There is a right way and there is a wrong way to announce one’s presence to the de facto power of a multi-billion dollar enterprise such as PRIME. One could ring ahead and make an appointment; one could find a lackey and ask them to beg audience; one could even gently tap at the door and apologise for the sheer effrontery of turning up unannounced.

Or, if you were Jay Phoenix, you could simply kick the door open, literally, and storm right in, placing your hands flat on the desk and leaning over until you are a matter of inches for the seemingly calm and composed face of said power that is.

Lisa Tyler.

The slight pursing of the lips and the eyebrow that raises half a millimetre or less are the only signs that she may be a tad displeased. Before Phoenix can speak, as he is still inhaling for what would obviously be a stream of words that may not stop for a while, she holds up one finger in front of him, imperiously, and continues to speak into her cellphone.

Lisa Tyler: I'm afraid something's just come up. I'll call you right back.

Her gaze flicks up and down Phoenix, and then past him. Following her eyes Phoenix sees the hulking form of Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas as he starts to contort his body in a myriad of ways to allow him through the door that fits normal human people. Despite the adrenaline running through Phoenix his face blanches at the sight of the man who definitely isn’t normal.

And may not be fully human.

With a slight shake of her head Lisa calls Dametreyus off and, with a glare at Phoenix, he pulls the door closed behind him.

Lisa Tyler: No, nothing important. (glares at Phoenix) I'm sure it's the usual babysitting that I have to put up with.

With a smile, which fades as soon as the cell phone is put on the desk, she locks gazes with Pheonix and – again before he can speak – she interrupts him.

Lisa Tyler: Strike one.

Whatever he was going to say is momentarily forgotten as Phoenix blinks in confusion.

Jay Phoenix: What?

Lisa Tyler: As disjointed as this place may seem at times, I am in control. I am both alpha and omega. Are we perfectly transparent on that point, Mister Phoenix?

Jay Phoenix: … I suppose …

Lisa Tyler: So, next time you feel the need to speak to your employer how about you do me the courtesy of knocking with you hands – not your feet – and waiting for permission before barging in to my office?

Jay Phoenix: It couldn’t wait, Lisa.

Lisa Tyler: It never can, can it?

Jay Phoenix: Well maybe if you answered your damn phone …

Lisa Tyler: Strike two. I am so very not joking around here.

Jay Phoenix: You what?

Lisa Tyler: My job is not to entertain you, Mister Phoenix, nor is it to make sure that your particular situation is absolutely to your liking. I am interested in one thing, and that is the set of numbers that determines how many people are watching MY product.

Jay stares at Lisa, fixedly, then steps back slightly. He takes two deep breaths, unclenches his fists and then paints an obviously false smile on his face.

Jay Phoenix: Ok – so, Ms Tyler, do you mind if I ask you a simple question, please?

Lisa Tyler: Thin ice, Phoenix.

Jay Phoenix: Great – I want to know what on Earth you were thinking when you booked me to work WITH Jason frikkin’ Natas tonight?!

Lisa Tyler: What I was thinking?! I was thinking that my employees would jump when I say jump. Natas playing you like a cheap fiddle is an absolute hit with every demographic.

Jay Phoenix: Ratings? Is that it?! You know what he did to Rick, Lisa, you know what he has been doing to me ever since and …

Lisa Tyler: It's not preschool, Phoenix. If you want Natas to play nice, you sock him in the mouth until he does.

Jay Phoenix: .. but he has crossed the line …

Lisa Tyler: Wrong show to be testing my patience.

Jay Phoenix: I will NOT work with him Lisa, I refuse! I will quit this place before I …

Lisa Tyler: Wrong. We've been down that road before, and you are turning into PRIME’s resident yo-yo in terms of how many times you have quit and come back. You will work with him. You will go out there, tonight, and you will work as a tag team with Jason Natas.

Jay Phoenix: Why the Hell should I?

Lisa Tyler: Because I said so, Jay – and being that I'm the gatekeeper for your one-on-one match with Natas...

Jay Phoenix: That is ALL that I want, Lisa, but no-one seems to give a damn about what I want.

Lisa Tyler: (smugly) I certainly don't.

Jay Phoenix: … just tell me, when do I get Natas?

Lisa Tyler: Well, first of all you do what you are told and you go out there, tonight, like I said and you and Natas take on Chainz and Hessian.

Jay Phoenix: … and then?

Lisa Tyler: Well then what you want, and what is best for PRIME, may very well be the very same thing.

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.

Inside the ‘office’ of Tyler Nelson, there are no lights on. He’s not in here, after all, so why should there be lights on? The only light seen are the slivers that sneak in at the top and bottom of the door. So how in the hell do we even know where we’re at? Because I told you, stupid.

The faint sound of voices can be heard, getting louder in commendation with the sound of footsteps walking down the corridor outside. The two men chatter back and forth, but their words are muffled by the closed door. Soon the shadows of two sets of feet stop in front of the door. The door handle is fidgeted with and turned, allowing the door to open and light to flood the room from outside. A hand reaches in and flicks on the light switch, which seemingly causes our view to switch to one from the hallway.

Entering the room are Mr. Simmons, personal bodyguard to the man standing behind him, Tyler Nelson. As the black suited bodyguard enters the ‘office’, the Greediest Player in the Game gives a quick glance to his right and left, checking to make sure that there isn’t anyone trailing them. Satisfied that the coast is clear, he slithers into the room in his cheap navy blue suit. The room has no desk or chairs, no furniture at all really, save for a wooden bench anchored to the floor that runs parallel to the upright lockers on the wall. Simmons walks over and lays the large duffel bag that was slung over his shoulder on the bench, carefully balancing it so that it doesn’t fall over. A smug Nelson follows him, loosening the tie around his neck.

Tyler: I don’t know what I was worried about. Sirrajin doesn’t want any of this.

The smugness in his voice is thick as he pulls the tie from around his neck and tosses it over the bench. Simmons turns around and opens his mouth as if he’s going to respond, but he freezes with his mouth agape. Behind his sunglasses we can see his eyebrows lift, telling us that his eyes have grown wide while his jaw drops farther open. Nelson scowls, looking down at himself.

Tyler: What? Do I have a stain on my shirt?

Mr. Simmons slowly points over Nelson’s shoulder. The Greediest Player in the Game reaches down and slips his pleather shoe off his foot. His body starts to turn before his head does.

Tyler: I didn’t know you were scared of spiders, Simmons. (sarcastically) Don’t worry, I’ll save you.

Finally his head catches up with the rest of his body.

"Welcome to Providence!"

Crowd: RUAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Nelson’s face goes flush as the camera pans over. Standing in the corner behind the door is none other than the PRIME Cut, Killean Sirrajin. The crowd goes nuts inside the arena as the King of Greed’s face goes pale. The Hall of Famer, wearing a black t-shirt, black jeans, some fingerless gloves, and his trademark sunglasses, stands with his right shoulder against the wall and his arms folded across his chest.

Tyler: SECURITY!!!!

Mr. Simmons: I’m right here, boss.

Tyler: I mean more security!

Killean: Aww…what’s the matter? I just stopped by for a little chat. You weren’t here yet, so I let myself in.

Nelson clutches his shoe like a weapon as he takes a couple of steps backwards. He keeps his eyes glued to Killean as he feels for Mr. Simmons with his free hand. Finally finding the bodyguard, Nelson grabs a handful of Simmons’ clothing and drags him to a position between himself and The PRIME Choice.

Tyler: You’ve got no business in here, has-been. You’ll have to wait until next week for me to put you out of your misery. I’ve got more important business tonight.

Killean: (chuckling) You never cease to amaze me, Ty. After all this time, you’re still the same old miserable son of a bitch.

Tyler: (pointing over Mr. Simmons’ shoulder with his shoe) I’d be watching who you’re calling old. I’m not the one on the way out because I can’t hack it in the ring anymore. I’m on the way up at the expense of your so-called friend, Lisa Tyler.

Sirrajin steps away from the wall, causing Nelson to anxiously shuffle his feet in an effort to keep Simmons as a buffer.

Killean: There’s no so-called about it. Lisa is my friend, and while destroying you at Colossus is certainly doing her a favor, it’s going to be my pleasure.

Nelson laughs nervously as he eyeballs the door. Killean notices and glances at the door himself. He smiles as he looks back at Tyler.

Killean: Going somewhere?

The Supreme Machine slides over to his left and takes a position in front of the door, effectively blockading Nelson and Simmons in the room.

Tyler: In case you didn’t realize, I have a match tonight against someone who’s at least been relevant in the last couple years.

Killean: We’re not done…talking.

Tyler: (in the toughest voice he can possibly muster given the circumstances) Either you get out now, or Simmons is going to THROW you out!

Sirrajin just hangs his head, shaking it back and forth and smiling.

Killean: Please, do me that favor.

Nelson’s brow furrows as his eyes shift quickly around the room, trying unsuccessfully to find another way out of the room. Killean unfolds his arms and stands on the balls of his feet, ready for action. Suddenly Nelson flings his shoe across the room at Killean’s head. The PRIME Cut easily dodges the projectile as Nelson puts his shoulder in Simmons’ back. The bodyguard looks shocked as his back arches and he lunges toward Killean. The Supreme Machine catches the much smaller Simmons in an awkward bearhug and receives a right hand to the jaw from Nelson for his trouble. The punch does little other than piss Killean off. Nelson senses the anger rising in Killean and drives another shoulder into the back of Simmons, pressing Killean against the wall. Sirrajin reaches for Nelson, but can’t quite grab a hold of him before the Greediest Player in the Game is able to slide out the door unscathed.

Simmons, on the other hand, is another story.

Killean grabs hold of the bodyguard and easily flings him aside. Simmons flies into the lockers with a loud crash. The PRIME Cut points a finger at Simmons.

Killean: My fight isn’t with you. Just stay out of my way.

Simmons doesn’t move as Killean reaches for the door. As soon as Sirrajin’s back is turned, Simmons’ sighs and rolls his eyes.

Simmons: Here we go again.

The bodyguard springs into action and leaps onto the back of The Supreme Machine, wrapping his arms around Killean’s neck and holding on for dear life. Sirrajin looks more bothered than anything, scowling as he reaches back and grabs Simmons by the head.

Killean: I guess we’ll do this the hard way, then.

Sirrajin rips Simmons off his back and flings him across the room once again. This time the bodyguard crashes into the concrete block wall head first, falling to the floor in an unconscious heap. Killean shakes his head.

Killean: I tried to tell you. I’ll send some medics in a bit, since I know Nelson won’t do it.

Sirrajin pulls the door open and exits the room, leaving Simmons in a pile of himself on the other side.

The PRIME Universal Champion lurks backstage, a smile stretched on his face that might be smug and might be nervous. He fires an obligatory scowl at a passing arena staff member before returning to a more natural, jovial expression.

On and on the camera follows him through the arena corridors. It’s obvious that Snow’s been here a time or two, and he flows through them like water through a pipe, until ultimately coming to his destination.

A door with his name on it.

Snow stops – always best to err on the side of caution. He takes a long look down the hallway to his left. A long look down the hallway to his right.

And then he opens the door and enters the darkness.

"I’ve been waiting for you, Snow."

Snow: What the f-

The light fires to life and we find Matt Mills, standing petrified in Jason Snow’s locker room, his eyes wide and his jaw trembling – and the heel of Jason Snow’s snake skin boot holding steady not three inches from his chin.

Mills is too terrified to speak.

Snow’s eyes narrow – his right foot doesn’t move from its place.

Snow: What the hell are you doing here, peasant?

Mills’ eyes shift from Snow’s face to his boot.

Mills: I… I came for an interview.

Snow: Do you realize how close you came to getting your inferior ass decapitated?

Mills: It crossed my mind.

Snow seems to ponder things for a moment – maybe whether or not Mills is some sort of spy working for Kaiser Vashaun or some other three-quarters-insane idea. Finally, he decides to lower his foot and stand on both legs.

Snow: There’s a reason why kicking people in the face is so popular around here, plebe – half the damn world has seen me land the damn thing a million times now. Accept no imitations.

Thumbs his chest.

Snow: Like a God damn jungle cat.

Mills clears his throat, still obviously a bit flushed from his brush with a concussion.

Mills: I was hoping to ask you a thing or two about what you’re expecting from Kaiser Vashaun this week.

Snow: You mean that plebe running around, fashioning himself some sort of "champion?" I seem to remember him…

Mills: After the last several weeks, aren’t you afraid that maybe you’ve broken the camels’ back, so to speak? That you’ve pushed Vashaun over the brink? You’ve got to be expecting retaliation.

Snow: Plebe, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve been the absolute definition of sportsmanship my entire life.

Mills: …you’re not serious.

Snow looks confused that he would say such a thing.

Mills: Snow, you have to be expecting Vashaun to do something this week.

Snow: I hadn’t given it much thou-

It’s at this precise moment that the door to Snow’s dressing room explodes open, catching Snow in the back and head. The Universal Champ stumbles forward in shock, but he has no time to recover before Kaiser Vashaun is on him with a flurry of knees. They crash backward, knocking over a table, and in the next instant, Vashaun whips Snow into a full length standing mirror. A waterfall of glass welcomes the champ to the floor while Vashaun goes to work on his ribs with solid boots. Snow still seems not to have much idea what’s happening to him, but by instinct he’s grabbing on to Kaiser Vashaun’s legs.

Vashaun: This is just a taste… plebe!

With that, Vashaun scoops Snow up off the floor and out of the glass. There are blood droplets all around.

Nick (OSV): The entire world has been waiting for this!

Weight of the world?

Weight of the-

"Hold it right there, Vashaun!"

Kaiser freezes, recognizing the voice instantly.

Lisa Tyler.

Matt Mills stands behind her.

Lisa: That’s just about enough.

Vashaun looks at Snow, helpless. Completely at his mercy.

Lisa: Really, Kaiser, are you such a hot-blooded buffoon that you can’t wait a few little days for Colossus? I promise you, when it rolls around, you can do whatever you want to our resident puffer fish. But this isn’t Colossus. This is Rev 202…

Vashaun hesitates.

Vashaun: So?

Lisa: Put him down, Kaiser.

Long pause.

Lisa: Now.

Nick (OSV): We were so close! So close to seeing Jason Snow finally get what he deserves.

Kaiser Vashaun takes a deep, frustrated breath.

Vashaun: Not happenin'.

Lisa: What did you say to m-

Weight of the world.

Nick (OSV): OH MY GOD!

Snow lies in shambles. If he’s conscious, it’s not by much.

Vashaun looks proudly down at his work and then over to Lisa Tyler. He starts toward the door.

Lisa: I hope it was worth it, Kaiser. You know there are repercussions for so blatantly defying me.

Vashaun throws her a smirk.

Vashaun: It was worth it.

One look back to the battered champion. Another smirk at the boss.

Vashaun: Believe me.

'Meatbag' by The Changing begins through the arena. The slow Piano chords quickly replaced by the screaming of electric guitar bringing a small portion of the crowd to their feet.

Richard: Looks like we have the special bus in over there, why would anyone bother to cheer this guy?

Meat appears from behind the curtain and starts a slow walk to the ring. He is quite clearly taking his time in the matter as he looks around the arena for a while before stepping into the ring and signalling for a microphone.

Nick: Meat looks strangely focused this week. In recent weeks he has not seemed himself.

Richard: Or perhaps that was his true self and he's just awful. I can't believe he's been granted screen time, this better be important.

Meat paces up and down in the ring for a while as the crowd begins to simmer down as 'Meatbag' begins to fade down. He slowly raises the mic to his lips and pauses for a moment as though pondering his first words.

Meat: Long.....Live.....PRIME!

The crowd may not know or even like Meat but they sure as hell love PRIME and respond in turn, cheering wildly.

Richard: That was cheap.

Nick: That was smart.

Meat: Looking around at all your faces. I can't understand why anyone would even consider an alliance with quite frankly lesser opposition. Make no mistake PRIME is going to war but I have no doubt in my mind that this is a war...that PRIME will WIN!

The crowd once again cheers wildly, bringing a smile to his face. Something of a rarity from the big man from Denver.

Meat: You know, a lot of people out there probably aren't too sure whether to boo or cheer me. Hell! Even more people out there probably won't care either.

Richard: I know I don't.

Meat: I've been in PRIME for sometime now and I haven't really made the biggest of impacts. I have thought long and hard about want I want from my career here. Do I want gold? Do I want recognition or do I want respect? Truth be told is even I'm not sure any more.

Richard: Then stop wasting time!

Meat: You know this job is hard at the best of times. But its made even harder when people like Troy Douglas, don't even have the common decency to acknowledge me. This evening we were supposed to come out here and promote our match at Colossus and yet he won't even look me in the eye. If it wasn't for Lisa Tyler letting me know even I wouldn't have known about the match! How the hell are you guys supposed to know?

Nick: It's true the match at Colossus has come pretty much from nowhere. The two have been around each other in matches, during the last few weeks but that's about it. It certainly does lack a bit of oomph when you compare it to others at the colossal Colossus card.

Richard: It's filler, no-one will watch it. I know I won't.

Meat: The thing is this evening and at Colossus he won't have the choice. When he's stood across the ring from me. He'll have to look me in the eye as I pummel him to a bloody pulp. I will rid the self proclaimed Megatron of his superiority complex and bring him down to size. You see men like Troy are the problem with this company, men who have rested on their laurels for so long. Men that don't realise what a fantastic company PRIME is.

The crowd are now somewhat torn on how to react. On one hand Meat is bigging up PRIME and they like that. They like it a lot. However they also like Troy Douglas, he is more well known that Meat. And they are letting him know that.

Meat: I know a lot of you will hate me for this and I'm sorry but you need to be told this. Troy Douglas does not care about PRIME. His heart and soul is not in this company. Honestly, I wouldn't be shocked to see him end up somewhere like GCW!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Nick: That is slander! If I was Douglas I would be on the phone to my solicitor straight away.

Meat: Troy, I'm not going to pretend to understand why you are how you are. Hell I don't even care because, quite frankly, anyone that has the gall and audacity to call themselves Megatron... well they're clearly not living in the real world are they? Anyway, everyone knows what happened to Megatron in the end.

Richard: He came back in a multi million dollar movie and sequel?

Meat: Troy, at Colossus, not only will you have the honour of being beaten by me two weeks in a row. You will also have the honour of being the last person to be beaten by me.

Richard: Why does he plan on going on a massive losing streak?

Meat: Going back to my previous comment about PRIME going to war. There is no doubt that things are going to get worse for Lisa before they get better. I wish I could be there to fight in her corner I really do. But the fact of the matter is....I can't.

Richard: Is he defecting? If he is I will immediately love him!

Meat: I have thought long and hard about this.....

The crowd becomes more attentive as Meat pauses, as though doubting himself and trying to force the words from his mouth.

Meat: It's not a decision that I have come to easily, but I owe it to the few people out there who have bothered to follow my work to be honest. Colossus will be the last time that Meat will be in a PRIME ring, or any ring for that matter.

Richard: I lie. This is the most I could love the man right now!

Nick: You are sick you know that.

Richard: Every second of every day.

Meat: I want to say thank you to everyone that put up with me. To Lisa Tyler for giving me the chance and most of all apologise for not breaking the glass ceiling. I guess, as I am, it just wasn't to be. So make the most of me tonight, because at Colossus. It will be the last time you see Meat.

Meat drops the mic in the ring which echoes to a low hum around the arena. There is no music playing while he walks up the ramp quietly to himself his head hung low. He allows a quick glance to a small portion of fans to his right and shakes his head solemnly, whispering the word 'sorry ' quietly before making his way out back to get ready for his match.

All I wanna do is...

*GUNSHOTS*

Arena fades to a blue-violet color base with gold lighting highlights.

So Swaggerific
S-So Swafferific
So Swaggerific
S-So Swaggerific
How can you call it a lifestyle, when you don't live your life in style?
How can you call it a lifestyle, when you don't live your life in style?

As the pounding bass beat of "Swaggerific" by Verbz begins to play over the arena, it's greeted by a choir of jeers. Blue-violet and gold lights move around to the beat as Elise Ares explodes through the curtain making her way out into the arena. Taking a few steps forward with a hop in her step, Elise pauses and looks around at he crowd with a smirk before holding her arms straight and out and motioning her fingers towards herself as if saying "look at me!" She stops moving her fingers and just holds out her arms as if acknowledging the praise before making her way down to the ring.

Vince Howard: Coming to the ring...One half of the Wolves of Slaughter...

They call me the walkin beauty paegant
Don't need a crowd with my jewelry flashin
10 girls behind me tryin to be like me
Hella fly till I die and there ain't no actin
I'm a connoseur and I'd like to help you
The look on your face got ya s*** devalued
How ya gonna rock donatella with a frown?
Girl this ain't a competition
Do you wanna ask the crowd?

Elise Ares starts her swagger down to the ring with a skip. The attitude in her step fumes of arrogance while she heads towards the ring. She wears a black leather bikini-style top with a blue-violet tribal pattern going across it. Several fans reach out to slap five with The Havana Harlot on her way down to the ring, and she pulls away from them... not wanting their grubby little hands to touch her.

Vince Howard: The Swaggerific One...ELIIISE AREEEEES!!!!!!

She wears a black leather bikini bottom along with matching black leather studded chaps, with a blue-violet tribal pattern going up each leg of those matching the top. Reaching the end of the aisle she slides into the ring under the bottom rope and crawls across the canvas for a second on her forearms before somersaulting up to her feet.

I'm the type of girl who can make things rare
If I wear something, it'll sell out everywhere
I rock hells bells with my new chanel
You rock fake nails, chanel with two L's
I freak black pearls, I freak rose gold
Your pearls turned black when the paint got old
This is non a popularity contest
When God made me he made a new commandment

The Harlot walks over to the corner and pulls herself onto the top rope. Looking over at the crowd she holds out her arms and shakes her hips to the music with a bit of a cocky smirk. Jumping down Elise walks over to the other side of the ring and climbs that turnbuckle. Once again she shakes her hips to the music while waving her fingers towards herself in a "look at me" type motion.

Fly, fly, fly (and he said...)
Thou shalt be fly, fly, fly (til the end...)
Until the day you die, die, die
I'm fly, lemme testify
Not a habit, I'm just gifted
Lord please keep me swaggerific

Jumping down from the top rope Elise Ares backs into her corner where she jumps in place a few times to stretch for the upcoming match. The lights in the arena return to normal and "Swaggerific" fades into the boos of the crowd. Which Elise interprets in her mind as cheers, and responds with a smile of acknowledgement.

The lights dim down to a pitch black. The WAL*TRON flickers to life in a montage of devastating, hardcore wrestling highlights. A chilling voice accented in Swedish bellows over the crowd:

"It's about to get ugly..."

Smoke begins to mist over the floor. Laughing and mean, violent babble is heard over the PA.

"...Wicked ugly."

As green, white, and yellow strobe lights decorate the entry way, Korn's "Falling Away from Me" begins playing as the crowd boos for Scraps, one half of the team of Wicked Ways.

As Scraps walks around ringside, getting his head ready for the upcoming bout, Elise decides she's not going to wait for the official start to the match.

Nick: Elise looks as if she can't wait any longer!

Bounding across the ring, the Havana Harlot leaps onto the middle rope, just beside the buckle, then flings herself over the adjacent cable with a Moonsault that wipes Scraps out.

Richard: A nice start to the match there. Scraps is being used as a crash mat!

Punching the air as the fans rise and applaud, Elise waits for a stunned Scraps to stagger up. Reaching back, she grabs his head, then hops up to the ring steps, pushing herself off to go for a flip-over Reverse DDT. Planting his feet, Scraps tries to resist, so rather than flipping back, Elise simply hops across to the higher guard rail.

Nick: What improvisation there. She couldn't get enough leverage to battle Scraps' resistance from the steps, so she goes to hit it from somewhere higher where he can't fight it!

Pushing off with all the force she can muster, Elise flips over and pulls Scraps down with a rude version of Sliced Bread #2, drilling Scraps' head all the more as her feet catch on the apron mid-flip.

Richard: It may look like Scraps took a hard hit there, but she was lucky not to break an ankle as her feet whipped down onto the apron.

Nick: This is a rare moment when I'll agree with you. The ringside area doesn't really have enough space for what she tried, and she's lucky there's still feeling in her feet.

Grabbing Scraps by the hair and waist, Elise guides him back into the ring, before leaping up onto the apron. Watching him get to all fours, Elise waits for the perfect moment, before flipping over the ropes and into the ring, landing with a double-foot stomp to her opponent's unfortunate kidneys. Immediately, Scraps rolls over and arches his back off the mat, only for the Havana Harlot to flatten him out with a Standing Moonsault, catching him with her knees more than anything else.

Referee: One!

.

.

Tw-NO!

Showing the power packed into his muscled frame, Scraps pushes Elise off, only winding her up so that she flies right back with a Dropkick to his rising head.

Nick: Smart tactics there. Elise just pumped both feet into Scraps' face, slowing his rise until she was ready.

Grabbing his face where Elise's boots connected, Scraps staggers to his feet, only for Elise to land a kick to his ribs, doubling him over. Springing into action, the Havana Harlot leaps onto the middle rope, then hops onto her opponent's back. Using his body as a launch platform, Elise leaps up into a tight corkscrew... then drives Scraps' face into the mat with a Spinning Rocker Dropper.

Richard: Hey! It can't be legal to use your opponent to jump off of and hit him!

Nick: Her style might not be what they'll teach you at wrestling school, but she knows how to bust out something effective. To get maximum impact, she needed to be close to him when she jumped... so why not jump off of him!

Despite the pain, Scraps doesn't take long to rise, but does so hunched over. Running right at her opponent, Elise leapfrogs him, building up speed as she flings herself into the ropes. Sensing her approach, Scraps uncurls himself and spins at her with a harsh Discus Clothesline.

Richard: HE'S GONNA KNOCK HER... what?

Nick: Amazing reflexes!

Reacting to the swinging of Scraps' arm, Elise goes under and up into a Crucifix. Hanging across his shoulders, Elise tries to force Scraps down, but can't budge her much larger opponent.

Nick: That Crucifix was set-up out of pure instinct... Elise hasn't got the forces working in her favor.

Pulling Elise's head down under his right arm, Scraps sets her up for what looks like a Northern Lights Bomb, before sharply dropping down and driving her neck into his knee. Instantly, Elise grabs the injured body part, but her hands are peeled away when Scraps covers.

Referee: One! Two! Thr-NO!

Thrusting an arm free, Elise then immediately grabs her neck again, trying to fight the throbbing caused by the point of Scraps' knee.

Nick: WOW! What the HELL do you call that move?!?!?

Richard: A Hurts Like Hell Bomb... DUH!

Grabbing Elise's hair, Scraps yanks her up harshly, before landing a hard forearm to the jaw. Elise's legs go limp beneath her, but Scraps keeps hold of her hair, leaving her hanging limply in front of him. Another right hand rocks her, before Scraps tugs her hair to pull her into a Side Russian Legsweep.

Nick: Smart tactics by Scraps... Elise couldn't help but make that neck look like the obvious place to target.

With Elise's neck tightly clamped in his grip, Scraps flings himself back into the Legsweep, drawing a hiss of pain from Elise as she hits the mat. Keeping hold of her, Scraps rolls through and back to his feet, pulling Elise up with him. Turning 180 degrees, he once again slams Elise down with the Russian Legsweep, then once more rolls back to his feet.

Richard: HAHA! We're getting everything in duplicate now!

Wincing, Elise makes the pain from her neck visible, before Scraps' right arm eclipses her features to get a reverse chinlock.

Nick: Look at that! Scraps has adjusted his grip, pulling back on the neck now rather than clamping it.

Richard: You only just spotted that? Try to keep up...

Flinging himself down, he drives the back of Elise's head and neck into the mat with a Russian Legsweep Reverse DDT, before rolling over and pulling back on Elise's head with a Dragon Sleeper.

Richard: TAP! TAP! TAP!

Nick: What an unrelenting chain of moves from the tag team champ. Each one further hurting the neck of Elise.

Seeing she was close to the ropes, Elise braved a few seconds of agony to stretch and grab them.

One!

Two!

Three!

Four!

Nick: Elise knows she has to get to the ropes, but she's giving Scraps a few seconds of extra leverage to really hurt her with.

With extra pressure put on by stretching for the ropes, Elise thrashes her feet in agony as Scraps holds on for as long as he can without getting disqualified... knowing he has a chance to do some major damage.

Five... Break!

Releasing the hold, Scraps drops down to a seated position, while Elise scrambles from the ring, holding her neck and screwing her face up in pain. Before the official can even try to stop him, Scraps follows Elise out, dropping to the floor behind her. Elise is oblivious as Scraps launches into a Roaring Elbow, slamming the bony joint into her neck.

Richard: WOW! I was about to spring up to try and catch her head as it went flying off!

One!

Two!

As if her puppet strings were cut, Elise limply collapses. Flat against the mats, she grabs the back of her neck, only for Scraps to plant the sole of his boot into her hands, then walk across the back of her neck.

Three!

Four!

Five!

Richard: HAHA! I lov-.. er... like this guy.

Nick: That was crude. That was vicious... and it was VERY effective.

Six!

Seven!

Despite the sharp pain Elise suffers, she refuses to make it vocal, and remains silent as Scraps pulls her limply up, then tosses her into the ring.

Nick: Scraps has been very methodical so far. He damaged the neck in the ring, used a ten count outside to work it over viciously, now tosses her back in to try and end it.

Richard: I've enjoyed what Elise brings to the ring, but Scraps is proving why he and Rippa are the tag team champions.

Scraps slides in after Elise, pacing around her as he weighs up his next move, knowing he's done enough to buy a couple of seconds. As she tries to crawl up, Scraps grabs Elise's wrist, giving her a helping hand... before yanking her into a stiff Short Clothesline.

Nick: OUCH! I think everyone at ringside felt that impact.

Despite Elise dropping down onto the mat in a heap, Scraps keeps hold of her wrist, pulling her back up and right into another Short Clothesline, the inner angle of his elbow wrapping across her throat as she's sliced down again. Scraps refuses to release her wrist, even as she crawls to the ropes. Pulling her up a third time, he winds up for a more devastating Clothesline, only for the Havana Harlot to just duck under it.

Richard: And a thir-... wait...

Reacting quickly to the threat, Scraps keeps the wrist held, and spins his body to execute a rapid arm-wringer.

Richard: Phew, no need to panic!

With the pain shooting up Elise's arm catching her off-guard, she's yanked back towards Scraps, who grabs her waist, then throws her into the turnbuckles with a Release Northern Lights Suplex.

Nick: No need to panic indeed. Scraps was able to effortlessly react to Elise there.

Stunned by the impact, Elise barely manages to keep a hold of the ropes as she tries to pull herself up.

Nick: With Elise's neck as hurt as it is, a hard jolt in the corner could see this match end shortly.

As Elise slumps back against the buckles, eyes glassy and distant, Scraps takes a few steps back, lining her up. Then, building up speed surprisingly fast for a man of his size, Scraps charges at the Havana Harlot, ready to break her through the buckles with a charging forearm. But as he closes in, a little spark within Elise ignites her fighting heart, and she steps forward, then flings herself up.

Nick: What the hell...

At 219 pounds, the momentum of Scraps is too much for him to fight, and he can't avoid Elise's legs as they ensnare his neck.

As the fans surge off their seats, Elise snaps her body back, flinging Scraps' back into the padded steel buckles with a quick, harsh Hurricanrana. Grabbing his spine, a grimacing Scraps springs up, but can only manage a few stumbling paces before he drops to his knees in the middle of the ring, trying to fight the pain caused by a steel bolt thumping into his back.

Nick: I'm not sure I have EVER seen that counter before! She just sent Scraps flipping into the corner!

Richard: Pure desperation from Elise... but damn if she didn't look good doing it.

Seeing she has a chance to get herself back in the match, Elise puts her own pain to the back of her mind, then pulls herself out through the ropes, before tentatively climbing to the top rope. Shaking the cobwebs loose, Elise waits for Scraps to stagger to his feet, before flinging herself off with a Missile Dropkick to his chest.

Nick: OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!

Richard: Okay, that has to be it.

Elise never lands the drop kick, as Scraps used her momentum to grab her by the legs and drive her onto the mat with authority. Scraps drops down and hooks the leg.

Referee: One!

Kazys comes running down the ramp toward the ring.

Two!

Kazys slides under the bottom rope.

Three!

Scraps rolls out the opposite side as Kazys rises to his feet.

Nick: He did it!

Richard: I told you he would!

Kazys swipes at empty air, as Scraps rushes around to the opposite side of the ring and heads up the ramp.

Nick: This is far from over between these two teams.

Richard: It sure looks like it's over.

Kazys helps a shaken Elise Ares to her feet.

"I'm one of the few."

The voice is familiar, though the music is slightly alien. Distant strains of sound melt into quiet strings as the backing track comes to life, and the picture becomes clear. Chandler Tsonda looks directly at the camera, his voice steady and practiced. The Model Citizen is sitting in an empty arena, with the stillness of shadows as his only companion. He's seated on the ring barrier and gazes at the ring.

"One of the few who's been to the top of the mountain."

A slight smile passes his face, but only for a moment. The Tsuperstar is more restrained than usual, his words carrying the weight of a career.

"If you haven't been there, there's almost no way to describe it."

All of a sudden, Chandler Tsonda looks old. Not with grey hair or wrinkled facial features, but with the weary face of a warrior. One year of a wrestlers life is worth, what, five human years? Ten? The aura of age adds gravity to Tsonda's words, which echo luminously in the empty arena.

"It's like trying to describe color to a blind man."

In the ring, black-and-white holographic flashes draw attention away from Tsonda's narration. The first clip, unsurprisingly, shows Tsonda using Devin Shakur's back as a springboard to the ropes at Colossus V, before the wave of flashbulbs, seen as white light in this ghostly image, overtakes everything. All is white.

"That moment, when you fall back to the mat, when you realize that you've just become a living, breathing page of a history book..."

A new holographic flash comes up, that of Hoyt Williams using all that's left of his strength to rise up and slam Killean Sirrajin into the mat, desperately draping his arm across the Supreme Machine and praying for a three count. Colossus II's main event fades from view and the camera meanders back towards Tsonda.

"...it's perfect."

Now, the hologram shows Ignatius Lisieux, tears streaming down his face as he applauds the PRIME fans at Colossus III. Raw emotion is seared on his features as Karina Wolfenden stands in the background, joining the soundless ovation for the man known lovingly as Iggy. The ghostly image is potent, even without seeing the crowd.

"That's why Colossus is special. Different. In a league of its own."

In the same black-and-white grainy style, Lindsay Troy struggles to her feet, assisted by Bernie Roberts. The Queen's eyes are flickering fires as she raises the Universal Title overhead. Her arms shake with the fatigue of her hard-won victory over Sonny Silver, as her Colossus IV victory flashes across the screen.

"It's the type of show that goosebumps were invented for, where even the most experienced wrestlers get a little queasy in the gorilla position."

Tony Rolo collapses to the mat, clutching the Universal Title, at the inaugural Colossus. He can't even throw an arm up to celebrate. The Specialist merely looks up at the lights, huffing and puffing, knowing the job is done. Knowing that, for an eternal moment, everything is right.

"And whether you're talking about the main event...."

Xavier Kannon's infamous spike Hallmark, with an assist from Amy Campbell, is just as hard to watch in replay as it was live. The maneuver sends Jon Rhine's neck at a brutally awkward angle into the mat, contorting Rhine in a vile way, all the while Gold Patron Meritorious Kannon smiling maniacally. The big stage is an uncompromising place, especially for those who won't compromise.

"...or the opening seconds of the night's opening match..."

Jonathan Winters slams Tony Gamble down on a steel chair, as the entire ring shakes in response.

"...don't take a match at Colossus for granted."

The shot cuts back to Tsonda, who still stares at the ring wistfully, no doubt replaying his own Colossus memories in his mind.

"'Cuz that's your moment to be...."

The Model Citizen searches for a word, putting a hand to his chin.

"...perfect."

The Sultan of Style hops off the barrier, cracking his neck as he takes a step towards the ring. He nods solemnly to no one but himself.

"I'll be perfect, Wade."

Tsonda's eyes don't leave the ring, as if Wade Elliott were standing right there before his eyes. But no, this is still an empty arena, a silent mecca.

"While the noise will be deafening, while the blood, sweat, and tears may soak my skin, while the ground may shake under the weight of fifty thousand fans..."

Tsonda turns his back to the camera, studying the ring for a final time.

"...I'll be perfect. Because last year, this year, next year, any year, Colossus is something that's in my veins. I've seen the ghosts."

Tsonda turns a knowing eye towards the ring where, just moments ago, holographic flashes accompanied his words.

"I know the faces."

With one last look, Tsonda turns from the ring and begins the march towards the ramp.

"I know what the top of the mountain feels like."

Labored steps begin to carry Tsonda up the ramp, away from the ring and towards the camera. He stops and takes one look over his shoulder at the empty squared circle.

"I know."

Tsonda's last words are solid as concrete as he trudges up the last section of the ramp, passing through the curtain and leaving the empty arena to ghosts and echoes.

It's amazing what you might notice if you were just a little taller. Take, for example, Hessian.

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Yes, we're aware he's not particularly popular around these parts, but at seven-foot-two and 355lbs, the Murder Show is the largest athlete in PRIME and very likely in all of the PTC. And while people might talk about his overall size quite often -- arms the size of most men's legs, legs the size of most men's heads, fists like canned hams, etc -- they don't talk about the other, less obvious advantages a lot.

For example, it's very hard to get separated from one's party. And you'll never need a step stool to get something from the top shelf. That high up, a man tends to notice a great deal that the shorties miss.

Like a bronze nameplate that reads, "Wyatt Connors". Hessian sees it a second or two before our cameraman -- who really only looks because the great big, bearded man has stopped. Looks like there's a stray bottle of adult beverages propping the door open, allowing just a glimpse inside -- more tile floor, a snippet of a dry erase board, maybe a little bit of bench, but nothing more.

Hessian rolls a shoulder in consideration; after his run-in with his other Colossus opponent last week, getting a bead on the Wise Guy certainly seems like a good decision.

It's impressive how quietly the Construction of Destruction can move when he wants to, approaching the door just as a pair of men start to speak behind it. One of these men has an accent.

Man #1: You sure this'll work?

Man #2: When am I ever not sure?

Man #1: Yeah, but... sometimes you're wrong.

Man #2: Shut up and keep talking.

Man #1: Realize that don't make sense, right?

The Murder Show pauses at the door, listening -- something didn't feel right.

That's when he sees it. The dry erase board has a variety of illegible scribbles on it, except for a section that's been erased and says in another handwriting style,:

"HESSIAN LOOK OUT!"

Instead of entering, the co-#1 contender to the Elite Championship grabs some poor, passing schlub -- one of the countless folks running around backstage -- by the collar of his PRIME polo, heaving him through the door and into the room.

Which upends the bucket held in place over the door.

Which spills its contents -- a mass of sticky, black tar -- over the hapless kid.

Nick (OSV): What the--?

A moment later, a heaping stack of feathers flutter in from just to the left of the door. Hessian steps through in the wake of the tumult, one massive mitt holding the door open. Our cameraman follows hesitantly, angling his shot to the left.

There, bucket in hand, is a very small man in a very fancy suit, looking very pleased with himself.

This is "Wise Guy" Wyatt Connors. This is the Elite Champion -- going on nine months now.

This is... a man who has just realized what's happened.

Wyatt Connors: (at length) Uh-oh.

Fortunately, this is also a very fast man when he needs to be, as evinced by what happens when he tosses his bright red bucket at the Construction and flees in the opposite direction.

Hessian is left in a room with a freshly tarred and feathered crew member, an empty bucket, and a cassette recorder that hasn't stopped playing.

Man #1: So he hears this an' jus' busts open the door?

Man #2: He'll never see it coming.

Hessian doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to.

That glower says it all.

Cut away.

Standing in the middle of the hallway in the backstage area are two men that had a very eventful night on Revolution 201. Not only did Tyrell Dawkins get a singles win over the man known as Meat, but the two had a sort of rise in stature when they cleared the ring of not only the Wolves of Slaughter, but of the tag team champions, Wicked Ways, as well.

So, as they stand there in front of Matt Mills, you cannot help but notice the beaming smiles of pride that they are displaying.

Matt Mills: I’m standing here with Tyrell Dawkins and Marquis Peeples of the Redeemed. Gentlemen, I wanted to take this opportunity to congratulate you on your success in the last edition of Revolution first and foremost. But I also wanted to ask how you planned to go into the ring tonight with the person you defeated last week as your tag team partner. Do you think the three of you will be able to work well together?

Marquis nods, but Tyrell is the one who answers.

Tyrell Dawkins: I don’t see why not. We had a clean match, and I would like to think that he is man enough to understand that it was just a match and it was not personal.

Matt Mills: I see. What about the altercation between you guys, and not only the Wolves of Slaughter but Wicked Ways as well?

Marquis Peeples: Altercation? There was no altercation. Me and Ty went out there because Elise Ares is starting to go too far and Wicked Ways don’t have the common sense to realize it.

Tyrell Dawkins: We don’t understand why Elise and Kazys feel they need to practically thrust themselves into a battle with Wicked Ways through less than respectable means in order to earn a shot at the tag team titles. What ever happened to the time when people received a title shot because of their effort inside of the ring, instead of out?

Matt Mills: Those days seem to be in the past.

Tyrell Dawkins: They are, but that is what Marq and I have come to PRIME to do. We want people to worry less about the tomfoolery we can get into outside of the ring, and focus more on our ability inside of it. That is what should matter, and we’re going to help this new generation of PRIME audience realize that if they aren’t old enough to remember.

Matt Mills: Speaking of title shots. Do you believe the two of you deserve a shot at Wicked Ways?

Marquis Peeples: I think we’ve made a nice case for ourselves the last few weeks, but that decision falls in the hands of Ms. Tyler.

"Don’t you mean, Mr. Tyler?"

All attention turns toward the man walking up with an Entourage that would make Danny Ferguson roll over in his grave…That guy’s dead, right?

Tony Gamble: In case you guys haven’t noticed, ratings go up whenever the big boss is running the show.

Tyrell tries to shake The Gerkin from his leg, as Baby Carrot pokes Matt Mills in the thigh with a pencil.

Matt Mills: Don’t you have a leash for these things?

Tony Gamble: I did, but I think one of the Oompas ate it.

Both Oompas shrug their shoulders.

Tyrell shakes his head.

Tyrell Dawkins: Right. While I would love to stay here and get violated, I have some business to attend to before our match.

Tyrell kicks Gerkin off of his leg and takes a few steps back.

Tyrell Dawkins: I’ll see you back in the locker room.

Marquis nods, then turns his attention toward the quintet of waist high wrestlers staring back at him. Tony Gamble finger waves at him with his signature grin beaming.

Tony Gamble: So, when’s Goodell gonna reinstate you? I could really use a good sleeper pick at backup quarterback.

Marquis Peeples: What are you…I’m not Michael Vick you idiot.

Tony Gamble: Seriously? But you’re…

Tony extends his arm toward Marquis and kind of points.

Marquis Peeples: I’m what, black?

Tony Gamble: I was going to say athletic, but they both work, so you choose one that won’t end with you taking my head off.

Matt Mills lifts his hand to his ear, nodding his head as he turns toward Marquis.

Matt Mills: Something’s going on with Dawkins.

Marquis takes off in the direction Tyrell had, but trips over Baby Carrot, who apparently had found something on the floor.

Baby Carrot: It’s a penny!

Matt Mills wipes his brow with the available sleeve of his maroon polo, sucking up several drops of sweat that previously dotted his brow. He's under the heat of the lights and camera as much as anyone, and while he hasn't felt nerves in a long time, it's still hot as a mother. A dude's gotta sweat. And when a real man sweats, he wipes that away with his own shirt, a nearby woman's blouse, etc. A real man doesn't have time to search for a towel, and Matt's a real man. Aren't you Matt?

The de facto head interviewer takes a deep breath, apparently unaware that the narration is asking him questions. And as the picture fills up, the citizens of the greatest state in the union reward him with a bitchin', rockin', boner-inducing pop.

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

They fucking love Matt Mills.

Wait, no, do you think that might be in response to the well-groomed Asian brother to his right?

The one whose hair alone employs fourteen people?

The one who's Chandler Tsonda?

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Aye, him.

The Model Citizen is rocking a cut-off shirt. Once it had sleeves, but the ochre cannons of the Sultan of Style were too much, and those sleeves fell by the wayside. Across the shirt's front is a simple phrase: Tsuck Me, Beautiful. The sight of the shirt elicits another deafening cheer, with the male demographic as well as the chicks-who-would-give-Tsonda-head demographic making themselves overwhelmingly heard. That's like 94% of the crowd, bee tee dubs.

With his headphones on, the Viet Viper is shadowboxing, not making any eye contact with Mills, who seems to be patiently waiting for his interview. After ten more seconds, Tsonda pulls his earbud headphones out, the unmistakable sound of Survivor's "Eye of the Tiger" sounding out before he puts the iPod to sleep.

Chandler Tsonda: You ready to do this, Matt Mills? Big interview on deck. Huge interview.

Matt Mills: I'm ready when you are, Chandler.

There's a slight sass to Mills' tone, but Tsonda's a better interview subject than most, and Matt is willing to wait. Up to a point, at least.

Chandler Tsonda: This is the World Series of Poker of interviews, Matt Mills.

Matt Mills: Wouldn't it just be the World Series of interviews?

Chandler Tsonda: Obviously not. The World Series doesn't feature ten million bucks staring at you from center field. We're talkin' WSOP money with this interview, Matt Mills.

Matt Mills: I'll be honest. I have no idea where this is going.

Chandler Tsonda: To the moon, Matt Mills. To the em-effing moon. Biggest interview of 2009. Coming up. Right now.

Matt Mills: (grumbles) If it ever starts...

Chandler Tsonda: It's called delayed satisfaction, Matt Mills. I'm in the middle of my crescendo. See, the fans are on the edges of their seats?

The Model Citizen looks around, then speaks right into the camera.

Chandler Tsonda: Ahem. I SAID THE FANS ARE ON THE EDGES OF THEIR SEATS.

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Providence knows a cue for a pop when they hear one. After all, you don't get to be the 36th biggest metropolitan area by being a bunch of cue-missing schmoes.

Matt Mills: Are we starting now?

Chandler Tsonda: No.

Matt Mills: What about now?

Chandler Tsonda: Nope.

Matt Mills: Seriously, Chandler, I have-

Chandler Tsonda: Now we're ready to start, Matt Mills. Ask me your first hard-hitting question.

Matt Mills: (mumbles) About time. (switches back to interview mode) Chandler, your match with Wade Elliott finally made it onto the official Colossus card last week. Yet a lot of people are grumbling that it hasn't quite lived up to the hype. What do you say to these detractors?

"He probably says something along the lines of 'eff you, detractors.'"

That's kind of a weird thing for a cameraman to say. Wait a spell, that's not a cameraman.

It's some Canadian fellow who appears to be wearing glasses indoors. How odd.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

That's New Englander for "he may be from that strange country up north, but we just love the pants off of that Killean Sirrajin." In the flesh, wearing a fucking badass t-shirt with "The Supreme Machine" in gothic script, is the Hall of Famer.

Killean Sirrajin: That about right, Tsonda?

Chandler Tsonda: That does sound like something I'd say.

Killean Sirrajin: You look like you're about to cut a mean promo with Mills. Didn't mean to interrupt. Just passin' through.

Chandler Tsonda: No interruption at all. Matt Mills and I were just flappin' our gums. Right?

The interviewer lets out a long sigh.

Matt Mills: No, no interruption.

Chandler Tsonda: So your boy Nelson purchased himself a one-way train ticket to Painsylvania, and wouldn't you know it? I remembered my conductor hat tonight.

Killean Sirrajin: Honestly, how long did you think about that one for?

Chandler Tsonda: C'mon, Killer, you should know that I only go off the top.

Killean Sirrajin: Sure ya do, champ. Anyway, I'm of the mind that bad news for Tyler Nelson is good news for me. I wouldn't say I'm upset at the fact that Nelson's gotta take on a fellow former Uni Champ.

Chandler Tsonda: CoughlongestreigningUniChampcough.

Killean Sirrajin: (casts a wary eye at Tsonda) I mean, you're no two-time Uni Champ, but you'll have to do, I s'pose. After all, not everyone else has it in them to Grand Slam it up... in fact, no one else does.

Chandler Tsonda: Don't hold it against me if I use that as inspiration to spoil your Colossus moment by putting Nelson in triage.

Killean Sirrajin: Nelson's like a cockroach. He'll be around at Colossus come hell, high water, or nuclear holocaust.

Chandler Tsonda: Kinda admirable, ain't it?

Killean Sirrajin: Not one damn bit.

Chandler Tsonda: Touche.

The PRIME Cut puts a hand to his beard, shooting a pensive look at the Tsuperstar.

Killean Sirrajin: We don't have to do the whole song-and-dance, but if you need a set of eyes on your back, I'm not busy. I already did my work for the night taking out another cog in Nelson's supposed defenses.

Chandler Tsonda: You know I'm just the kind of d-bag who'd tell you that I don't need your help, right?

Killean Sirrajin: Talkin' like that, you'd swear we just met and you didn't come to me three years ago in an orange AWC t-shirt and threaten to jump ship due to lack of respect. How'd that work out for you anyways?

Sirrajin smirks and Tsonda is soon to follow. The Tsuperstar scratches his head a little.

Chandler Tsonda: Well, since Dawkins has his hands full with EmoSuck, I'll show some uncharacteristic gratitude and take you up on that offer.

Killean Sirrajin: Solid. See ya if I see ya.

The Model Citizen nods at the Supreme Machine, who whisks by Tsonda and Mills as he makes his exit.

Matt Mills: Can we do this now?

Chandler Tsonda: (turns back to Mills) Matt Mills, I really don't know if I've got the time.

The Sultan of Style looks down at a very gaudy, very platinum Cartier watch, as if he's running late for something.

Matt Mills: After all that, you won't even give me an interview?

Immediately, Tsonda bursts out laughing, as Mills shakes his head.

Chandler Tsonda: I'm just yankin' your knob, Matt Mills. Settle down. Now, would you like to see the finest promo that PRIME's advertising sponsors can buy?

Matt Mills: Sure. Whatever. Anything to get this moving.

Chandler Tsonda: Matt Mills, I do have a message tonight. It's not for Tyler Nelson, although the guy has been the picture of consistency for the worldwide douche community. No, it's for that Confederate jackass, Wade Elliott. Now, the entire world watched with delight last week as I finally gave you the match you've been looking for. Hip hip hoo-motherfucking-ray, you get to take on the best superstar this company has ever produced, and on its grandest stage. Ask Shakur about the fun involved with that. And now. the realization that you actually have to sack up and face me in the ring probably has you vomiting up the Roadkill Salad you ate last night for dinner.

Matt Mills: I thought this wasn't personal, Chandler. For so long, you said that taking on Wade Elliott was solely a matter of professional pride. Are you going back on that statement?

Chandler Tsonda: Nah. See, I know when I'm being set up, Wade. You think 'cuz you knocked Sirrajin down a peg in your fun more-gimmicks-than-you-can-count match, that you can defeat Colossus's reigning king and set yourself up for a Universal Title shot. I understand why you see me as a big shiny ticket to the big show. After all, if you could beat me, you'd never hear the whispers again. "Oh, Wade's alright, but he never won the big one." "Wade Elliott? Wasn't he the guy who disappeared during the biggest moments of his career?" I get it, Wade. You'd be in like Flint. But here's the rub, Country. I take L's as often you take baths: fuckin' rarely.

Matt Mills: So you resent Wade Elliott trying to use you as a springboard? It seems to me that the man just flat-out doesn't like you. Now, while you may not agree with that, isn't he entitled to his opinion?

Chandler Tsonda: All I'm gonna say is that Wade has successfully shifted all the pressure to me. If he loses, it's just another hilarious near-miss for a guy whose career is built upon them. If he wins, he's pulled a nifty little upset on PRIME's greatest Pay-Per-View wrestler of all-time. Pretty nice situation for the Earl of Underachievement.

Matt Mills: One more question, Chandler. This, as we all know, is the last stop on the road to Colossus. Now, at times you and Wade have been unable to keep your hands off one another, but things seem to have cooled. Are you okay with the state of things heading into the big show?

Chandler Tsonda: I'm cool like a summer breeze, Matt Mills. As long as Wade plays nice and stays away from my match tonight, we've done all the talking we need to do. That said, I wouldn't be surprised to see the mutt try and ruin my cakewalk over Nelson.

Matt Mills: There you have it, folks. You'll see Chandler Tsonda in action later tonight against Tyler Nelson, and Wade Elliott has been warned to stay away from that match. Any final words, Chandler?

Chandler Tsonda: Keep on keepin' on, Matt Mills.

Interview concluded. At long last.

[Commercial break]

Marquis Peeples comes dashing around a corner, shoving the door to the bathroom open so he can walk in. That is when he finds his tag team partner with half of his upper torso inside the toilet. Marquis grabs him by the back of his head and pulls it out, the sound of running water fills the air as the dirty bowl water drips out of his hair.

Marquis Peeples: I told you this was gonna happen!

Matt Mills and his cameraman run up just as Peeples pulls Dawkins out of the bathroom stall.

Marquis Peeples: Which one was it, huh?

Matt Mills: There’s an EMT on his way now, Marquis.

Marquis turns to face the interviewer.

Marquis Peeples: Thanks.

A groan escapes through the damp lips of Tyrell Dawkins.

Tyrell Dawkins: Wic…

That grabs a hold of the two people’s attention.

Marquis Peeples: What was that?

Tyrell Dawkins: Wic…ked

Matt Mills: Wicked Ways?

Marquis Peeples: That sounds like a good enough answer to me.

Whether it is the right answer or not is a bit confusing, as they are not the only ones that have an issue with The Redeemed.

Nick: Our next contest features two rising tag teams and the opening contest of Colossus fused together in six man goodness.

Richard: I'm going to go find a Craftmatic Adjustable Bed and have some six woman goodness if you don't mind. I think it will be more entertaining than this garbage.

Nick: Douglas has been a stalwart of PRIME-

Richard: He's a has been and a never was. Meat is going to put him in his place tonight.

Nick: Meat had some pretty strong words for Douglas earlier this week and I don't think Douglas took too kindly to them.

Richard: Meat doesn't care and I'm sure Claire doesn't care since she's going to be on my bed. Ho yeah!

Nick: Did you just call Claire a ho?

Richard: No

Nick: I think you did. I'm going to tell Meat if he comes around here.

Richard: Dude, no. I don't wanna become part of one of his sandwiches...Although if Claire was in the middle-

Nick: You have to get off Claire, seriously.

Richard: Name one reason why.

Nick: ...Changing the subject, The Redeemed and American Revelation are also going to be in this contest. Earlier in the night, Tyrell Dawkins was jumped by Wicked Ways so I can imagine he won't be in the best condition.

Richard: Do either The Redeemed or American Revelation have a smoking hot manager?

Nick: They do not.

Richard: Then those mental ward rejects are going down on my priority list.

Nick: A pervert and sexist to boot, you are going for the glory tonight, Richard.

Richard: That's how I roll.

Nick: Well, we're going to have a plethora of power on one side and a combination of technicality and speed on the other side. Let's go up to Vince Howard for the ring introductions.

Vince Howard: The following contest is scheduled for one fall and is a six man tag. Introducing first, the team of The Redeemed and Meat!

The beat hits.

Tedashii's Houston We Have A Problem.

The crowd goes nuts.

We done came up in the game to rep the name that’s the norm,
not ya big body Lac, fat paper sacks, or your charm
Not your lady-like diva you use to keep you warm
and not the fat happy sack of doja to keep you calm
While you big daddy grilling ‘em, Sprewell spinning ‘em,
Cadillac killing ‘em, the Lord ain’t feeling ‘em
See He’s the King and your rocks ain’t work a thing
yet you rock the bling, but you ain’t gon mock the King

Both members of the Redeemed storm down the ramp, slapping hands with the fans as they make their way to the ring. Meat and Claire Saunders come down a little bit slower, holding a conversation between themselves while avoiding the extended hands of anybody reaching out for some dap.

Cause the rocks would sing before He let you block His thing,
man just watch the scene because the Rock He is the King
And He throwed, but you busy worshipping chrome,
thick yella bones in the zone trying to live life on your own
And the Lord’s chilling watching man trust himself
while we all sinning, we front like we don’t need His help
But we all missing the fact that trusting in yourself
while you called Christian is still sin in itself

The Redeemed hop into the ring while Claire saunters over to the west side of the ring. Meat climbs the stairs and enters the ring.

Vince Howard: Their opponents...Troy Douglas and American Revelation!

The guitar riffs that signal the start of Chris Cornell's "You Know My Name" blast throughout the arena, and are quickly accompanied by a brass section that reaches a crescendo after ten seconds. Flashing on the PRIME*View are four words in succession.

END.

OF.

THE.

ROAD.

Then...

BOOM!

BOOOOOM!

BOOOOOOOOMMMMM!!!!

Three rapid-fire cannon blasts, each one louder than the last, and the song immediately cuts to the start of the chorus as Cornell's voice kicks in.

Arm yourself because no-one else here will save you
The odds will betray you, and I will replace you.

You can't deny the prize; it may never fulfill you
It longs to kill you, are you willing to die

The coldest blood runs through my veins
You know my name.

Red and white lights flash throughout the building as the song works through its second verse and Troy Douglas makes his way down to the ring, slapping hands with some of the crowd. American Revelation come out with even more energy and charisma. Hopefully they won't burn all of it before getting to the ring. Behind all of them on the PRIME*View, a montage of his greatest highlights play, interrupted every few seconds by END. OF. THE. ROAD.

As the song hits the chorus one more time, the trio slides into the ring, and salutes the crowd in all four corners. As the chorus ends, the music fades and the lights return to normal.

DING! DING! DING!


The Redeemed and American Revelation observe both Meat and Douglas glaring at each other across the ring. Dawkins is still feeling a tad woozy so he steps out of the ring, Peeples joining him on the apron. Jenkins and Carroll elect for Douglas to start off since he is the elder statesmen of the bunch. Megatron and Meat skip the formalities of dancing around one another and lock up in the center of the ring. Both men struggle to gain the advantage, being nearly identical in height and not far off in the power game. Douglas plants his feet and uses his martial arts background to gain enough leverage and win the battle, backing Meat into the corner. Elvis Nixon darts in and calls for a break, but Douglas keeps Meat's head shoved against turnbuckle for a second longer. When the two superstars separate-

SMACK!

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Nick: Meat just got the taste slapped out of his mouth. Douglas really isn't fond of how Meat spoke of him.

Richard: And the big man has taken the bait. He's coming after Douglas like he were a bull and Douglas had on red.

Nick: That's only a myth.

Richard: Not gonna be if Meat starts wailing on him.

Chris Williams launches his third right hand at Douglas, who hops around the ring like Muhammad Ali would, patting Meat on the head as he swings out of range. The upstart isn't pleased by the humiliating tactics and knows to stop after the fourth punch misses. He goes up to Douglas and shoves him hard in the chest. Megatron retaliates and both men stand, center of the ring, and start slugging it out. Meat lands the first blow. Douglas with a counter. Meat with another right. Douglas with a stifling leg kick. Meat returns fire. Douglas reaches up for the neck, but Meat slings him over with a hip toss and dropkicks him in the back. Douglas spins around to his feet, a little insulted that one of his own trademarks was just used against him. He ducks a roaring elbow, catches Meat's neck and wraps it in his arm, falling backwards in a Russian leg sweep. Cover.

ONEEEEEEEEEE-

Richard: No way is that going to hold someone with such a fine piece of eye candy down.

Nick: Douglas was probably utilizing that as a tactic to wear Meat down. The more energy Meat exerts trying to get up, the less energy he will have to tag out or use later in the match.

Meat works his way back to a standing position, but that plays right into Douglas' hands. Megatron gets a firm hold of the neck and pours on the knees, every one of them connecting on the jaw or forehead of Meat. When Douglas throws his third knee, Meat reaches out and catches the leg, tripping Douglas and relieving himself from the Thai clinch. Meat drops an elbow, but Douglas slides away and hops over Meat, spinning him over in a cradle cover.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

Meat powers out of the cover again, springing back to a vertical base, and walks into Douglas a second time. His waist is clutched and he is thrown overhead with a release belly to belly suplex. The former Intense Champion scurries over to the corner and tags out to Dexter Carroll.

Nick: And he's wasting no time, springing up to the top rope. We are going to see some high flying action right here.

Richard: Only a waste of time. Meat is going to tear whoever is in the ring apart limb from limb.

Nick: Nice elbow drop from the youngster. He goes for another cover. Elvis dives into position-

Richard: -Meat not even giving him a one count. How insulting is that?

Carroll puts a boot against Meat's head and pulls the bigger man off the canvas. Carroll drives a forearm forward and goes for the Irish whip. Surprisingly, he is able to get said whip and bounce off the ropes, ducking underneath a Meat clothesline. Carroll springboards onto the second rope and backflips, looking for an Asai moonsault. Meat catches him over the shoulder and prevents the move, driving the newcomer into the canvas with a reckless shoulder breaker.

Nick: Meat finally had a chance to use his power. Carroll left his feet and the big man capitalized.

Richard: And he's already dragging him into the opposite corner. Smart strategy on the part of Meat. Now we're going to see just how powerful his teammates are.

Nick: Dawkins getting a chance in the ring here and he works a nice boot to the midsection.

The boot turns into two and three. Dawkins palms Carroll by the head and hoists him from the canvas with one hand. He grabs Carroll underneath the arms, takes a step backwards, and flings Carroll overhead with the hip toss from hell. Carroll stumbles over toward his corner and then back out to center ring where Dawkins is waiting on him. The 272 pounder lifts Carroll over his head with ease, presses him a few times for show, and drops him backwards in a military slam. Carroll bounces off the canvas and lets out a massive grunt when Dawkins drops all of his weight on the small of the back. He flips Carroll over like a burger on the grill and covers.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Nick: Carroll barely able to get his shoulder up in the knick of time.

Richard: He's only delaying the inevitable.

Nick: We're going to find out how good The Redeemed work in the dominant position, Dawkins just tagged in Peeples.

Peeples steps between the ropes and takes a hold of the much smaller Carroll, lifting him from the canvas and snapping him around with a thunderous swinging neckbreaker. Peeples keeps a hold of Carroll's neck, bringing him back up and putting him on the top rope. He lands a vicious slap and goes up to the second rope, coming eye to eye with Carroll. Dexter throws a pair of wild right hands, but Peeples is able to withstand the shots, lock Carroll's head around his arm and fall backwards, landing a picture perfect superplex. Peeples rolls through, still holding onto the neck. He shoves Carroll's head between his legs, locks both arms behind the back and lifts up. Carroll can't counter fast enough, his back coming across the knee of Peeples. Another cover.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

Carroll shifts his body to the right before Nixon's hands slaps the canvas for the third time.

Nick: Another kickout by the resilient Carroll. He's in dire need of a tag already.

Richard: Peeples not giving him a chance, dragging him back into the corner and tagging out to Meat.

Nick: Even though The Redeemed are 100 percent good guys, they are meshing quite well with Meat.

Richard: Carroll's shoulder just meshed well with the ring post, what a throw from Chris Williams.

Nick: He's going to feel that one in the morning, you can bank on it.

Carroll stumbles back and finds both of Meat's arms locked around his neck. Meat interlocks his fingers together and pulls Carroll back. Unfortunately, he doesn't get the suplex he was looking for. Instead, Carroll does another full rotation backwards and makes the tag to Toby Jenkins. The zany half of American Revelation springboards onto the top rope and swings through with a hurricanrana. Meat slides across the ring and scampers to his feet, only to go right back down when Jenkins dropkicks the leg. Jenkins beats Meat up to a standing position and uses his back as a springboard, inverting himself into a shooting star press. Meat is slung over and Jenkins shoots the half.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THRE-

Nick: Jenkins going for the classic impact move followed by a pinfall. Almost worked.

Richard: Please, someone with Meat's amount of energy isn't going to be held down with a standing star press.

Nick: Jenkins not wasting anytime either, he knows the advantage and is capitalizing. Off the ropes and DOWN with the leg drop across the throat.

Richard: He's going for another cover.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

Jenkins is sent across the ring before the count is over. Meat rolls over onto his back and struggles up. Jenkins plants a dropkick into the ribs and sends Meat down to the floor. Claire walks over and gives her meal ticket (at least in wrestling speak) some words of encouragement. Well, let me rephrase that. She heads in that direction, but an incoming Troy Douglas tope con hilo's off the ring apron onto Meat, toppling him down to the canvas.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: Douglas going into the tank and landing a big time move on Meat.

Richard: That's a cheap shot, and look at what he's doing now, boots to the head of a defenseless man.

Nick: I'm sure if the roles were reversed you would be preaching the same gospel.

Richard: You don't kick a man when he's down.

Nick: You do in wrestling. Douglas rolls Meat back into the ring and Jenkins is going to have another round with him.

Jenkins takes Meat vertical and shoots him into the buckle. Meat bounces off, sending Jenkins forward. The youngster uses Meat as a step ladder, climbing up and looking for a Tornado DDT. However, he's not able to get Meat over, and is snatched in a standing tilt a whirl backbreaker, evening up the odds again.

Nick: Williams getting aggressive with that backbreaker and it couldn't have come at a more convenient time.

Richard: And with that, he tag to Dawkins, Meat gets a breather and doesn't have to take anymore punishment.

Nick: Dawkins in right away, fires Jenkins into the ropes, catches him on the comeback and spins him around. Nice powerslam.

Dawkins pulls Jenkins up from the canvas and sends him into the ropes for a second time. Jenkins comes back, unable to stop himself, gets thrown into the air, held, and sent back down with a spinebuster. Dawkins tags out to Peeples. Both members of The Redeemed are in the ring and each have bad intentions on their mind. They lift Jenkins from the canvas and fire him into the ropes. Jenkins comes back and gets thrown about ten feet in the air. Dawkins and Peeples both catch him on the way down, delivering stereo gutbusters and a fallaway slam/backbreaker combination. Peeples stays behind and lands a diving elbow. Cover.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

Troy Douglas hops in the ring and makes the clutch save, booting Peeples off.

Nick: Douglas knew Jenkins was in danger of not making the count on that one.

Richard: That is so unfair to The Redeemed and Meat, who haven't broken any rules so far in the match.

Nick: You have to do what is best for your partners.

Richard: I think Peeples and Dawkins are about to do what is best for them right now.

Dawkins takes a hold of Jenkins and stands him back up. He fires a hard chop across the chest, sending Jenkins against the ropes. Dawkins takes a hold of the arm and shoots Jenkins across the ring, collapsing the chest with a mammoth clothesline. Dawkins takes hold of the head and rushes out to center ring, leaping into the air at the last second. He lands a spot on bulldog and looks for another cover.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

No Douglas this time for the save, Jenkins manages to kick out on his own. Dawkins rolls over and tags Meat into the contest again. Meat lands a devastating knee to the midsection and fires Jenkins across the ring. He goes for a big boot, but Jenkins ducks underneath, and slides out onto the apron. Meat turns his head around and goes to cut Jenkins off, but the youngster drives a shoulder into Meat's chest. Meat is sent backwards, leaving Jenkins enough time to springboard onto the top rope, over Meat's head, and execute a springboard blockbuster.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: Jenkins finally got some offense in! He needs to tag out immediately.

Richard: That's what you call a lucky shot. Meat is still the fresher of the two and all he needs to do is get back to his feet and he'll have a clear cut advantage.

Nick: Both men are stirring right now, but I'll concede that point to you. Meat has been in and out of the ring for most of the fight while Jenkins hasn't tagged out once.

Richard: Meat up to his feet first.

Indeed, Chris Williams makes it up to his feet first, but Jenkins is also closing in on his corner. The outstretched arms of Douglas and Carroll are indicative of them both wanting back in the match. Jenkins edges himself over and is inches away from the tag when Meat notices and hooks onto his leg. Jenkins turns around and reaches out for a right hand. Meat slips back out of range and leaves Jenkins no other choice but to extend his right leg around and land an enziguri. The crowd explodes when he stands back up and falls into his corner. Douglas snags the tag and we're about to take the fuck off.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: Douglas back in the ring!

Richard: Balderdash

Nick: Meat doesn't appear to want any part of Douglas now!

Douglas comes in, guns blazing, right hand after right hand backing Meat into the ropes. Meat looks for retaliation, but Douglas' lightning quick reflexes aren't giving him that luxury. Meat gets Irish whipped into the ropes. Douglas comes out to center ring and meets him with a Samoan drop. Douglas twirls around, locks Meat in a front face lock and pulls him up. A knee strike finds the forehead. He swings Meat into the corner and fires off a knife edge chop.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

And another.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

And one more for the road. The end of the road.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Meat shoves out of the corner and falls flat on his face. Tyrell Dawkins tries to enter the ring, but Douglas is waiting on him, ducking underneath the right hand and landing a falling neckbreaker. Marquis Peeples joins the fray, but Douglas also anticipates him, booting him in the midsection and firing him overhead with a fisherman suplex. Dawkins goes to get up to his feet and finds the missile dropkick of Dexter Carroll enough to knock him out of the ring onto the floor.

Nick: Elvis has just lost control of this match. All six participants are flying around the ring.

Richard: What an unfair advantage once again. Douglas and Revelation cheating to assert their status.

Nick: You really think Douglas would teach Revelation to cheat? I think he was more than willing to take on all three members of that team on his own.

Richard: No excuses.

Nick: Jenkins and Peeples are over here by the announce table, trading moves on one another. Peeples goes for a lariat, Jenkins ducks, kicks the back of the leg and lands Pele.

Richard: Peeples might have a new hairline when he recovers from that.

Nick: Carroll on the apron. He springboards onto the top rope and goes for a split legged moonsault-HE GOT CAUGHT! Dawkins puts him over the shoulder and TOMBSTONE!

Richard: You rarely see piledrivers these days, but that was one of the more effective ones if you ask me.

Nick: Of course it was, considering he dropped him on the floor.

Richard: You have to be prepared for whatever comes your way, Nick.

Nick: Douglas lifts Meat up in the ring, he's got him in a world of trouble here...CRADLE PILEDRIVER! COVER BY DOUGLAS!

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

At the last remaining second, Tyrell Dawkins reaches in and yanks Douglas onto the floor. He takes the time to make the switch, putting Carroll into the ring and then proceeding to take Douglas out of the ring, onto the floor. Dawkins and Douglas trade right hands while Meat takes a hold of Carroll and locks his left arm behind the back, right arm between the legs, swings him around onto the shoulders and plants him in the center of the ring with a Meatbag.

Nick: PUMPHANDLE BOMB BY MEAT! THAT SHOULD DO IT!

Richard: Douglas lands an End of the Road on the floor. Is he going to have time to get back in?

Meat with a cover.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

DING! DING! DING!

Vince Howard: Your winners of the match...MEAT AND THE REDEEMED!

Nick: Tyrell Dawkins and Chris Williams worked in tandem on that one and managed to sneak away with the victory.

Richard: It isn't sneaking. Everybody was battling for position and Dawkins just happened to dump Carroll into the ring at just the right time.

Nick: Meat would have been mincemeat if Dawkins hadn't made the save.

Richard: Well that's why you have partners.

Nick: Meat isn't going to have a partner at Colossus, we'll see how he does then.

Richard: And The Redeemed will. It's important to watch their back at all times. You never know when you'll need them the most.

The backstage corridors of a PRIME event are never a quiet place. There are people moving to and fro like worker ants at all times; wrestler heading to a match filled with anticipation and returning with victory or defeat in their eyes. Fans, lucky enough to have been given access, stand against the walls, awestruck as they watch their heroes and legends walk by.

So, the backstage corridors of a PRIME event are never a quiet place … tonight more so than before.

Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas: We gon' need some more of those little Mexican fellas.

As he speaks into the walk-talkie Dam sighs, loudly, and glances at the pile of bodies that fill the relatively small space in front of him. He is the centre of calm in a storm of fists, legs and expletives that are being hurled back and forth between two people; the other twelve – now eleven, as one of the Enemigos falls senseless to the ground, are all simply trying to the two apart.

At one side Jason Natas is deliberately provoking the situation. Laughing and mocking, he moves forwards but never really tests himself against the handful of men holding him back. He doesn’t need to. It only takes a look, or a word, to send the other man into more of a frenzy. It has been that way for the last six or seven minutes, ever since they bumped into each other in the middle of the corridor.

Jason Natas: Hey Phoenix, just like last week, boyo, you are surrounded by sweaty men in leather … pity that your boyfriend ain’t here to enjoy it with you!

The only response from the other man is simple. Violence. With a muted growl Phoenix doesn’t waste his time, or energy, speaking. He simply tries to throw himself past – through – the men in front of him. A punch swing out, then a kick. The press of bodies moves around him, like waves against a rock, and as he begins to make headway they move back again. Their sheer numbers push him back.

Jason Natas: Oh c’mon – are ya tellin’ me that you are goin’ to let a few gimps get between you and me? I know that yer tastes run to the perverse but really, you are choosin’ them over me? Maybe I should go and see if you left Rick somewhere safe and sound, all gift-wrapped for me … again.

As impossible as it seems the words provoke Pheonix even further and, with a burst of energy, he lashes out. Not caring who he is hitting, or how hard, he begins to make headway and, as he sends more and more people flying from him, he sees the smile on Natas’ face widen as he gets closer. Phoenix’s eyes widen as he pushes past the last three men, not looking back as one falls to the ground clutching his knee, but instead leaps forwards. His hands are tight claws as he reaches for Natas.

… only to be stopped, caught in mid-air, by the firm grip of Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas. He struggles but it is like trying to fight a mountain and Dam barely moves. Natas, sensing an opportunity, moves forwards, the three men in front of him moving with him as they try to keep him away from Phoenix. It isn’t them that stops Natas, though, and it isn’t Dam that stops Phoenix from struggling. It is one soft spoken, but iron-hard, voice.

Lisa Tyler: Enough.

Lisa Tyler pushes past Natas, who mockingly bows to her as he allows her to pass, and comes to a stop beside the head of security. Phoenix continues to struggle until she gets right into his face.

Lisa Tyler: There won't be a repeat of that order, Phoenix.

Finally realising that he is getting nowhere, and with a last, fierce, glare at Natas, Phoenix relaxes and dangles, helplessly, in Dam’s grip. His shoulders slump in defeat as he turns his gaze to Lisa Tyler, unspeaking.

Lisa Tyler: I've had enough of you children.

Phoenix: He started it …

Natas: That idiot was in me way …

Lisa Tyler: I. Don't. Care. So now I'm going to leave you in Dam's care until your match. Dam, tear their asses apart if they move the wrong muscle.

Natas: Jayboy there would probably like that!

Lisa Tyler: (icily) So help your mortal souls if you aren't out there, fit as fiddles, when Vince Howard calls your names.

Natas: Nothin’ could keep me from comin’ out there to see what you have planned, darlin’ – you talkin' all strict like that has me a little turned on, you know ... wasted on Jay, here of course, you need a deeper voice to turn him on.

Phoenix: You wish, Natas, but you aren't my type you sick freak ...

With an exasperated and leaves Dam to sort out Phoenix and Natas.

Backstage.

Knock-knock.

That timid sound at the door catches Hessian's attention. The Murder Show stands astride a wooden bench, repeatedly banging his left fist into the metal door of a locker. Thoom. Over. Thoom. And over. Thoom. And over. Thoom.

He doesn't flinch or wince. It's rhythmic and it's regular – if it weren't for the violence of the sound, it might even be called peaceful. But it's—

THOOM.

Still pretty freaking loud.

"Mr. Hessian?"

Hess doesn't swing again, turning to look at the speaker – a small-voiced blonde, heart-shaped face turned slightly away, one eye open as if she was expecting something terrible, violent, or noisy (or all three). Her hair is held back by a red hair band, and a press pass is pinned to her blouse.

The Murder Show says nothing – even his fellows know not to bother him when he's like this. The woman – girl, really – extends a hand, but Hessian's only response is to hit the locker again.

THOOM!

The girl squeaks, her hand dropping back to her side.

Girl: Hi. My name is... uh. I'm Dana, Dana Erickson. I'm from... from Wrestling News Weekly? They didn't... please tell me Ms. Tyler told you I was coming.

THOOM! Fist strikes steel again. No words. Dana sighs.

Dana Erickson: I'm supposed to be shadowing you for the next couple weeks. We're doing a feature on the Elite Title match at Colossus. I promise I won't get in the way.

The Murder Show grunts, half-turning away.

Hessian: Not interested.

Dana nods, adjusting her glasses. Her smile is a spare thing.

Dana Erickson: I figured you'd say that. You seem like the type.

THOOM!

That one was loud.

Hessian: The type?

Dana Erickson: Yes. Err. I mean, that's totally not an insult. It's just that... I've found that most guys in your profession are... well, a little intense. They look at me and they don't think I can hang with them, but I promise you, Mr. Hessian, looks can be deceiving. I'm just as tough as the next guy.

That drops the Construction of Destruction's hand to his side, barrel-like chest shaking slightly in a rough chuckle.

Hessian: You? You're just as tough as the next guy? What are you, like, twenty?

Dana Erickson: Twenty-three.

Hessian: Oh, sorry. That's different, then.

Dana Erickson: Look, Mr. Hessian, I'm not here to get in a—

"I'd listen to the lady."

That isn't Hessian and isn't Erickson. Spin that camera around. Smart suit. Perfect hair. Oily grin.

Big damn title belt.

Wyatt Connors.

Hessian turns, his fists balling up. It's safe to say he's not going thinking of punching steel right now.

Hessian: What do you want, Connors? Do I look for banana peels? Maybe you want to tie my shoes together?

Wyatt raises both hands, taking a half-step back. His smile never quits.

Wyatt Connors: An unfortunate mistake. All meant in good fun. Actually, I'm here to help.

Hessian: (Nostrils flaring.) You want to help me. You.

Wyatt Connors: You don't have to listen to me, but sometimes, you should listen to the people who have experience in these matters. All I'm saying is... when you're dealing with Alex Pierce, no woman is trustworthy.

Hessian snaps a look over his shoulder. Snap focus to the bench, where Dana Erickson is holding an eyedropper over a bottle of water on the bench behind the Murder Show. He reaches out a long arm, snatching for the woman.

And comes away with her hair, tearing a wig free with a muted groan.

A tumble of bloody red ringlets falls over Alexandra Pierce's shoulder.

Desade: Connors.

Wyatt Connors: Sorry, Alex. Turnabout and all.

The three of them are in the same room. Two of them decide to vacate – good thing the Dunkin Donuts Center has lots of rooms with two doors. Hessian's growl quickly becomes a roar, as he flings the bottle of water in Desade's direction.

THOOM!

The last punch dents the door itself, crumpling the thin metal before his anger.

Cut away.

It all started over three years ago in Osaka, Japan. The event? ReVolution 90. The date? March 29, 2006. The reason?

Tchu simply stares a hole right through the CEO.

Tyler: You've squawked for weeks about how you think PRIME is screwing you over and you're going to make sure that Walkins keeps the belt in order to screw over PRIME. It's an interesting concept which has somehow worked for the last few weeks, but tonight, that too comes to an end. You see, I've come up with a solution to both of my problems. I've found a man that will take the title from Walkins and at the same time neutralize you. You've been a pain in my ass, Tchu, but I believe I've found the medicine to cure that pain.

Nick: Who in the hell can he be talking about?

Nelson points down at Tchu, a mocking grimace on his face.

Tyler: You think you've been getting screwed up until now, pal? Well tonight, this one's really gonna hurt. In case you didn't know, I'm the wrong greedy bastard to be messing with.

Boos continue to rain down on Tyler Nelson, who stands with nothing but a proud smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The familiar opening guitar rifts of "Passive" cue up and reverberate throughout the arena.

Nick: It can't be!

The curtain shakes and parts. Emerging is the man himself, the Supreme Machine, dressed to the nines in a black suit with red dress shirt underneath and a silver tie. Of course one can't forget the sunglasses in their usual place... it's his trademark after all.

Nick: My god! It can't be!

Richard: (standing and clapping) Nelson is a genius!

Nick: This is unbelievable Rich. Killean Sirrajin has sold out and joined with the most hated man in PRIME!

Nick's words reverberated around the wrestling world for weeks. Killean and Nelson, an unbeatable force. It was only a couple months later at Ultra Violence 2006 where the prophecy had been fulfilled.

Richard: Last Call! And this time, Killean’s pulled Clyde to the middle of the ring… he’s got nowhere to go!

Nick: The champ is in a bad way… and with those busted ribs… this could be over in a heartbeat!

In the center of the ring, Clyde’s eyes show clear agony, as he fights to hold on through the pain.

Nick: Clyde is trying with everything he’s got to hold on… but he has to be in immense pain… and there doesn’t seem to be any escaping the hold with the ropes several feet away in all directions!

And Nick’s assessment is right on the money, leaving the resilient champion only one option…

… he taps.


Richard (practically having an orgasm): Yessss! Wooooohoooo! A new champion baby! Clyde’s reign is over… just like Nelson wanted.

"Passive" rips through the arena as Killean releases the hold and jumps to his feet.

Vince Howard: Ladies and Gentlemen, your winner of the match… and NEW Universal Champion… Killean Sirrajiiiiiiin!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bernie Roberts fetches the Universal title from ringside and carries it to Sirrajin who snatches it away and holds it high above his head in celebration as confetti starts to rain down from above.

Nick: Confetti?! Is this really necessary?

Richard: Of course, this is a monumental occasion!

Walkins rolls slowly out of the ring, as Tyler Nelson emerges from backstage and makes his way down to the ring to join his hand picked champion. The boss steps between the ropes and takes his place next to The PRIME Cut, raising his champions arm in victory.

Once again the Universal Champion, Tyler Nelson and Killean Sirrajin looked unstoppable but Tyler Nelson dropped the ball and found himself ousted as the CEO of PRIME. Sirrajin still had the Universal Championship in his clutches however and his loyalty to Nelson proved to be nothing but a shot in the arm to the Most Decorated Champion in PRIME History.

Killean Sirrajin: I'm not gonna stand here and bitch and cry that Tyler got ousted. The guy did some good things for me but I'll be the first to admit that he fucked up royally. I would have handled the Golden Ticket situation much differently. But maybe Ty lost that killer instinct somewhere. After all, Ivan did scare the ever living shit outta him.

Certainly, Tyler Nelson would never forget those words. The Greediest Player in the Game doesn't like being told he fucked up, no matter who says it to him. He would make them pay, come hell or high water. But being broke left you very few options and it seemed to humble Nelson a little when he returned to PRIME. He was broke, beaten and ready to work in PRIME again. He was relegated to a mere Interviewer and the fun began. All it took was almost three full years for the two to meet again.

Sirrajin walks up to the rear entrance, but stops short of the door. He just stands there for a second, then looks over at Nelson and clears his throat. Nelson, a puzzled look on his face, simply looks back at Killean.

Tyler: What?

Killean: Aren’t you going to get the door for me?

Nelson’s face turns blood red as he starts to reach critical mass.

Tyler: I’M NOT THE GODDAMN DOOR MAN!! JESUS CHRIST!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tyler: You still choose to play games, after all I’ve done for you.

Killean: After….all you’ve done….for me? If memory serves me right….I was the one helping you out by beating the hell out of Clyde Walkins and saving your ass from the corporate sponsors when they threatened to pull their ad money. You came to me, remember?

Tyler: Yeah, yeah…I’m pretty sure the back-scratching was mutual.

Tyler: Okay, so that didn’t come out right, but you know what I mean. I think we can both agree that your pockets were sufficiently lined as a result of our partnership. I think I deserve a little bit of professionalism from you, if you don’t mind.

Killean: I think you’ve gotten everything you deserve up until now, Tyler.

Tyler Nelson, former PRIME Owner just couldn't get any lower. He was being laughed at, outcast and publicly humiliated. All it took was an accident at home and an unlikely source of sympathy came to lift Tyler's spirits.

Killean Sirajin: Alright alright. Here's the point of me telling you to come here Ty. You're looking for an interview right? You need that big story to one up Mills, to dig your way back up from the depths of hell and earn some respect right?

Tyler Nelson: That... without the depths of hell crap, sure.

Killean Sirrajin: You got it.

Tyler Nelson: Really?

Killean Sirrajin: ReV 194. Mark it down Ty and don't forget it. The event before Ultra Violence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tyler Nelson: Wait, you're leaving me here? Alone? With all of this stuff?

Killean Sirrajin: Sure. Have a snack at the food table there, feel free to fill up a doggy bag and have another drink or two. Tonight, what's mine is yours.

The PRIME Choice heads towards the door. Nelson leaps off the couch.

Tyler Nelson: Hang on! What the hell are you being so nice for?! I can't help but think this is just a set up, that you'll say I stole something and get me fired or something. Almost any of the other hairy asses back in that dressing room would be looking to screw me over. Did Lisa put you up to this? Am I on Candid Camera or something?

Killean turns to look at Nelson, hanging his head a little bit.

Killean: This past weekend, I lost my home in a fire. I lost things that meant a lot to me... irreplaceable things. My daughter lost things and the pain in her eyes is enough to break down the toughest of people. I know what it's like to suddenly feel empty Ty. Given all the sympathy and help I've gotten since that happened, this week I just feel... helpful.

Killean went on to defeat the Universal Champion that night, making the interview he granted to Nelson that much more valuable. In the end though, Nelson grew his confidence back. The interview never happened at 194, but it did happen at 196 and there was much more to it by that date. Killean Sirrajin announced his official retirement from PRIME but Nelson's urge to oust Lisa Tyler was in overdrive, spoiling the night for The PRIME Choice.

Killean drops down to the arena floor and looks back up toward the ring, nodding in acknowledgment at Nelson. He then turns and heads toward the stage. Inside the ring, Nelson stops clapping and retrieves the microphone from under his arm, a strange glint in his eyes.

Tyler: Let’s hear it one more time for Killean Sirrajin!!!

RRAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Tyler: It’s an absolute shame, isn’t it?

The ovation is huge from the capacity crowd. Nelson raises his voice in order to talk over them.

Tyler: It’s a shame that a man like Killean Sirrajin is being forced to retire due to the gross mismanagement of this organization by Lisa Tyler.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Killean: When I asked you to bring me out here, it was with the understanding that I wasn’t going to be a part of your vendetta against Lisa. I told you I wanted NO PART OF IT! She’s my friend. So what do you do? You bring it up after I announce my retirement? My RETIREMENT!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nick: …..WATCH OUT!!!

CRACK!!!

Nelson brings the chair down with full force across the back of Killean Sirrajin. The crowd instantly goes into a frenzy as Sirrajin goes tumbling to the ground.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Nick: WHAT THE HELL IS TYLER NELSON DOING?!

Richard: This is f’n AWESOME!! DA BOSS~! is BACK!!

Betrayal. It stunk of the Tyler Nelson of old. He turned his PRIME Choice into his PRIME Chair rack with monstrous shots.

As we have seen in the recent weeks, Nelson was worried that Killean would come back to get him. He got to Lisa Tyler, had her stranded and unable to attend ReVolution 199 and banned Killean from entering the arena. Killean was rather tame though, waiting until the blockbuster announcement by Lisa Tyler involving Nelson and Colossus VI.

Lisa: While I was losing brain cells listening to your little tirade, I was forced to agree with one of the points you made. Nelson, you do deserve a match at Colossus.

"Ladies and gentlemen please, would you bring your attention to me."

Saliva. Meaning one man.

All semblance of anger and arrogance disappear from the visage of Tyler Nelson. His eyes grow wide and his jaw becomes slack. The arena, predictably, absolutely explodes.

Crowd: RUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!

Nick: Oh my GOD!!

Richard: That devil woman! This is a conspiracy!

Nick: This crowd is going absolutely apeshit!! Killean Sirrajin is finally going to get some payback on Tyler Nelson for what he did on Rev 196.

Richard: Killean is a LIAR!! He said last week that he forgave Nelson for that!

Nick: Not so fast my friend! He said they couldn’t go back and change it. He never said anything about changing Nelson’s appearance in the future….at COLOSSUS VI!

No where to run, no where to hide. Tyler Nelson will have to pull a miracle to merely survive at Colossus. In Fenway Park, the battle with three years of history is finally coming to a head.

Killean Sirrajin. His final match, his farewell to the company, the business and the fans that he loves.

Tyler Nelson. The Greediest Player in the Game, looking to control PRIME, setting his sights on spoiling the party for the Legend of all Legends.

Colossus VI.

August 15 and 16, 2009.

The war is on.

In the backstage medical area, the PRIME medical staff is checking out the battered bodyguard of Tyler Nelson, Mr. Simmons. His head is wrapped in white gauze, with a tiny splotch of blood starting to seep through on his forehead. One of the EMT’s shine’s a flashlight into his eyes dilating them.

EMT: If you can just look straight ahead for me….

The EMT pulls Simmons’ eyelid up as he looks deep into the bodyguards eye. The paramedic clicks the pen light off and places it in the pocket on his shirt.

EMT: Yep, I think you’re gonna have to go get checked out. You might have a bit of a concussion.

Simmons rubs his head, still a little groggy from his introduction to the concrete wall earlier courtesy of Killean Sirrajin. The EMT calls to another paramedic.

EMT: Bring the gurney over, we got one to take in.

The other EMT scurries about as the first one helps Simmons to his feet. The second EMT rolls the gurney over and positions it behind Simmons. The bodyguard gingerly sits down, then pulls his feet up onto the rolling bed as he carefully leans back. Winces of pain cover his face as he struggles to get comfortable. The EMT’s strap Simmons onto the gurney and lift it high in preparation to transport him to the ambulance.

"What the hell’s going on here?"

Tyler Nelson comes scrambling onto the scene, looking nervous as ever. He’s dressed in his wrestling gear, as his match with Chandler Tsonda is drawing close. He strolls right up to Simmons’ gurney.

Tyler: Where do you think you’re going?

The groggy Mr. Simmons can only mutter a single syllable before he's interrupted by Nelson.

Simmons: I…

Nelson quickly turns his attention to the EMT’s.

Tyler: Who’s in charge around here? Get him off that gurney right now!

The first EMT, who did the examination on Simmons, walks over to Nelson.

EMT: I can’t do that, sir. He needs to go to the local hospital for some tests. He’s got a possible concussion and some back pain.

Tyler: And? I’ve got a match in a few minutes and I need him here! Now, unstrap him and give him an Advil or an Aleve or something. He’ll be fine.

The EMT takes a few extra chews on his gum as he shakes his head.

EMT: Not gonna happen. He’s on his way to the hospital and that’s that. If you got a problem with that, you can talk to….

"Me."

Strolling onto the scene, accompanied by PRIME’s head of security Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas, is the Vice President of Talent Relations herself, Lisa Tyler. Nelson immediately seethes as the redhead walks confidently up to him.

Lisa: Your little subcontracted lackey is going to the hospital, per my orders. I’m not footing a massive medical bill for your cannon fodder should he decide to walk into another wall tonight.

Tyler: Did you know that Killean is responsible for this?! See what you've managed to do now?! I want him suspended immediately!! I want charges brought!! I want JUSTICE!!

Lisa: Justice is the in the eye of...well, me. And I haven't any evidence that Killean was responsible for this.

Tyler: I’m an eye witness! That animal tried to attack me, too, but I was able to escape. Poor Simmons wasn’t as fortunate, however. Look what that Neanderthal did to him! This incident needs to be addressed immediately!

BLT smirks and nods to the EMT’s, who start to wheel Simmons away.

Lisa: (glances at Simmons being wheeled off) I believe I already have. Your man is going to the hospital. He won’t be back tonight.

Nelson looks at Simmons, then back at Lisa with an angry snarl. Tyler rushes over to the gurney and begins to peel the away the straps holding his bodyguard down. Simmons, for his part, is still dazed and doesn’t quite know what the hell is going on. Nelson gets a couple of the straps undone before he feels a large, powerful hand on his shoulder. A shiver runs down the King of Greed’s spine as he cringes.

Dam: I reckon you best stop doin what’cha doin, Mr. Nelson, or ya boy ain’t gonna be the only one rollin’ outta here on a stretcher.

Nelson reluctantly stops trying to free Simmons and watches as the EMT’s replace the straps and roll him out of the area. The Greediest Player in the Game spins on his heel and leers at Lisa, who returns a cold stare of her own. Nelson snorts angrily and storms off, stomping his feet like a five year old. Lisa calls out to him just before he disappears.

Lisa: Oh, and Tyler…(sarcastic)...the best luck tonight.

Nelson mutters under his breath as he turns the corner.

Tyler: Bitch.

Nick: Our next contest should be one with very interesting styles.

Richard: Read: This is going to be pretty bad, but we're hoping its good.

Nick: That's not what I'm saying. Both Bryan Dawkins and Garbage Bag Johnny are entertaining wrestlers in their own right. I haven't ever seen a boring match with either of them.

Richard: I can name about 10 boring Dawkins matches.

Nick: This is just because he slapped you for all those foreign jokes a long time ago.

Richard: How are you telling me that he's not foreign? I don't see him coming out to...Springsteen...Born in the US...Oh God, now I have nightmarish images.

Nick: You set yourself up for that one, buddy.

Richard: I did. Just...run through a summary of the match. Oh God, I'm gonna puke.

Nick: Bryan Dawkins is now officially slated to go one on one with Devin Shakur at Colossus in what has been deemed 'The Grudge Match'. Last week, Dawkins played a mind game of his own on The Man in Black, having his brother falsely arrested.

Richard: Man, you should have been here. His legal team showed up after the show and none of them were happy.

Nick: I ran into about 4 or 5 of them on my way out. Needless to say, those guys are hardcore pricks.

Richard: Well, if you hired some cops and had someone arrested for something that didn't happen, how pissed do you think the other guy would be?

Nick: Not as mad as Shakur and Daniels were themselves. They ran through the building and were tearing shit up.

Richard: Dawkins is probably thankful that he scurried out immediately after that.

Nick: His insurance company is also.

Richard: No doubt.

Nick: And Garbage Bag Johnny...Well he's been mysterious as of late, not really coming out but his henchmen are running the show.

Richard: That's an understatement.

Nick: Johnny has continued to lead the GCW movement, but is allowing the two monsters of PRIME, Hessian and Chainz, free reign over the product.

Richard: And we're going to see them later on tonight.

Nick: Natas and Phoenix are going to have their hands full, that's for sure.

Richard: But back to this match. Who are you putting your money on if you are in Vegas?

Nick: GBJ-

Richard pulls out his cellular phone and makes a snap call to his bookie.

Nick: You didn't even let me finish.

Richard: I didn't need to. You told me all I wanted to know with that fast response.

Nick: ...For those who care about actual wrestling, GBJ has all the tools to be an elite player, having won the Dual Halo when his back was pressed against the wall. Dawkins on the other hand has the most athletic range on the roster. If Johnny can keep him down and grounded-

Richard: That's not how Johnny rolls.

Nick: That's his best possible strategy. If he goes into a high flying contest with Dawkins, he's going to find himself in a world of trouble.

Richard: Dawkins flies around the ring like a bunch of nuclear missiles from North Korea.

Nick: …

Richard: Or Cuba.

Nick: …

Richard: I can't believe I associate myself with someone who has such a horrible sense of humor.

Nick: I can't believe PRIME still has you on the payroll.

Richard: They know where their bread and butter is at.

Sprinting around the ringside area, a stagehand hands Nick Stuart and Vince Howard notes. Vince takes a glance down at his and gets on the ring apron, heading toward center ring with an announcement.

Nick: ...Wow, folks, we've got a shocking development going on here.

Richard: What? What?

Nick: Lisa Tyler isn't going to be happy about this one.

Richard: WHAT? I gotta know!

Nick: Vince got the same note I did it appears and he's ready to inform the people.

Vince Howard: Ladies and Gentlemen, I've just been handed a note that says Garbage Bag Johnny has refused to come out and wrestle this evening.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Richard: ...Yeah, you said it best, kid.

Nick: Well we didn't hear from GBJ all this week and not much last week, but I can't remember a time when someone REFUSED to come out and wrestle.

Richard: He's turned into Grumpy Bag Johnny.

Nick: Well, I guess this is what you get when you make GBJ angry.

Richard: I think he's going to have to cash in that Dual Halo ticket to keep his job.

Nick: That might not even help him at this point. Lisa Tyler might be a dictator of sorts, but she never ran anyone out of the federation.

Richard: This is going to be her first time.

Vince puts his fingers against the earpiece and holds them there for a few seconds while a few sections of the crowd chant "WE WANT A REFUND"

Vince Howard: I've just been told by Lisa Tyler that if Bryan Dawkins enters the ring, he will win the match by forfeit.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: None of those boos were for Dawkins-

Richard: Yeah, right. The Republicans are out to represent with me tonight.

Nick: Bryan Dawkins is going to get cut a huge break this evening if he comes out here and stands in the ring.

Richard: Now they are taking our wrestling victories along with our jobs. What has the world come to?

Nick: This is going to be a landmark match without being a match.

Richard: It will be a cheap victory for Dawkins, another one to add to his prestigious career.

Bryan Dawkins is shown on the PRIME*View walking toward the gorilla position with a discontent look on his face. Priority number one for him at every event is to give the paying customers a show and a few moments that they'll remember for the rest of their lives. Whether it be dropping a Hawaiian Hangover or letting the crowd show their appreciation by shouting his catchphrase, he's all about pleasing the crowd.

With no sign of Devin Shakur or Christian Daniels in the building, he's going to have to come out here and accept a victory and probably not be seen for the rest of the evening.

Nick: Even Dawkins isn't appreciative of this. He was looking forward to getting in the ring with GBJ.

Richard: Those foreigners are an odd breed. Who the hell is eager to lose?

Nick: Nobody knows if Dawkins would have lost and it appears that we'll never know now.

Dawkins reaches the gorilla position and the sound man is just about to cue his music.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: What the hell?

Richard: JUSTICE!

Nick: Why is he here?

Christian Daniels reaches up and grabs Dawkins by the shoulders. He pulls The Flyin Hawaiian back and strikes him in the gut with a pipe. Dawkins crumbles in a heap and Daniels starts putting the boots, hard and heavy, onto Dawkins back.

Nick: We need to get someone back there to stop this!

Richard: Nah, let it go on a few minutes.

Christian Daniels: You wanna play some games, boy?

Another boot.

Christian Daniels: We can play some damn games.

One to the ribs.

Christian Daniels: All you had to do was-

And a final one.

Christian Daniels: Fuckin' ask.

Christian picks up the pipe from the ground and holds it high over his head. Sprinting around the corner are a flood of Enemigos looking to break up the one sided brawl.

Nick: Hurry up. He doesn't have much time left.

Richard: He has no time, what the hell do you think Christian is gonna do with that pipe?

The Biker calculates that it'll be four seconds before the Enemigos tackle him to the ground.

That gives him just enough time to bring the pipe down across Dawkins back, his face smacking against the concrete. With a hand on his back, Dawkins rolls around in pain while Enemigos remove the pipe from Christian's hand and escort him from the area.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: That was disgusting! A cheap shot if there ever was one.

Richard: Dawkins should have never hopped that border fence and gotten himself involved with these two.

Nick: I applaud his courage for actually having the guts to stand up and fight for himself-

Richard: I don't think he'll be doing any fighting after that.

Nick: Unfortunately, I have to agree with you. Daniels placed that pipe exactly where he needed to and Dawkins isn't getting up.

Richard: No doubt Shakur came up with that as payback.

Nick: And conveniently he's not in the building, but no doubt he's going to accept credit for that heinous mugging.

Richard: Heinous nothing. Dawkins did the same thing to these two at 199 and Daniels was just showing him how to strike someone properly.

Nick: How are you able to look at such a thing with such recklessness?

Richard: Easy, I get paid to.

Nick: We've got a doctor back there now and he's looking at Dawkins.

The doctor hovers over, inquiring as to where Dawkins is well enough to compete. The Flyin Hawaiian of course claims he is, even though he's having a world of trouble getting up to his feet or even onto his knees.

Nick: How fitting Daniels would stick him with a back injury.

Richard: Could that have been a dig at Chandler Tsonda?

Nick: I can't imagine how it isn't. Tsonda has well documented back injuries and if you wanted one place to hurt Dawkins...

Richard: Just goes to show what kind of crew you should run with. I'll bet Shakur goes after the legs at Colossus.

Nick: You would.

Dawkins can't even onto the wall, his fingers sliding down the bricks and smacking against the floor. The doctor waves his hands.

Doctor: He can't go out there. Someone get him to the back, ASAP.

Nick: And now Dawkins isn't going to have a chance to claim his victory. What does that mean for the match?

Vince Howard receives another, slower, announcement through his headset. He raises the microphone up to his lips.

Vince Howard: Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm being informed by Lisa Tyler that this match has been entirely canceled. There are no winners and there will be no match at all.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: Unbelievable.

Richard: Genius!

Nick: You are such a coward.

Richard: Dawkins isn't going to get away with anything so long as Daniels is in the building. You can bank on that since it just happened.

Nick: We're going to cut elsewhere and hope that Dawkins is able to recover from this.

Tyler Nelson is a master of the hallway walk. He's been doing it for nearly a decade, stalking the labyrinthine innards of arenas across the country. PCW, FSW, PRIME, doesn't matter. The man knows how to stalk down a hallway.

But there's just a little less swagger tonight to DA BOSS~!'s gait. Without his trusted muscle, Mr. Simmons, Tyler Nelson is visibly vulnerable. And it's not like he can count his enemies on one hand; hell, even the Enemigos would probably stick a knife in Nelson's back, given the opportunity. And they're lovable masked luchadors, for chrissakes!

But let's get back to the walking part. Tyler Nelson's doing it. One foot in front of the other, just like humans have done for thousands of years (or, for the creationist demographic, since time itself was invented).

"The fuck're you doin' in such a hurry?"

Leaning against a wall, his usual sullen self, is Wade Elliott, whose presence requires a certain response from Providence, a progressive, modern city that is a far cry from Wade's Deep South.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

That's right. All cultural differences can be solved by jeering people who are different than you. Don't say wrestling's not educational.

Tyler Nelson: I know that generations of inbreeding has weakened the gene pool where you come from, but even you should know I'm in the submain event, the sole reason this show won't bore the audience to tears.

Wade Elliott: Yer fightin' the queer, eh?

Tyler Nelson: I guess Tsonda does like to play dress-up.

Wade Elliott: That's the one. Not like there's any other fuckin' fairies flittin' around.

Tyler Nelson: Well, Jay Phoenix does fit the bill...

The Bad Dog snarls in Nelson's direction, before unearthing a pack of Marlboro Reds.

Wade Elliott: I was bein'...aww, what's the fuckin' word...

The Blue Collar Brawler touches the flame of his lighter to the end of the cowboy killer, taking a long, hissing draw off of the cigarette before he picks up his train of thought.

Wade Elliott: ...rhetorical. I was bein' fuckin' rhetorical.

Tyler Nelson: Right. Well, I must not be hip to the ragamuffin sense of humor.

Wade Elliott: Yer quite the cunt, aren'tcha?

Tyler Nelson: (smiles) Why yes, yes I am. And soon enough, I'll be the head cunt in charge.

Nelson frowns briefly, not quite sure if that was the right way to describe himself.

Wade Elliott: I'll be sure ta throw a fuckin' parade.

As Elliott takes another drag, Nelson moves a step closer, sizing up the 'Bama Brawler. Is he a friend? A foe?

Tyler Nelson: There'll be absolutely no smoking inside the arena when I take over.

Elliott looks up from his cigarette and takes a long look at Nelson. Finally, after another dramatically long drag, he speaks.

Wade Elliott: (growls) Ol' Wade can handle a slap on the wrist, especially from a suit-wearin' cocksucker like yerself.

Tyler Nelson: Of course, we don't have to be at odds. If you're interested in expediting the process by which I take over day-to-day operations around here...then you'd want for nothing under the new regime.

Wade Elliott: An' if I want fer you to go fuck yerself?

WHAM!

It happens without the slightest warning. A kick to the back pushes Wade up against the wall, and a swift blow to the back of the knee floors him.

Tyler Nelson looks shocked.

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Chandler Tsonda looks pissed.

Tyler Nelson: What in the Sam Hill do you think you're doing?!

There's no visible response from Tsonda, other than to take another long backswing with his signature 7-iron and drive the head of the club into the small of Wade's back.

WHACK!

Tyler Nelson: This is treachery!

WHACK!

Tyler Nelson: Cowardice!

WHACK!

Tyler Nelson: Injustice!

WHACK!

Tsonda, chest heaving from his frenzied attack on Elliott, slowly turns his head to Nelson, pointing at him with the club.

Chandler Tsonda: I can easily make this a two-for-one special, shitheel.

The Sultan of Style issues one more solid kick into Wade's chest as EMT's begin to rush in from behind Tsonda. There's no need to pull Tsonda off of Wade; he just sort of drifts towards Nelson and away from the downed former Intense Champion.

Chandler Tsonda: (calls back over his shoulder towards Wade) That's what's called a pre-emptive strike, motherfucker.

Tyler Nelson: That ruffian was defenseless.

Chandler Tsonda: You're lookin' pretty defenseless yourself.

Tyler Nelson: IF YOU RAISE THAT WEAPON AGAINST ME, I'LL HAVE MORE LAWYERS THAN-

Chandler Tsonda: You'd be lucky to get a public defender, Captain Welfare. No worries, though. I'm gonna rock your snotbox within the legal confines of my home away from home: the PRIME ring.

The Model Citizen puts the 7-iron over his shoulder, as if to say "my work with this particular implement is done." Wade's back and sides will say just as much.

Tyler Nelson: Despicable. You attack an unarmed man with a weapon. You make fun of a down-on-his-luck proud American. Aren't you supposed to be one of the good guys?

Chandler Tsonda: I'm currently redefining the whole "good guy, bad guy" dichotomy. It got a little stale for my liking.

Tyler Nelson: Any buffoon who would root for that...

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Tyler Nelson: (sneers)...is just as stupid as you.

Chandler Tsonda: I'm rethinking my stance on the whole "I'm not hitting you in the face with this iron" thing. Tread carefully, Kimosabe.

Tyler Nelson: Maybe I'm not the one who needs to watch their next step, Tsonda. You'd do well to remember when I meet you out there in the ring that you're taking on your future employer. A smart man would lay down for me. You do know how to lay down for other men, don't you?

Tsonda rolls his eyes as Nelson smirks.

Chandler Tsonda: And you'd do well to remember that I just put Wade Elliott on the path to pissing blood. And that's just because I didn't him to spoil what I'm gonna do to you in the ring.

Tyler Nelson: Empty threats.

Chandler Tsonda: Try me, asshole.

Having gotten what he thinks is the last word, The Tsuperstar presses on towards the ring for some last-minute mental preparation. Nelson shoots a glance towards where Wade Elliott is finally coming to (and trying to fight off the EMT's), then spins and shouts in Tsonda's direction, getting the actual last word.

"When I'm sitting at the big desk, you can expect a VERY unfavorable performance review, ya jackass!"

"Right Next Door to Hell" by Guns N’ Roses

Nick: Everyone knows what that music means. Unfortunately.

Richard: I’m just glad the champ is ok, after being so viciously assaulted earlier tonight.

Indeed, Snow appears to be, for the most part, fine, if not a little frazzled and angered by the earlier incident. He stomps a no-nonsense line down to the ring where he immediately strips off his leather jacket and tosses it out into the crowd. Next comes the PRIME Universal Championship, which he leaves lying on the canvas while he moves to the ropes and begins demanding a microphone.

Snow: God damn it I hate Rhode Island!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

Snow: I don’t know why I even bother to come here anymore. It seems like every time I’m in this little circus freak of a state, something bad happens. Why they continue to let you people breed is beyond me!

Nick: Jason Snow – making friends all over this great nation of ours.

Snow: You people physically repulse me!

Richard: He’s just been pushed too far. Anyone would have this reaction after what happened to him backstage earlier.

Snow paces the ring with the microphone clenched tightly in his fist.

Snow: Now, I should call the building’s security out here. I should line them up in this very ring and ask each and every damn one of them exactly where they were while I was being brutally assaulted – attacked from behind – in the backstage area that THEY ARE CHARGED TO PROTECT!!

Snow stomps his foot for emphasis.

Snow: I should stomp through each and every damn one of those useless plebes. I should. I should… but I won’t. Instead, I’m going to cut right to the root of the problem. Right to its deep, dark asshole…

Pause.

Snow: …Kaiser Vashaun – I demand you march your sorry ass down that aisle, step into this ring, and get the ass-beating I’ve been meaning to give you for some time now!

The audience explodes into cheers while Jason Snow, half-mad, stomps a circle in the ring.

Nick: We might not have to wait until Colossus! These two are going to get it on right here in Providence!

Richard: You make it sound like they should be in San Francisco.

Nick: Come on, Vashaun! This is the chance you’ve been waiting for!

Nothing.

Snow: Damn it, ape! Get your prehistoric ass out here!

Nothing.

Snow looks around the audience and then slowly picks up his Universal title, placing it over his shoulder. He smirks.

Snow: Well, there you have it, plebes. I gave the son of a bitch a golden opportunity, right here for your viewing pleasure, to march down that aisle and have his heart fed to him by the G-reatest wrestler alive. I guess I can’t really blame him for being terrified – probably back there, as we speak, shaking in his gorilla boots, with his th-

"Jackson Mississippi"

Nick: Here we go!

Snow freezes in the ring as all eyes move to the entrance ramp.

Kaiser Vashaun emerges from backstage, no title in sight – ready to fight. He jogs quickly to the ring and slides in without hesitation. Snow moves to the corner and gets his hands up. Drops his title belt safely out of the ring. Vashaun gets low, smiling at PRIME’s other champion. He wants this. Badly.

All around them the crowd boils, until finally, that perfect moment arrives.

Vashaun moves. Snow moves.

"Am I really going to have to suspend both of you?

And just like that, the electricity, the heat, and the crowd’s buzz, die, all in the same instant. No one’s surprised to find Lisa Tyler at the top of the ramp, moving casually toward the ring, microphone in hand.

Lisa: I thought I made myself clear backstage, Kaiser. Given the circumstances, I suppose I might be willing to let your earlier actions slide. But I promise you – defy me again, and a fine will be the least of your worries.

The crowd is booing.

Lisa: And you, Snow. You’re supposed to be our champion. You’re supposed to represent us – to keep the company’s best interest in mind at all times. And here you are, just days before the biggest event in PRIME’s history, trying to give the main event away for free.

By now, Lisa is climbing the ring steps. She moves through the ropes and positions herself between her hot-blooded champions.

Lisa: Now I know you two want to get your hands on each other.

Looks to the audience.

Lisa: And I know that all of you can’t wait to see them get their hands on each other.

She gives a hard eye first to Vashaun and then to Snow.

Lisa: But hear this, gentlemen – it either happens at Colossus alone, or it doesn’t happen at all. If one of you so much as breathes aggressively on the other for the rest of the night, I might as well just call the whole thing off – what’s the sense in having a Pay Per View if you two are so keen on giving the main product away on free tv?

Turns to Kaiser Vashaun.

Lisa: That means no Universal title shot for you, Kaiser. No chance to finally shut our arrogant little champion up, once and for all. No chance to prove to him, and to everyone else, that you truly are elite.

Turns to Snow.

Lisa: And you… No chance for you to be the first person in PRIME’s history to hold two belts at the same time. That would be pretty huge even for your resume, Snow – and to do it all at Colossus? Are you really willing to give all of that up?

She has them where she wants them. And she knows it.

Lisa: Because I will call it all off, boys. Don’t test me on this.

Nick: Well, we almost got a nice little preview.

Richard: Tyler Nelson would have let it happen. He’d probably have found a way to make more money off it too.

Snow and Vashaun’s eyes remain locked on each other, but it’s clear that they’re both beaten. So Colossus it is, Rev 202 it isn’t, and the scene fades out as Lisa Tyler gestures for ring security to come down and escort PRIME’s venomous champions to the back.

Nick: We're going to take a commercial break and come right back.

Commercial

Lisa Tyler taps her nails earnestly against her desk as she peers across it to the two men who’ve been causing her nothing but grief the last few weeks. Hessian stands with his arms folding across his barrel chest in the corner with a displeased look on his face. Chainz, taking the more direct approach, sits right across from Lisa Tyler, smiling like a hyena and never even for a second breaking eye contact. His gaze is unnerving to say the least, but Lisa Tyler won’t be intimidated or scared.

Lisa Tyler: Here we are again.

Hessian: This Nanny State shtick is wearing thin, what is it?

Lisa Tyler: I wonder if it's actually your nerves that are wearing thin, especially after the way Tsonda handled you in the main event last week. (points to Chainz) And the Golden Ticket Holder can't have been too happy about your psychopath act.

Chainz: No problems here. Thanks for adding another win to my already impressive streak. I just hope I can keep reeling them off so that my win streak is as long as my dick.

Lisa Tyler shoots him a disgusted look as does Hessian.

Hessian: Your threats don’t work on us, just like we said last week. Tsonda lucked out, but it’s no big deal, I’m standing here fine and there’s no one you can line up against us that will be able to do the kind of damage that we can do to them.

Lisa Tyler: Perhaps, but what happens when I make that type of gauntlet the status quo? Never being able to truly get on a roll and climb the ladder here in PRIME? For all your talk gentlemen, you've got one short Intense Title reign between the two of you. Neither of you capitalized at ReV 200. You have yet to arrive.

Both Hessian and Chainz frown. It’s no secret, but being said bluntly, the way Lisa Tyler seems to have perfected, makes it sound quite bad. Chainz leans forward until he is halfway across the table.

Chainz: Like I said, wins and titles aren’t the most important thing in the world. Sure, they’re nice, but I’m here for my personal amusement and nothing more.

She chuckles, in that perverse way she does where you know she doesn't think it's funny, but likes to control the conversation.

Lisa Tyler: You're a good liar, Sloan, but I'm a better bullshit detector.

He leans back with a frown. Hessian approaches the desk.

Hessian: So tell us why we're here. Got another offer for us after last week's flop?

Lisa Tyler: The fact that you can say something like that tells me you're not behind Johnny all the way. I know you two aren’t imbeciles, as well as Mister Sloan plays the part. GCW can be outbid, and I know both of you are loyal only to the big stack.

Chainz: Oh Lisa, you make us sound like we’re in it just for ourselves.

Lisa Tyler: Hard to be in it for anyone else when you don't care a lick about anyone else.

Chainz looks her directly in the eyes and speaks seriously.

Chainz: I care about you.

She shudders as chills run down her spine.

Lisa Tyler: You talk to me like that again and I'll have you cleaning the catering area for your paycheck.

Chainz: I’d clean it with my tongue if it meant getting at you.

He winks at her as a disgusted Hessian steps in between the two. He appreciates Chainz’s abilities and tenacity, but his one track sex mind can sometimes be a bit annoying as well as disgusting.

Hessian: So what are you saying exactly?

Lisa Tyler: I’m repeating myself. Loud and clear. Drop the GCW charade. I see ulterior motives from both of you, even if I don't know what they are. Chainz and Hessian will come back to the PRIME side of things, sooner or later.

Hessian: And you’ll make it worth our while?

She nods.

Lisa Tyler: You scratch my back...(glares at Chainz)...proverbially, and I'll do the same. So long as the numbers stay high.

Hessian unfolds his arms and begins to head for the door.

Hessian: We'll consider it.

Hessian walks out and closes the door behind him, obviously Chainz didn’t get the hint as he simply sits across from Lisa Tyler and stares at her. She tries to ignore him by going about her paper work, but after a few seconds she can feel his gaze on her and can no longer take it.

Lisa Tyler: Mister Sloan, make yourself invisible before Dam gets back. I would hate to scratch you from the Colossus lineup.

Chainz: Well that’s no way to foster good relations with two of your biggest superstars as you say.

Lisa Tyler: Leave the management to me. I'll leave the repulsive behavior to you.

Chainz: God you’re cute when you’re mad.

Chainz stands up and smiling heads for the door, but before he leaves he turns around and approaches the desk once more.

Chainz: Oh yeah, before I go I have something for you.

He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a small, gold necklace. Chainz places it on her desk as she recoils in disgust. What kind of a woman is she to attract attention from a psychopath like Michael Sloan? She looks at the necklace and is even more disgusted at the sight of it.

Lisa Tyler: Is that blood?

Chainz: Where?

He picks it up and looks it over before giving it a rub with his shirt.

Chainz: Now it’s clean. Enjoy.

With a smile he leaves her office. She’s silent as she looks at the disgusting necklace on her desk. Lisa Tyler can only imagine who he took it from and what condition he left them in. Refusing to touch it, she pushes it into the trash with her pencil and goes back to work with disgust written all over her face.

"Welcome back, my friends
To the show that never ends.
We’re so glad you could attend
Come inside! Come inside!"

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Richard: Here he is, bitches. The greatest American business asset since GE.

Nick: Tyler Nelson is finally competing one-on-one after months of marauding around, playing at being an interviewer.

Richard: HEY! He gave that job a 110 percent!

Nick: He was no Matt Mills.

Richard: Matt Mills would kill me or you to be Tyler Nelson.

The Greediest Player in the Game steps out to a raucously negative crowd response. The more things change, the more they stay the same. He makes a slow march down to the ring, flipping off a small child. In fairness, the kid's sign does say "I Make More Money Than Tyler Nelson At My Lemonade Stand."

Vince Howard: The following match is for one fall! Coming first to the ring...weighing in at 225 pounds...from Dallas, Texas, The Greediest Player in the Game...TYLEEEEEEEEEEEEEER NELSON!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Richard: Ingrates, the lot of you.

Nick: You can't say that about Providence. It's scientifically been proven to be the best city in this galaxy.

Richard: No shit?

Nick: Would I make something like that up?

Richard: You certainly would not, good sir. Do you think the fact that Will's writing this match, which is taking place in his hometown, could have ANYTHING to do with what you just said?

Nick: Not in the least.

As the reaction dies down while the crowd thinks about new, inventive ways to jeer Tyler Nelson, something else happens. Something that is hardcore bona fide awesome.

"I said 'kiss me, you're beautiful'
These are truly the last days

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: The crowd likes Tsonda just as much as they detest Nelson!

Richard: That's like how people like having sex as much as they dislike having to hear other people doing it.

Nick: That's not really like that at all.

The weathered voice from the beginning of Godspeed You! Black Emperor's "Dead Flag Blues" fades into the short acoustic section that begins Coheed & Cambria's "Welcome Home." After twelve seconds, the bitchin' guitars start to kick ass, as green and silver pyro goes off in perfect timing with the power riffs.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Richard: THE JAPANESE ARE ATTACKING AGAIN! MAN YOUR BATTLESTATIONS!

Nick: Those're pyrotechnics, Richard.

Vince Howard: And now...weighing in at 206 pounds...from San Diego, California...The Model Citizen, CHANDLER TSOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONDA!

As the PRIME*View displays the words "Model Citizen" in white over a black background, Tsonda swaggers out from behind the curtain. He soaks up the fan's reaction at the top of the ramp, staring down his opponent. And amidst the hazy green and silver smoke, he sprints to the ring, slides in under the bottom rope, and awaits the start of the match. Elvis Nixon checks both men for weapons and calls for the bell.

DING DING DING!

Tsonda and Nelson circle one another for almost too long before Tsonda lunges and grabs Nelson's elbow, the two big ticket superstars locking up. Tsonda grabs the immediate advantage, forcing Nelson to his left before dropping to a knee and depositing Nelson on the ground with a fireman's carry, which transitions right into an elbow drop from the Model Citizen. Both men roll to the side and pop up, Nelson wiping a bit of sweat from his brow as he does.

Nick: Nelson's stamina will get a real test here. He was impressive at ReV 200, but he got to pick his spots, both in the team matchup and the final battle royale.

Richard: Look at him. He's a reservoir of athleticism!

Nick: I wonder if they have a working gym at debtors' prison.

Tsonda charges, surprising Nelson with his sudden assault, and knocks Nelson into the ropes with a leg lariat. He tries to clothesline Nelson over the top, but The CEO is able to duck under the move, using his shoulder to toss Tsonda to the outside. Or so he thinks. As Nelson smirks to the fans, Tsonda catches his footing on the apron, jumps to the rope, and springboards off, bringing Nelson's skull smashing into the ring with an impact bulldog.

Nick: Look at the aerial wizardry from Tsonda! He's still got it.

Richard: If I weren't saving up all my good Asian slurs for Colossus, you'd be hearing them right the hell now.

Nick: Tsonda goes for the pin!

One...





TwoNO!

Richard: Yeah, right, Tsonda.

Nick: Tsonda, here, stalking Nelson early on.

As Nelson reaches his feet, Tsonda's right there with a boot to the chest. With the CEO hunched over, Tsonda uses a capoeira back roll to slide across Nelson and then nail a standing dropkick. He heads to the turnbuckle while Nelson tries to recover. On the second rope, Tsonda waits for Nelson and, as he sees the whites of Nelson's eyes...

Nick: Hurricanrana off the second rope!

Richard: Overused exclamation marks by the play-by-play announcer!

One...




Two...
NO!

Nick: Two early pinfall attempts, neither to much avail, by Tsonda.

Richard: Nelson's playing possum.

Nick: Tsonda pulls himself up, earning a moment of rest. Nelson's having some real trouble in the early going.

Richard: Tsonda's slippery like a damn eel.

The Sultan of Style tries a spinning roundhouse, but Nelson ducks under the kick and grabs Tsonda from behind, hitting a quick German suplex that momentarily stymies the Viet Viper.

Nick: Nelson catches Tsonda on the rise...T-Bone Suplex!

Richard: Now we're talking.

Nick: Goes for the pin!

One...





TwoNO!

Nick: We saw these two jaw-jacking tonight, something they've been doing for weeks. I think there's a bit more to this rivalry then just disdain for one another.

Richard: Yeah, Tsonda's a reverse racist, just like President Obama.

Nick: So much wrong there, I don't know where to start.

Nelson pulls Tsonda up by the hair, but the Model Citizen sends a right hand into Nelson's gut, breaking the hold. He whips Nelson at the ropes, then charges with a flying elbow smash that catches Nelson square across the face, upending him.

Nick: Both men back up quickly, and now they're really feeling the adrenaline.

Richard: Did you know that Tyler Nelson once appeared on RUSH Wrestling's Adrenaline television show?

Nick: I did.

Richard: No way.

Nick: I'm the resident wrestling historian.

Richard: You're the resident King of the Nerds.

The Tsuperstar sweep kicks Nelson, but the CEO hops to avoid the move. He lands and tries to catch his balance, but a shoulder block from Tsonda sends the Greediest Player in the Game into the corner, where Tsonda begins to unleash backhand chops that send the denizens of Providence into a regular Rhode Island frenzy.

WHOOO! WHOOO! WHOOO! WHOOO! WHOOO!

Nick: Nelson blocks! Reversal, whipping Tsonda to the ropes!

Richard: Kick to the gut! Greed is Good!

Well, the first part is accurate. A kick to the gut stops Tsonda's momentum, allowing Nelson to put him in a front facelock, but as Nelson tries to hit his finisher, Tsonda is able to spin out and pull Nelson to the mat with a twisting neckbreaker.

Richard: Ugly move from Chan Chan.

Nick: Doesn't have to be pretty, just has to put the other guy down for three seconds.

Tsonda pulls Nelson up by the neck, throwing an elbow into his back for good measure as he does. He whips Nelson at the opposite rope, but the CEO is able to hook both elbows. Nelson charges Tsonda, but the Model Citizen uses a drop toe hold to smash Nelson face-first to the mat. When Nelson gets back up, he's greeted with a stalling implant lift DDT for his troubles, neck crunching painfully to the ring surface.

Nick: Golgotha Drop!

Something catches Tsonda's attention, though, at the top of the ramp.

Richard: Ha! Are you kidding me? DO YOU BELIEVE IN MIRACLES? YES!

Nick: No way he's okay...

Wade Elliott, looking surlier than usual (if possible) limps towards the ring. He's got giant, unpleasant-looking welts across his torso where the 7-iron met his flesh.

Nick: It looks like, once again, Wade Elliott's feud with Chandler Tsonda is going to prevent a fair match from going down.

Richard: Fair matches ain't got squat on the beatdown Wade's about to issue.

Nick: He's in no shape to be fighting anyone!

Elvis Nixon slides out of the ring, stepping in front of Wade. The Bad Dog stares down at Elvis Nixon, who has to be the bravest soul in the building tonight. Clearly, he's ordering Wade to the back, but the Bad Dog will have none of it. Finally, Elliott holds up both hands, as if to say "fine, I'll go."

Nick: Thank goodness we resolved this peacefully.

As Tsonda jaw-jacks at Elliott, the Model Citizen doesn't notice Tyler Nelson sneaking up behind him.

Nick: Turn around, Tsonda!

Richard: GREED IS GOOD! GREED IS GOOD!

As Nelson hits his finisher, Wade Elliott turns back up the ramp, leaving Elvis Nixon to his official's duties.

WHAM!

Except it was all a ruse, fuckers. That sound is Wade Elliott tossing Elvis Nixon into the steel steps.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: Wade Elliott may have just saved Chandler Tsonda from taking a loss!

Richard: Yeah, well, it ain't because he's worried about the guy's win-loss record.

Sliding under the bottom rope, Wade doesn't show any of the pain that he's feeling because he's got a perfect moment now with no referee and Chandler Tsonda looking down for the count.

Nick: Get another referee out here, dammit!

Richard: No referees needed for what's about to go down.

Nick: We were just getting into the flow of a competitive match, and now Wade Elliott ruins this. Despicable.

Wade stands over the downed Tsonda, and is suddenly blindsided by a shot from Nelson. The Southern Sparkplug slowly turns to see Nelson, who now realizes that may have been quite a large error. Wade grabs Nelson, lifts him up...

Nick: Rebel Yell!

...and brings him crashing down.

Richard: CAN'T YOU TWO COOPERATE?

The possibly-injured Elvis Nixon calls for the bell as Wade stands, snarling, over his latest kill.

DING DING DING!

Vince Howard: Your winner, by disqualification, TYLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEER NELSON!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: NO!

Richard: Wade knew that if he hit Nelson, Tsonda would lose the match. Effin' brilliance!

But Wade's not content with just putting one in the L column for Tsonda. He pulls up the downed Tsonda, letting the Model Citizen wobble on his legs for a moment before he lifts him up...

Nick: Damn him. This is pathetic.

Richard: Pathetic like attacking a defenseless citizen with a golf club?

Nick: THAT WAS SO HE WOULDN'T COME OUT AND DO EXACTLY WHAT HE DID!

...and brings him crashing down.

Richard: REBEL YELL! HALLELUJAH!

But he's still not done. Elliott pulls Tsonda up again, taunting the Model Citizen, who, after two finishers, is as dazed as a dude can be. Elliott makes a throat-slashing motion as he picks Tsonda up once again.

"Ladies and gentlemen please, would you bring your attention to me."

RUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Nick: Help is here! Killean Sirrajin is here!

The Supreme Machine comes racing down the aisle as Elliott drops Tsonda and slides underneath the bottom rope. With his injures, he's no match for a fresh-and-pissed-off Killean Sirrajin, a man he barely outlasted at UltraViolence. As he hits the ring, Killean helps Tsonda to his feet, earning himself one VERY loud ovation from the fans.

KILL-ER! KILL-ER! KILL-ER!

Richard: Who won this battle, though, dickheads? That's right. WADE.

Nick: This war is far from over, though. Neither of these feuds is anywhere near over!

As he continues helping Tsonda to his feet, Killean can't help but smile at the downed form of Tyler Nelson.

The beat hits.

Tedashii's Houston We Have A Problem.

The crowd goes nuts.

We done came up in the game to rep the name that’s the norm,
not ya big body Lac, fat paper sacks, or your charm
Not your lady-like diva you use to keep you warm
and not the fat happy sack of doja to keep you calm
While you big daddy grilling ‘em, Sprewell spinning ‘em,
Cadillac killing ‘em, the Lord ain’t feeling ‘em
See He’s the King and your rocks ain’t work a thing
yet you rock the bling, but you ain’t gon mock the King

Both members of the Redeemed walk down either side of the ramp, slapping hands with the fans as they make their way to the ring.

Cause the rocks would sing before He let you block His thing,
man just watch the scene because the Rock He is the King
And He throwed, but you busy worshipping chrome,
thick yella bones in the zone trying to live life on your own
And the Lord’s chilling watching man trust himself
while we all sinning, we front like we don’t need His help
But we all missing the fact that trusting in yourself
while you called Christian is still sin in itself

Both men use separate corners to enter the ring, quickly cutting to the chase as the hook plays through the speakers.

Houston we have a problem, we have a problem,
Houston we have a problem, we have a

Marquis grabs a mic from the ring attendant, apparently Rich Rollins does still work for the company.

Peeples: Like the song says... We have a problem.

The crowd still hasn't completely settled down, but those guys have been drinking since before they left the house.

Peeples: Apparently, Wicked Ways and the Wolves think we signed up here to be their backstage punching bags. We've had to put up with attack after attack, and tonight wasn't any better.

Tyrell rolls his shoulders, popping his neck in the process.

Peeples: We already had a match tonight, but we both agree that our night here is far from done. It doesn't mater which one of you wants to come out, but we're right here waiting. You don't need to come at us from behind or after a distraction, because if it is a fight you want... we're more than willing to give it to you.

It doesn't take long for a response to come, and it comes in the form of the tag team champions. Rippa and Scraps slide under the bottom rope into the ring where Marquis and Tyrell are waiting for them. Rippa and Scraps are quick to pop out, and the brawl doesn't take long to commence. Rippa and Tyrell are in one corner exchanging punches, while Marquis and Scraps are in the other.

Richard: And my pick for tag team of the year!

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!"

But they won't be alone for long, as Elise and Kazys run down the ramp toward the ring.

Nick: Things are heating up here tonight.

Indeed they are. Kazys drives a spinning heel kick to the temple of Scraps, as he spins through right into a elbow shot on Marquis. Elise manages to duck a clothesline from Rippa, but not a forearm shot from Dawkins. None of the people in the ring notice the team of crack security rushing down the ramp, until they start sliding into the ring and grabbing a hold of them. Rippa takes on two of the security squad, while Scraps gets into it with another. Elise gets held on the ground, while Kazys gets gang tackled by close to four. As soon as both members of the Redeemed get held up, they throw their arms up and don't fight back like the others.

"That's quite enough!"

Marquis and Tyrell turn their attention to the top of the ramp where Lisa Tyler has decided to make her presence known. Would you believe the other four roster members are still brawling with security as the Redeemed roll out of the ring.

Yeah, I thought you would.

Lisa Tyler: If you don't break things up right this instant, not only will Wicked Ways be forced to relinquish their titles, but the Wolves of Slaughter will lose their contendership to the Universal and Five Star titles.

Yeah, that grabs their attention. Tyrell and Marquis, however, motion for them to continue their antics.

Lisa Tyler: Thank you.

Marquis snaps his fingers.

Lisa Tyler: While I've been preoccupied with some other issues, I haven't forgotten that there is not a tag team title match scheduled for Colossus.

The Redeemed and Wolves both start yelling why they deserve the shot.

Lisa Tyler: Yes, I'm quite aware of both of your resumes. The thing is, at this moment I still don't have either one of you as a clear cut choice for the spot.

The crowd starts a chant for the Redeemed, but it only garners a smile from the woman with a decision to make.

Lisa Tyler: Yes, I think I agree with the crowd.

The response causes Elise and Kazys to voice their objections, as the crowd roars in approval.

Lisa Tyler: That is why Wicked Ways will defend their titles at Colossus against the team of Tyrell Dawkins and Marquis Peeples.

Elise slaps at the turnbuckle.

Lisa Tyler: And the Wolves of Slaughter!!

Tyrell and Marquis nod as they start to back their way up the ramp, while security keeps the Wolves and Wicked Ways separated and Lisa Tyler makes her way to the back.

Nick: Well, according to the sheet, we're slated to have an appearance by Bryan Dawkins momentarily, but one has to question how healthy he is.

Richard: About as healthy as someone should be at this point in a rivalry with Devin Shakur.

Nick: Earlier tonight, if you are just tuning in-

Richard: If you are, what the hell is wrong with you?

Nick: Garbage Bag Johnny refused to wrestle against Dawkins and all The Flyin Hawaiian had to do was come out and claim his victory by stepping into the ring.

Richard: But he didn't want to do that.

Nick: He didn't want-HE COULDN'T! Christian Daniels came up and jumped him before he could get to the ring.

Richard: Which just goes to show you that nobody should mess with a seven foot biker who isn't exactly the friendliest guy on the block.

Nick: The doctor declared Dawkins unable to compete, even though The Flyin Hawaiian protested. We were told Dawkins received some treatment and is sporting a back brace.

Richard: What country was it made in?

Nick: What in the hell does that have to do with anything?

Richard: It has everything to do with everything.

Nick: I assume it was made in the USA.

Richard: Damn right. Where it SHOULD be made. The hell with those foreign products. America is where its at, recognize.

Nick: We're going to get you some counseling after Colossus, I promise.

Richard: I don't need any. Dawkins is gonna need it after Shakur is through rocking his wo-

"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.

BRUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: Well, he's going to make an attempt to come out here right now.

Richard: I bet he comes out in a wheelchair. Oh man, that would be so awesome.

Nick: Considering the economy, I'm sure Lisa Tyler would take the expenses out of your paycheck.

Richard: ...The hell she would.

Nick: I heard that was next on her agenda.

Richard: ...COME ON YOU DIRTY FOREIGNER! CRAWL OUT HERE!

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 gingerly walking down the aisle. Over his back brace is a novelty Hawaiian shirt.

Nick: You can see it in the way he's carrying himself. He is definitely not 100 percent and probably won't be that way come Colossus.

Richard: He wasn't coming in at 100 percent regardless. This just makes it that much more likely Shakur is gonna come out on top.

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, pulling a microphone from his back pocket.

Nick: I can imagine these words aren't going to be kind.

Bryan Dawkins: You know something bruhs, I've had it up to here-

Dawkins holds his hand about two feet above his head.

Bryan Dawkins: -With the shenanigans of Emo and his lover- I mean brother. Each week, they plot something new in an attempt to bring me down, bruh. Their minds never stop plannin', thinkin' of ways to try and get an edge over me. They go from evaluatin' my performance to connin' me into believin' Tyler Rayne is back and now take me out of my match. A match I could have literally won without tryin, bruh.

Nick: He has a point there.

Richard: He's got nothing other than a mouth and shoddy logic.

Bryan Dawkins: It got me to thinkin' and the conclusion speaks for itself. Emo, you are a former Universal Champion...Even if ya choked on the biggest stage in PRIME's history to my boy Chandler Tsonda.

BRUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Dawkins can't help but crack a smile.

Bryan Dawkins: A senior member of the roster with a ton of big match experience. Ya been here almost three years, bruh, but you still run around and play a bunch of child games, tryin' to get into people's heads. What's the point? If you are as good a wrestler as you say, bruh, why do you need to run around hidin behind some big ogre who does nothin but take up space? You got some nasty kicks, I gotta give you that, but when it comes down to the nitty gritty, bruh, you are the biggest coward on the roster.

BRUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Bryan Dawkins: You think somethin like this-

Dawkins reaches under his shirt and rips the brace from his back.

Bryan Dawkins: Is really gonna keep me down? You think somethin' like this-

The PRIME*View shows a picture of Shakur standing over Bryan Dawkins dressed in his Tyler Rayne garb.

Bryan Dawkins: Is gonna stop me from whoopin' on you at Colossus? Anything you say and do, bruh, can be used against ya in court, and trust me, bruh, it's gonna be. However, the way my court sets up is a little different than the ones you clowns are used to seein. All the words you've been sayin and all the crap you been pullin is gonna end when the cell comes down around us. You ain't gonna have no where to run and no where to hide. Nobody to hide behind. I'm gonna beat ya until there's no more of ya to beat, bruh. All of the dodgin and weavin is just delayin the inevitable. When Colossus VI rolls into Fenway, I'm gonna make sure you get rolled out on a stretcher.

BRUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Dawkins drops the microphone and expects to hear his music blast through the speakers. The image of himself on the PRIME*View evaporates and leaves one of complete darkness. The gentle sound of a rocking chair moving back and forth is seen in the sliver of light provided by the open curtains near a window.

Nick: What the hell is this?

The outline of the rocking chair is seen upon closer inspection and it is next to a wooden square of about six feet by six feet. This enigma has gotten the attention of everybody in the Dunkin Donuts Center and the attention of the man standing inside the ring.

"I've always heard-"

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: Well, it seems Shakur can't ever keep himself away from a show.

Richard: He is ratings. What more do you want?

"...I've always heard that when someone dies in the heat of battle, their next of kin is notified and given the unfortunate news of their loved one's passing. Seeing as how your parents are...quite a pain to get a hold of, and as it wouldn't mean much even if I did...I elected to find the most accessible member of the Dawkins family and inform them that you would be going to the other side on August 16th..."

The lights flip on.

Nick: ...Oh. My. God.

And the occupant in the rocking chair sits, arms folded, hands in a pyramid hanging over his chest. Shakur isn't wearing his normal 100 percent black attire. Instead, he's opted for a red and green sweater with black dress pants. With a devious smile on his face, he stares into the camera.

"...Nicholas."

Shakur tilts his head to the left and glances at the six by six square object, a baby's crib.

The microphone involuntarily drops out of Bryan Dawkins hand in shock. He's frozen in horror, unable to move any of his limbs because The Man in Black is sitting inches away from his infant child.

Nick: This has got to be the lowest thing Devin Shakur has ever done!

Richard: ...No comment.

The Man in Black's tone grows ever colder as he rises from the chair and hovers over the baby's crib, rocking it back and forth with his left hand.

Devin Shakur: You see, Bryan, I'm more than aware of my capabilities inside the ring. I know that with a single kick, I can knock someone out, make them forget where they are and what happened earlier that evening...But that doesn't mean I can't have a little...

Shakur's head turns back toward the camera.

Devin Shakur: Fun.

The Flyin Hawaiian can't hide the fear coursing through his body. His hands emit a slight tremor and his mouth stays agape, eyes wider than saucers.

Devin Shakur: Your house is pretty easy to get into, something I'd keep in mind for future reference. Don't ever leave a window open and an ignorant maid manning the house. Anyway, when Colossus rolls around, Bryan, I am going to show you all of the powers I possess. Your entire body is going to be writhing in pain, but I'm not going to stop. I'm not going to just break you physically. That's no way for someone like me to go about business. I'm going to torture you mentally until there is nothing left in that peanut size brain of yours.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: Folks, I'd suggest you turn off your television sets right now. This is one of the most macabre sights I've ever witnessed.

Devin Shakur: A man like me loves to torture, loves to be the nightmare that everybody fears when people go to sleep. I made Tyler Rayne so frightened that he will never come back into a PRIME ring, and I'm going to do the same to you when Colossus hits Fenway Park. Even if you do have the better skill set, Bryan, I've got absolutely no morals whatsoever. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to come out on top...Whatever it takes.

Dawkins still can't take a step toward the ropes or anywhere else.

Devin Shakur: You can bring everything and the kitchen sink to Colossus and we both know it's not going to be enough. You don't have it in you to finish me off, that much is for certain. When I leave you in a rest home, unable to move, I want you to think of me. I want you to realize that battling me isn't like battling just any old run of the mill wrestler. You have a glass ceiling and I don't. You have a conscience and I don't. You have boundaries that prevent you from going to the next level, but I don't. I'm the best because I can truly go far enough to be the best. When Colossus hits, I'm going to show you just how lethal I can be.

The Man in Black turns his body and leans over the crib of Nicholas.

Devin Shakur: Your father was a good man and an even better athlete. He would have had a promising career and become perhaps the biggest legend in the business...But he messed with the wrong group. He messed with the wrong man. He messed with PRIME's worst nightmare come to life. I wish I could say that I'm sorry for your loss...But I don't like to lie.

Shakur shifts back toward the camera and slowly exits the room. Upon his exit, Dawkins bolts from the ring and flies up the ramp, out of the building and out of the arena.

"Oh yeah, it's a tough job but I'm a very respected figure in this place, I keep a handle on all the craziness going on here."

Matt Mills, to whom the voice belongs, is standing lackadaisically against a wall, foot propped up resting against it with his arms folded and mic in hand. A voluptuous intern twirls her blonde locks through her fingers, biting her lip as PRIME's premier mic man impresses her with his confident attitude and primetime looks.

Matt Mills: Yep...(squints his eyes sexily and looks away) I'm kind of a big deal around here, a pretty big deal.

Whump.

A massive hand clamps down on Mills' shoulder, eliciting a girlish scream from the interviewer. The intern cocks an eyebrow, looking Mills up and down before gazing up at the interruption standing well over two feet above him.

Hessian: Where's your cameraman?

Matt Mills: Uhhh...umm....he...down the hall! Hessian can't you see I'm busy? You're not scheduled for a-...

Hessian: Move.

The Murder Show pulls Mills away from his relaxed position against the wall, dragging him away from the heavily chested intern, a smile spreading across her face as her once heroic charge is dragged away like a cavegirl.

Matt Mills: What the hell is the matter with you Von Kelsig?? I was gonna score!

Hessian: You weren't going to score. You never score. Now-...HEY! YOU!

Down wind of them, a cameraman stands idly checking his equipment when he sees the goliath and Mills in tow heading towards him. Instinct kicks in and he shoulders the camera, ready to shoot. Hessian winds up and pushes Mills in front of the camera, stomping by his side as Mills raises his microphone.

Matt Mills: Start shooting goddamnit! He's angry!

Cameraman: Roll on two...

1...

2...

Matt Mills: Ladies and Gentlemen! I'm standing here with former Intense Champion and contender to the PTC Elite Title, the Murder Show, Hessian! Hessian, what are your thoughts on-...

Hessian grabs the microphone and pushes Mills out of shot, and as the interviewer catches his footing he grumbles and grits his teeth, glancing back up the hallway at what could've been.

Hessian: Wyatt Connors. Desade. You two bastards have a nerve coming in to my house and trying to play your shit little mind games on me. Tar and feathers? Drugging? I'd expect that kind of crap from David Noble or Jonathan Rhine, not the king shit Elite Champion and some eloquent hussy from a two-bit one-territory wrestling company!

Spittle promptly spatters the camera lens.

Hessian: This is PRIME! In case you're too starstruck to notice, we're Number One by Definition!

Suddenly, and shockingly, the arena pops at the big up to the home fed. Hessian tilts his head, able to just hear the reaction resonating. Regardless he carries on.

Hessian: When I was informed I'd be the PRIME choice – no offense Killer – to step into the ring against the Elite Champion I thought nothing of it. I've won the big one before and I've reached the end of the GTT without trouble, so what's an Elite title shot? Nothing out of the ordinary, I thought, until one day a cock-high bitch steps up and let's me know I'm in for a fight. So I play the respected opponent card and we leave it at that. THIS WEEK...

The Murder Show stops to compose himself, tightening the grip around the mic so hard the plastic handle audibly cracks in his hand.

Hessian: This week, both Desade and the hallowed Champion show face and what's their agenda? Piss Hessian off. Yeah, smart move, come down to ReVolution and rile up the biggest weapon in the arsenal. Not so much as a how's your father or what's the weather like up there, nooooo. How about we upset him so he's agitated going into the biggest match of Wyatt Connors' career! Well hear this, golden boy, you've succeeded in disrespecting me and pissing me off. Now you're walking into Colossus against the goddamn Colossus himself and thanks to your petty efforts to look intimidating I'm going to make it my personal goal to leave you lying face down in a pool of your own blood while I lord your belt in the faces of all your Vegas buddies. SCCW might have conquered PRIME before but that was before I walked into town and shook it to the ground.

Hess grabs the camera and shakes the shit out of it, frightening the camera man while Mills watches on aghast at his intensity.

Hessian: So the battle plans are drawn and you've made your individual moves. You came forward and tried to gain an advantage, all the while I've just been getting on with business. Like I said, before it was just a case of walking into Colossus and beating the so-called "Elite" of PTC, but now? Now it's personal, because I'll be DAMNED if the creamy dregs of Primetime Central try to make a fool out of Hessian and get away with it.

Hessian composes himself in an instant, snorting like a bull before staring dead through the lens at Connors and Desade wherever they may be.

Hessian: So savour what pride and self respect you have, because come Colossus your blood...and your title? On my hands. The Elite Championship is coming home to PRIME.

Static fills the air as Hessian tosses the microphone at Millsy's feet and storms off. Walking over to the cameraman, the scene fades with the two sharing a stunned look.

He’s had time to cool off, but Kaiser Vashaun is still visibly upset. He stalks the backstage area with no particular destination in mind, a fire in his eyes that he couldn’t hide if he tried. The 5-star championship is wrapped around his waist now, and we can’t help but wonder how he’d look with the Universal strap complimenting it. Colossus is getting close.

Not close enough, perhaps.

"Vashaun."

Voice like nails on a chalkboard by this point. Kaiser bristles – does everything in his power to hold his temper. To stuff it down into his stomach one more time. Slowly, he turns.

Jason Snow stands at the other end of the corridor.

Vashaun: Don’t take my patience for granted, Snow. Title-shot be damned, I suggest you turn around and walk away. Now.

Snow takes a step forward.

Snow: I didn’t come to fight.

Vashaun: Maybe you didn’t think this through then.

Snow stops, a smirk appearing on his face.

Snow: You’re a violent man, Kaiser.

Vashaun: And?

Snow: So am I.

Snow paces forward – close, but not close enough to be threatening.

Snow: Here’s what I want from you, Vashaun. Lisa Tyler and the rest of the damn world have deemed you the most likely to dethrone me. I say so be it. If you’re the one – then you’re the one. A lot of people have underestimated me over the years, Vashaun. Sometimes they’re bigger than me… stronger than me… whatever. I expect you to come to Colossus with everything you’ve got. Hell, I demand it.

Vashaun: I guess that’s one thing we agree on, Snow.

It’s Vashaun’s turn to close in.

Vashaun: Because word has it, you’re the best out there. I know you think you are – we all know you think you are. But I guess that title on your shoulder proves it. You want me to bring my best? You demand it? Well, Snow – I don’t want your B-game. I don’t want your A- -game.

Nose to nose.

Vashaun: I want the best Jason Snow that there’s ever been to show up at Colossus. Because that’s the man I want to beat.

Snow smiles and glances down at both title belts.

Snow: Plebe, I don’t have a B-game. My only gear is excellence, and come Colossus, I promise you, I’ll be kicking things into overdrive. You want the best of Jason Snow? You want the best Jason Snow there’s ever been? That’s the thing about G-reatness, plebe – I just keep getting better.

Electricity.

Vashaun: I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Snow: Colossus is set up to be the biggest event in professional wrestling history. Champion…

Taps Vashaun’s title belt.

Snow: …versus champion.

Taps his own.

Snow: We’ve got a lot of business to settle. A lot of payback to get to. What better place than that?

It’s Vashaun’s turn to smile.

Vashaun: I couldn’t agree more.

Snow: I’ll see you in the ring.

Vashaun: Can’t wait.

Lisa Tyler stands in the centre of the ring, a table and chairs arranged beside her and Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas at her side. With a quick glance around the arena she brings a microphone to her lips.

Lisa Tyler: Phoenix. Natas. Out here now.

The audience pop as they realise that they are about to see the two men who are meant to be working together just moments from now in the ring for something different. A buzz of anticipation moves around the crowd as conversations and discussions come to life about what could be happening. These only intensify as, without fanfare and with a smile on his face, Jason Natas saunters to the ring. As he slides through the ropes he glances over his shoulder and she smile turns to a grin as he sees Jay Phoenix being stopped by a gaggle of referees and security staff as he tries to storm after him.

Lisa Tyler: Let him in. If either of you makes a move I don't like, you're suspended indefinitely.

With a little bow Natas nods his agreement and leans against the ropes as he watches Phoenix make his way to the ring. The smaller man never takes his eyes of Natas, not until he gets to the top of the steps and then, with a face full of fury, he turns his stare onto Lisa and mouths something inaudible to her.

Lisa Tyler: Glad that you asked, Phoenix, so let me tell you exactly what I want, and what I will have. That, would be a ceasefire between you two apes.

Jason Natas: I’m just havin’ some fun, darlin', no harm and no foul.

Pheonix starts to move towards Natas but, with speed that belies his size, Dam is between them before he can move. With a glare that could melt stone, at the big man – who just shrugs it off – Phoenix faces Tyler, pointedly turning his back on Natas.

Jay Phoenix: So what are you saying, Lisa?

Lisa Tyler: Go. Beat the crap out of one another. I'm done having my sanity ripped away by the constant irritation of you two in my hair.

Jay Phoenix: Are you serious? I finally get Natas?

Lisa Tyler: Do you know me to be much of a joke teller, Phoenix?

Jason Natas: Not to rain on yer parade, or anythin’, but do I have a say in this?

Lisa Tyler: Great question, and, no, absolutely not.

Jason Natas: What if I don’t want that freak to ‘get’ me – who knows where he has bin, after all?

Jay Phoenix: Give me a break, Natas …

Jason Natas: Gladly – which bone?

Lisa Tyler: Gentlemen, if we could stop the pissing contest now, before the front row gets wet, here's what's going to happen.

Jason Natas: Hang on – I can see why he would want to get his hands on me … prime beef after the lean streak of nothin’ he has back home, an all, but what is in it for me?

Lisa Tyler: Like that Neanderthal mind of yours isn't jumping at the opportunity to hit something and prove what a macho little hellion you are.

Jason Natas: Well, yeah, that would be pretty good fun, I suppose.

Lisa Tyler: If you can beat him, you can have his Intense Title shot to boot.

Jason Natas: Now if ya just want to throw in a date with yeself, we may have a deal.

Lisa Tyler: Oh, we have a deal, Natas, whether you want to sign off on it or not. I'm leaving it up to Phoenix to decide the match's stipulation.

Jason Natas: You what?

Lisa Tyler: Phoenix can have until the end of his night to give me his decision, which, like every other thing that goes on here, needs MY say-so. There is only one provision.

Jay Phoenix: There always is.

Lisa Tyler: (snaps) You're about a second away from me unleashing him on your boyfriend.

The glare says she means it, too.

Lisa Tyler: I saw you too fuss like schoolgirls when you were teamed up at ReV 200. There will not be a repeat tonight, and I will have my advertised main event.

Jay Phoenix: Really?

Lisa Tyler: Really. You'll be working the concession stand if you don't play this a hundred percent straight.

Jason Natas: Some chance, have you seen his porn collection?

Lisa Tyler: You lay a finger on him (gestures to Natas) and you will NEVER face Jason Natas as long as you both have contracts in PRIME, which, may I remind you Phoenix, is a VERY long time for you.

Jason Natas: Works for me.

Lisa Tyler: Everything clear about that?

Jay Phoenix: Crystal.

Lisa Tyler: Fabulous. Now get out there and boost that buyrate.

Nick: It's time now to head to the ring for this evening's main event, where the "alliance" of Chainz and Hessian will square off against the-...

Richard: Tightest, cohesive tag team since time began?

Nick: Uh, not if you've been watching for the last several weeks. The team of Jason Natas and Jay Phoenix, if you can call it that, have been put into a situation where they'll need to set aside their differences if they want to come out of here, not just with a win, but with their health intact!

Richard: And their sphincters, if Chainz has anything to say about it.

Nick: Let's hope not, however let's take it to the ring for the ReVolution 202 main event!

Vince Howard: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! The following tag team contest is your MAIN EVENT! Scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, at a combined weight of 650lbs...

Richard: Jesus Christ that's a lot of weight...

Vince Howard: The team of HESSIAN AND CHAAIIIIIINZ!!!

"My Gift To You" by KoRn hits the PA and the arena erupts with boos as the 6'5" Monster emerges from the entrance with the 7'2" Murder Show in tow. Glaring at the crowd, they walk side by side down the ramp, muttering between themselves. Chainz extends a hand to a gaggle of young enthusiastic fans but snaps it back before they can high five him, sneering at them and laughing at their gullibility. Hessian snarls and steps up onto the apron and over the top rope while Chainz bolts between them and stomps over to their side of the ring by the steel steps on the far side.

Nick: They may not be a bonafide tag team but with a shared interest in all things killsmashdeathdestroy the team of Hessian and Chainz seem united here as they talk between themselves.

Richard: I'm sure they shared a little saliva before they came out. Did you know Nick this is our first all-homosexual main event on PRIME?

Nick: If anyone can point out a gay man it would be you Richard.

While Chainz and Hessian talk tactics in their corner, KoRn fades out to be replaced by "Phoenix Rising" by Annihilator.

Vince Howard: AND THEIR OPPONENTS! At a combined weight of 469lbs, they are the team of JASON NATAS and JAAAAAYYYYY PHOOOOEEEENIIIIIX!!!

The fans blow the roof off the house with cheers as Phoenix appears on the stage, followed by a disgruntled Natas. Throwing his arms in the air, The Eternal Flame absorbs the crowd reaction, ignoring his partner grumbling along behind him.

Nick: Natas doesn't look happy to be tailing Phoenix.

Richard: I'd be pissed too if I continually dominated my opponent for Colossus only to be chasing his shadow into the main event.

Phoenix jogs down to the ring and slides straight under the bottom rope, nipping up in the ring and again garnering more cheers with another taunt. Across the ring, Hessian and Chainz chuckle while the Eternal Flame glares at them before jogging back to his corner and shaking loose. Natas stoically paces up the steel steps and into the ring, where he slams a hand down on Phoenix's shoulder.

Nick: Oh, what's Natas up to here.

With fiery eyes, Natas mutters something to Phoenix and pushes him into the corner, jabbing a thumb into his chest and pointing to their opponents. Meanwhile, Chainz gives Hessian the nod and waits for the Murder Show to exit onto the apron before turning his attention to Natas.

Nick: It seems Natas is taking charge here and opting to go first in this bout.

Richard: Smart move, let the hard hitter wear down the big guys first before Phoenix wipes them out with his high risk debauchery.

Referee Bernie Roberts calls Natas and Chainz to the middle and runs the rule over them. With two nods of approval, they back away and poise ready to attack as Roberts calls for the bell.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Chainz and Natas advance on each other and lock up. They grumble and grunt trying to take control, and it's Chainz who is the first to capitalize, taking Natas by the arm and spinning around into a hammerlock. Natas winces and slaps his shoulder before himself spinning around behind Chainz and slamming both hands into the small of the back, sending Chainz flailing across the ring into the ropes. On the rebound he races straight into a forearm smash by the Anti-Superstar, knocking him to the mat.

Grabbing the leg, Natas pummels Chainz's knee with sharp elbows and closed shots. Chainz cries out and folds his other leg, springing it straight into Natas' gut and grabbing his knee as Jason staggers into the ropes where Hessian swings a massive arm into the back of the head, knocking Natas forward again where Chainz snaps his legs out and takes down the Anti-Superstar with a leg sweep while Phoenix watches unimpressed from his corner.

Nick: Good looking out by Hessian there with the shot to the head of Natas. If those two can watch each other's back like that for the duration they'll definitely be in with a chance on an upset against the Eternal Flame and the Anti-Superstar.

Richard: All the while Phoenix hangs on the corner watching his opponent getting beaten down before their big match.

Nick: Very true Richard, will Phoenix actually assist his future opponent in this bout or will he let Chainz and Hessian soften Natas up for Colossus?

Chainz gets back on his feet as Natas rises by his side. A quick sneer towards Phoenix is met with a cold stare, until he turns round and receives a boot to the mid-section from Chainz. Doubling his opponent over, the Monster drops Natas with a very blunt and hard DDT. Natas is planted into the mat and rolls to the ropes holding his neck as Chainz rests up against the ropes before charging into the Anti-Superstar and driving a boot into his face.

Nick: Chainz's offense is just so primal, he's like an animal in the ring.

Richard: What, with all the purring and scratching?

Nick: You read into Chainz far too much Richard.

Pulling Natas to his feet, Chainz attempts an Irish whip across the ropes, only for Natas to reverse the move and rather than counter Chainz across the ring, stops him dead and unleashes a flurry of sharp lefts and rights to the Monster's face and ribs. Whatever pain he feels is hidden behind a sinister smile as Chainz takes several hard shots to the chin before Natas winds up and headbutts the Monster square on the nose. Chainz staggers and Jason powers forward, picking his opponent up and driving him into the canvas with a spinebuster that sends a cracking noise throughout the arena.

Nick: Oh! What a spinebuster! It sounded like he broke Chainz's back with that one!

Richard: With so much weight on that ring you're more likely to find it being the support struts snapping underneath, Nick.

Nick: Oh really?

Richard: Well that's what happened when I romanced your buffalo of a mother on it after the show last week.

Nick: Smooth.

Another glance at Phoenix to find the Eternal Flame unperturbed by the action in the ring. Snarling at his future opponent, Natas motions to Phoenix before pulling Chainz back to his feet and catching him in the face with an uppercut. Chainz reels from the shot and tries to lash out at Natas, only for the New Yorker to grab his arm and twist it, yanking it harshly and stamping down for effect. Chainz hollers out as his arm reddens and stings from the force, as the Anti-Superstar holds the limb out and drops an elbow on it, carrying the momentum to the mat and pulling Chainz down with him.

Richard: Jason Natas certainly looking good here against the Sickest Man in Wrestling.

Nick: (checking his notes) Since when is that one of Chainz's nicknames?

Richard: Since he wears diapers.........over his face.

Nick: Oh God, come on Richard this is a family show.

Richard: Yeah, makes you wonder, huh.

Another strike of the elbow to Chainz's heart and Natas gets back up, taunting the crowd. A chorus of boos resonate through the arena to which the Anti-Superstar replies with a middle finger. Turning to Hessian, Jason spits at the ground at the Murder Show's feet before pulling Chainz to his feet and whipping him across the ring once again.

Nick: The Anti-Superstar showing no respect to anybody here.

Richard: Why would he?

Nick: Because he's about to piss off two of the biggest and baddest in PRIME as well as the Eternal Flame. Nobody can beat those odds.

As Chainz rebounds once more Natas bounces off the ropes himself and swings a massive clothesline that the Monster barely ducks below. Spinning on his heels, Natas meets Chainz as he hits the ropes again, carrying the momentum through and whipping Natas with all his power into his corner, where the Murder Show lurks.

Nick: Natas upset there as Chainz capitalizes and throws him to the largest athlete in wrestling.

Richard: If Hessian is athletic I'm the president of Mensa.

The second Natas hits the corner Hessian pounces, locking a massive arm around the Anti-Superstar's throat and holding him in place in the corner. Before the referee can intervene however Chainz bursts forward and connects with a massive spear. Natas roars in pain but stays standing as Hessian applies more pressure to the choke around his neck. Bernie Roberts yells for Hessian to release the hold, to which the seven footer reluctantly complies.

Nick: Bernie Roberts asserting his authority here.

Richard: He has to unless he wants three of the meanest muggers in PRIME to run riot here.

Backing off, Hessian raises his hands while Chainz drives a knee into the gut of Natas and tags in the Murder Show.

Nick: Hessian's turn to get some here against Natas and Phoenix!

Richard: "And Phoenix"? Jay hasn't even had a whiff since this match started! Not that Natas has tried to tag him, but Phoenix doesn't look interested in the slightest.

The Murder Show clambers over the top rope and grabs hold of Natas. Together with Chainz he hauls Natas into the middle of the ring and executes a vicious double chokeslam. The mat cracks under the impact once again as the Anti-Superstar sprawls out from the move. Chainz retreats back to his corner, not before getting in one final boot to the head. Bernie Roberts ushers him away as Hessian grabs Natas by the head and pulls him back to his feet.

Wrapping a hand around Jason's neck Hessian drags him over to Phoenix, staring the Eternal Flame out and grinning wryly before hoisting Natas into the air and tossing him across the ring into the corner adjacent to both Chainz and Jay. With Natas reeling, Hessian thunders into the corner, shoulder barging the Anti-Superstar. Before he crumples to the mat, the Construction of Destruction hoists him up onto the top turnbuckle and throws a couple of hard rights to daze his opponent.

Nick: Hessian setting Natas up for a big fall here.

Richard: The Anti-Superstar needs to at least acknowledge Phoenix here if he's going to survive this.

Nick: I think you might be right, so far Natas has held his own but the power of his opponents is showing.

With Natas sat up on the turnbuckle, Hessian looks him up and down thinking of some devious way to bring him crashing down onto the canvas. The fans cheer simply for the prospect of high risk, but to their amazement Hessian simply slams a fist into Natas' head and knocks him off the turnbuckle, watching gleefully as the Anti-Superstar smacks off the apron and tumbles to the mats at ringside!

Nick: What brutality by the former Intense Champion! Natas dropped like a tonne of bricks and hit the ground hard!

Richard: Could be worse, he could've turned Natas around and bared his ass for Chainz.

Nick: Again with the vulgarity...what if you were the one Chainz had his eye on?

Richard: I'm not his type. I don't struggle.

Nick: …......

Richard: ….........Um...I'll shut up.

Phoenix barely bats an eyelid at the crumpled heap of Natas lying down from him. Staying his position he watches calmly as Hessian exits the ring, followed closely by Chainz as Bernie Roberts immediately starts a ten count.

Richard: It's like the Tyrannosaur and the Raptor from Jurassic Park working together in perfect harmony.

Nick: That's some analogy Richard. On the button though, as soon as Hessian's boots hit ringside Chainz was off the apron. Now they're both stalking a downed Anti-Superstar.

1...

2...

As Natas writhes on the mat Hessian advances on him, picking him up by the head only to receive a headbutt to the chin. Dazed by the shot, the Murder Show is subsequently hammered with volleys of lefts and rights as well as kicks to the shins.

3...

Staggering the giant, Natas volleys him with another boot to the knee, causing Hessian to buckle and collapse onto the mats.

4...

Nick: Natas driving Hessian into the dirt on that exchange!

Jason has no time to lord over his power however, as Chainz comes barrelling around the corner, scooping Natas up and carrying him over to the steel steps beneath Phoenix where he plants the Anti-Superstar into the hard metal.

5...

6...

Natas cries out, arching his back and holding the stinging flesh while Phoenix watches on quite pleased.

Richard: Do something Redskin!

Nick: Phoenix isn't bothered in the slightest what happens to Natas!

Chainz gets to his feet and pulls Natas up, tossing the New Yorker into the ring and heading back to retrieve his partner.

7...

Nick: Very responsible of Chainz ensuring his side doesn't lose to the team of Natas and Phoenix.

Richard: Responsible and Chainz in the same sentence? We have passed into the twilight zone.

8...

Chainz finds Hessian struggling to his feet, wincing from the strikes by Natas. Welts are already swelling on his face and his eye is twitching sporadically. Shaking off the pain, Hessian gets up and heads back into the ring with a nod to Chainz who steps back up onto the apron.

Nick: No one's getting counted out after the Monster made sure the fight would go on.

Richard: A glutton for punishment is that man.

Natas gets to his feet right next to Phoenix and turns to look at his partner, both staring at one another angrily. Phoenix glances behind the Anti-Superstar and holds both hands up. Natas cocks his head but by the time he feels the mat shaking and hears the crowd whooping it's too late. He turns around and catches a massive clothesline from Hessian, sending him spinning in mid air and crashing into the canvas.

Nick: What a brutal clothesline by the Murder Show!

Richard: Take back what I said about Natas.

Hessian grumbles at Phoenix and pulls Natas to his feet, doubling his opponent over and hoisting him into the air for a powerbomb. At the apex however Natas clings on and slams a fist into the top of Hessian's skull, dazing the giant and allowing Jason to hobble off and land on the mat where he kicks Hess to the gut and plants him with a neckbreaker. The fans boo furiously as Natas puts the boots to him and follows up with a leg drop across the throat before going for the pin.

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT!!

Nick: Natas makes the pin but it's blatant he's trying to rile Hessian rather than beat him.

Richard: Really? That was a pretty major leg drop Nick.

Getting to his feet, Natas pulls Hessian up and holds him in a double over position, driving hard knees into his face before cracking him across the back of the neck with an elbow smash. Hessian groans in agony and drops to the mat, where the Anti-Superstar grabs his arm and drops a leg on it, falling to the mat and wrenching the Murder Show's shoulder. Bernie Roberts closes in for a look as Natas twists the arm and Hessian writhes on the mat, struggling to pull free. With a sinister look in his eye, Jason pulls the shoulder further and tightens his grip as though to pull it clean out of the socket.

Nick: Look out behind you!

From out of nowhere Chainz crashes into Natas, jarring him in the head with a boot knocking him clean off his partner. While Natas sprawls across the canvas Bernie Roberts chases Chainz back to his corner, slapping him with a warning. The Monster complies happily, grinning back to the apron. Back at the other end of the ring Hessian is pulling himself up by the ropes while Natas nurses his headache and tries to get to his knees.

Richard: Someone has to gain the advantage here or we'll be back and forth all night.

The Murder Show finally gets to his feet and pulls Natas up. The Anti-Superstar throws a wily right only to have it blocked and countered with a headbutt that staggers the New Yorker. Wrapping both hands around Natas's throat, Hessian hoists him into the air and executes the double choke drop. As he lands flat out however, Natas manages to coil a leg back and catch Hessian under the chin, stunning him and knocking him back onto the mat.

Nick: Nice counter there by Jason Natas, dazing Hessian and giving himself some breathing space.

The Anti-Superstar doesn't utilize the spare seconds however, opting instead to get back up and take the fight to the Murder Show. First he unloads a series of kicks to the downed giant before taking him by the legs and driving a flat foot straight into the Von Kelsigs. Hessian roars in agony and tries to curl up to soothe his testes, only for Natas to hit the ropes and come straight back with a dropkick to the spine.

Nick: Natas is fired up here now that Hessian is incapacitated!

Picking Hessian up, Natas fires him across the ring and bows his head in preparation to toss the giant over the top rope on his return. Too many seconds pass however for Hessian to have rebounded, and on hearing a slapping noise Jason looks up to find a fresh Chainz climbing into the ring and charging towards him. Sensing a struggle ahead, Natas turns to his corner to the surprise of Phoenix and extends a hand for the tag.

Nick: Finally Jason Natas is going for the tag for the first time in this match!

Richard: He's a stubborn ass thinking he can single-handedly take the fight to these two bastards!

Nick: He's held up so far Richard.

As he tries to tag the Eternal Flame in however, Jay leans back and watches as Natas stumbles before shooting a glare at him in anger. Before he can try to get his partner into the match again, Phoenix stuns the crowd by backing away from the corner and dropping to ringside, taking a further few steps to the ramp and watching stoically as Natas becomes visibly irate.

Nick: And there you have it Rich! Phoenix never once intended to be a part of this contest! The Anti-Superstar has taken some punishment here and Jay is happy to walk away unharmed for the pay-per-view!

Richard: What a dick.

Holding both hands out at Natas, Phoenix gazes back at Chainz and Hessian and smiles before folding his arms. Natas's face turns a bright red as he turns around and comes face to face now not just with Chainz, but the Murder Show as well. Gritting his teeth he hollers at them and charges forward, diving through the air for a double shoulder barge. Hessian and Chainz dig their heels in and take the flying shoulder, combining their strength to drop Chainz to the mat and lessen the damage.

Natas barely hits the canvas before both his opponents jump into action, kicking the shit out of him with boots to the gut and toe kicks to the head. Rolling around and trying to cover the stricken areas, Natas howls as Chainz pulls him up and whips him off the ropes, charging into him on the rebound and connecting with a brutal super kick to the chin that sends spittle flying from Jason's mouth before knocking him back to the canvas.

Nick: The Chain Link! Natas is back on the canvas once more! Phoenix has left Natas to the wolves!

Richard: See above.

Bernie Roberts stops Hessian in the nick of time before the giant advances on the downed Natas. Grumbling under his breath, the Murder Show calls to Chainz and quickly climbs back over onto the apron, demanding the tag.

Nick: Clever thinking by the big man.

Richard: For once.

Chainz obliges and runs over, tagging in Hessian and clambering onto the apron. The Murder Show wastes no time, running at Natas and driving a boot into his jaw before pulling the softened carcass of the Anti-Superstar back to his feet and whipping him into the corner where Chainz waits. Hitting the turnbuckles hard, Natas flops to the canvas as Hessian heads back to the corner and once more pulls him up, pummelling him with back elbows and forearms to the face, stunning Jase. Grabbing him by the throat Hessian steps back from the corner and hoists Natas onto his shoulder into the Canadian backbreaker rack, where he holds his opponent and makes him suffer the submission.

Nick: Hessian setting up for the Hellevator but it looks like he's going to make Natas suffer a little before he...

Richard: Before he suffers more?

Nick: Yes.

Stepping into the corner, Hessian turns to the side and chuckles as Chainz unloads on Natas, slamming fists into his exposed gut. Jase roars and cusses, wincing between shots until finally a double ax smash from the Monster winds him into silence. The crowd, strangely, begin cheering for the team of Hessian and Chainz as the Murder Show steps away from the corner and plants Natas with the Ganso bomb, taking great pleasure in watching his neck crumple under the weight of his battered body.

Nick: There it is folks, the biggest drop in PRIME. Natas is done!

Richard: Stick a fork in 'im......it'll hurt more!

Rather than going for the pin however Hessian quickly tags Chainz back in. The Monster wastes no time scrambling back into the ring and mounting Natas, driving hard punches into his face. Natas's eyes roll around his head as Chainz gets him to his feet and doubles him over before executing a powerbomb. With sary strength he pulls the dead weight of the Anti-Superstar back up onto his shoulders before stomping to the ropes...

...And powerbombing Natas over the top, sending him crashing into the guard rail with extreme force.

Nick: What a Chain Reaction by Chainz! That second powerbomb over the top has completely annihilated Natas! He AIN'T getting back up!

Richard: Sweet zombie Jesus! Phoenix just stood by and let all of this happen!! He's walking into Colossus at a complete advantage now after Hessian and Chainz picked him apart!

Bernie Roberts, slightly stunned, starts the ten count.

1...

2...

3...

4...

Nick: He isn't getting up, Natas isn't moving.

5...

6...

7...

Richard: Phoenix could save the match right now but he looks willing to swing a loss in favour of Natas's destruction.

8...

9...

…

…

10!!!!

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Vince Howard: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! Your winners...the team of HESSIAN and CHAAAIIIIINZ!!!!

As Hessian and Chainz stand victorious in the ring, Phoenix finally moves back down to his erstwhile partner. Stopping only to pick up a microphone on the way past Phoenix stops over the barely conscious man, standing over him as he stares down, directly into his eyes.

Jay Phoenix: Are you ok, Jason? Damn but I just wish that this could have gone otherwise but, you know how it is, I am a man of my word and I just couldn’t go back on what I promised Lisa earlier.

Nick: What?

Jay Phoenix: Sorry, what was that? Can barely hear you with all that blood you seem to be choking on. Here let me remind you, though.

Reaching down Phoenix pulls Natas up by the hair and makes him look at the big screen where images of the in-ring meeting between Lisa Tyler, Jay Pheonix and Jason Natas took place not all that long ago.

Lisa Tyler: You lay a finger on him (gestures to Natas) and you will NEVER face Jason Natas as long as you both have contracts in PRIME, which, may I remind you Phoenix, is a VERY long time for you.

Jason Natas: Works for me.

Lisa Tyler: Everything clear about that?

Jay Phoenix: Crystal.

Lisa Tyler: Fabulous. Now get out there and boost that buyrate.

.
.
.

Lisa Tyler: You lay a finger on him (gestures to Natas) and you will NEVER face Jason Natas as long as you both have contracts in PRIME, which, may I remind you Phoenix, is a VERY long time for you.

.
.
.

Lisa Tyler: You lay a finger on him (gestures to Natas) and you will NEVER face Jason Natas...

Jay Phoenix: So you see, Jason, I didn’t have a choice. Lisa told me to play it straight, and I gave her my word … I told her I wouldn’t lay a single finger on you. That made it a little hard to tag you out, unfortunately.

Richard: I don’t believe that Phoenix just did that!

Jay Phoenix: Oh well, can’t be helped … and I am sure that you will be ‘just fine’ for our match at Colossus, won’t you, my friend?

Phoenix drops Natas head, allowing it to connect on the concrete with an audible thud, before standing straight over the fallen man once more.

Jay Phoenix: By the way, I have decided on the stipulation for the match – it’s going to be an ‘I Quit’ match ... and I give you my word that you are going to regret the day you decided to fuck with me, you bastard!

Dropping the microphone onto Natas’ back Phoenix turns and walks away from him, a smile on his face.

PRIME logo.

Out