corridors and speaking to certain wrestlers before and after shows. Now that she's able to dictate her appearances, word of mouth and implied fear are her chosen methods of presence. She's like the proverbial principal nobody wants to be summoned by.

Unless one has a gripe and doesn't care about the repercussions due to a certain carte blanche status.

"I feel like this is long overdue..."

Cue audience hatred in three...two...one...

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Whenever Devin Shakur's mug glistens a ReVolution, audiences tend to have a consensus reaction of disgust: Men scoff, women turn their heads, children cry, and dogs bark uncontrollably at the screen. He's got the look of a pompous asshole and is proud of it. Standing behind his chair is Christian Daniels, hovering like a seven foot three hundred pound helping of anger. He's never happy to be anywhere, let alone somewhere where subservience is required.

The camera swings around to the equally discontent face of Lisa Tyler, arms folded across the desk and some paperwork she would much rather be doing underneath her crossed fingers. Towering behind her is security personified in Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas, or as he's aptly known for those who aren't able to say his name in one breath, Dam.

Lisa Tyler: I made a promise at Culture Shock, in the interest of making this company more efficient. I said that whoever took out Tyler Rayne would be in my good graces. And while I helped you out by giving your dear friend Mr. Daniels a contract, I'm extending my hand in appreciation once again. It's almost time for Colossus and I need our entertainment value to be through the roof. You, among other things, Mr. Shakur, know how to entertain the people.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Lisa Tyler: That's right. All great stories need a powerful villain, and whether people know it or not, they turn in to see your antics just the same way they tune in to cheer for Killean Sirrajin or Chandler Tsonda.

In his two and a half year stint under the roof of PRIME, Devin Shakur has come across every kind of character imaginable. He's usually been able to sniff out most traps and hoaxes, but he's truly baffled by the sight of a gracious Lisa Tyler. He exchanges a quick look with Christian and puts on his acting act.

Devin Shakur: Ms. Tyler, I understand that you are a busy woman so I don't intend to take up much of your valuable time. After all, who else is going to make the business run? You've always been a fair and impartial leader, never willing to sway and show your colors because of keen business sense. However, I think, due to my many months of loyalty and willingness to put the business before myself, that we have a rather special relationship and I don't want to lose sight of that.

Lisa Tyler: I am, and will always be, a neutral player in this game, Mr. Shakur. My interest is solely in the business side of things. Good business is impartial, merely watching from the sidelines and rooting for the best game possible, with no vested interest in winners and losers. Tyler Rayne, unfortunately, forced me from my position of neutrality, but I successfully neutered Rayne. While I don't particularly approve of your methods, you delivered the deathblow to the man's career, and I suppose I should properly thank you for that.

Devin Shakur: I'm always happy to help out when and wherever I'm needed, and the fact that you've extended such a genuine and legitimate offer is something I can't thank you enough for.

Right now in the casinos of Las Vegas, bets are being placed on who is going to lose their dinner and vomit first, Dam or Christian. Dam is the underdog at 4/1 to Christian's 1.5/1.

Devin Shakur: And as a token of my appreciation, I would like to do another deed that will help you and the rest of the PRIME roster out. Although, I am going to need to call upon my carte blanche status once again due to the peculiarity of this request.

Lisa Tyler: A favor for a favor. I'm inclined to agree, but I never agree to a proposition before I've heard the full details.

Time to reel the fish in.

Devin Shakur: As a former businessman myself, I know PRIME is feeling the heat in large part because of the fledgling economy. We are in dire need of superstars to carry us forward and turn a good size profit. However, I think we need to check our integrity and values before we allow just any old name to walk back through the doors. I remember when I came into this place, my background check was so thorough I was glad not to have relatives living in the United States. The company as a whole needs to go back to its roots and remind everybody that we are number one by definition. Employees who make the decision to come back will need to have their intentions checked. You never know when a rogue could pop up, and people are rather gullible at the base. They all have a price. I'm sure even someone like Bryan Dawkins has his as well.

BRUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Lisa Tyler: Would this be a response to the fact that young Mr. Dawkins embarrassed you in front of a live audience last week? A cynic might call that just desserts, Mr. Shakur.

Most in the audience won't see it, but Dam flashes a small smile amidst his stone faced visage. Devin remembers to keep his poker face on while Christian shoots the coolest guy on the PRIME roster a quick glare.

Devin Shakur: That is what the superficial person would want you to think, but no that is not the reason. Let's look at the facts here, Ms. Tyler. Bryan Dawkins might seem like a rather calm individual on the surface, but as we saw last week he's not afraid to go after people. Wade Elliott is someone who...I don't like, and if he wasn't taking care of another problem I had...I'd probably try to kill him, but you don't go around beating a guy like that up. Need I remind you that a certain individual who is no longer with us decided to do the same thing, and even went so far as to brutalize him with a vehicle. We can't let another Tyler Rayne clone run roughshod over this roster. Dawkins has had the most training of anybody, and could be ready to unleash the gospel according to Rayne over us again. I'm more than willing to handle the problem given my track record, because nobody handles problems quite like I do.

Lisa Tyler: Are you saying that I can't handle problems on my roster, Mr. Shakur? Did Nelson put you up to this? If that snake is trying to stick his fingers in my-

The Man in Black holds up a hand and successfully stops the boss. He realizes a significant part of his next paycheck might be missing.

Devin Shakur: Ms. Tyler, be realistic for a minute. Do you think anybody is going to attempt and schmooze me with him standing around?

The astute point to Christian Daniels.

Devin Shakur: You ever wonder why they make all those commercials about recommendations for the dentist? Who do you think sends them there? ...Boss, would you rather deal with someone, fueled by rage who could affect the most gigantic show in PRIME history, or would you rather let me deal with it? I'll be quicker than before, promise.

The Boss pauses and mulls the option.

Lisa Tyler: I was remarkably hands off when it came to you and Tyler Rayne. While I haven't forgotten your willingness to play ball, you shouldn't expect that level of official indifference on a continued basis. If this is truly something that you require, then I might be willing to chalk this up to our favorable business arrangement. But my patience is waif thin these days, Mr. Shakur. I expect to get more than the bloodied carcass of Bryan Dawkins on my doorstep.

Devin Shakur: Then I would like to, for the rest of the evening, evaluate Mr. Dawkins, and test his loyalty to the entity of PRIME. I will construct a series of tests and see if he is capable of passing them.

Lisa Tyler: No one from my staff has spoken to Mr. Dawkins since he, Mr. Tsonda, and Mr. Rayne waged their unsuccessful rebellion against me. Then he disappears for weeks at time, only to return without my knowledge? Yes, perhaps Mr. Dawkins should have to be put under the gun to see if he's ready to be a team player. You're free to perform an audit of Mr. Dawkins' performance here in PRIME. Try not to break this one's legs, though. Talent like his in such a young man is hard to find and even harder to replace, Mr. Shakur.

A wicked smile appears on Shakur's face.

Devin Shakur: I'll make sure to be objective and put the best interest of the company forward in this evaluation. Thanks for your time, Ms. Tyler.

The Man in Black stands up from his chair and quietly exits the room, Christian a step behind him. He gives Dam another hard glare before stepping through the door and gently shutting it behind him. The brothers get about thirty feet down the hall and go back to their normal conniving selves.

Devin Shakur: I'm gonna ruin that kid's life.

Christian Daniels: You better see him first then. Don't make me go through that again.

Devin Shakur: You bring those barf bags from the jet like I asked?

Christian Daniels: Yep.

Devin Shakur: I'm gonna need a few.

A loud thumping drumbeat mingles with a heavy sounding guitar and a new wave of music introduces itself to ReVolution.

The overwhelming frame of Hessian wields itself into the scene. He's covered in blood, standing over the broken body of Fusenshoff with the Intense Championship held high above his head.

Yeah, I get it
You're an outcast.

Nine delivers a series of throws in the Dual Halo, making his presence felt as one of the best judo specialists in the world of professional wrestling.

Always under attack.

Christian Daniels catches Lindsay Troy in the middle of her Crowning Glory, lifts her off the canvas and launches her through the announce table.

Always coming in last,
Bringing up the past.

Wade Elliott sneers at Bryan Dawkins and puts a boot into his ribs.

No one owes you anything.
I think you need a shotgun blast,
A kick in the ass,

Chainz stares into the camera with a sadistic glare.

So paranoid...
Watch your back!

Kaiser Vashaun spikes Lindsay Troy into the canvas, putting the Weight of the Worlds on her shoulders for the pinfall victory, cementing his status in PRIME.

Oh my, here we go...

Another lose cannon gone bi-polar
Slipped down, couldn't get much lower.

Duke Williams staring into the camera, preparing to get whiskey bent and hell bound.

Quicksand's got no sense of humor.
I'm still laughing like hell.

Lindsay Troy stands, hands on hips, smirking at the camera, a Universal Championship over each shoulder.

You think that the cryin to me,
Looking so sorry that I'm gonna believe,
You've been infected by a social disease.
Well, then take your medicine.

Devin Shakur lifts Tyler Rayne high into the air and powerbombs his unconscious body into the canvas with authority.

I created the Sound of Madness.
Wrote the book on pain.
Somehow I'm still here

Meat taking full advantage of an opportunity, wraps his arm around Skillet's head and DDTs him onto a steel chair from the ring apron.

To explain,
That the darkest hour never comes in the night.
You can sleep with a gun.

A trademark pair of red sunglasses stares back at the camera, belonging to the man who holds the most titles ever in PRIME, Killean Sirrajin.

When you gonna wake up and fight... for yourself?

DUI fight for their lives in a bar room brawl against Wicked Ways.

I'm so sick of this tombstone mentality,
If there's an afterlife,
Then it'll set you free.

Soaring through the air like nobody else on the roster, Bryan Dawkins delivers a 'Hang Loose' gesture in mid-air before slamming into the body of High Flyer.

But I'm not gonna part the seas
You're a self-fulfilling prophecy.

A well manicured hand swings the camera around to view the self proclaimed most gorgeous face in PRIME, Chandler Tsonda.

You think that cryin to me,
Looking so sorry that I'm gonna believe,
You've been infected by a social disease.
Well, then take your medicine.

Garbage Bag Johnny eliminates Jason Snow and Chandler Tsonda to acquire a shot at the Universal Championship and win the Golden Ticket.

I created the Sound of Madness.
Wrote the book on pain.
Somehow I'm still here,

Jonathan Rhine puts both Hessian and Wade Elliott down with individual Rhine Rewinds.

To explain,
That the darkest hour never comes in the night.
You can sleep with a gun.

David Noble coldly blinks into the camera. Soon, he will be known to the wrestling world as an absolute beast.

When you gonna wake up and fight... for yourself?

The Redeemed ready to make an impact on PRIME.

I created the Sound of Madness.
Wrote the book on pain.
Somehow I'm still here

Veljumin Rippa and Scraps throw Tyler Rayne through a window at ReVolution 187.

To explain
That the darkest hour never comes in the night.
You can sleep with a gun.

The Wolves of Slaughter interacting with an unfortunate Matt Mills, signifying their arrival in PRIME.

When you gonna wake up...
When you gonna wake up and fight...

Jason Natas slugs Jay Phoenix with a powerful right hand, returning to PRIME with a vengeance in the Dual Halo.

I created the Sound of Madness.
Wrote the book on pain.
Somehow I'm still here,
To explain,
That the darkest hour never comes in the night.

Troy Douglas sends Dusk to the End of the Road and captures the Intense Championship back at UltraViolence 08.

You can sleep with a gun.
When you gonna wake up and fight... for yourself?

Jay Phoenix soars through the air and takes out Hunter Sabuani.

When you gonna wake up and fight... for yourself?

Lisa Tyler sits behind her desk, arms folded across, creepy boss glare into the camera.

When you gonna wake up and fight... for yourself?

Jason Snow stands with the Universal Championship firmly over his shoulder. The top dog of PRIME.

When you gonna wake up and fight... for yourself?

PRIME...Number One by Definition.

The camera cut into the arena, backstage into one of the generico locker rooms just as a man pulled a mask down over his face. The mask was green with one white four-leafed clover on the forehead and some celtic tribal symbols running from around the back on onto the cheek each side. He took a fleeting glance at the wall clock in the room and seemed to be anticipating something.

Man: C’mon… where are you?

At that point in time was the perfect moment to cue the telephone ringing. He rummaged through his gym bag frantically and held up his iPhone, looking to see who it was. There was a picture of a cocky man with the name "Carlo" titled beneath it. He pressed the answer button and put it to his face.

Man: God dammit, Carlo. Where the Hell are you? (pause) I know… I know. Giancarlo. But where the Hell are you? You’re supposed to be come out to the ring with me, man. (pause) In Jersey? What’re you doin’ in Jersey? I thought we were a team. (pause) What kind of business do you gotta take care of? We’re scheduled tonight and you’ve left me high and dry and gone to Jersey? What gives man? What about Copps & Roberts?

The man on the phone, obviously Finn Roberts of the new PRIME tag team, Copps & Roberts, pressed one hand against the wall and listened. He seemed eager to be in Jersey with his tag team partner.

Finn: Dammit, Carlo. You gotta keep me in the loop. (pauses) A cop? Hahahaha. You’re a hoot. I’m no God damn cop and you know it. Was just expectin’ a little support out there is all. (pause) Yeah, yeah, yeah… I got it. I eat Meat for dinner. Literally.

He pulled the phone away from his head and looked back at the clock.

Finn: God dammit. Jersey? That can’t be good.

Roberts pulled on his black leather jacket and exited the communal locker room, heading toward the arena to face off with Meat.

There's a reason a lot of superstars come back to PRIME after they have initially departed. In their media interviews, most will probably indicate that there isn't any better competition on the planet and their competitive fire needs to be tested once again. Others will highlight the globe trotting lifestyle PRIME allows its wrestlers.

But anybody who has gone through the trenches and experienced PRIME in all its glory knows the real answer...catering.

Bryan Dawkins walks down the corridor, munching down on the last bit of pineapple that he swiped off the fruit table.

BRUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

He must have a little something in his stomach when going up against Chainz. Having never faced someone so big in his career, The Bruh needs to build strength. He's also never faced someone with such a nefarious reputation. Chainz has never made his hobbies a secret. The Bruh can only think of one other person with such a black heart.

B-Dawk swings open the locker room, instinctively throwing his gym bag onto the ground. When his eyes glance upward, he stops dead, door resting against his shoulder. He's got a pair of unwanted visitors occupying the room and from the looks of their couch positions, neither appears to be leaving anytime soon.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Devin Shakur occupies two thirds of the couch, his legs folded up to make room for Christian Daniels, who pushes a button on the side and reclines back. His legs sprawl across the glass table while he accurately launches a Pepsi can over Dawkins head into the trashcan near the door. Shakur is rocking a pair of regular glasses and taps the clipboard in his hands like he wants someone to pay attention to him.

Bryan Dawkins: Nice specs, bruh, I knew you were going blind as a bat but this confirms it.

The Man in Black offers a forced smile and rolls his eyes.

Bryan Dawkins: You guys lost or somethin, cuz last I checked I didn't let you assholes in my locker room.

Devin Shakur: Nice mouth Dawk, you kiss your wife with that tongue?

Nothing about the smile is forced now.

Bryan Dawkins: Fuck you, bruh. Fuck you.

Dawkins grits his teeth and clinches his fist. He would already be on Shakur like white on rice if he weren't at the poignantly obvious two on one disadvantage. Christian reminds him by flashing a little steel chain in his pocket before reaching over to the mini refrigerator and pulling out his second Pepsi. He casually pops the top and indulges.

Bryan Dawkins: So, as I said earlier, what are you doing in here? The Dashboard Confessional Radio winner contest is a few locker rooms down in this douchebag's locker room. Perhaps you've seen him. Looks like you, only he's gonna be dead when he doesn't have his little bodyguard hangin' around to protect him.

Christian stops, mid sip and slams his drink down.

Christian Daniels: Little?

His legs swing off the table.

Christian Daniels: Last I checked boy, my hand was bigger'n yer fuckin' head.

He reaches into his pocket and starts wrapping the chain around his fist.

Christian Daniels: Or does your ass need a little reminder? I'm always happy'ta accommodate.

Bryan Dawkins: Bring it on, bruh.

Christian stands up and has to be stopped by the peacekeeping hand of his brother, who motions for him to sit back down while jotting notes on his clipboard.

Devin Shakur: Well, ever since you walked in, you've already started a conflict with a fellow roster member and tried to provoke your evaluator. This isn't going well for you, junior.

Bryan Dawkins: Evaluator? You get a job, bruh? That's great. I can't remember the last time I saw you wrestle on ReVolution.

Devin Shakur: Man, aren't you a funny son of a bitch. I can see you've gathered a lot from your parents, Rayne's wit and Tsonda's fashion sense...

Shakur and Daniels exchange one of those accusatory looks.

Devin Shakur: BUT to answer your question, yeah I got me a little job evaluating people and the guy I'm focusing on tonight...is you. I'm going to follow you around for the entire night, see how you interact with others on the roster, analyze your performance, make a little announcement about it before the night is over telling everybody how you did.

Bryan Dawkins: (pointing to Daniels) What's he doing here then?

Christian Daniels: I'ma consultant.

Bryan Dawkins: No way is this legit.

Devin Shakur: Oh yeah it is padawan, very legit.

The Man in Black unclips the last page and hands it to Dawkins, who scans over the document and sees the John Hancock of one Lisa Tyler.

Bryan Dawkins: Jesus.

Devin Shakur: See, we can't have another Tyler Rayne running around when the economy is hitting us hard, and who better than to spot one of those than moi?

Shakur yanks his form back and piles it underneath the rest of his notes.

Devin Shakur: So, if I determine that you are capable, or show tendencies of being the next Tyler Rayne, I am to report that to BLT and swift repercussions are going to follow.

Bryan Dawkins: This is ridiculous, bruh. Ain't no way you are gonna evaluate me seriously.

Devin Shakur: ...Yeah, probably not, but what are you gonna do about it? Boss isn't particularly fond of you and neither am I, so it works out.

Bryan Dawkins: ...Let me see that signature again.

Devin Shakur: Get your legal team to review the tape on your own time. Now, part of this evaluation is getting to know you better and that involves asking some tough questions. Have a seat.

Bryan Dawkins: I'd rather stand, bruh.

Devin Shakur: Suit yourself. Now, keep in mind if you hit me at any time that is going to look pretty...pretty bad on your report.

Christian Daniels: And I'll whoop your ass from one end of the state to the other.

Devin Shakur: Oh, and we're not leaving the locker room until you do...Bruh.

The Bruh can sense that he has been conned by Shakur and Daniels. He finally shuts the door and bends down to remove things from his carry around.

Bryan Dawkins: And I gotta put up with you guys all night?

Devin Shakur: We're not so bad, Dawk...Alright, that's a lie, we're douchebags, but we're good company. Plus, we have some entertainment for you.

Bryan Dawkins: Dear God, you aren't going to sing an emo ballad are you?

Devin Shakur: Failure to update jokes...That's a negative.

Shakur makes a mark on his paper.

Devin Shakur: And no, I'm not going to give you the privilege of witnessing my Susan Boyle like greatness...But he might.

Shakur points over to the side room where, walking out with a cowboy hat, GEEtar, and cowboy boots is the only Country Superstar of PRIME...

"YEEHAW!"

Tony Gamble.

Dawkins looks over at The Grin and then back at Shakur, who puts a hand over his face to hold back laughter. He might be a complete tool, but he's one with a sense of humor.

Even if that humor is pretty depraved.

Bryan Dawkins: I need an aspirin...Actually, no, I need the whole bottle.

Devin Shakur: Open admittance of performance enhancers...

Christian Daniels: That's not good.

Shakur makes another mark on his paper. This is gonna be the longest night of Dawkins career.

Nick: We’ve got a full show tonight folks and we’re getting started in a big way.

Richard: If you say so. Personally, I don’t really see this as such a big start. Can’t we just fast-forward to the main event?

Nick: Well despite your lack of enthusiasm I think the fans at home are going to enjoy this match pitting two newcomers against each other. These guys can well be the future of our company.

Richard: I wish I could just TIVO this and skip all the boring parts.

Nick: Frankly I’m not surprised by anything you say anymore.

Vince Howard: The following contest is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, he is one half of the team Copps and Roberts. Standing 5’10" and one half inch and weighing in at 216 pounds… Finn Roberts!

The lights go out in the arena as "Unstoppable" by E.S. Posthumus hits the speakers. A singular spotlight hits the stage and out steps Finn Roberts. He stands there looking at the fans. He tugs at his mask, ensuring that it is on properly before bouncing his head from side-to-side, right as the music picks up. He is completely driven and focused, not even noticing the fans in attendance.

He makes his way down the ramp and around to the rear of the ring, where he climbs up on the apron as the music builds to a crescendo. With one arm linked over the top rope, he leans out to the crowd raising one fist for a few moments before slipping through the ropes and into the ring, where he hops from foot-to-foot warming up before his opponent arrives.

Richard: Who’s he trying to impress with that mask?

Nick: Must you be so negative?

Richard: It’s what they pay me for.

Vince Howard: Introducing his opponent, standing at 6’6" and weighing in at 278 pounds… Meat!

"The Changing" by Meatbag hits the speakers and out comes the man known as Meat. He smiles as he acknowledges the fans and makes his way towards the ring and his opponent. He slides into the ring and looks down on his much smaller opponent thinking that he’s got a cake walk in front of him.

Nick: Well Meat definitely will have the size and strength advantage in this match, but will it be enough to overcome the speed and technicality of the newcomer.

Richard: You know Meat has potential and all, but I just don’t see him going anywhere. He’s no Hessian.

Nick: He’s a newcomer just like Finn Roberts and both have the opportunity tonight to get their career moving on the right path. A win for Roberts would be a great debut while a win for Meat would give him more wins than loses in his early career.

Richard: Who cares?

Referee Max Newell has some final words for both wrestlers before the bell rings.

DING! DING! DING!

Both wrestlers are cautious in the beginning as they circle each other looking for an opening. Finally Meat simply shrugs his shoulders and charges Finn Roberts and pushes him into the corner. Immediately he begins to unload punches into the stomach of the Irishman.

Nick: Meat using his obvious size and strength to back up the smaller opponent into the turnbuckle. If Finn Roberts has any chance of winning this match he’s going to have to counter and take away Meat’s strength and size advantage somehow.

Richard: I’m just wondering what took Meat so long to realize he can just run over this kid.

Meat continues throwing punches until Max Newell steps in and separates the two. After a clean break Meat charges the corner once again. Using his speed Finn Roberts side steps out of the way. Meat hits the turnbuckle and bounces back holding his chest. Finn Roberts gets behind him and delivers a kick to the back of Meat’s knee. He buckles, but remains upright. Finn Roberts delivers another kick to the same area, before Meat can push him away. Limping slightly he charges and floors Roberts with a massive clothesline.

Nick: Big time move from Meat flooring the rookie.

Richard: It’s about time we saw some action. As big as he is he should be knocking people out left and right.

Meat lifts Finn Roberts off the mat and whips him into the ropes. On the return he bends over and sends the Irishman flying through the air with a backbody drop. Finn Roberts grabs his back as he rolls around on the mat. Meat doesn’t let up as he lifts Roberts again and gets behind him. He gets the smaller opponent in a full nelson and begins to wrench on his neck. He lifts the smaller opponent in the air and brings him back down in an attempt to place more torque on Roberts’ neck.

Referee Max Newell checks to see if Finn Roberts wants to give up and gets a resounding no for his efforts.

Richard: That’s just a dumb move on his part. Why would you want to continue in a match where you’re clearly outmatched?

Nick: It’s called guts and pride Richard, something you don’t know anything about.

Richard: Ask him how proud he is when his neck is broken.

Finn Roberts realizes his predicament and begins throwing back elbows into the face and body of Meat in an attempt to get away. The larger man begins to lose his grip, but before it’s fully he gone he lifts Finn Roberts in the air and slams him to the ground with a full nelson slam.

MEAT, MEAT, MEAT!!!

Nick: The crowd’s really getting behind Meat now. He’s only been in PRIME for a month or so now, but in that time has really begun to win the crowd over.

Richard: I don’t think that’s really hard to do.

Meat goes for the cover as Max Newell drops and makes the count.

ONE!!!

TWO!!!

Finn Roberts gets his shoulder up at the count of two.

Nick: Close, but Meat’s going to have to work a bit harder for this win.

Meat picks up Finn Roberts and whips him into the ropes. He goes for a clothesline, but the smaller man ducks underneath. Meat turns around to face Roberts who performs a textbook dropkick right into the knee of Meat. He falls to his knees. Roberts bounces off the ropes and nails a huge clothesline on the half fallen Meat to send him all the way to the ground. He drops for a quick cover.

ONE!!!

TW---

Before Max Newell can count to two Meat throws Finn Roberts off of him. Roberts regroups and begins stomping away at the knee of Meat that he’d been working on. Meat grabs at his knee and yells out in anger. Finn Roberts positions himself perpendicular to Meat’s body and jumps into the air and lands a beautiful standing senton splash.

Nick: Great move there and he’s moving straight into a cover.

ONE!!!

TWO!!!

THR---

Meat manages to get his shoulder up just before the three count. Finn Roberts lifts the bigger man and whips him into the ropes and tries for a dropkick. Meat grabs the ropes to keep himself from meeting Roberts’ feet. Roberts lands on his back and grimaces in pain. Meat hobbles over, favoring his good knee, and lifts Roberts off the mat. He gets behind him, locks his hands, thrusts his hips, and sends Finn Roberts flying through the air with a release german suplex. The landing is not pretty.

Richard: Now that’s what I came here to see.

Nick: That was a nasty landing Finn Roberts had there. He landed straight on his neck. I hope he’s alright.

Meat quickly goes for the cover.

ONE!!!

TWO!!!

THRE---

Just as Max Newell’s hand is coming down for the final count Finn Roberts places his leg on the ropes. The referee sees it from the corner of his eye and informs Meat that the match is still on. Meat shakes his head in disgust and backs off to the corner to regroup and try to get his knee back into working order.

Finn Roberts slowly rises and showing no fear charges the larger man. Meat is ready for him however and nails a huge high angled spinebuster that shakes the ring.

Nick: Wow, what impact. Meat truly is a powerful man.

Richard: He better be, he’s not exactly Albert Einstein there.

The cover is made.

ONE!!!

TWO!!!

THREE---

Finn Roberts just manages to get his shoulders a few inches off of the mat before Max Newell’s hand hits the mat.

Richard: Can’t this match hurry up and be over with? I’m sure the people at home and here want to move onto something a little more exciting.

Nick: What are you talking about? The heart these two newcomers are showing is truly inspiring.

Richard: I didn’t come here to see heart.

Meat gets up looking a bit angered with his recent near falls and grabs the leg of Finn Roberts and puts him into a half boston crab. He uses his weight and size to put a tremendous amount of force on the leg of Finn Roberts.

Nick: This is actually really smart on Meat’s part. Everyone knows that to beat someone bigger than you it’s important to cripple their base and bring them down to your size. Well, to beat someone faster and quicker than you it’s important to cripple their feet as well to make them slower and to take away their most important weapons.

Richard: Yeah, I somehow don’t think all that is running through his head as he applies the hold.

Max Newell checks on Finn Roberts and asks him if he wants to give up. Finn Roberts yells out in pain, but refuses to tap out. He slowly starts crawling towards the ropes. He’s giving up size and strength, but Meat is not an expert submissionist and doesn’t have the hold locked in firmly. In one quick motion Finn Roberts manages to squeeze out of the hold and land on his back. Meat immediately crawls over to try and lock the hold back in, but takes a kick straight into the face.

Nick: That’s not going to feel good in the morning. I’m surprised how much these two men have in their tanks. Lesser men would have given up ages ago.

Richard: Smarter men you mean. That Meat’s no looker and a few missing teeth won’t help him any.

Both men lay on the ground nursing their injuries as Max Newell starts a 10 count.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!

FIVE!

SIX!

SEVEN!

At 7, Finn Roberts gets to his feet just as Meat does as well. Meat throws a meaty hook, but it misses the Irishman who quickly gets behind his opponent and much like Meat did to him he locks his hands and delivers a perfect german suplex.

He bridges and goes for the cover.

ONE!!!

TWO!!!

T---

It’s not enough as Meat powers out. Finn Roberts continues his offense by raising Meat and hitting a snap suplex. He quickly goes for another cover.

ONE!!!

TWO!!!

TH---

Again Meat powers out, but Finn Roberts doesn’t get discouraged. He raises Meat up once again, kicks him in the gut and drives him hard into the mat with a DDT. He quickly climbs the turn buckle to the second rope and jumps towards Meat with a senton splash from the second rope. He lays on top of Meat for yet another cover.

ONE!!!

TWO!!!

THRE---

He’s closer, but yet Meat powers out.

Nick: Now its Finns turn to be frustrated by his inability to finish off his opponent.

Richard: It’s like the never ending match that we all wish would have ended an hour before it had begun.

Finn Roberts grabs Meat’s legs and crosses them until he has a sharpshooter locked in. Meat yells out in pain as referee Max Newell checks on his condition. He shakes his head as he begins to crawl towards the nearest ropes as the fans get behind him.

MEAT, MEAT, MEAT, MEAT, MEAT!

Drawing off their energy Meat crawls to the ropes and finally reaches them. Finn Roberts breaks the hold and stomps the injured knee of Meat.

Nick: I tell you this Finn Roberts is aggressive in his wearing down of an opponent. He’s zeroed in on that knee of Meat and he’s been working on it the entire match.

Richard: When you’re wrestling someone with the name Meat you can gather really quickly what his game plan is going to be so if you’re not stupid you make sure you take that away.

Finn Roberts lifts Meat and is surprised but a sudden elbow to his face. Meat lands a few more punches in the face of Finn Roberts and whips him into the ropes. Roberts bounces off the ropes and flies through the air with a spinning heel kick that catches Meat right in the face.

He makes another cover.

ONE!!!

TWO!!!

THRE---

Meat somehow gets his arm up again. Finn Roberts gets up rather annoyed and asks Max Newell if he could count faster next time. Meat uses the time to get back to his feet. Finn Roberts turns and catches a boot to the stomach. Meat grabs him and lifts him over his head in a military press. Finn Roberts is helpless as Meat hoists him above the mat and finally slams him down with a massive amount of force that nearly breaks Roberts in half.

Richard: Now see, that’s what these people want to see.

Nick: I don’t know how much more these men have left, but I’m sure it’s not a lot after a move like that.

Meat slowly crawls over to Finn Roberts and drapes an arm over his chest. Max Newell drops and makes the count.

ONE!!!

TWO!!!

THREE!—

A split second before his hand slaps the mat a third time Finn Roberts kicks out yet again. Meat isn’t happy as he grabs Roberts by the head and raises him off his back. Out of nowhere Roberts slaps his hands out of the way and tackles Meat down to the ground. He grabs his legs and tries to lock in his version of the texas cloverleaf the Irish cloverleaf.

Nick: He’s looking to lock his finisher in and make Meat tap.

Meat knows he’s done for if he’s put into the hold and uses all his energy to wriggle a leg free and kick it straight up into Finn’s face. Stunned, Finn Roberts backs up dizzily. Meat raises to his feet and wobbles over to deliver a straight punch that lands flush. He grabs Finn Roberts arm and pulls it through his legs.

Nick: Richard, he’s going for it. He’s going for the Meatbag!

Richard: I wonder how long it took him to come up with that name?

Meat uses the last energy in his body and lifts Finn Roberts in the air and slams him with his finisher. The fans cheer as Meat covers and Max Newell drops for the count.

ONE!!!

TWO!!!

THREE!!!

Nick: Yes, Meat’s done it. He’s beaten the rookie in a hellacious match.

Richard: That was an ordeal.

Vince Howard: Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this match… MEAT!

Nick: What a great effort from the rookie and if he brings that kind of intensity and energy to each of his matches he’s going to have a bright future here in PRIME.

Richard: Ugh, I hope the next match is more interesting than this one. We didn’t even see any blood.

Nick shakes his head as Meat celebrates in the ring.

The smug look of satisfaction is almost sickening, and inside the arena the crowd lets him know about it.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Tyler Nelson, who one week ago ruined Killean Sirrajin’s retirement announcement with a vicious chair attack on The Supreme Machine, nonchalantly makes his way toward the arena’s rear entrance, late of course. He seems to not have a care in the world, which would seem odd considering his recent actions. Could he really be that pleased with himself?

Suddenly the camera view switches to one from behind Nelson, some fifty feet back of him. The picture jostles about, moving toward the King of Greed at a rather brisk pace, as if someone was after him.

We may not have to wait long for payback tonight, folks.

We quickly gain ground on the former owner of PRIME, getting just a few feet from him as he reaches for the door.

WHAM!!!

Suddenly the door flies open and we move to the previous view in front of Nelson. The Greediest Player in the game startles, jumping backwards with wide eyes.

Tyler: What the HELL?

"I’ve been waiting for you."

Nelson curls his upper lip in disgust, then snorts obnoxiously.

Tyler: And my little dog, too, I suppose?

The voice belongs to Lisa Tyler, and as the camera positions itself we can see that she’s none too pleased. Standing next to and slightly behind her is the massive Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas, along with several other nameless Ememigos.

Lisa: And I haven't even brought out the flying monkeys yet, Mr. Nelson.

Nelson looks over the greeting party that has gathered, then back at LT.

Tyler: Well then, to what do I owe this pleasure? Have you discovered the error of your ways and come to ask me to take on a larger, more important role in PRIME?

The Vice President of Talent Relations doesn’t bat an eye as she produces a sheet of paper from a folder she had tucked under her arm, a Cheshire grin across her face.

Lisa: So very, very incorrect, Mr. Nelson.

She thrusts the paper toward Nelson, who arrogantly snatches it from her hand. He frowns as he reads the contents.

Lisa: As personally pleasing as it would be to allow you inside, where you would last for approximately fourteen minutes before Killean hunted you down and sent you to the hospital, I have the equally great pleasure of dispensing discipline when required. Your "fifteen minutes of fame" moment last week won you a fabulous one week vacation, as interviewers are strictly prohibited from physical contact with wrestlers during a show.

The ice queen lets an ever-so-small smirk sneak across her face.

Lisa: That is a vacation without pay, Mr. Nelson. I don't like to use negative terms like "suspension," but consider it that, if it helps that very overmatched brain of yours to comprehend the situation.

Nelson marinates in the moment, contemplating his lost wages. He quickly comes to the conclusion that his actions justified the loss.

Tyler: You sure are a stubborn broad. I’ve given you ample opportunity to admit your failures as an executive, which you prove week in and week out as fact, yet you insist that your ability to staple papers together, get coffee, and answer the phone qualifies you for the job? Do you have any idea what is going to happen if you continue to operate under the illusion that you know what you’re doing?

Lisa: So you’re trying to save PRIME, now? You nearly ruined it the last time you had your hands on it, and it will be the coldest of days in Hell if I’m going to let that happen again. You thought an attack on a man I consider a friend would force my hand? You thought I would play your game?

Nelson smirks, still reveling in his heinous dismantling of The PRIME Cut.

Lisa: How wonderfully misguided. As long as I call the shots around here, Tyler Nelson, you will remain an underling, kept as far from power as possible.

LT shoots her arm out, index finger pointing in the direction from which Nelson just came. The King of Greed looks the HBIC up and down, then starts to turn and leave. He pauses, though, and faces Lisa once again.

Tyler: I guess since I won’t be doing any interviews this week, I won’t be needing this clown suit.

Nelson peels off the white PRIME polo shit and tosses it to the ground at Lisa’s feet.

Tyler: You can take that ridiculous shirt….

He kicks off the cheap brown leather shoes, flipping them on top of the shirt.

Tyler: …those unbearable shoes…

Then he pulls the tan khaki pants down and off his legs, removing his belongings before dropping them on the pile of discarded clothing.

Tyler: …and these unflattering pants, and well….I’m sure you can figure something out. Your days of humiliating me for your personal enjoyment are over. If you think that a weeks suspension or the prospects of retribution by your friend Killean are going to stop me, you’re sadly mistaken. Enjoy this week, Lisa, because it gets worse from here on out.

LT rolls her eyes as Nelson spins around and walks off, wearing only a pair of brown socks and some white boxer shorts. Lisa looks down at the pile of clothes at her feet and turns to Dam, who is shaking his head in a "I can't believe this job sometimes" manner.

Lisa: Have someone burn those.

Nick: Alright folks time to get down and dirty once more as we head to the ring for Jason Natas versus David Noble!

Richard:

Vince Howard: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! The following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first...

I aaaaam smellin’ like the rose
That somebody gave me
On my birthday deathbed…

The PRIME*view flickers into life as a bold, black typeface flashes intermittently with action shots.

A N T I

A short pause before the lyrics kick in again.

I aaaaam smellin’ like the rose
That somebody gave me
‘Cause I’m dead and bloated!

Finally Stone Temple Pilots kick in with "Dead and Bloated" as PRIME’s Anti-Superstar appears at the top of the ramp, gazing disdainfully out across the hordes of jeering masses. Eventually Jason Natas begins his descent, cracking his knuckles as he walks down the ramp at a slow but steady pace.

Vince Howard: Hailing from New York City, New York and weighing in at 254lbs...he is the ANTI SUPERSTAAAAR......JASOOOOON NAAAATAAAS!!

After reaching the bottom of the ramp Jason climbs up the ring steps and walks along the outside of the apron. With one hand on the top rope, he turns and offers a fierce sneer to the masses before eventually turning and entering the ring. As he paces back and forth grimacing at the ramp, his opponent's entrance is heralded.

Flashing lights fill the arena as the house lights dim. Then a few notes are heard over the sound system until Let It Rock by Kevin Rudolf is heard in the arena. The fans rise to their feet as on the PRIME*Tron it reads one thing.

David. Noble

I see your dirty face
Hide behind your collar
What is done in vain
Truth is hard to swallow

Then, from the back area emerges David Noble, who gets a huge pop from the crowd. The Rookie of PRIME had gained a huge following thus far during his time in PRIME. Still, he was as fresh as they came and his face was filled with energy as he clapped his hands as the fans responded in kind. He stands at the top of the ramp, wearing a pair of black and white tights with his name printed upon it.

So you pray to God
To justify the way you live a lie, live a lie, live a lie
And you take your time
And you do your crime
Well you made your bed
I'm in mine

As the chorus hits the arena, Noble hops up and down a few times before he races down the ramp, fireworks following alongside him all the way down the ramp until he hits the ring.

Because when I arrive
I bring the fire
Make you come alive
I can take you higher
What is this, forgot?
I must now remind you
Let It Rock

Noble then runs up the steps and alongside the ring apron before he runs up the nearby turnbuckles and hops onto the top turnbuckle as he looks out at the crowd! The fans are yelling his name as he nods his head with the beat. He then hops off the top turnbuckle and lands in the middle of the ring as the four corners light up with fireworks going off!

Let It Rock
Let It Rock

Vince Howard: Weighing in at 225 pounds and standing at 6 feet and 2 inches, he hails from Buffalo, New York... DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAVID! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOBLE!

The song then fades out as Noble pops back onto the canvas and stands opposite Natas. The fans cheer for him while Natas stares him out across the ring. Referee Elvis Nixon runs over the rules with them before calling for the bell.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Nick: Here we go folks, battle of the New Yorkers!

Richard: Why pay two guys to wrestle when you can get it for free at any time on any street in that hell hole of a city?

Nick: ...Because they...

Richard: Yeah?

Nick: Well there's a difference between...

Richard: Go on...

Nick: I-...you know...I'm lost for words.

Richard: Score one for the casual observer.

Noble immediately runs off the ropes while Natas changes his stance, hands up open and ready for anything as PRIME's Rising Star rebounds and charges Natas. The Anti Superstar throws a wild clothesline, packing in as much force as he can. Noble ducks the clothesline and hits the ropes again. This time Natas lunges out as Noble attempts a cross body and catches his opponent in mid-air, spinning on his heels and driving him into the mat with a hard slam.

Nick: Noble's going to have to work out a different approach to his high risk offense if Natas throws himself into the way like that.

Richard: Hey it worked didn't it?

Nick: Yeah for Jase! I'm talking about-...

Richard: IT DOESN'T MATTER what you were talkin' about!!

Nick: Wha-...did you...did you just...

Richard: Yeah I did!

Immediately Natas is on top of Noble, pinning his arms to the mat with his knees and driving sharp elbows into the head of his opponent. Noble kicks out and sneers as the stinging shots ring through his head, while the crowd boo Natas. Elvis Nixon moves closer to observe the action as Natas arches his back and throws straight palm thrusts down onto Noble's face, catching him on the mouth and nose with the stiff shots. Noble shakes his head wildly to the side while trying to prise his arms free while Jason relentlessly switches up to clubbing double ax shots now.

Nick: My god this has descended into a bludgeoning straight off the bat! Natas is pummelling Noble into the canvas and David can't seem to wriggle out of it!

Richard: You make it sound like the next thing that's going to happen is a warm runny feeling down his legs, man.

Nick: In your wildest dreams Richard, figuratively and literally.

Richard: Well I don't know about the last part there Nick...

Nick stifles a chuckle while in the ring Jason finally lets up, stabbing Noble in the neck with another clubbing blow before getting off his opponent and pulling him to his feet. With no time to recover, Noble is forced across the ring with an Irish whip. Natas stands firm as his opponent rebounds off the ropes, flailing back towards him and gets caught up with a spinebuster sending him right back to the floor.

Nick: Noble is certainly struggling here in the early stages against Natas. It's such a clash of styles, whereas last week he was jumping around that ring like a flea this week he's being grounded and pounded by one of New York's hardest.

Richard: You mean like Johnny Blueballs?

Nick: Who?

Richard: He's New York's hardest! Haven't you seen King Dong?

Nick: Can't say I have Richard, can't say I have.

Natas drives a knee into Noble's ribs before once more pulling him to his feet. Noble's face is already red with welts and early bruising as his opponent pulls him back to his feet and forces him into a lock up before doubling him over and hoisting him into the air for a piledriver.

Nick: Noble's about to be drilled once more.

Richard: You HAVE seen King Dong!

Nick: What, no I haven't!!

Richard: Then how did you know that's what the police chief says after Dong gets done with the chick and then goes back for another pumping because he sees the NYPD lining up to take her a-...

Nick: Don't complete that sentence! Dammit Richard focus on the match!

The piledriver never comes however. Natas simply stands in the ring holding Noble upside down and locks his hands around his opponent's torso. The fans cry out for Noble as he succumbs to an upside down bearhug.

Richard: What would you call that then Master? A reverse inverted bearhug?

Nick: If it keeps you from going off on pornographic rants then yes Richard, it is.

Richard: Yay me.

Natas carts Noble around the ring, stopping on each side and squeezing the life out of Noble. The fans can see his face reddening quickly as blood rushes to his head, however Natas never relinquishes the grip around his opponent's waist.

Nick: Noble is PRIME's Rising Star, and he's fought some big guys in the past but Natas is a different kettle of fish, he's strictly about strike action and-...

Richard: Whatever happened to The Union?

Nick: Wha'?

Richard: Didn't we used to have a tag team called The Union here?

Nick: I-...ohh right strike action. Yes we did Richard...and now we don't.

Richard: Alright carry on wise-guy.

Nick: As I was saying! Noble's always been able to get that high risk offense in but Natas is grounding him and keeping the pressure on from the start. If he comes away with anything from this match it'll be new knowledge of how to fight guys like Natas.

Richard: You say that like next week we're going to see Devin Shakur versus David Noble.

Nick: Maybe not next week but if Noble keeps turning heads like he is now we might very well see, it some day, and if he gets booked against the best striker in PRIME he'll have this match to look back on and learn from.

As Natas lumbers around the ring Noble grabs hold of him by the thighs and locks his legs around Natas' head. The Anti Superstar tries to shake off the appendages and turns to the turnbuckle, ready to drive Noble right into them. As he digs his heels in and bursts forward, Noble raises both feet again and brings them crunching down onto the top of Jason's head. The impact stuns the Anti Superstar and he immediately drops his opponent to the before stumbling over his body and landing face first against the top turnbuckle! The crowd go wild as Noble finds time to recover.

Nick: There it is! Noble just saved himself from being splattered all over the corner there! Natas is reeling from that heel kick and now he has time to get the blood circulating again!

Richard: If he was any kind of a decent wrestler he would have countered the early strikes by hooking Natas's arms when they pulled back for a punch. About time he turned the tables.

Nick: See now wasn't that easy?

Richard: Can it or I'll start counter-analyzing this match against some more Blueballs.

Nick: OK Richard, OK.

The only movement from Noble is his left leg sweeping back and forth while he holds his head. Natas meanwhile is already back on his feet and watching Noble, unwilling to show any kind of weakness after hitting the turnbuckle. Nixon watches attentively as Noble turns onto his back and looks up in time to see a boot come crashing down on his face.

Richard: Noble say Hello to the bottom of Jase's boot!

Noble twists to the side and grabs his face as Natas stalks him. The crowd start rallying behind Noble once again as he holds his face and winces in pain. Jason reaches down and extends a hand to grab him by the neck, only for Noble to suddenly spring to life, jabbing Natas in the face and once again stunning him, giving PRIME's Rising Star time to get to his feet!

Nick: A quick jab allowing Noble the time he needs to get his head together!

Noble forces himself up and tries to clear his head while Natas steadily approaches his opponent once more, hands raised in fists. Noble blinks a few times and shakes his head while Natas stops and throws a hard right. Noble dodges to the left and the crowd whoop. Natas sneers and raises a left hand, and as Noble dodges the expected punch Natas fakes and throws a right, but Noble somehow twists to the side of that, grabbing Natas by the arm and whipping him off the ropes!

On the rebound Natas picks up pace and goes low to hike Noble up for a spinebuster. Noble hops into the air over Natas, swivelling as he lands and chasing after Natas into the ropes. The Anti Superstar hits the ropes again and as he turns comes face to face with Noble, who leaps into the air and catches Natas around the throat, kicking off the ropes and spinning to the mat to connect with a tornado DDT!

Nick: Noble drills Natas! PRIME's Rising Star is finally on the offense!

Richard: About damn time, he must be full after all those knuckle sandwiches.

Both men lay out on the canvas, Natas succumbing to the effects of the DDT while Noble takes a moment to further recuperate from the earlier beating. Elvis Nixon watches on as Noble takes a final deep breath and gets back to his feet, pumping a fist in the air and garnering more support from the crowd. He turns back to Natas and pulls his opponent to his feet. Without warning Natas drives a knee into Noble's gut and pushes him into the corner, following up with a shoulder barge knocking the air out of Noble.

Nick: The Anti Superstar springing back to life here and taking it to Noble in the corner!

Natas backs up and charges forward for another shoulder barge only to catch a boot to the face by Noble. As he staggers backwards Noble moves up onto the top rope, and to a chorus of cheers from the crowd leaps off and connects with a hurricanrana on the Anti Superstar!

Nick: David Noble with the top rope hurricanrana!

Richard: Jason Natas ate canvas on that one.

Noble goes for the cover.

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT!!

Nick: Natas with the shoulder up on two.

Noble gets to his feet and giving no concern to Natas, races towards the ropes and leaps up onto the second rope, spinning in mid air and executing a dropkick that catches Natas just as he gets up from the hurricanrana. The crowd go crazy as the New Yorker hits the canvas hard and lies flat out. Noble doesn't let up, again hitting the ropes and hopping off the second rope. He corkscrews through the air and twists into a moonsault, landing hard across the body of Jason Natas. Again he goes for the cover.

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-..NOOO!!

Kickout by Natas. Before Noble can roll off his opponent the Anti Superstar throws a hard right, catching Noble on the chin and stunning the Rising Star. Natas pulls himself to his feet and brings Noble with him before hoisting his opponent up and drilling him with a powerbomb. Noble wheezes as the air is driven from him, before Natas goes for the pin.

ONE!

TWO-NOOOO!!!

Nick: Another kick out, these two are getting more anxious for the pinfall here.

Richard: Noble's starting to get more high risk offence in but Natas is routinely stopping him with those hard hitting shots.

Noble kicks out of the pin, rolling away and nipping up to his feet. Natas gets up and immediately they lock up. Nixon watches as Natas uses his power to hold Noble down, standing over his opponent and pushing him down. Noble buckles, his legs bending as he is pushed lower to the mat. The crowd rally behind Noble, chanting his name as he pushes back against Natas.

NOBLE! NOBLE! NOBLE! NOBLE! NOBLE! NOBLE!

Nick: The crowd getting behind Noble here a Natas easily dominates in this test of strength.

Richard: Bit stupid have one of those this far into a match isn't it?

Noble is inches from dropping to his knees, and Natas stands over him smiling now. Finally at breaking point, Noble falls back onto his butt and slams both feet into Natas's gut, rolling backwards and flipping his opponent overhead into the ropes! Natas stops himself from hitting the mats at ringside but by the time he pulls himself up Noble is already on his feet and running into the ropes adjacent to them. He springboards off the second rope and connects with a spinning heel kick that sends Natas staggering back into the corner once more.

Nick: Sly move by Noble there breaking the hold with Jason Natas! It's this adaptability that's going to serve Noble well on his way up the PRIME ladder!

Richard: Well he was hardly going to drop to his knees and get a face full of Jase's boaby beard.

Nick: What the hell is a boaby beard?

Richard: I dunno I heard Ashley Jensen talking about it in an interview for Ugly Betty.

Noble follows up by running into the corner and hopping up onto the second rope for elevation before executing a Shining wizard that clips Natas right across the jaw. The Anti Superstar stumbles forward as Noble gets back up onto the top rope and leaps off as soon as his feet hit the top, backflipping towards Natas and landing on his feet behind his opponent, hooking his neck and setting him up for the falling reverse DDT!

Nick: The Shiranui! He's going for the Noble Ending!

Before Noble can execute the DDT, the Anti Superstar suddenly powers out of the hold and wraps an arm around Noble's neck, pushing all his weight forward and before Noble realizes what's happened his head bursts in agony as Natas drills him with the Evenflow DDT!

Nick: New York Minute!! Jason Natas counters the Noble Ending into the New York Minute!

Richard: This could be it!

Natas goes for the cover as the fans unleash a barrage of boos and cry out for Noble to kick out.

ONE!!

TWO!!


…


…

THREEEEE!!!

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Vince Howard: Ladies and Gentlemen your winner...The Anti Superstar...JASOOOOON NAAAAAAAAAAAAATAAAAAAS!!!

Nick: Well folks Natas pulls out the win here against David Noble. Valiant effort by PRIME's Rising Star and I'm sure he'll take away a lesson or two from this encounter with the hard hitting N'Yawka!

Richard: I'm sure he will, let's cut to a segment or commercial or something.

Nick: Like we always do about this time!

Nick: Welcome back Ladies and Gentlemen, and up next we have something special for you. Last week on ReVolution we witnessed the not-so-grand return of one greatest competitors that this sport has ever seen -- Jay Phoenix. The man who lost to "Peerless" Hunter Sabuani at culture shock came down to the ring, looking for PHS, looking for a fight... and well, he didn't quite get what he was looking for...

Richard: He certainly didn't, Nick. Unaware of Subuani's recent departure, Phoenix was instead met by the very man who knocked him out of the 2009 Dual Halo; Jason Natas.

Nick: And as if things weren't bad enough for Phoenix, Natas dropped a bombshell.

Richard: It was he, The Anti-Superstar himself, who brought Hunter Sabuani to PRIME with the goal of taking out the man who'd broken Jason's ribs! All the pain, all the hardships that Jay Phoenix has had to endure over the past few months have occured because of one man; and that man was the big New Yorker.

Nick: Jason Natas' message was simple; "the world of professional wrestling has passed you by - retire". A vicious, unrelenting verbal barrage from The Anti-Superstar literally left the much-celebrated Phoenix standing in the ring speechless...

Richard: Well tonight, Nick, Jay Phoenix may very have his chance to bite back, as we take a look at one of the most decorated careers that this sport has ever seen. So shocked was he last week that he couldn't get a word-in over Natas, but we now join our broadcast colleague Matt Mills for an EXCLUSIVE sit-down interview with the man himself; Jay Phoenix.

The cameras cut away from the ringside area all-together. A simple set of two chairs and a small table before a PRIME backdrop now occupy the screen. Matt Mills sits to the left, Jay Phoenix to the right. Between them is a large LCD television, PRIME's ReVolution spinning smoothly in the middle.

Mills: Thank you, Richard.

The man (not so) affectionately known to many of the PRIME faithful as "Millsy" acknowledges the camera's presence with a polite nod and sits forward in his chair. Clad in a maroon PRIME polo and a pair of pressed black pants, Mills cuts a picture of simple, uncomplicated professionalism.

Mills: And Ladies and Gentlemen, it is my honour at this time to welcome Jay Phoenix to the set! Jay, welcome back to ReVolution, and welcome back to PRIME!

Turning to his left to face the gifted grappler, Mills smiles. Phoenix, slouched in his chair, takes a sip of water and sits upright.

Phoenix: It's a pleasure, Matt.

Only there's something in Jay Phoenix's voice that suggests this is one contractual obligation he could do without. It's apparent in his casual dress and his lazy posture that a career retrospective isn't exactly on top of his list of priorities after last week, but like the professional that he is, Jay smiles and buckles up for another long night.

Richard: Well Phoenix doesn't exactly look full of the joys of spring tonight...

Nick: Hardly surprising, given what happened last week.

Mills: Well Jay, it's been quite some time since the PRIME faithful have seen you in action, with you last one-on-one match coming against Hunter Sabuani at culture shock. What was it that motivated your to step back into the game after almost two months out?

Phoenix's face contorts with bewilderment as Mills' words float across to him.

Phoenix: I think we all know the answer to that one...

Richard: Did Millsy even watch last week's show?!

Phoenix: Next question.

He can tell from the tone in his subject's voice that the Sabuani/Natas incident is an uncomfortable topic, so Mills, embarrassed, loosens his collar and pulls his cue cards close. Phoenix, meanwhile, shakes off his confused expression and silently wishes for no further prying.

Mills: So, uhhhh. How does it feel to officially be part of PRIME's active roster again, then?

Phoenix: It feels good. I mean, it will feel good when I shake a certain monkey from my back. I've been in this business for a long time; I've accomplished more than many wrestlers could even dream of, but I'm still as excited about this business as I was the day I first stepped into the ring. I may be a little older, I may be a little slower, but PRIME's given me the chance to show the world that Jay Phoenix is still as relevant today as he was ten years ago, and I'm thankful for that opportunity.

Mills: And of course it could be said that, in terms of what you've done in PRIME compared to what you've accomplished elsewhere, that you're one of the biggest underachievers in the federations history. You've held 11 world titles, competed in countless tournaments, and you're a four-time hall of famer, yet in PRIME the best you've ever done is held contenderships for the 5-Star and Intense titles.

Phoenix: There's some truth in that statement, I guess, but that's part of the reason I came back. I've managed to hit the top level just about every place I've been, but PRIME's almost like a whole new landscape, you know? I've never been able to string together an especially convincing run here; I know that... and there are guys on the roster and in the crowd that will no doubt have written me off because of that. Even at this advanced stage I've still got something to prove to the world, and that's part of what keeps me going through all these little aches and pains.

It sounds – and looks – as though Phoenix is beginning to loosen-up. His slouch has gone and now he sits more rigidly; leaning forward, putting thought into what he says.

Mills: Let's track back a little bit now. You re-debuted in PRIME last year, just a few weeks prior to the Great American Bash and the Jewel in the Crown tournament. Given your track record in other tournaments, were you disappointed at your JitC performance, and your failure to make it beyond the first round? You are, after all, a six-time GTT entrant, a two-time finalist in that very tournament, and a two-time Chris Williams Memorial Cup winner...

Phoenix: You might add that I've never been pinned in a GTT match, either!

Phoenix smiles, winks.

Phoenix: In all seriousness, of course it came as something of a disappointment, but I can have no complaints. All I can hope for is a more successful showing in this year's competition!

Mills: And let's not forget that, as a result of your dropping out of the JitC tournament, you did have the chance to compete in the "Merry Melee" match at 2008's King of Kings PPV, in which you picked up an impressive victory over a man you'd go onto put out of action for eight weeks, Jason Natas...

Phoenix: Heh. Well, the less we say about that wretch, the better...

Again Phoenix flashes a look that tells Matt Mills to "change the record," and again Millsy obliges. He turns again to face the camera.

Mills: Alright then Ladies and Gentlemen, for those of you not as familiar with the career of the man beside me as you would perhaps like to be, turn your attentions towards our video screen as we take a look back at some of Jay Phoenix's Goldren Turnbuckle Tournament runs...

Both men twist their necks as the PRIME logo disappears from the LCD screen, replaced by a Jay Phoenix's sepia visage. The text "GTT1: JAY PHOENIX" appears and soon over-stylised stock wrestling footage takes over, but only for a couple of seconds. Soon the footage crackles and pops, before disappearing from the screen all-together with a sudden flash. Through his earpiece, Matt Mills listens to the words of the production staff.

Phoenix: What the...?

Mills: Ahem. Well, folks, it looks like we've encountered a minor technical hitch here. Uhhh, we'll be back after a short break...

Hastily, unprofessionally, the footage cuts away from the scene as Jay Phoenix shakes a frustrated head.

Richard: What the hell happened there, Nick?

Nick: Somebody in the production truck not doing their job properly, by the looks of things.

Richard: Oh dear.

Nick: Well apologies for this interruption in our broadcast, folks. We'll return to Matt Mills and Jay Phoenix as soon as we possibly can...

Times are... tense in PRIME at the moment, and given the gravity of what the summer season meant... it's to be expected. With a mammoth event like CVI looming just over the horizon, staff and superstars alike are stressed. Much rides on the next two months. Fame, fortune... one can't underestimate the bonus check that comes with a high profile Colossus match.

And the staff has there own headaches. The Board undoubtedly wants to see CVI set records. With overseas business growing, holding the home-based American market means the potential for major profit. But the economy is struggling and no one is above its effects. Lisa Tyler has to put together a card that will persuade struggling families to shell out fifty or seventy-five bucks for a PPV event.

Needless to say, unless you're a ten year old trying to figure out what video game you should play on day 11 of summer vacation, June can be a very stressing time.

It's that stress and thoughts of the upcoming mega-show that have The Next in Line roaming the backstage corridors.

"YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!"
"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

A mixed reaction fills the Richmond Colesium as Kaiser Vashaun appears, stepping around a corner and passing a couple of crew members, rolling up a lenghth of cable. The 5 Star Championship rest firmly across his shoulder, its gold complementing the purple of his shirt and tie.

(L.A. Lakers... 2009 NBA Champs, baby!)

The Next in Line heads down the hallway, passin the catering table... where, for maybe the first time in history... nothing interesting is going on.

As he rounds another corner, he bumps into Matt Mills.

Matt Mills: Kaiser! How's it goin, champ?

Kaiser Vashaun: Good, Mark.

Matt Mills: Matt.

Kaiser Vashaun: Sorry.

Matt Mills: It's cool. So anyway... Colossus is just around the corner, whattaya got in the works.

The Next in Line adjusts his 5 Star Championship, moving it from one shoulder to the other. Glaring at Mills, he pauses for a moment before answering with a question of his own.

Kaiser Vashaun: Is this some sort of impromptu interview?

Mills looks around, checking to see if he's got his camera crew in tow or a microphone in hand.

Matt Mills: No, just curious what's in store.

Kaiser Vashaun: Actually, that's what I'm trying to figure out. You wouldn't happen to know if Lisa's in her office, would ya?

Matt Mills: Believe she is. At least she was a few minutes ago.

Kaiser Vashaun: Thanks, Mills.

The Champ gives Matt a slap on the shoulder and walks past him, having successfully completed the shortest interview Mills has ever conducted. Strolling down the corridor, The Next in Line comes upon a closed door that simply reads...

Lisa Tyler

Straightening his tie and clearing his throat, Kaiser knocks on the door and waits for a response.

From the other side, footsteps can be heard approaching, and then the door swings open, Lisa Tyler standing tall, looking every bit as stressed as one would assume.

Lisa Tyler: Can I help you, Mr. Vashaun?

Kaiser Vashaun: I think we should talk about the 5 Star Title at Colossus.

Kaiser nods his head towards the belt that rests on his shoulder, and as he does so, the briefest of smiles begins to curl the ege of Tyler's lips.

Lisa Tyler: Actually, so do I.

BLT steps to the side, clearing the doorway as she holds out an inviting hand.

Lisa Tyler: Come in and have a seat, Kaiser.

The Next in Line obliges, stepping into the office as PRIME's captain closes the door behind him, and the camera fades out on a simple image.

Lisa Tyler

Putting together a show that won't disappoint.

"Kingdom of the Worm" by Motorhead.

The fans erupt, filling the arena with roaring boos while the Hardcore nuts cheer wildly. Having not seen the Murder Show around a ring for two weeks the reaction is a little more intense than usual. As expected, the 7'2" frame emerges from the entrance, and stoically paces down to the ring, barely making eye contact with the crowd.

Nick: Here comes the former Intense Champion! He's not booked tonight so he must have something on his mind.

Richard: Maybe he's out here to address what happened to Roadkill last week.

Nick: You mean Nerezza.

Richard: No, I'm pretty sure I mean Roadkill.

Standing before the ring, Hessian visibly sighs and climbs up onto the apron, swinging his legs one after the other over the top rope and stopping in the middle of the ring. Vince Howard approaches the apron and offers a microphone up to the Murder Show, who opens his hands and gestures for it to be thrown. Catching it, he waits for the music and the noise from the crowd to die down before staring out at the masses and putting the microphone to his lips.

Hessian: I should be standing here right now alongside my partner, Nerezza.. You should be looking at future tag team champions going on a rant about the chump change in the tag division and how not a one of them is worth shit in this company. See, for those of you that don't know...Nerezza was part of one of the greatest tag teams to grace this sport. Alongside Gaz "The Jester" Green he made up Pranks With Attitude, one of the most dominating tag teams in PCW and indeed Primetime Central. I should know, because in the Primetime Wrestling Academy I was the head of the class of which P.W.A. were a part of. I taught them how to be the legends they were, I mentored them.

Nick: Hessian takes pride in the fact he mentored such legends as P.W.A. and indeed Angelo Deville, to name but a few.

Richard: Bet he was handy with the birch cane.

Hessian: For years Nerezza and Gaz ran riot in tag team competition, and they made a name for themselves. After they parted ways and Nerezza had worked solo for a while we met up one day and decided that given our history together it would be fitting if after all the years of mentoring and feuding we should form our own tag team and unleash it upon PRIME. The idea was to take the tag division by the throat and raise it to new heights. For too long the titles had been tertiary to even the Intense Title. Every title deserves its place in the spotlight, and we planned on taking those titles to the main event and showing this company that tag team wrestling isn't about weird little gimmicky teams lacking the skill to take the titles past the curtain jerker. But no.

The Murder Show paces slowly around the ring, staring at the canvas.

Nick: Sounds like mayhem, unfortunately David Noble put a stop to Hessian's plan.

Hessian: Thanks to Mr. Noble my aspirations of tag team domination have been reduced to road kill.

Richard: See, told ya!

Nick: Right OK smart ass, very clever.

Hessian: I've done my bit for the Intense Division, and now thanks to PRIME's so-called "Rising Star" the tag division will go un-annihilated. The jokers are free to run the pack while the Kings have folded. Congratulations Noble. So now I stand here, by myself...I've lost a partner who for years I had looked forward to working with. YEARS. Not just a notion or a fun idea for a month, this was to be the culmination of years of work and planning.

Nick: I gotta sympathize with Hess on that one, no one likes to see their hard work turn to dust.

Richard: It didn't turn to dust it got smooshed under a car.

Hessian: ...Before that I lost my Intense Title. I'm not bitter on that though, I'll give credit where credit is due...Rhine brought the pain and came out on top so it's up to him to keep my Division afloat. We'll see how well he does against PRIME's "Rising Star".

Nick: I think we're getting to a point here, Hessian keeps mentioning Noble and cringes every time he does.

Richard: Maybe he needs to pinch one off.

Hessian: David Noble. How can someone with such an abysmal record be regarded as the next big thing in PRIME? On ReVolution 195 Noble flapped his gums about being a shooting star and having no fear and this and that and blah blah BLAH. Fresh off losing the Intense Title I was booked against the first man set to face the new Champion, and Rhine, if you're watching? I can safely say you'll make it through to a second defense...because that son of a bitch Noble is unfit to compete in the Intense Division. But hey, ain't my bitch no longer. It's your joint now Rhine, I just pity the shit they're slinging at the man who beat Hessian. You deserve better.

The Murder Show takes a moment to absorb the long, deep boos resonating from around the arena.

Nick: Strong words from Hessian here, he's really firing in to Noble right now.

Richard: I would be too if the little bastard ruined my chance to destroy another whole division. Secretly I find it hilarious though.

Hessian: So there we have it. No tag team, no title...and you know what? That's the worst news PRIME ever got, because now instead of focusing on one goal I'm free to run riot. Garbage Bag Johnny has exclusive rights to my services as a mercenary, and with the exception of two Champions in PRIME there's a whole roster of victims waiting to star in the Murder Show.

Nick: That is bad news indeed, especially considering that Hessian has only been pinned twice in singles competition since arriving here at the start of the year, and only Snow and Rhine were able to hold him down for the three count.

Richard: I wouldn't be so smug if I were him. Sure he might be able to take out the entire roster, but he can't escape the wrath of Acromegaly...

Hessian: Colossus is looming, but to get to the big show you're going to have to go through the Murder Show.........and if there are any Elite Champions watching out there? I'm putting you on notice. PRIME might seem like it's full of punk bitches and half-assed talent...but there's a Monster lurking here. A Hardcore fucking Monster.

The microphone hits the canvas as "Kingdom of the Worm" by Motorhead abruptly bursts through the P.A. once more, and the Murder Show takes his leave of the ring to a mixed reaction.

Nick: Hessian name-checking the Elite Champion? Can he have taken exception to Ruby facing Wyatt Connors last week on ReV?

Richard: The guy is totally pre-menstrual. He'll run a half hour rant at the canteen lady because the chocolate in the pudding isn't "Dark" enough. Big dummy.

Nick: Well...in any case folks we've heard what Hessian has had to say about the issues on his mind, now let's take you to something different.

Nick: Earlier-on we strived to bring you an exclusive sit-down interview conducted like between PRIME interviewer and the recently returned Jay Phoenix...

Richard: Only for the Gods of television to intervene and ruin Christmas for everybody!

Nick: … what?

Richard: Go on...

Nick: Ahem. Anyway, Ladies and Gents, it looks as though our technical problems may be over and done with for now. Let's rejoin Matt Mills backstage...

Once again the feed returns to the scene of the interview. Matt Mills and Jay Phoenix sit, pretty much as they were before save for the fact that Jay's looking a little bit more impatient after the lengthy wait.

Mills: Well, welcome back everybody and apologies once again for the delay.

Millsy takes a moment to clear his throat.

Mills: If you recall, we were about to show a highlights package with the intention of highlighting some of Mr. Phoenix's extensive tournament success, but unfortunately it looks as though that footage may now have been lost. Fret not though, for we have a contingency plan!

He turns towards Phoenix.

Mills: Jay, before we take a look at our next piece of footage – showing-off some of your biggest victories, including title wins in WWA, Rush, and CSWA – perhaps you have a few words to say?

Phoenix: Well, uhh. I hadn't rehearsed anything... so viewers, enjoy the footage, and I hope I have the chance to great many more great memories with all of you during my fresh start here in PRIME...

Mills: Roll it!

Once again both men turn expectantly to the monitor, and again the PRIME logo is replaced by wrestling footage. This time it last a little longer, and when early footage from Phoenix's PWW days begins to roll, both men breath easy as it becomes apparent that further technical mischief has been avoided.

Only it hasn't.

Suddenly, with the same fizz and crackle as before, the footage cuts, except this time it doesn't vanish completely. Instead it's replaced by something that Jay Phoenix would rather not watch again in a hurry.

"Culture Shock 2009: Night II" at the bottom of the screen.

As Hunter Sabuni makes his way towards Halo One, it’s inevitable that the cameras cut to Jay Phoenix. He swings at Natas, but there’s very little life behind it, and Natas laughs it off as he ducks. Simultaneously, Alias puts a boot into Ash Plato’s midsection. Phoenix scores with the next swing, delivering a hard right hand that puts Natas back a couple steps. When Natas turns back around, he puts his finger to his lip, feeling the tiniest trickle of blood on his finger.

His mood changes entirely. The Anti-Superstar immediately sends a three successive jabs into Phoenix’s grill, causing The Eternal Flame to lose his balance a bit. Natas then reels him in and drops him hard on his neck with that crunching Evenflow DDT that he’s made all his own.

Richard: New York Minute!

Natas hooks the leg, seeking the pinfall he came back to PRIME for.

One…

Two…

Three!

Nick: Oh-oh my.

Richard: Something tells me that wasn't what Millsy had in mind...

Mills: Uhhh...

Mills shifts nervously in his chair and Jay casts him a disparaging glare. Gritting his teeth together, and balling a fist, Jay speaks up...

Phoenix: What are you try-

… but before he can finish, the television flickers to life again.

Last week. ReV 196.

Natas: Listen, boyo; all that shit you went through? All that pain an' tormet ya endured? Sid that all through proxy, so just imagine what I'ma do if ya make this personal!  I am givin' you a chance – and this gonna be yer only chance. Walk away. Take the one thing ya think ya've got left – yer pride – an' get yer fuckin' ass outta this ring before I take that from ya as well. Believe me, boyo; I ain't one to mess aroun'.

Nick: Jesus - Natas has always been imposing but tonight he is downright scary ... can you believe that he was behind all of that?!

Richard: Yes, I can - and I think that Phoenix is feelling that fear too ... look at him!

Phoenix looks around the arena, taking in the silent, open-mouthed faces as they stare at him, waiting to see what he will do.  Self-consciously he reaches up and rubs his neck, a reminder of the damage done at Culture Shock.  Raising the mic to his mouth he pauses, mouthing flapping open and closed like a fish out of water and then, slowly, he allows the microphone to drop to the canvas before rolling out of the ring and jumping the guardrail, disappearing into the silent and disbelieving crowd.  Up on the rampway Natas smiles a large smile as he watches Phoenix leave.

Nick: Did we just see that?

Richard: I think so … the end of Phoenix?

Again it cuts, and again Jay Phoenix doesn't look very pleased about what he's just had to watch. His nostrils flare.

Phoenix: What the hell was that supposed to be?!

Mills: Jay, I swear...

The PRIME interviewer raises his hands defensively.

Phoenix: Do you think this is funny?! Huh?!

Mills: No! No of co-...

"He might not 'ave..."

A face. There, on the television. Blemished, weather-beaten skin, seven-day beard, tiny star tattoo under the corner of his eye.

"... but I thought it was fuckin' hilarious."

Jason Natas.

If Jay Phoenix was feeling the heat before, now he's losing it. The face of his enemy stares back at him from the TV screen; smiling, mocking him. Jason's rugged facial features twist into a snide smirk as he looks through the camera and addresses Phoenix.

Natas: P'raps I ain't made m'self clear 'nuff last week for ya, boyo. See, I could'a sworn that, after what went down at 196, the last thing ya'd want t' go an' do would be t' step back inta my line 'a fire, but I guess yer even dumber than I thought ya were.

The Anti-Superstar chuckles to himself.

Natas: Ain't nobody aroun' here wanna listen t'ya prattlin' on wi' ol' Millsy there 'bout all the things ya've done in this here business, an' ya know why? 'Cause yer fuckin' career's over, boyo. Ya got no reason t'be stickin' round here no more, so do us all a fuckin' favour and stop usin' up everyone else's TV time. Nobody gives a flyin' fuck 'bout how you beat a couple guys in 2006 or what rinky-dink strap of leather an' gold ya were carryin' 'round in 2001. All that matters is the here an' now, an' boyo, there ain't no hear an' now for you, 'cause yer finished.

He pauses, reaching into the pocket of his black leather jacket and pulled out a single Marlboro Red. As Jason slides the cigarette between his dry, cracked lips and lights the tip, Matt Mills scurries around furiously, trying to figure out what's gone wrong.

Natas: Las' week was 'sposed t'be yer last fuckin' warnin', but seein' as it ain't got through yer thick fuckin' skull yet, let me make m'self perfectly clear here. You. Ain't. Wanted. Yer done. Finished. Over. Go back t'the retirement home an cuddle up b'side whatever rent boy's shinin' yer pretty lil' title belts for ya these days, 'cause this ain't a game a man like you need t'be playin' no more.

Again there is a pause, this time for Jason to take a long, cathartic drag on the cigarette. He sucks in a lungful of the cancer stick's noxious fumes before blowing them back into the camera.

Natas: I gave ya a chance last week, an' for that ya should be thankful. I ain't a charitable man, I don't give secon' chances, but I'm willin' t'make an exception here. Jay, the day ya decided to put me outta action back in January was the day ya made an enemy of yer worst fuckin' nightmare. This is yer last fuckin' warnin'. Mark my words... you show your face roun' these parts again? I'll fuckin' ruin you. An' if there's any doubt, why don'cha ask Troy Douglas what happens when a man sticks his nose in my business.

He points menacingly towards the camera.

Natas: Don't go tryin' my patience now, boyo. I don't think yer tough enough t'deal with the consequences...

The Anti-Superstar nods. His image disappears from the television screen.

Seated again, Matt Mills looks across to Jay Phoenix who remains entranced by the monitor.

Mills: … ummm, Jay?

No response from Phoenix. Jay looks down towards the ground. His chest heaves with a mighty, distressed sigh.

Mills: Jay!

And there's only one thing left for Jay Phoenix to do.

Downtrodden, silenced, defeated, Phoenix stands up and quickly bolts from the room, leaving a very confused Matt Mills alone with the camera.

Nick: How the hell did Natas manage to hack the television screen?!

Richard: I don't know, Nick, but for two weeks in a row we've seen Jason Natas silence - humiliate - Jay Phoenix! How much more can the returning superstar take?!

Nick: Jason Natas is a dangerous enemy for any man to make, Richard, and it would appear that he's gotten well and truly underneath Jay Phoenix's skin. Will we even see Phoenix again, that's what I want to know!

Nick: Coming up next, we have Bryan Dawkins going one on one against the monster Chainz.

Richard: Are we going to get to see more of Devin Shakur, Performance Evaluator?

Nick: He said earlier we were going to see him, so I don't think he's going to disappoint.

Richard: Woohoo.

Nick: Dawkins came back last week and had what some would call an upset over David Noble. He's proved that there wasn't much ring rust to his game and that he's in prime physical condition once again.

Richard: So Dawkins got his dirty disgusting foreign groove back, awesome.

Nick: We're gonna go through these jokes again?

Richard: Oh yeah.

Nick: ...Meanwhile, Chainz has racked up two victories over the past couple of weeks against Troy Douglas and Intense Champion Jonathan Rhine. He's perhaps reverted back to his old ways when he was beating K-Wolf in his debut.

Richard: That's good for absolutely no one.

Nick: He could be a very imposing contender for the Intense division or 5 Star. I'd watch my shoulder if I were an up and comer in the locker room.

Richard: ...Nevermind

Vince Howard: This contest is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, from Hells Kitchen, New York, he weighs in tonight at 295 pounds...CHAINZ!

My Gift to You" by Korn hits and Michael 'Chainz' Sloan walks out from the back, Tracy holding his hand and looking stunning as always. The boos emanating from the crowd nearly drown out the music as they show their hatred for one of the most hated men in wrestling history.

He looks at them, staring intently at a select few, his cold eyes chilling the unlucky audience members as Tracy waves to the screaming public, mostly males for her.

He slides into the ring and stares out into the crowd, not really giving a damn who his opponent is.

Vince Howard: And introducing his opponent, from Hilo, Hawaii, he weighed in tonight at 202 pounds...BRYAN DAWKINS!

"WOO HOO!"

"Song 2" by Blur.

The Wal*Tron comes to life with the theme, accompanied by pyrotechnics, orange and aqua lighting, and the video package of "The Flyin’ Hawaiian" Bryan Dawkins. Dawkins strolls out of the back to an ovation from some of the crowd, to which he replies with the Hawaiian "hang loose" hand gesture, before jogging down towards the ring.

Dawkins acknowledges fans at ringside and plays to the crowd before sliding into the ring and jumping up to each turnbuckle to give the crowd his signature "hang loose" hand gesture. He then dismounts from the last turnbuckle and removes his sunglasses prior to stretching before the bout begins.

DING! DING! DING!

Dawkins and Chainz do the awkward dance, circling around one another in the ring. Chainz goes in for a shoot on Dawkins, but The Bruh manages to scurry out of his reach and back against the ropes. They are going to be his best friend this evening in dealing with a monster the likes of Chainz. Dawkins scurries around, trying to find an edge and get underneath The Monster, but he's not having much luck. Dawkins steps forward, underneath a collar and elbow tie up, swings around the right arm of Chainz and tries to hook the left. He falls backwards in a Crucifix pin, but Chainz strains and uses his 295 pounds of pure muscle to launch Dawkins overhead and back into the corner. To say that he's flabbergasted would be an understatement.

Nick: Dawkins has not faced someone who is that strong in his entire PRIME career. He's gonna have to stay out of this predicament for the time being.

Dawkins jumps up to his feet and casually walks out of the corner, not wanting to be trapped by someone who outweighs him by over 90 pounds. Chainz moves forward again, looking for any kind of clinch, but Dawkins lands a leg kick and sticks Chainz with a jab on the side of the head. The Monster barely looks fazed by the blow and tries to grasp his Hawaiian rival, but to no suck luck. Dawkins slips away and launches himself at the top rope, landing with ease and flipping through the air with a moonsault.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Much to his dismay, however, the force isn't enough to knock Chainz down and only gets Dawkins caught in his clutches. Chainz switches to a military press and pushes Dawkins over his head, pressing him twice before transitioning to a powerslam, the velocity bouncing The Bruh off the canvas.

Nick: That's never the way you want to wake up, with someone like that hovering over you.

Richard: I think Chainz would be disappointed to hear you say such a thing.

Nick: ...Yeah, right.

The boots come in quick and painful to Dawkins, who is left with no choice but to roll out of the ring and down to the floor. Never one to back down from a fight, especially one he believes he can dominate, Chainz rolls out and meets Dawkins with a right hand. Before Dawkins can strike back, two hands find their way around his throat and yank him from the ringside mats and into the ring post.

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

The thud is sickening enough, but the anguish Dawkins finds himself in is almost indescribable. He's writhing around on the floor, trying to figure out if everything is still in place. On top of all that, a close to three hundred pound behemoth is stalking over to him with the intent to do even more damage. He now has a very good idea of the daily grind his good friend Chandler Tsonda endures.

Another kick finds Dawkins forehead and makes him roll over. When he sees the injured body part, Chainz is all too happy to drop an elbow and listen to the ungodly sounds Dawkins makes. Chainz rolls over and gets back to his feet. He moves about five feet away from Dawkins, turns, whistles a jolly tune, leaps into the air, and lands a body splash on the lower back.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: Chainz starting this match off with a bang and taking it at his pace. There is no way Dawkins can stand this kind of brutality for much longer.

Richard: And I think it's going to get a lot worse.

While Chainz lifts Dawkins up and launches him back into the ring, a development occurs in the front row. Two kids who have ringside tickets are enjoying the show, booing Chainz so hard that their voices will be lost in the morning. From seemingly no where, a pair of twenty dollar bills float overhead. Forgetting about the match, because it's all about that money, money, yeah, yeah, the kids leap from the chairs and chase the money down the aisle and up into the 100 section. It's strange that money could float through the air. It's also peculiar that a man is rolling down the same aisle in a recliner with a clipboard across his lap and a seven foot biker walking on his right.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: Well, you were right about something for once in your life. Document this moment, Richard.

Richard: The Big Aristotle in the hizzle.

Chainz shoots Dawkins into the ropes and lands a nasty Samoan drop that shakes the ring while The Man Sitting on a Black Recliner pulls out his glasses and starts tapping the clipboard. Chainz goes for the cover.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

Dawkins shoots the shoulder out. Daniels takes his seat next to a fan who was proudly displaying a "Shakur Blows" sign during the introduction. He lifts his head up and the fan does the same, a little tense to say the least. Chainz launches Dawkins into the buckle and lands a vicious clothesline that almost puts Dawkins into the front row, the last place he would want to find himself right now.

Richard: It seems Dawkins performance evaluator has come out to figure out whether or not Dawkins can handle himself in the ring. And he picked the perfect night to do it. Oh joy.

Nick: ...God, it's Nick, I never ask for much...

The Bruh still finds himself on the defensive, and Chainz is about to get innovative with it. He swings Dawkins around, tilting him upside down and letting him face the turnbuckles. The Monster contorts Dawkins legs and ties them in the ring post, a reverse tree of woe position. Dawkins tries to free himself, but that task is a day and a half on its own when your back has been abused by Chainz. The big man goes to the other side of the ring, rushes across, leaves the ground, and lands a devastating dropkick that takes the wind out of Dawkins sails, and still leaves him tied up.

Nick: Chainz is enjoying this way too much.

Richard: When you are as big as he is, who is going to argue with you?

Dawkins also has a rather large disadvantage, being incapable of seeing what is happening behind him. He can't anticipate Chainz arrival and move out of the way. Instead, he's going to have to find another way out before he becomes a gold star patient of the PRIME chiropractors. The big man rushes across the ring, his shoulder extended, and rams Dawkins in the spine, almost knocking him from the post. Shakur writes a note on his pad while Chainz decides to free Dawkins from his entrapment, lifting him by the head and slamming him into the canvas with a brutal spike DDT. He flips Dawkins over and goes for a cover.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

Dawkins finds a way to avoid exerting energy, sticking his right foot onto the rope. Chainz chuckles and shakes his head, grabbing Dawkins by the shoulder and bringing him to his feet. A forearm finds the temple and Chainz massive arms wrap around Dawkins back. The Monster brings Dawkins off the ground and locks him in a massive bearhug, strategically placing the knuckles against the small of the back so Dawkins will scream that much louder.

Nick: Chainz has got Dawkins exactly where he wants him, and The Bruh hasn't been able to generate a lick of offense since the start of the match. This could be the end for him right here.

Richard: I don't think Shakur is going to score this one favorably.

Dawkins grimaces and tries to reach out for the ropes, but Chainz isn't letting him get anywhere other than next to the referee. Tommy Giles asks if Dawkins gives up, and The Bruh shouts with a resounding "No" that riles the crowd up. Shakur makes another note on his pad and props his feet up in the recliner, relishing in the misery of The Flyin Hawaiian. Chainz leans his shoulder in and applies more pressure, forcing Dawkins to let out another yelp of pain and again fight for the ropes.

Nick: Chainz taking this methodically slow. He'll well aware that Dawkins is no where near strong enough to fight him at such a rate. Isolating the back is going to make it that much harder for him to fly around the ring as well.

Dawkins reaches out for the ropes one more time, but Chainz bends him forward and digs his knuckles in even tighter.

DAWKINS! DAWKINS! DAWKINS! DAWKINS! DAWKINS! DAWKINS! DAWKINS!

The Bruh feels a shot of adrenaline through his body and tries to resist against the monster. He fires off an elbow to the head, but it barely registers with Chainz. Dawkins goes for another. A third. Fourth. And fifth. Chainz finally realizes Dawkins is trying to break from the grip and reapplies the pressure. Dawkins isn't about to let up, clapping his hands around Chainz's ears and finding a little breathing room. Another elbow finds the head. A right hand next. Dawkins finally figures a way to use The Monster's strength against him, shifting his legs around, hooking the neck, and pushing down, sending Chainz over in a DDT.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: Dawkins managed to get out of the hold. Now is going to be able to do something with the available time?

Richard: All signs point to no.

With a hand firmly attached to his back, Bryan Dawkins finally gets up to his own feet without Chainz assistance. Although, he does find The Monster rushing over with angry intentions. A right hand recoils the big man. Dawkins takes a hold of his wrist and launches Chainz into the cable. He easily gets reversed, but ducks underneath the clothesline, hits the middle rope behind Chainz and leaps into the air. Turning 180 degrees, Dawkins lands with a jumping calf kick, catching Chainz in the chest and knocking him onto a knee. Dawkins rifles off a kick and springboards to the top rope, balancing himself like a cat, and flipping backwards to land a corkscrew that sends Chainz down onto his back. Dawkins doesn't go for a cover, noticing how quickly Chainz rises up to his feet. The man can take a lot of abuse and keep on ticking.

Nick: Dawkins getting himself going here. If he can speed up the match, Chainz might find himself on the defensive.

Richard: Yeah, that's really going to hurt him. Hurt him last week when Rhine got rolling didn't it?

Dawkins steps between the ropes and hops up top, a step ahead of the rebounding Chainz who looks around the ring wondering where his opposition is. Pushing from his legs, Dawkins flies into the air and barely manages to get over the outstretched arms of Chainz, landing a cross body with just over two hundred pounds crashing down on the neck. Dawkins makes sure to land on his side and rolls away from The Monster, putting himself at the opposite side of the ring. Immediately when he reaches the ropes, Dawkins jumps up and connects on a moonsault. Chainz finally stays down and Dawkins hooks the leg.

Nick: Dawkins going for it all here!

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Chainz presses Dawkins off and onto the apron. Even for someone with Chainz's threshold for pain, he might not have wanted to put Dawkins in that particular spot, especially when he's feeling very froggy. Instinctively springboarding to the top, Dawkins extends his right leg and comes down across the neck of the big man, using the height he jumped from to add enough pressure and drop Chainz head first into the canvas. The big man's head slams into the canvas and he rolls out of the ring onto the floor, showing a rare sign of agony.

Nick: The Bruh has gotten ahead for the time being. Chainz might be busted open after that. He got slammed into the mat with such force from that leg drop.

Richard: I'm going to go out on a limb right now and accuse Dawkins of having a razor blade stuck in the trunks!

Nick: Are you out of your mind, Richard? Wrestlers don't conceal razor blades. Why would they do that?

Richard: He's a foreigner Richard, you can't ever be too careful with those types.

With Chainz on the outside, blood trickling down his forehead, Dawkins has time to catch his breath and observe Shakur and Daniels sitting in the front row. He scoffs, remembers that he's under "evaluation" and decides to put on a little display for his evaluator. Throwing himself off the ropes, Dawkins charges ahead and leaps completely over the top rope, pushing Chainz against the barricade.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

The Monster goes down onto his hands and knees once again. Dawkins goes up to Shakur and Daniels, reaches over the barricade, and helps himself to some of Shakur's popcorn. The Man in Black goes to swat him away, but Dawkins is too fast and takes the whole bucket, woofing down the popcorn for himself and placing the bucket on Chainz head. Dawkins rushes across to the adjacent side of the ring, charges back, and lands a shining wizard to the head.

Nick: Dawkins with the Waverunner.

Richard: You don't take a man's popcorn. I mean, according to the bylaws of Terrell Owens, you always gotta have ya popcorn ready. How does it help if another man takes your popcorn?

Nick: What a sad and pathetic human being.

Richard: Oh cut me a break.

Nick: Not talking about you.

Dawkins grabs Chainz by the head, slams him into the ring steps, and shovels him back into the ring. After taking such a nasty shot to the head, most men would be down for the count. Although, Chainz isn't most men. He's already getting back up to his feet and preparing for even more punishment, all of which Bryan Dawkins is more than happy to provide. Already perched on the top rope, Dawkins was planning to go for his Hawaiian Hangover, but a missile dropkick to the head will suffice for the time being. Scrambling over, Dawkins shoots the half and goes for the win.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

Chainz powers out one more time, leaving Dawkins to scratch his head and wonder if he should have gone for the win. With that philosophy in mind, Dawkins drops a 360 legdrop across the throat and rolls out of the ring again, intent on heading to the top and landing his finishing maneuver.

Nick: If Dawkins hits this, Chainz is going to have a lot of explaining to do for his showboating ways.

Richard: The proper terminology, Nick, is being an asshole. You should know all about it. You treat me like one undeservingly every week.

The Bruh positions himself on the top rope and swings into action, arching himself backwards and preparing to hear the loud "Woo Hoo" that starts his music.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Unfortunately, Chainz doesn't march to the beat of that drum, peeling himself off the mat and catching Dawkins in a mid-air spinebuster, forcing The Bruh to relive the earlier anguish of a pained back. Chainz rolls away from Dawkins and shakes loose the cobwebs, having endured a decent amount of punishment himself. The Monster pounds and palms at the canvas, fighting through whatever injuries are prevalent to get back up and finish Dawkins off. He hasn't been a fan of the little runt ever since he returned, and after tonight he's definitely off the Christmas card list.

Nick: You want me to go through the speech?

Richard: Meh, might as well.

Nick: I'll do it Tony Schiavone style. BOTH MEN ARE DOWN! BOTH MEN ARE HURT! THE FIRST ONE TO GET TO HIS FEET IS GONNA HAVE A HUGE EDGE!

Chainz is the first one up to his feet and takes full advantage, booting Dawkins in the side of the head and whipping him off the ropes. Dawkins comes back, trying to land a cross body but Chainz is ready for him this time. He grabs Dawkins, spins him sideways, and flips him overhead in a beautiful fall away slam. The Bruh continues his roll across the ring and almost drops to the floor, but holds himself up. He doesn't want to be on the receiving end of even more lethal power moves that involve steel at this stage of the match. Chainz stalks over, takes Dawkins by the throat and pulls him over the top rope back into the ring. He throws Dawkins into the air, lets him rest on his shoulders, swings him around, and puts him head first into the canvas with a reverse Death Valley Driver. The Bruh is straight as an arrow until Chainz pushes him down and goes for the cover.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

Dawkins gets a shoulder out at the last possible second. Chainz rolls away and gives an "I'm going to torture your entire family if you don't count faster" glance at the referee. Wiping the blood from his eyes, Chainz goes back to work and lifts Dawkins up from the canvas. When he goes to boot him in the midsection, Dawkins blocks the kick, leaps into the air and lands a picture perfect hurricanrana. Dawkins spins on the foot and rushes to his feet, bolting over to Chainz and leaping through the air, connecting on another Waverunner.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: Dawkins with the Waverunner for the second time! He knows what to do now.

Richard: Bugger.

Dawkins sneaks out of the ring and jumps up to the top rope. Showing his resiliency and fast reflexes, he leaps.

Unfortunately, like the last few times, Chainz is able to shoot up from the ground like a bat out of hell and catch Dawkins. Only this time, the situation is far worse.

Dawkins is on the shoulders and the only way he's going is down.

In a powerbomb.

Chainz lifts him up a second time and drops him again.

Chain Reaction. The big man drops for the cover.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

DING! DING! DING!

Vince Howard: YOUR WINNER OF THE MATCH...CHAINZZZZZZ!

Nick: Well, the Monster has managed to knock off another in PRIME. His winning streak is now at three.

Richard: It's official, the Chainz that terrorized the entire locker room is officially back in the saddle, baby. Oh yeah!

Nick: I'm sure that has to make Shakur very happy, he's jotting notes down like the deadline for his evaluation is due in half an hour.

Richard: I don't think we can have losers on this roster, Nick. Especially not those from across the pond. Your visa is up now bruh, BAHAHAHA!

There’s nothing to make a crowd boo like "Right Next Door to Hell" by Guns N’ Roses.

Nick: I’m getting really sick of this guy.

Richard: The champ! The champ is here, Stuart! Get on your feet!

Most of the arena are just that – on their feet – but only to boo. Some of them throw trash, and the champion shrugs it off with a sneer as he makes his way to the ring, his title belt slung over his shoulder.

Nick: What’s this about?

Richard: Whatever he wants it to be. Show some respect to your champion, Richard.

Nick: I have plenty of respect for Jason Snow’s wrestling ability – but he’s not wrestling tonight. And quite frankly, Richard, I’ve heard all I want to hear from him.

Snow takes his good time getting to the ring, circling it first with hard eyes for the fans. When finally he steps up into it, he holds the PRIME Universal Championship high above his head to an explosion of flash bulbs in the dimmed arena. A cocky smirk on his face all the while.

After catching a microphone, he paces.

Snow: You know, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking this past week.

Pause.

Snow: Thinking about Colossus VI.

A smatter of cheers.

Snow: Thinking about all the peasants and peons and simple bastards big and small in PRIME who think they deserve a shot…

Holds the championship, again, high above his head.

Snow: …this.

He stares up at it, as if in awe for a moment. It’s a beautiful title after all, with a mountain of prestige behind it.

Snow: This is what it’s all about, plebes. This one title. One championship to signify who is the best in this business.

Nick: Well, he’s right about that. Think of all the great Universal Champions that PRIME has had. Nova, Lindsay Troy, and who could forget Chandler Tsonda?

Richard: Plebes!

Nick: Plebes?

Richard: We’re looking at a new standard of champions now.

Slowly, carefully, Snow puts the title back on his shoulder, dusting the face of it with the tips of his fingers. His voice is almost tantric.

Snow: This is the height of a profession. Men work their lives, through blood, sweat, and tears just to get within arm’s reach of it.

He looks up to the audience, his face souring.

Snow: Not that any of you would know a damn thing about that! Not that a single damn one of you would have a clue about true G-reatness! Hell, I’ve been coming down here, week in, and week out, and you boo and jeer and hate me for my superiority. Hate me because I’m everything you can never be! I AM A CHAMPION, DAMN IT!! I am THE champion! The one champion! The only champion! I’m the man that every SINGLE other man in this business wakes up in the morning and wants to be. Tony Gamble wakes up every day and thinks, "Gee, if only I were as tall and as handsome as Jason Snow." Garbage Bag Johnny wakes up every day and thinks, "Damn, if only I weren’t addicted to crack and smelled a little less like feces and a little more like Jason Snow." Chandler Tsonda wakes up every day and thinks, "GOD DAMN IT IF I WEREN’T SUCH A FLAMING HOMOSEXUAL, MAYBE I COULD ACTUALLY HAVE STOOD A CHANCE IN THE RING AGAINST THE G-REATEST!"

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!

Snow: Don’t get me started on Jay Phoenix!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!

Snow: And therein lies the crux of the problem. There simply are no more worthy challengers. No one that has a competitive chance to take this away from me.

Pats the championship.

Snow: And so with a heavy heart, I’ve come to the decision that there will be NO Universal title defence at Colossus.

Nick: He can’t do that.

Richard: He just did that.

Nick: He doesn’t have the authority.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!

Snow: I know, I know – you’re all disappointed that you won’t have the thrill of watching me perform. Watching my effortless way I slap down every challenge since GTT6, and every –

"I’ve heard just about enough of this!

Nick: Lisa Tyler! Lisa Tyler!

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!

Slowly, Snow lowers the microphone from his lips while PRIME’s top lady sets a determined pace toward the ring. Once inside, she stands toe to toe with the champion, as brazen as any challenger might, and together they share a steely stare before she finally turns away and begins to circle.

Lisa: You know, Snow, I deal with a lot of egomaniacal personalities in my line of work, and I assure you, you’re champion of that too.

Snow looks pleased for a moment, until he realizes what egomaniacal means.

Lisa: And to be quite honest, I have to say that I’ve been pretty impressed with your run since returning for the Jewel in the Crown tournament. While your work for the promotion outside of the ring has been…

She gives him a hard eye and a frown…

Lisa: …lackluster at best, inside the ring, you’ve been nothing less than stellar. And you’re right – you’ve been a champion we can all be proud of.

The crowd quiets to a bubbling hum while in the ring, Snow, with his chest puffed, looks rather proud of himself. Lisa Tyler walks away from him.

Lisa: But rest assured, "champ," you will be defending the Universal Championship at Colossus VI.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

Snow looks immediately ready for war, snarling, his title belt in hand now and dangling down to the canvas.

Snow: Who!? Who then!? Who’s it gonna be!? Who’re you gonna send down here to be the next foot note in history?

She takes her time responding, turning to him over her shoulder, a sly smirk on her face.

Lisa: Easy tiger.

Snow: Damn it, I demand to kn-

Lisa: First - you don’t demand anything from me, Snow.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Nick: It’s about time someone put that lunatic in his place.

Lisa: When I speak, you listen. When I command, you obey. You might be the champion of PRIME, Snow, but make no mistakes, you still answer to me!

Snow holds his temper, barely. The microphone in his left hand shakes as he pulls his title back up and rests it on his shoulder.

Lisa: But if you must know…

Everyone in the arena is standing.

Lisa: The number one contender for PRIME’s Universal Championship…

Thousands of eyes turn toward the entrance ramp where their newest hero is about to make himself known.

Lisa: …And your opponent in the Main Event at Colossus VI…

The audience is boiling now.

Lisa: …will be…

Electric.

A sly smile appears on Lisa Tyler’s face as squares herself to the champion.

Lisa: Announced live at Revolution 198 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania!

It takes a moment for that to register with Snow.

Lisa: I guess you’ll just have to stew on it until then. Champ.

She gives him a wink and a smile, and then she’s gone, leaving Snow in the ring, angry, confused, but best of all, speechless.

It’s not hard to lose oneself in the backstage of a PRIME event. There are forked hallways, cordoned off areas that only Dam and his staff can travel through, and there are no signs. Anywhere. Although Dam says that’s to keep the Communists out, whatever that means.

It’s precisely this state, that of being lost, that the Wolves of Slaughter find themselves in at the moment. A huffing and puffing Elise Ares shakes her head, leading the way for her brawny partner, Kazys Jankauskas.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

No love lost on the tag team newcomers, the Richmond crowd lets the duo know, even from afar, that they’re not fans of the Wolves.

Elise Ares: You know it’s downright rude that they don’t have someone escorting us between our locker room and the ring. We could be mugged! Or raped! Or like... someone could touch us. Ew.

Kazys Jankauskas: I think they crack down pretty well on backstage muggers.

Elise Ares: Hmmph, it’s still a damn disgrace that this company doesn’t have hired help for its stars. Do you have any clue how long it's been since I've been forced to find my own way around a place? Not long enough, that's for sure. Plus those rumors that they’re hemorrhaging money…you think they’re true?

Kazys Jankauskas: Long as they got enough to cut our checks, I don’t give two shits about the company ledger.

Elise Ares: Good point. (Pauses) Where in the hell are we?

Kazys Jankauskas: Heh, look at that.

The Iron Wolf extends a tree-trunk arm, pointing to the recently seen locker room, ya know, the one with "CHANDLER TSONDA" on the placard outside.

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Elise Ares: What’s a Chandler Tsonda? It sounds like a mixed drink. You think they have an open bar around this place? They have to have something for the stars, we can't possibly be expected to enjoy our jobs with lousy treatment like this.

The Swaggeriffic One doesn’t wait for an answer, boldly strutting up to the locker room and knocking loudly on the door. There is no sound from within.

Elise Ares: Is there someone in there? If you come out we'll be willing to strike a pose for flash photography! I might even be willing to sign it later, for a nominal fee... of course.

"How good-looking are you?"

Elise Ares: Excuse me?!

"Scale of one to ten. I’m not opening this door for anything less than an 8.4."

Elise Ares: I'm more like a 12.5, but I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you.

And with that, the door creaks open, revealing the puzzled face of your friendly neighborhood Chandler Tsonda.

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

The Model Citizen gives Elise a once-over, then a twice-over, clearly undressing the Havana Harlot with his eyes.

Chandler Tsonda: You make the grade. Barely. What can I do ya for, sweets?

Kaz's blue eyes narrow, and quickly.

Kazys Jankauskas: You really don't want to–

Elise Ares: I got this, Kaz. (turns to Tsonda) Just who do you think you are that you can talk to wrestling royalty like that? I might just look like just another drop-dead gorgeous face to you, but I run this place. I won't have any more of your disrespect, you hear me? I demand to speak to your boss!

Chandler Tsonda: Good luck. She’s off crunching numbers to figure out how many weeks she’s got left before Prometheus boots her ass back onto the corner.

Elise Ares: Was that a joke?

Kazys Jankauskas: Evidently.

Elise Ares: Good God, I've heard better jokes in a burn ward. If you're that terrible with jokes, you better be phenomenal with hair... and I mean phenomenal. You must be the stylist around here. I've been looking for you for weeks. It's a little late to do something about it now, I have a match real soon but next time I'll be here at...

Kazys looks over at Elise who stops in mid-thought to consider why he's staring at her in such an aggravated manner.

Elise Ares: Could you direct me to one of the show’s producers, agents, managers, or someone who’s used to handling the talent around here?

Chandler Tsonda: The talent? I didn’t know that’s what we were calling Richard Parker’s strippers. I like it, though. Let’s roll with this.

Kazys Jankauskas: (steps forward) Time to start choosing your words very carefully, bud.

Chandler Tsonda: Listen, Giganto, I know the agency pays you the big bucks to make sure nobody takes pictures of her during her lapdances or whatever, but seeing as I’m not a paying customer, I’m gravy. Trust me, I know my way around a stripper or two and–

Elise Ares: Quiet! Listen here, you ghastly little ninja, I am Elise Ares. That's right, Elise Ares. This is my partner platonic tag partner, Kazys Jankauskas. Together, we are the Wolves of Slaughter and we are the talk of PRIME. So you better watch what you say, because when Lisa Tyler founds out that a hairdressing school dropout gave us lip, you’re gonna be fired faster than you can say "Aren't you that girl who jumped that shark?" Which I am, in case you were wondering.

The Viet Viper grins, biting his bottom lip trying to contain a chuckle. He then extends his hand to Elise Ares, wary of the fact that Kaz is watching his every move.

Chandler Tsonda: Nice of you to stop by, toots. The name’s Chandler Tsonda. I do a little this, a little that. Sometimes, when I’m feeling frisky, I go out and set the record for longest Universal Title reign in PRIME history. Other times, I just grab an Appletini.

Elise Ares: (turns to Kaz) Do you have any idea what this blithering idiot is talking about?

Kazys Jankauskas: I take his meaning to be that he’s our opponent for the night. Him and the two street thugs.

Elise Ares: Aww, what a lovely celebration of diversity. After all the crap those two "street soliders" gave me about being part-Asian. Now we get to see the two Black kids with an Asian side-by-side, oh you should've heard the nasty things they said about your people. But it's sort've cute in a way, it’s like Tiger Woods! Kind of... right? (turns to Tsonda) I hate to be cliché, but you should know you’re going down like a cheap hooker at a frat house kegger tonight.

Chandler Tsonda: From that outfit, I’d have to take your word for it.

The Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing shoots Tsonda a puzzled look, when his famous grin makes another appearance.

Chandler Tsonda: I mean, you’ve clearly spent more time with cheap hookers than I have.

Elise Ares: This is the finest leather that money can buy, my friend. You better watch your damn mouth, there is nothing cheap about me. And as much as you may want it to happen, I'm certainly not a...

Chandler Tsonda: Yeah, yeah, you’re offended, I’m offended, we’re all up in fuckin’ arms that I’m such a dickhead. Now do you and that Yugoslavian war criminal friend of yours have anything else for me? I’m kinda busy with…uhhh…(looks around) my algebra homework.

Kazys Jankauskas: (bristling) Lithuanian. I'll help you remember that later- if running's not in your blood in the ring too.

Chandler Tsonda: I’m just afraid that your backne might be airborne and contagious, Roid Rage.

The huge Lithuanian takes a step forward, cracking his knuckles loudly.

Kazys Jankauskas: It’s gonna be a treat destroying you in the ring.

Chandler Tsonda: Yeah, you guys are totally scary. Can I shut the door now?

When the Wolves of Slaughter both shoot snarling looks back at Tsonda, he takes that as a yes, offering a last word before his departure from this scene.

Chandler Tsonda: And I lied. (Beat.) You’re no more than a 7.7. Toodles!

And with that, the locker room door slams shut. Kazys Jankauskas takes another step towards the door, ready to knock it down with his bare hands, but Elise Ares puts a hand on his forearm, stopping him.

Elise Ares: A 7.7?! That kid is out of his mind! We'll show him who is a 7.7 later, but for now we have to figure out where in the hell we are. I'll never get a chance to mess up that atrocious sin he calls a haircut unless we can find our way to the ring... and hope those two Redeemed kids don't get "all up in our grills" trying to steal things on the way.

That, fans, is very true, and as the Wolves of Slaughter head off in their continued search for a way to the ring (Kazys with a positively irritated grumble), we head elsewhere.

Richard Parker and Nick Stuart are sitting at the announce table shuffling paper and staring down at their individual run sheets. Nick's has a tentative list of the evening's events and what time the announcing duo are supposed to start talking. Nick stares over at his watch and realizes that soon they will be going live.

Richard looks down at his run sheet, which is just a stick figure woman with massive boobs. He's that balla. He happens to look up at the PRIME*View and see one of the treasures of PRIME, but notices Nick isn't aware of it yet.

Richard: So, Nick, I heard this great joke the other day.

Nick: Go ahead.

Richard: Devin Shakur appeared on a PRIME*View and everybody said

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: Very cute, how'd you get them to do that?

Richard: Look up.

Nick glances up at the PRIME*View and the glowingly pale Man in Black is glancing back at him. He's staring at everybody in Richmond, wearing his smart specs. They don't help his vision, they actually blur it, but he has to look the part of an evaluator and he's good at doing his job.

Devin Shakur: Yeah, I hate every one of you also, but look at the bright side...I get paid...by you idiots...to piss you off. Isn't that marvelous?

He extends a middle finger to the paying customers and removes his glasses better than most of the Screen Actors Guild.

Devin Shakur: Anyway, I promised Dawkins earlier this evening that I would publicize his evaluation and let everybody know how he was doing when it came to the state of PRIME. I had specifics that I was looking for, and if I saw any of them I was to mark them down. Needless to say, Bryan Dawkins is perhaps one of the most unstable employees on the PRIME roster.

Nick: I wonder who THE most unstable is.

Richard: Probably you.

Devin Shakur: Did any of you see his match? I've been in the ring with Chainz myself and I can tell you he's not that dominant of a wrestler. He obliterated The Bruh, and I don't care about the result. I didn't even consider that in hindsight. He did no actual wrestling in or around the squared circle. The only thing that his offense consisted of was leaping around off the ropes. That's not fit for a wrestling ring, that's fit for the circus. Don't worry, bruh, I'll gladly write you a recommendation.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Devin Shakur: And his volatileness is off the charts. I haven't seen someone so insane since One Eyed Rhine was roaming the halls of PRIME hunting Xavier Kannon like a dog. He threatens a PRIME legend like myself and for some reason wanted to fight a seven foot biker with chains wrapped around his fists. Do you know what I call that?

Nick: Someone who doesn't like you because you took a potshot at his wife?

Devin Shakur: I call that a nuisance. A major nuisance to the roster. This...wrestler does not care about who he hurts or how many he hurts. He has no regard for human life.

Nick: You've gotta be kidding me. This guy is preaching about safety?

Devin Shakur: I was given a key responsibility and I am not about to show any favoritism just because people who boo me find this guy appealing. Let me sum Bryan Dawkins up in one sentence: He's got a merchandise crippling catchphrase and doesn't respect authority or his fellow competitor.

DAWKINS! DAWKINS! DAWKINS! DAWKINS! DAWKINS! DAWKINS! DAWKINS! DAWKINS!

Devin Shakur: Now I'm going to end this publication by giving my final analysis since I really want to see Chandler Tsonda get his brains beaten out. It is my professional opinion that someone of Bryan Dawkins stature is unfit to roam through the locker rooms of PRIME. He is the spitting image of Tyler Rayne, just coated in a different style. He's capable of snapping on anybody in PRIME and the federation can't run the risk of losing any vital pieces to its puzzle.

Nick: This is a complete joke.

Devin Shakur: Therefore, it is my strong recommendation, and I will push my carte blanche status to the moon to ensure this happens...That Bryan Dawkins be FIRED by the conclusion of ReVolution 198.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Nick: …

Richard: YEEEEEES!

Nick: HE CAN'T BE SERIOUS!

Devin Shakur: ...Oh yeah, I'm dead serious. Take a look at where I am at, Dawkins.

The camera pans back to show Devin Shakur leaning against the wall directly across from Lisa Tyler's office.

Devin Shakur: I'm preaching prudence here, Dawkins. You are a rogue in the making, and all you need is the right set of words to put you into a blitzkrieg mode that none of us will be able to recover from. I can't have that...and I won't have that.

Christian Daniels walks into the shot, next to Lisa Tyler's door, and puts an envelope into the mail slot on the door. The Man in Black turns to the camera with a look that could Medusa to stone.

Devin Shakur: If anybody still thinks this is a joke, watch 198...It's the last time you'll ever see Bryan Dawkins.

The Biker puts three pounds into the door and the duo walks away. Once they round the corner, Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas opens the door and looks around, seeing if anybody was there. When he notices the gold mail box creaked opened, he peels open the top and finds Shakur's evaluation. He takes hold of it and shuts the door.

Richmond isn't sure exactly how to react.

Nick: ...That really was Dam.

Richard: DAWKINS IS GONNA GET FIRED! I LOVE DEVIN SHAKUR!

Nick: That...is just sick.

Richard: EVERYBODY DANCE NOW! WOOOOOOO!

Nick: He just suggested that a man who is trying to raise a son be put out on the streets.

Richard: GO BACK TO HAWAII, DAWKINS!

Nick: ...Cut, cut to commercial. I don't want to comment on this any further.

Commercial

Richard: Ladies and germs, it’s that time again. Last match of the night, which means warm up the bottle of scotch and tell the neighborhood escort that you’ll be ready to go in exactly seventeen minutes!

Nick: Despite that grotesque description, it is indeed main event time, and we’ll be seeing two rivalries spill over into one giant six-man tag match!

Richard: True dat. One the one hand, you’ve got Chandler Tsonda being the biggest pussy in the Western Hemisphere, cowardly avoiding Wade Elliott’s challenge to face him at Colossus.

Nick: Way to keep it objective, Parker. And we’ve also got new rival teams, the Redeemed, and the Wolves of Slaughter, respectively. Elise Ares and Kaz Jankauskas came into PRIME with an arrogant streak that Tyrell Dawkins and Marquis Peeples took umbrage with.

Richard: And now, like the highly civilized and intelligent modern citizens we are, we’re gonna watch the six of fight TO THE DEATH!

Nick: Not quite. Tsonda and the Redeemed will team up to take on Wade and the Wolves! Let’s go to Vince Howard for the introductions!

The sharp, piercing sound of a wolf howl echoes around the arena as the accent lights around the arena turn into a combination of white and deep purple. Some booing can be heard over the arena as "The Beast And The Harlot" by Avenged Sevenfold kicks in, signaling the entrance of one of PRIME's newest tag team commodities... The Wolves Of Slaughter.

Elise Ares breaks through the curtain first, her eyes closed staring upwards and her arms stretched out. She showers herself in the large cheering crowd reaction that she only hears in her mind as Kazys Jankaukas follows behind her. Wearing a leather bikini style top with blue-violet tribal patterns across it, Elise comes to a stop and looks across the arena with a smirk as the powerful Kazys towers behind her. She points back at her personal bodyguard/tag team partner/possibly only friend in the world before pointing down towards the ring with visions of grander in her mind.

Vince Howard: Coming to the ring first…both hailing from Miami, Florida, respectively by ways of Vilnius, Lituania and Havana, Cuba…weighing in at a combined three hundred and ninety-one pounds…ELISE ARES & KAZYS JANKAUSKAS, THE WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLVES OF SLAUGHTER!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

This shining city built of gold
A far cry from innocence
There's more than meets the eye round here
Look to the waters of the deep
A city of evil

Coming down the aisle, Elise tries to dodge the hands of several fans reaching out and trying to touch "greatness" as Kazys walks imposingly behind her. With violent intentions in his eyes, The Iron Wolf marches down behind the antics of The Havana Harlot. Running up the stairs Elise wraps her arms around the ropes and faces the crowd, shaking her hips to the music with a smile before sitting on the middle rope and letting Kazys into the ring.

Nick: These two grabbed an impressive win against the Redeemed just two weeks ago.

Richard: And ever since then, those two Crips or Bloods or whatever have been on these guys’ case for NO reason.

Nick: I don’t need to tell you how racially insensitive it is to label those two as gang members just because of the color of their skin.

Richard: Not the color of their skin…just the fact that they’re named Marquis and Tyrell.

There sat a seven-headed beast
Ten horns raised from his head.
Symbolic woman sits on his throne
But hatred strips her and leaves her naked
The Beast and the Harlot

In the middle of the ring Kazys stops as Elise gets in front of him. Getting down on one knee, Elise runs the edges of her hands down her chest and then down her stomach before raising her arms into the air as if to say "worship me!" to the capacity crowd. Behind her Kazys raises his arms and glares across the crowd. Slowly lowering his arms, The Iron Wolf heads into the corner where Elise follows and attempts to talk strategy.

Richard: And here comes trouble, homies!

The arena's speakers burst into life as fast, steady, distorted guitar chords and hard drum beats assault the ears. The screen lights up to the image of a worn down dog house, a tattered Confederate Flag hanging loosely above the arched entry. The screen follows a rusty chain, and stops to find it broken as the music picks up. It shifts to a ragged looking mutt of a dog, running full tilt down a dirt road, teeth barred. It catches up to a large, black Chevrolet Silverado pickup truck and runs along side it, a dark figure with a cigarette dangling from his lip in the driver's seat. As Randy Blythe's signature growl cues the lyrics to Lamb of God's "Redneck," the dog turns toward the screen and snaps viciously.

SO GOD-DAMN EASY TO WRITE THIS! YOU MAKE IT SPILL ON THE PAAAAAAGGEE!!!
SO DRUNK ON YOURSELF, SELF RIGHTEOUS!!! THE LAUGHING STOCK,
OF YOUR OWN FUCKING STAAAGE!!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

The screen flashes the name "Bad Dog," written on a bent, scratched up Alabama license plate. The screen proceeds to present images of Wade Elliott kickin' ass, drinkin' whiskey, kickin' more ass, and of various rabid dogs snapping at the screen.

The crowd bellows their disapproval as The Blue Collar Brawler slowly emerges onto the ramp, eyebrows furled, deep-set angry blue eyes locked on the ring.

BUT I AIN'T ONE TO CALL NAAAAMES!!!
OR THROW STONES IN A HOUSE OF GLAAASSS!
YOU TRY ME!!

Nick: None of these fans have forgotten the hideous actions of Wade Elliott last week. And neither have I.

Richard: Wade has always placed your opinion at the absolute top of his list of priorities.

He pauses after taking a few steps down the ramp as the chorus kicks in.

THIS IS A MOTHA-FUCKIN' INVITATIOONN!
THE ONLY ONE YOU COULD EVER NEEEED!!
THIS IS A MOTHA-FUCKIN' INVITATIOONN!
YOU TRY ME!!

Wade starts his death march as the music returns to verse, taking heavy, steady steps down the ramp. Fans bark at him, shake fists, and offer their disapproval. He ignores them as he reaches the bottom.

JUST ONE TIME YOU GOT A REASON, HEARD YOU HAD NOTHING TO LOOOSEE!!
A BLIND PREACHER FOR THE PIN-EYED CONGREGATION!!
IT MUST BE EASY TO LOOOSE!

Vince Howard: And their teammate…hailing from Pine Ridge, Alabama…and weighing in at two hundred and fifty-eight pounds…he is the Bad Dog, WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADE ELLIOTT!

Wade steps onto the apron and starts to climb the first turnbuckle.

BUT I AIN'T ONE TO CALL NAAAAMES!!!
OR THROW STONES IN A HOUSE OF GLAAASSS!
YOU TRY ME!!

He looks out to the crowd, lips curled in, spreading his thunder-cloud glare to the arena in a wide arc as the chorus hits once again.

THIS IS A MOTHA-FUCKIN' INVITATIOONN!
THE ONLY ONE YOU COULD EVER NEEEED!!
THIS IS A MOTHA-FUCKIN' INVITATIOONN!
YOU TRY ME!!

The 'Bama Bruiser hops down and steps into the ring as the music breaks down. He stalks to his corner, ready to deliver an old fashioned ass-kicking while the music is interrupted by the dimming of the lights, and a slightly unfamiliar spoken word introduction, the first ten seconds of the X-Ecutioners "It’s Goin’ Down". A frightened sounding woman delivers the address over the sound of a buzzing lightbulb.

I knew I was being threatened
Do you think it’s worth holding out?
I mean, I’ve heard some pretty ugly things about those guys
Ugly stories

Nick: What is this?

Richard: Probably a black thing.

The record begins to scratch, as if manipulated by an expert DJ.

I-I-I knew I was being threatened
U-u-u-ugly stories

And with that, three spotlights immediately open up on the top of the ramp. From left to right stand Marquis Peeples, Chandler Tsonda, and Tyrell Dawkins.

Each man is wearing a black fedora.

Each man is wearing a large gold chain around the neck.

Each man is wearing an black Adidas track suit, piped with red stripes

And each man is wearing motherfucking shelltops. Please believe they’re rolling white kicks with the black stripes. Nothing else will do.

And when the crowd sees these fresh to def gentlemen on the top of the ramp, they let out a cheer that, all due respect to our man JMJ, could raise Jam Master Jay from his grave.

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: Ha! Look at that! The Redeemed and Chandler Tsonda are dressed like Run DMC!

Richard: I’m sorry. Did ReVolution get pre-empted by In Living Color this week or something?

And as the crowd’s pop swells, some equally fresh lyrics drop over that naaaaaaaaaaasty Pete Rock beat.

Down with the king for years, about ten of 'em
Recruiting suckers, Mac and Mike, and makin' men of 'em
Tears and fears for my peers, they rippin'
You think that it is, it is, if not it isn't

With Chandler Tsonda in front, slapping hands of every fan in sight, the three men make their way down the ramp. In the back, Marquis Peeples and Tyrell Dawkins hit each other with a fist bump before they too join in the crowd appreciation, each slapping hands as the Richmond crowd continues to show the trio love.

Nick: The Redeemed and Chandler Tsonda have found some common ground and that’s gotta be a threat to their foes, who are, not surprisingly, failing to coexist.

Richard: Do those idiots plan to wrestle in those ridiculous costumes?

Race for the border my daughter, 'cause beats you're bangin' out
Jeeps rockin' beats in the streets when there's time for hangin' out
Gather, or rather form a circle around a loud
‘Cause brothers or others could never ever rock a crowd

As they reach the area directly in front of the ring, Tsonda puts two arms out to hold back his tag partners. As the finale to their music plays, the three assume the classic Run DMC pose: arms folded, mean mugs flashin’, absolutely G’d up from the feet up. The crowd eats this up like a deep fried Snickers bar.

,I.Is it because he's runnin' off with the mouth
Or was he really clearly tryin' to play a nigga out
Nope, shut him down, the king with a crown
'Cause all you wanna be is dicky down

Vince Howard: And their opponents…from Hollis, Queens…and with gold chains weighing in at several pounds each…the team of Tyrell "TMC" Dawkins, Marquise "DJ Peeps" Peeples, and Chandler "Jam Master Chan" Tsonda…RUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN TMC!

Nick: Haha! TMC! Tyrell, Marquise, and Chandler! I love it!

Richard: I love it about as much as a harlequin baby.

Each of the three men toss their fedoras and track jackets into the crowd, which begins a mad rush to grab the illest pieces of gear in the arena. Tsonda pulls off his t-shirt, while Dawkins and Peeples slide into the ring, clean white t-shirts just begging to be bloodied.

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

That was the largely female sound that follows any time Chandler Tsonda takes his shirt off, BTW.

But as Tsonda slides into the ring, the time for pageantry is up, as Kaz Jankauskas immediately charges at both members of the Redeemed with a double clothesline. They’re able to duck, but Elise Ares then follows this up by nailing Dawkins in the back of the head with a spinning heel kick, and putting Peeples to the mat with a drop toe hold when he charges.

Nick: The usual level of sportsmanship from the Wolves of Slaughter. That is, none.

Richard: If they were called the Teddy Bears of Kindness, that might be a problem. But they’re called the Wolves of Slaughter. Not exactly sure what you were expecting.

Simultaneously, Chandler Tsonda is fending off an attack from Wade Elliot, but the ‘Bama Bruiser has started fast and hard (no homo), letting off right hand after right hand in the Model Citizen’s grill. When Tsonda ducks the next blow, he’s able to lower his shoulder and lift Wade over the top rope, spilling the Bad Dog out onto the floor below. In no mood to delay the inevitable, Tsonda follows Wade outside, leaving Bernie Roberts completely fucking pissed off at everyone for not following the rules.

Nick: There are no legal men or women in this match and it’s already spilling to the outside!

Richard: Sweet!

Before Peeples can reach his feet again, he’s clocked from behind by Kaz with a double axe handle. Ares bounces off the ropes and leaps at Tyrell Dawkins with a flying elbow smash, but Dawkins catches the female luchador and uses her own momentum against her, putting her to the mat with a powerslam.

Richard: You can’t do that to a lady!

Nick: But she can put an elbow into his face at high speeds? That ring is an equal opportunity area of violence!

Tsonda puts a knee into Wade’s midsection on the outside of the ring, and follows it up with a European uppercut that sends the loopy Alabaman spinning. And when he shakes himself out of the spins, Wade is met with a jumping hook kick that deposits him on the cement floor.

Nick: Bernie Roberts is trying to restore order in the ring, but that’s easier said than done.

Roberts steps between Jankauskas and Peeples, ordering the two men back to their respective corners. They respond by glaring at one another and not moving a goddamn inch. And with the moment of tranquility in the ring, Elise Ares sees an opportunity. She darts around Dawkins, charges, uses Kaz’s shoulers to leapfrog OVER Bernie Roberts, and catches Marquis Peeples with a fierce hurricanrana.

Richard: That’s the hottest chick I’ve seen flying through the air since they stopped making stewardesses wear those skanky uniforms!

Nick: A very impressive show of offense from Elise Ares.

As Bernie Roberts shoulders Kaz Jankauskas to his corner, Chandler Tsonda grabs Wade Elliott by the head, pulling the Blue-Collar Brawler up just so he can put him back down, tossing Wade headfirst into the barricade. The fans admonish Tsonda for his dirty, rotten tactics. Oh, wait, they fucking lurve it.

Richard: These bloodthirsty savages are cheering for a savage attack on an innocent man. You’d do well to remember that this is how the Vietnam War started, Virginia!

Nick: There’s not enough time left in the broadcast to tackle all the things wrong with that statement, so let’s just pretend you didn’t say it.

Richard: You sound like my second wife.

With Jankauskas in his own corner, Bernie Roberts turns back to the ring, the area of his sovereignty…only to find that people are shitting all over his sovereignty, with Tyrell Dawkins and Marquis Peeples performing a double Irish whip on Elise Ares. As the Swaggeriffic One bounces back, the Redeemed catch with a double chokeslam and Dawkins hops on top of her, hooking the leg and looking for a pin.

Richard: Oh, NOW you want to play by the rules?

Nick: I don’t think the match has even officially started for a pinfall to be recorded.

DING DING DING!

One…



Two…



ThrNO!

Nick: Shoulder up! Elise Ares just barely escapes being the quickest pinfall victim in PRIME history.

Richard: She’s too good-looking for such an awful fate.

Returning to the outside, where Chandler Tsonda and Wade Elliott appear to care roughly not at all about the match, we see The Model Citizen pulling The Bad Dog up once again, before delivering a swift elbow to Wade’s throat. Tsonda follows this up with quick sweep kick, which he segues right into a double leg drop.

Richard: Tsonda needs to let bygones be bygones.

Nick: Wade tried to publicly destroy the man’s career!

Richard: I award Wade points for his candor and creativity. The whole "dropping the ring bell onto the chair-wrapped leg" was inventive.
‘
Back in that place where beating one another senseless is actually legal, Tyrell Dawkins pulls Elise Ares up by the arm. She swings at him, but Dawkins easily ducks and hits a hip toss, before tagging in Marquis Peeples.

Nick: The Redeemed going for some quick tagging to stay fresh. Not a bad strategy against the physically overmatched Elise Ares.

Richard: Please, Nick. Ares is twice the man that either of those two slumdog millionaires could ever be.

Nick: That…really doesn’t make sense.

Richard: I’m just trying to work the fact that I finally saw the movie into conversation.

Before Dawkins departs the ring, he hoists Ares up onto his shoulder, and Marquis Peeples charges into the ring, grabbing Ares’ protruding neck, rotating as he does, and nailing her with a twisting neckbreaker that brings a sizeable pop from the crowd.

Nick: Teamwork is the name of the game for these guys.

Marquis bounces off the nearby rope before issuing a double elbow drop onto Ares’ midsection. In his corner, Kaz Jankauskas tries to step into the ring, but Bernie Roberts, with no desire to have another anarchistic moment on his hands, waves the authoritative finger in Kaz’s face. In the ring, Peeples grins, issuing one hearty middle finger towards Jankauskas.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Nick: The crowd is getting behind the Redeemed for sticking it to the Wolves of OUCH!

Richard: The Wolves of Ouch? That doesn’t OH GOOD GOD!

What Nick saw the first time and what Richard saw the second time was Elise Ares foot projecting upwards straight into the unprotected groin of Marquis Peeples. With Bernie Roberts conveniently distracted by Jankauskas, her low blows are seen by everyone except the head referee. A vicious snarling grin slides across Kaz’s face as Bernie Roberts turns back to the match and Elise Ares shakes the cobwebs.

ASS-HOLES! ASS-HOLES! ASS-HOLES!

Nick: These two have the talent to compete on their merits alone, yet they stoop to cheap shots like that?

Richard: Nothing cheap about that kick. Peeples is gonna be paying for that one for a couple hours, at least.

Ares quickly bounds to the nearest turnbuckle, making a throat-slashing gesture as she looks down at Marquis Peeples.

Nick: She’s gonna try and put this match to bed right now!

The Havana Harlot comes flying off the top rope, smashing into the downed Peeples with a devastating shooting star splash. She pops up and puts her boot onto the chest of Peeples, before stepping over the Redeemed member.

Elise Ares: Que Tai Eso?

And with that, she begins to gyrate, shaking what her mama gave her to a couple catcalls and a LOT of boos.

Richard: She will be mine. Oh yes, she will be mine.

Nick: She’s got some nerve.

The capper? She turns around and spits on Marquis Peeples, a move that incites the crowd.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

That move would have Tyrell Dawkins bounding out of his corner, but Bernie Roberts doesn’t allow it. Having sufficiently humiliated her opponent, Ares goes for the pin, pulling Bernie back into active duty.

One…




Two….



Three!
NO!

Nick: Kickout by Marquis!

Richard: What’s the deal with black people having French names? Marquis? LeBron? Andre? Ridiculous.

Nick: You know that Richard is originally a French name, don’t you?

Richard: Just another obstacle I’ve overcome.

Back in the non-legal part of the match, Wade Elliott has taken back some momentum, with Chandler Tsonda backed up against the barricade. Wade hits a shoulder block, driving Tsonda’s injured back forcefully into the barricade. He then puts a boot into Tsonda’s gut, and uses a fireman’s carry to put the Model Citizen down unceremoniously on the unforgiving floor.

Nick: You think they’ll ever make it to the ring?

Richard: I hope not. If one part of this match gets boring, we’ve got another, cooler part to turn to!

As Elise Ares tags her partner in, an entirely new set of boos rain down on the Iron Wolf. His first order of business is to stomp Tyrell Dawkins, earning himself even more ire from the Richmond faithful. He pulls Dawkins up by the head, only to put the smaller man immediately back down on the mat with a ferocious headbutt. No surprise, more boos.

Nick: The fans seem to particularly resent Jankauskas for his conduct in the ring.

Richard: It’s hard to boo a hot ass ethnic chick. That’s a scientific fact.

Kaz pulls Dawkins up once more, but this time Tyrell breaks the hold, grabbing the huge Lithuanian by the head and turning the tide by spiking his head into the mat with a double-arm DDT. Dawkins tries to make it to his own corner, but the downed Jankauskas throws an arm out in desperation and catches Tyrell’s heel, pulling the Redeemed member back towards him. Showing supreme athleticism, Dawkins hops on his one available foot, spins, and hits a spinning double knee stomp on Jankauskas. Freed from Kaz’s grip, Dawkins is able to slap the outstretched hand of Marquis Peeples.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Nick: Marquis Peeples is in! Fresh blood!

Richard: Blood with sickle cell, probably.

Nick: Wow, that was bad.

Richard: My shame gene never activated as a child.

On the outside, Wade Elliott and Chandler Tsonda have brawled to a spot near the ring, but are now stuck in a battle for the high ground. His heels on the very bottom of the ramp, Chandler Tsonda ducks a right hook from the Bad Dog, and grabs Wade around the neck, pulling him to the floor with a snapmare. With Wade down, the Model Citizen runs at the barricade, uses the top of the barricade as a springboard, and crashes into the rising Wade with a corkscrew body press that puts both men seemingly down for the count.

TSON-DA! TSON-DA! TSON-DA!

Nick: Modified Perfect 10! Wade and Tsonda are down! Their war on the outside may be over!

Richard: How did he…I think that sneaky Vietcong bastard is wearing jet boots.

Marquis Peeples hammers away the Iron Wolf, issuing right elbow after right elbow into his chest, Jankauskas forced to take a step back with every blow. He whips the big man towards the ropes, but Jankauskas reverses, and sets up for a back body drop. But like every other time anyone set up for a back body drop too soon, this backfires when Peeples is able to control his momentum, sliding between Kaz’s legs and pulling him down with a school boy.

One…



Two…


Three!

Nick: Ack! So close! Shoulder up by Kaz!

Richard: He probably had to eat his siblings to get out of Lithuania, the man is tough.

Peeples pulls himself up by the ropes, waiting for Kaz to get up. But the Redeemed member doesn’t see the lightning-fast ascent of the turnbuckle by Elise Ares, who comes flying out of the corner…

Nick: Look out Marquis!

Richard: Time to get your block knocked off, hoodlum!

…and her missile dropkick connects, both boots laying one hell of a smackdown.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Nick: She hit her own man! Ares hit Kaz!

Richard: This is not sweet.

Unfortunately, the recepient of said smackdown is her partner, Kazys Jankauskas, who catches the dropkick right in the chest when Marquis Peeples ducks. Peeples drops down for a cover, but Bernie Roberts is tasked with returning Ares to her corner. The fans count off the three, but with no referee to count, that doesn’t count for much, and they let Ares know how they feel about this.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: The Redeemed should’ve just had this match!

Peeples pulls Jankauskas up by the head, throwing his hands up to get the crowd into it.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Once again, Elise Ares rushes the ring, but this time, she’s met by Tyrell Dawkins. As she throws two rights, he blocks each blow, hitting a belly-to-belly suplex that pulls both of them to the mat. Bernie Roberts tries to get the two of them back to their corner, but misses yet ANOTHER low blow by the Wolves of Slaughter as the desperate Iron Wolf slams his knee into Peeples’ nether regions.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: Dammit! This is ludicrous!

Richard: Wait, one of those guys is Ludacris?! It all makes so much sense now. The Redeemed is some kind of rap thing.

Jankauskas smiles wickedly as Peeples drops to the mat. He stomps away at the smaller man, but hears a strange noise, the rising cheers of the Richmond crowd.

Richard: Turn aro–

The Iron Wolf is one step ahead of Richard, as he goes to spin around. Instead, it’s he who gets spun, raised through the air, and then SMASHED into the ring neck-first with a particularly gruesome rack neckbreaker.

Nick: CHANDLER TSONDA OUT OF NOWHERE WITH THE NARCISSIST’S NOOSE!

Richard: This is not cool. Not even close.

The Model Citizen slides out of the ring as Bernie Roberts slides back towards where Peeples has the leg hooked, the crowd counting out the hopeful pinfall.

One…



Two…



Three!

Nick: They did it! Despite those cheating bastards, the Redeemed and Tsonda won it!

Richard: Hogwash!

As the bell rings, and "Down With The King" blares over the PA system, the violence isn’t even close to over. From behind, Chandler Tsonda tackled to the ground by the now-ambulatory Wade Elliott. In the ring, Elise Ares and Marquis Peeples have resumed their brawl, and Marquis Peeples and Kazys Jankauskas are slowly crawling up to continue their own brawl.

Nick: The match is over, but these feuds are just heating up!

Richard: Nice shill.

Nick: Folks, we’re all out of time, we’ll see you next week! For Richard Parker, I’m Nick Stuart! Good night!

As the announcers sign off, the brawl continues. As a long shot reveals the chaos still ensuing in the ring, the PRIME logo pops up in the right corner of the screen, before the screen cuts promptly, the continued violence asserting one very important thing to take away from this main event.

This ain’t over.

For anybody.