The Thompson-Boling Arena is not widely known for supporting a diverse community of plant life. This is largely due to the fact that it does not generally host varying species of potted trees and shrubbery, foliage which can be found at the nearest Home Depot outlet for a discounted price (plants are not an especially popular item during the winter season). Today, however, is an exception. A veritable forest of these home store solutions has been wrangled and stretched across the entire back wall of the cafeteria area ReVolution production members have sequestered for catering. The lights in the room have been dimmed to a low radiance. Two figures sit cross-legged on the linoleum, just a few feet from the edge of the forest, huddled close to a smoldering (but not burning) pile of sticks. Both men are attired in the black cloth and silver buckles stereotypically associated with our pilgrim forefathers, from the round tops of their goofy hats down to the clog-like bottoms of their shoes. The man on the left scoots uncomfortably close to his compatriot. One could almost classify the act as cuddling.

"You’re invading my bubble, bruh."

Maybe we should have mentioned that the cuddled (man on the right) is wearing a pair of orange and aqua sunglasses. Maybe we also should have mentioned that the cuddler (man on the left) is none other than PRIME’s numero uno interviewer extraordinaire.

Matt Mills: We need to share body heat before we freeze.

Bryan Dawkins: Um, bruh, it’s not actually going to freeze. We’re just acting.

Matt Mills: So act cold and cuddle, damn it.

Bryan Dawkins: You’re starting to creep me out, Mills.

It is at this point that another figure enters across the scene. Vince Howard, adorned in an old fashioned but well tailored suit, takes precedence at the forefront of the screen. Though the argument continues on behind him, the voices are hushed. Muted almost. Howard walks along as if there is nothing behind him. The two continue babbling as if they do not notice him.

Vince Howard: We present to you an ordinary evening in the infancy of our great country. Two pilgrims sit to brave the harsh winters of a new world. Brothers in their plight, these men turn upon each other like nature has turned on them. The new world seems intent on destroying them… but will they destroy each other first?

A whistle interrupts everything else. Mills turns to his pilgrim partner with frightened eyes. Dawkins carefully removes his sunglasses to survey the expansive forest from which the sound emanated. The two wait for what seems like eternity. There is no movement. No sound. Mills exhales and begins to relax. The whistle comes again. Louder. Closer. Matt Mills jumps into the unexpecting arms of Bryan Dawkins. The Flyin’ Hawaiian appears as shocked as Mills is terrified.

Matt Mills: Did you hear that?

Bryan Dawkins: OK. I think you’re taking this way too seriously, bruh.

Matt Mills: That noise! What could it be? Oh I hope it is not the dreaded savages of which we hear such awful stories! Those brutes eat babies and rape women!

Bryan Dawkins: Wait a second. No one told me Chainz was in this reenactment.

Matt Mills: Hey, since we’re probably about to die, you wouldn’t happen to have maybe ten or fifteen grand in chips I could go use at one of their casinos, do you?

Bryan Dawkins: No way, bruh. I saw all those commercials. You’re about as good with money as Jimmy Bonafide is with--

Matt Mills: Savages!

A figure steps from the cover of the forest. His bronze skin is pulled taut across defined muscles. The man is not large. He is imposing. There is a presence about him. An aura of authority. That could also have something to do with the rather extravagant headdress of feathers cascading from atop his noggin. The tips of the feathers have all been dyed in what may or may not have been blood. Virgin blood, probably, those gods damned savages. A tight cord of rope-like material dangles down each side of his face. At the end of each cord is a crimson red feather that brushes against his scarred pectorals. The man has abs that could grate cheese… and also look like they may have been grated like cheese more than a few times. His dangly parts are covered by a single strip of animal hide. A similar rectangle hangs over his ass. The two pieces are connected with a thin string that leaves his thighs (and most everything else) absolutely bare.

We do have medical professionals standing by in case there are any women in the audience who suddenly faint or feel weak. There are also extra vendors selling fresh pairs of Rayne Dancer underpants, should any of the females watching in Tennessee need replacements.

The scarred warrior looks upon the downtrodden pilgrims and offers a reassuring smile. The lights in the room actually brighten a couple levels as he unleashes it. The war paint smeared below his eyes and down his nose is just a shade darker than the growth of stubble encasing his jawline.

Tyler Rayne: No one told me Chandler Tsonda was in this reenactment.

Dawkins and Mills both turn to look at each other. The interviewer is still clutching to the security of the Hawaiian’s manly frame. Arms wrapped tight around his neck. When the two men turn to exchange an embarrassed glance, their noses brush against each other. Dawkins shoves Mills from his lap and scoots as far away as possible. Another figure enters from her hiding spot in the forest. Her approach is escorted by an amused giggle. Juli Lee is dressed in slightly more appropriate garb than her employer. In point of fact, we’re pretty sure it’s just a Pocahontas Halloween costume (which was purchased at an incredibly discounted price this late in the season). Her dark hair is braided into a single plait that loops over her right shoulder. She appears shy, hiding her face behind the black swath of hair. Her body behind the scarred visage of The Underground Pimp. Brown eyes peek coyly from around his shoulder to gaze at the white men.

Tyler Rayne: I am Chief [Bleep]s Like Rabbit from the nearby Kikkenass tribe. This is my niece, Sukonjaweena.

There is a full second of pause. The Golden Boy stands there, smirking that infamous little panty-wetting smirk of his. Matt Mills sits quietly, repeating the words in his head for what must be some sort of hidden meaning. Bryan Dawkins makes a single attempt to stifle his laughter. It is a failed effort. His head drops backward and the pilgrim erupts with might guffaws. The hat tumbles from his head and lands near Juli’s feet.

Bryan Dawkins: Sukonja… Sukonja… oh man… that… is… hilarious…

Juli Lee: I really, really hate you.

Matt Mills: I don’t get it.

Bryan Dawkins: You don’t… how can you not… Sukonjaweena!

Another fit of laughter puts the Hawaiian on his side. Tears are streaming down his cheeks.

Tyler Rayne: You are the white men who come on giant canoes from across the mighty lake. We have been watching you. You… suck. All of your crops die in the fields. Your clothes are thin and do not protect from the cold.

Bryan Dawkins: Bruh, you’re not even wearing clothes.

Tyler Rayne: I know. I’ll put two G’s down on double the ratings for my near nudity, though.

Matt Mills: I’ll take that bet.

Tyler Rayne: No. You still owe me five hundred for the last one, [bleep]er.

Matt Mills: Oh come on! How was I supposed to know Vince Howard has game?

Juli Lee: Excuse me, gentlemen, but aren’t we in the middle of something here?

Bryan Dawkins: Yes. Um… I am Lord Bryan Dawkinshire, constable of this settlement. This chap here is Governor… uh… Tarkin.

Matt Mills: Tarkin?

The Hawaiian shrugs.

Bryan Dawkins: Rayne made my kid watch Star Wars yesterday.

Matt Mills: Is he even a year old yet?

Tyler Rayne: Gotta teach ‘em about the good stuff early. Before MTV rots their brains.

Juli Lee: Boys. Reenactment.

Bryan Dawkins: Welcome to our settlement, New Honolulu. We would offer the hospitality of our cottages, but, uh… we don’t have any.

Tyler Rayne: Yeah. That’s what I was saying earlier. You guys suck. However, we’re awesome, and Sukonjaweena is curious as to the size of the white man’s wang… so we have come to help you out. We will teach you to hunt and till the land for fertile soil. In exchange, we would like access to those strange shiny sticks you call muskets, and the beds of your women. I’ve [bleep]ed all of ours.

Matt Mills: That sounds fair.

Bryan Dawkins: We will agree because we are freezing.

Matt Mills: And starving.

Bryan Dawkins: But in later generations, our sons will forget this accord and pillage your lands for resources. We will corral your people into small settlements known as reservations. This country will become the domain of the white man, and your chiefs will cry when they see trash on the banks of a river.

Tyler Rayne: Hmm. These are steep conditions. I still get to [bleep] your women now, though, right?

Bryan Dawkins: Sure thing, bruh.

Tyler Rayne: Then we are in agreement. To celebrate our newfound abusive relationship, we shall begin a traditional feast. Our ancestors shall carry this tradition on for generations to come.

Matt Mills: The abuse or the feast?

Tyler Rayne: Eh. Probably both.

Chief Fucks Like Rabbit raises his arms to the sky and claps twice. A bevy of women begin emerging from the forest. Each of them is wearing a braid identical to Juli’s, though the color of the hair ranges from a similar black to a fiery red to a ghostly white and all shades in between. Seven women. Twelve. Sixteen. All of them are covered in animal hide bikinis made up of less fabric than the loincloth sheltering Rayne’s man banana. We use the word "covered" in the loosest of interpretations. The women parade out of the foliage with heaping plates of delicious, mouth watering food. All of the traditional Thanksgiving favorites are represented here.

Pineapple pie. Pineapple upside down cake. Pineapple pudding. Pineapple casserole. Sliced pineapple. Diced pineapple. Cubed pineapple. Fried pineapple. Broiled pineapple. Mashed pineapple. Stuffed pineapple. Ham roasted with pineapple. One Hawaiian pizza.

And, of course, one giant pineapple carved into the shape of something that kinda resembles a turkey.

The Flyin’ Hawaiian stares at each of the dishes as they are placed on the table and salivates.

Bryan Dawkins: I’m in heaven.

The Blue-Balled Interviewer stares at each of the jiggling bosoms of the servers and salivates.

Matt Mills: So am I.

Tyler Rayne: Well, gents, I think this is the beginning of a fantastic relationship. Let us give thanks for this new and wonderful friendship.

Matt Mills: I’ll give her thanks for a new and wonderful friendship.

Governor Tarkin (well we made up these names, might as well use them) gives one of the red-haired servers a wink and a smile. It is somewhat less alluring than that of Chief Fucks Like Rabbit. The woman offers a half-hearted smile in return.

Red Hair: Hundred bucks an hour, sweetheart.

There was supposed to be more hilarity to ensue here… but it has been censored by the Board of Directors. Instead, just pretend like something funny happened that may or may not have involved Matt Mills counting out change to purchase a prostitute.

Tyler Rayne: [Bleep]ing censorship. So who wants to volunteer to show Sukonjaweena the white man’s wang?

Juli Lee: I am seriously going to kill you in your sleep.

The doors to the cafeteria are opened and the first of the PRIME production staff are allowed entry to the feast. With these servers, it is both a banquet for the eyes and the stomach… and the johnson. Conversations begin to pick up as the guests take in the bounty (both of the flesh and the feast). The noise fades into the background as Vince Howard once again walks into the forefront of the screen.

Vince Howard: So there you have it. The first Thanksgiving. Sort of. We here at PRIME would like to wish you and your loved ones a happy holiday. If you are offended by any of the representations in this reenactment, feel free to call the Tyler Rayne Complaint Line at the bottom of your screen. Also, yes, I do have game. Mad, mad game.

An angry drumbeat mingles with heavy guitar rifts and the sound of ReVolution blasts through the speakers. The Sound of Madness.

The overwhelming frame of Hessian wields itself into the scene. He's covered in sweat, standing over the broken bodies of Desade and Wyatt Connors with the Elite Championship held high above his head.

Yeah, I get it
You're an outcast.

The permasmirk of Tony Gamble livens the camera. He might be a clown, but don't underestimate him you'll end up being a master of the tap dance. A quick flash of his infamous encounter with Jason Snow is seen, the current Universal Champion submitting.

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.

Iron Wolf, Kazys Jankauskas, stuns the world by emerging victorious in the ReVolution 200 Battle Royal by defeating his own tag team partner, Elise Ares.

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

The controvesial Chainz stares into the camera with a sadistic glare and flashes the Intense Championship.

So paranoid...
Watch your back!

Hoyt Williams stands in the middle of the with Our Lady of Gaga, having just defeated Jacob Cross at Great American Nightmare by an act of God.

Oh my, here we go...

Brandon Youngblood, standoffish by nature, shakes the hand of Troy Douglas and steps through the ropes at Great American Nightmare.

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

Elise Ares does a little dance, shouts "Que Tal Eso" and spits into the camera.

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

Diego Foster stomps Chet Worth into the canvas over and over again.

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

Adam Garcia shadowboxes like the greatest of all time.

To explain,

Nitz Donnelly poses for the crowd. We can't tell you what their response is, at least in this introduction.

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

Tyler Rayne methodically demolishes Jeb Stewart. Oh yeah, he's back.

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

Benjamin Johnson smirks at the camera. Another of the new faces roaming through the halls.

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

Bryan Dawkins soars through the air, completing a high flying maneuver onto newcomer Johnny Raindance.

But I'm not gonna part the seas
You're a self-fulfilling prophecy.
You think that cryin to me,

Tyler Nelson's bruised arm is raised into the air at Colossus VI, after his shocking upset over The Supreme Machine, Killean Sirrajin.

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

Johnny Raindance prepares himself for the PRIME journey.

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

The Inhuman Being, Tchu, defeats Tony Gamble in a classic and declares his intentions to be the 2009 Jewel in the Crown.

To explain,
That the darkest hour never comes in the night.
You can sleep with a gun.
When you gonna wake up and fight... for yourself?

The Redeemed hold the Tag Team Titles triumphantly over their heads.

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

Roque de la Red. What more needs to be said?

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

Jacob McKail defeats Jenny Piccolo at ReVolution 211.

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

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

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.

Jay Phoenix waves goodbye to The Anti-Superstar, Jason Natas, having finally defeated him at his own game.

You can sleep with a gun.
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 over Chandler Tsonda at Culture Shock the new Universal Champion.

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

PRIME...Number One by Definition.

A cascade of pyrotechnics emerges from the stage, signaling the official start of what could be Tyler Nelson’s worst nightmare, ReVolution 213. The evening’s Main Event features three of his meal tickets battling one another in an effort to be the lone representative of the group for Jewel in the Crown 2009. The night also features the fourth and final match with Tchu hoping to cap off a tremendous comeback, but to do so he’s got to go through a crafty Roque de la Red and veteran Jacob McKail, both equally hungry to secure a spot at the last Pay-Per-View of the year. The Tennessee crowd is pumped up, primarily because Lane Kiffin isn’t the one making false promises. No false promises are being made. Tonight is going to be insane on so many levels. If you need more proof, watch the Cold Open over again.

Lisa Tyler is banging her head against the desk and it’s not because Chainz is violating her. She’s taking some heat for that tomorrow.

Over by the announcers table, Richard Parker chows down on a barbeque plate, chasing the spicy goodness with a large cup of sweet tea. Anybody in the south would refer to such a meal as heaven. Anybody who tries to say different is a complete dope. Nick Stuart is mortified by his partner’s unprofessionalism and slides his laptop away from Parker’s grubby paws. A voice in his ear screams that the show is ready to go live in 3…2…1…

Nick: Welcome everyone to ReVolution 213!

Richard: My mouth just had seven orgasms.

Nick: Wonderful, Richard.

Richard: Damn right it is. Oh man, where is the toilet? I’m going to be toasting a whole bunch of them this evening.

Nick: And that’s a Hall of Famer speaking folks.

Richard: I’m going to autograph every stall in the building. I will be legendary after tonight.

Nick: Enough of that, we’re going to get to the rundown. Tonight will feature two hours of action packed PRIME ReVolution. Four matches and the usual backstage shenanigans.

Richard: Not to mention that it’s the Thanksgiving celebration.

Nick: Why aren’t you eating turkey then in celebration?

Richard: Are you serious? This is a man’s Thanksgiving and I’m thankful for there being such awesome barbeque.

Nick: Well, I’m going to try and keep the show afloat if you are going to be in the john all night. Our first contest will feature Johnny Raindance taking on a mystery opponent only Lisa Tyler is aware of. He still wishes to prove himself after beating stalwart Troy Douglas last week, and Tyler is going to give him what he wants.

Richard: I’m still not sold on this. You don’t prove yourself to the boss, you prove yourself to the boys in the back by getting them coffee and doing their laundry. All the greats had to do it.

Nick: In the second match of the evening, Jay Phoenix who made a statement last week in calling out all of Tyler Nelson’s army is going to do battle with The Greediest Player in the Game himself and associate Elise Ares. He has until the end of the evening to find a partner and one has to wonder who exactly he’s going to be able to find.

Richard: My recommendation is he gets God. That angle was a huge success when run in the WWE.

Nick: I somehow doubt God would want to have anything to do with PRIME after that opening we just saw.

Richard: Unless God is a woman. We should ask Hoyt Williams. He has some inside information on that I’ve been told.

Nick: And in the first of two Jewel in the Crown matches, Tchu will take on Roque de la Red and Jacob McKail. The winner will move on and join bracket winners Tyler Rayne and Brandon Youngblood.

Richard: Tough company to get through in both respects for anybody.

Nick: And in what has been one of the most anticipated Main Events on ReVolution-

Richard: Actually, let me correct that for you, one of the most RIGGED Main Events on ReVolution.

Nick: Tyler Nelson’s army will be taking on each other. Only one man can get through the other two to become the fourth bracket winner. Hessian does battle with Chainz and Kazys Jankauskas.

Richard: I’m so torn on this. All three of them are phenomenal competitors and we shouldn’t be subjected to such greatness on a ReVolution.

Nick: What matters more to them, keeping the alliance alive or having a shot at the Universal Championship when Culture Shock rolls around?

Richard: And considering Hessian has been on thin ice it would seem. Tonight could indeed be one of the more riotous.

Nick: Tyler Nelson hasn’t been feeling that festive this evening. I saw him earlier and he’s not enjoying the possibility of the group breaking up. I have to wonder if he’s going around right now trying to smooth things out and say this is only a competition.

Richard: Somehow, I don’t think that’s going to work and it pains me to say that. Hessian and Chainz are monsters who want to be the best in the world and Kazys has gotten an opportunity before to be the Universal Champion.

Nick: That’s another factor, Richard. Kazys once gave up a Universal Championship shot. She gave it up to have a stake when Tyler Nelson acquired power in PRIME. If Nelson wins the Universal Championship from Jason Snow, it is highly doubtful Lisa Tyler would be able to deny Nelson the perks of the top dog in the company even though I think she would loathe doing so.

Richard: She’d have no choice. Nelson has one thing going for him though. He gets a GUARANTEED 1 in 4 chance, because one of those men must make it through and will get a booked evening at King of Kings.

The night is young, the opening bell having not yet sounded. Fans wait anxiously for the first match of the night. In two hours time, the final spots in the JitC semi-finals will be determined, and then immortality will await one of four men at King of Kings.

Still, all that lies in the future. Here and now, ReVolution is about to become Reunion.

The Inhuman Being, having made a surprise return just two weeks ago, wanders through the backstage halls. ReV 211 saw a triumphant return for the PRIME Hall of Famer, but oddly, ReV 212 had come and gone without an appearance from The Wrecking Ball.

In fact, since re-joining the company, not a word has been heard from the 2005 Jewel in the Crown.

Until now.

"Look who it is."

The Inhuman Being stops in his tracks. Standing in front of him is The High Class Ass, Nitz Donnelly.

Tchu: My least favorite thing about New England.

Nitz: Wardsy, this is a blast from the past. I thought you were in the professional wrestlers retirement home, piddling around in a motorized wheelchair or some shit.

From a room beside Nitz, The Tortured Artist and The Latin Princess emerge to join their Change In Spades partner.

Vance: Matthew... long time no see.

Nitz and Leticia both look at Vance, confusion etched on their faces.

Nitz: You know Tchubert?

Tchu: We go way back.

Before The Ego has the chance, The Inhuman Being cuts him off.

Tchu: Save the age jokes, Nicky.

Nitz: I can give ya that.

Vance: It's a long story that I'll get into at another time. Matthew, I assume you know already this is Leticia.

Leticia: Pleasure.

The Latin Princess extends her hand to The Inhuman Being.

Tchu: Likewise.

The Hall of Famer turns his attention to the near seven footer.

Tchu: Good to see you appear to be doin' well, big guy. But what the hell are you doing hangin' out with this loud mouth?

A large hand smacks Donnelly on the shoulder before he can retort. The Ego sharply inhales and gives his partner an odd look.

Vance: Don't mind Nicky here. Once you get to know him, he's a pretty cool guy.

Leticia: I've known him for many years. Vance is telling the truth, shocking as it may seem.

Nitz: Awww come on, I have a f**kin' rep to uphold.

Tchu: Dude blew his nose in my autograph last time I saw him. That thing is worth a lot of money, y'know?

Leticia looks over at Nitz.

Leticia: You didn't...

Vance tightens his grip on the shoulder of The Ego.

Vance: He's sorry for that... right bud?

Nitz looks at the ground.

Nitz: Just havin' some fun with Tc...

Vance now has a death grip on his shoulder and Donnelly grimaces.

Nitz: Sorry about that man.

The Inhuman Being, in a rare occurrence, actually grins.

Tchu: Nah, it's all in good fun, ain't that right Nitz? Which is why I can say... this 'old man' has to run. Got a big match to prepare for. Second round of the JitC and all that stuff. Who knows, someday Nitz, you might know what it actually feels like to sneak outta the first round.

Leticia: OH SNAP!

Tchu gives Donnelly a slap on the arm, before turning and finishing his goodbyes.

Tchu: Leticia. Vance... I'll catch up with ya later, big man.

Vance: You bet Matt.

The Inhuman Being continues down the hall, leaving the trio to themselves.

Nitz: Ok, that comment was very un-f**kin'-cool.

Vance: Suck it up buttercup.

The weight of The Tortured Artists large hand is relieved from the shoulder of Donnelly and Leticia leads the way down the hall.

A door opens, from out of which emerge Diego Foster and Alyson Sparks, followed by some official suit-wearing, lawyerly, front office types. Alyson is beaming, shaking their hands emphatically, mouthing thanks that are not picked up by the camera's microphone. Diego looks uncomfortable in a dress shirt and tie, out of place among the professionals who surround him, and he limits himself to a semi-respectful nod of the head as he shakes their hands.

Soon the men recede back into the room, while Diego and Alyson turn and walk together towards the camera, close enough for their conversation to be picked up. Her smile fades as she turns to look at Diego, staring at the ground sullenly as he walks along with his hands in his pockets. She stops walking, waiting with her arms crossed for Diego to turn around and face her.

Alyson: Stop moping around will you. You're making me depressed.

Diego: I don't know what there is to be happy about. I'm not the kind of guy that's willing to celebrate coming off a loss.

Alyson: You're really pathetic sometimes, you know that? You had the match of the night last week, came within inches of beating Youngblood, and you weren't even pinned.

Diego: Well, I didn't pin anyone, either.

Alyson: And how many wrestlers can say they worked the main event of a ReVolution their second match with the company? (Nudging Diego) They want to keep you around, you're fresh and exciting. Geez, I've never seen a guy so unhappy after a contract signing.

He shakes his head.

Diego: It's all provisional. There was so much fine print, you'd go blind reading it all. I'm sure they can let me go whenever they've had their fill of me.

Alyson: Well it's sure going to pay your bills for the time being. If you don't smoke it all up, that is.

Diego: I'm sure it's enough to pay your bills, too.

Alyson: (Sighing) Still so ungrateful, after all the hard work I've been doing pushing your name with the front office. You think working out contract details is fun? Because it's not.

Diego is silent in response, folding his arms and leaning against the wall.

Alyson: What, you think I'm using you, is that what this about?

It's Diego's turn to sigh now.

Diego: Nah, I don't care about the money.

Alyson: Then what is it? You've arrived. What more can you ask for?

He rubs his forehead with one hand, mouth twisting up.

Diego: Being here isn't enough. I need to be in the thick of things. On the top.

Alyson: You've got to give these things time. They don't just happen on their own.

His mouth set, Diego nods his head in agreement. Dropping his hand back down to his side, he continues walking past Alyson, her eyebrows raising in confusion.

Alyson: Where are you going?

Diego: First I'm going to change out of these clothes. And then...

Alyson: What?

Diego: I'm going to make things happen.

She almost smiles. Almost. But at the sound of the door shutting, her lips falter, her expression wavering on the edge of concern. She trusts Diego in the ring, sure, that's why she's here to begin with. But when it comes to decision making, well, that's the other reason she's here. Trust doesn't come into it at all.

She tries to follow, but the door is already locked, Alyson already shut out.

"Karn Evil 9" hits over the PA system, forcing many of the fans in attendance to throw up a little in their mouths.

Richard: Now this is the way to start off a show! The number one contender to both the Universal Title as well as Lisa Tyler’s job.

Nick: Unfortunately for him, Tyler Nelson will have neither.

Richard: You underestimate the power of the dark side, Nick.

Nick simply rolls his eyes as The Greediest Player in the Game appears on the stage. He pauses underneath the huge video screen, smugly looking out over the venomous crowd. They greet him with the usual fare, boos and debris. A few seconds pass before Mr. Simmons walks out from the back. Nelson looks at him with a rather perturbed expression and points toward the ring. The bodyguard sheepishly nods his head and marches toward the ringside area.

Nick: We’re only a few weeks away from Nelson challenging Snow for the Universal Title at King of Kings. Here’s hoping that Snow kicks Nelson’s head clean off.

Richard: Not gonna happen, Nick. We are gonna have the first ever Universal Vice President of Talent Relations Champion, Tyler Nelson. It’s gonna be awesome!

Simmons holds the ropes as Nelson slides through, a disgusted glare on his face as he snatches the microphone from Vince Howard. The fans continue to vehemently voice their own loathing as the King of Greed brings to mic to his mouth.

Tyler: Wow, I guess that numbers don’t lie, do they? Someone told me that the state of Tennessee was at the bottom of the list for literacy and at the top of the list for obesity in the United States, and now that I’m out here and see it for my own eyes I believe it. You people really are unbelievably stupid and fat.

Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: I would decry that as despicable, but what else should I expect from that man?

Richard: He only speaks the truth, Nick. Like Mr. Nelson said, the numbers don’t lie.

The Greediest Player in the Game smirks sadistically as he paces once around the ring, reveling in the anger pouring out from the fans.

Tyler: You people even manage to make Vince Young look smart. No wonder the Titans drafted him.

Nick: Ouch! That’s a real low blow.

Richard: He scored a six out of fifty on the Wonderlic Test, and I heard you get ten points just for spelling your name right.

Tyler: What I’m going to talk about next is probably way over you people’s heads. It’s called the internet. I know a lot of you folks probably don’t even know what a computer is, but bare with me. You see, the internet is an amazing tool that can be used to gather almost limitless information . One thing it can be used for is research.

Nelson looks out at the crowd for a moment and sees plenty of blank faces. Just as he expected. Nevertheless, he pushes forward.

Tyler: When I decided to cash in my banked Universal Title shot against Jason Snow at King of Kings, I figured that I would do a little bit of studying on my opponent. As luck would have it, I managed to stumble across the PCW archives….every show that was ever put on the air by Primetime Championship Wrestling. Let me tell you folks something in all seriousness. I put on some DAMN good shows. Lisa Tyler would have to break her neck giving blowjobs in order to put on a show that was HALF as good as mine.

Nick: Oh come on!

Richard: Hehe…that’s what she said.

Tyler: Anyway, I remember Jason Snow from back in PCW. He was a young punk when I brought him in. He’s still a punk today, I suppose. Just a different kind of punk. I think he’s forgotten a few things about his past that I’m going to remind him of tonight. Let’s take a look at the first piece of footage.

The giant screen flickers to life as the lights in the arena dim.

August 5, 2001

Snow continues to pound away at Nelson, but his momentum is stopped when Tyler hits him with a blatant low blow.

Dave: That was blatant

Jeff: That was beautiful

Steven: I hope that doesn’t stop Snow’s incredible orgasming abilities.

Jeff slaps Steven

In the ring, Tyler lifts Snow up and hits him with the Hostile Takeover! Suddenly, the fans pop.

Dave: here comes Jeremy Howard and Dan Hollywood!

Out from the back charges Jeremy "Krayzie" Howard and Dan Hollywood. Krayzie has a chair in his hands. The two men slide into the ring. Nelson turns around and stares at them. He looks a bit scared. Krayzie and Hollywood say a few things to Nelson as he slowly backs up. As Tyler backs up, Snow rises to his feet. Krayzie, who has the chair, swings at Nelson. Nelson, however, ducks it and Jeremy ends up nailing Snow in the head.

Dave: Jeremy Howard just accidentally hit Snow with the chair!

Jeff: Serves him right for trying to hit the boss.

Tyler sees what he has done and is a bit shocked. Tyler kicks Krayzie causing him to drop the chair. Nelson picks it up. He is gonna hit Krayzie, but sees Dan charging at him and whacks him instead. This gives Jeremy enough time to slide out of the ring. Leo Micelli saw the whole thing and isn’t gonna do anything.

Dave: Snow is easy pickings now for Tyler.

Jeff: Serves him right. He should never call on his friends to try and help him against the CEO again.

Tyler sees Snow knocked out. He walks over and locks him in GREED IS GOOD! Referee Leo Micelli doesn’t even raise the arm of Snow to see if he is conscious. He just calls for the bell.

Winner: Tyler Nelson

Dave: Tyler Nelson hands Snow his first loss in PCW and advances to meet Jeremy Howard in the semifinals of the World title tournament.

The lights come back up to reveal a grinning Tyler Nelson standing in the center of the ring, looking up at the screen.

Tyler: Did you hicks see that? I popped Snow’s loss column cherry. Tyler Nelson made Jason Snow tap out.

The crowd continues to boo, although the veracity is starting to decrease slightly.

Richard: Did you see that, Nick? Mr. Nelson has a pinfall victory over Snow! It’s all over but the cryin!

Nick: Someone else hit Snow with a chair, Richard. I’d hardly call that an impressive victory.

Richard: Once again, the numbers don’t lie. Mr. Nelson one, Snow nothing.

Tyler: Do you remember that, Snow? No? How about this?

Once again the lights dim, and the screen flickers to life.

August 10, 2001

Dave: Screw off! I’m sick and tired of the way Tyler Nelson thinks he can just do whatever the hell he wants around here and go unchecked.

Jeff: He owns the DAMN place, Dave. He has the right.

Dave: BULLSHIT!!

Just then a figure starts down the ramp.

Dave: HERE COMES SNOW!! HE WAS SCREWED BY DAN HOLLYWOOD AND JEREMY HOWARD LAST WEEK IN HIS MATCH AGAINST TYLER NELSON! THIS WAS PLANNED ALL ALONG!

Jeff: It just keeps getting better and better doesn’t it?

Snow slowly walks to the ring, motioning to Jeremy Howard for an explanation. Snow climbs the ring steps and steps into the ring as Jeremy motions to the rest of Greed, INC that he will handle it. Snow reaches in his back pocket and produces a microphone.

Snow: What the hell is going on, Jeremy?

Dave: That is the question on everyone’s mind.

Jeff: Not mine. I know why and that my friend is GREED!

Jeremy simply smiles at his friend as Snow pleads for an explanation.

Snow: C’mon, man. We’re supposed to be friends. Tell me why……..

Snow pauses for effect and looks out to the crowd.

Snow: (continuing) ….Why did you start the celebration without me?

Dave: OH MY GOD!!

Jeff: SNOW WAS IN ON THE WHOLE THING AS WELL? KRIEGMAN HAS NOTHING ON THE CEO!

Snow embraces Jeremy Howard and the rest of the men in the ring start to laugh all over again. Tyler shakes Snow’s hand and then begins to talk once again.

Tyler: Look at this collection of talent in the ring. Is there any force on the face of the planet that can stop it? Red Army? HELL NO! Elements? NOT A CHANCE! Just Electrifying Wrestlers? ARE YOU F**KING KIDDING ME?! This right here is the elite group that is going to rule the wrestling world from this day forward.

Dave: I’m speechless.

Jeff: WOOHOO! Keep it up, boss!

The CEO positions himself in front of Greed, INC and stares into the camera.

Tyler: Jeremy Howard, Dan Hollywood, Duke Williams, Badge, Snow, and Tommy Christopher…the future of professional wrestling. United under the banner of GREED they will dominate the sport.

The lights come on in the arena again, with Nelson feigning a look of bewilderment.

Tyler: Wow, Jason. That sure appeared like you joined my organization at that time, Greed, INC.

The puzzled look quickly disappears.

Tyler: You were my LACKEY, Snow! You were an errand boy for the most powerful man in wrestling! A couple of weeks ago you refused to join me in my cause, but back then you couldn’t get out of your own way to climb on my bandwagon. What’s changed over the years, Snow? Too many bumps to the head? Ego getting in the way of common sense? Whatever the case, I made you back in PCW, Snow. I made you, and then I broke you. Hit the clip!

May 22, 2002

Crowd: P-C-W! P-C-W! P-C-W!

Nelson though picks up the steel chair and while BAS had turned his back to watch Snow, he charges AND CLOCKS STEELE IN THE BACK OF THE HEAD WITH THE CHAIR!!!

Crowd: OOOOOOOooooo!

BAS turns around and is CLOCKED AGAIN THIS TIME IN THE FACE!!!

Crowd: OOOOOOOooooo!

Dave: Two chair shots on Steele!!!

Nelson swings again and NAILS STEELE ONCE AGAIN!!!

Crowd: OOOOOOOooooo!

Dave: Three char shots on Steele!

Duke: The varmint’s had too much abuse, he’s falling!

BAS slumps over and drops to the canvas. Nelson turns and sees Snow coming at him with a violent rage, Nelson holds his chair out and swings it with a vicious ferocity! HE NAILS SNOW OVER THE HEAD WITH THE STEEL CHAIR!!!

Dave: No, oh God no!!! Nelson can’t win this thing!!!

Duke: But he is Hoss, this is a sad day for PCW....

Nelson drops the chair and pulls Charlie over to BAS. He drops on BAS, hooking his leg as Charlie begins to look revived and begins his count....

1........................

Dave: Please BAS!!!

2........................

Duke: Come on you varmint!!!

3!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

DING! DING! DING!

Dave: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Marx wakes up.

Jeff: What did I miss guys?

He looks into the ring.

Jeff: PRAISE ALLAH!!!

Duke: (Sighs) Great....horny...toads....

Nelson jumps up and down, celebrating the win. Charlie gets the belt from the bell ringer, and Nelson yanks it away from him, holding it up in the air.

The Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Dave: This is so heinous...TYLER NELSON HAS STOLEN THE PCW TITLE FROM BIG ALAN STEELE AND SNOW!!

The crowd is buzzing now, soaking in the history lesson courtesy of Tyler Nelson. The Greediest Player in the Game has an evil smirk on his face as he stares into the camera.

Tyler: That’s right, Snow. I cost you the PCW title that night. I took it away from you. Me, Tyler Nelson. You want to pretend that you’re so much better than me now? What’s supposed to scare me? A win over Chandler Tsonda? Or Kaiser Vashaun? Guess what, I’ve beaten both of them, too. I’ve given you a look at your past so that we can get a glimpse of your future, Snow. At King of Kings you’re going to see just how good greed is.

"Karn Evil 9" hits once again over the PA system as Nelson and Simmons exit the ring.

Nick: I’ll be honest, Richard, I was really not aware of a lot of that stuff. If Tyler Nelson did anything tonight, he got inside Jason Snow’s head.

Richard: Mr. Nelson just psychologically kicked Jason Snow in the giblets.

Did you miss the first part of ReVolution? Well, you are a bad person for doing that, but cheer up. You still have three quarters of the show to go. It could be worse. You could be this guy.

The timekeeper hits the bell twice. All in attendance know, from this, that the first match of the night is about to start. The opening notes to "Rain Wizard" by Black Stone Cherry fill the Colonial Arena.

Vince Howard: The following match is set for one fall under normal rules, with a fifteen minute time limit. Coming to the ring first from Verona, Missouri weighing 227 pounds... he is the only fourth generation professional wrestler in the world today... Johnny Raindance!

The ring announcement ends just in time for the guitar to briefly stop, allowing BSC's vocalist to shout, "HERE COMES THE RAAAIN!" With his music playing loudly throughout the arena, Johnny Raindance steps out into full view for all to see. The Knoxville crowd responds respectfully, though the PRIME audience is not quite sold on him yet.

Richard: This guy just loves his curtain-jerking, doesn't he? I don't know what Lisa Tyler sees in this guy. Is he even on contract yet?

Nick: I think it's still a show-by-show verbal agreement to test him out with the PRIME crowd, but I can see why Lisa Tyler would be willing to extend him opportunities to prove himself. Raindance has been nothing but respectful to our crew, he's disciplined from a family of wrestlers, not to mention that he's eager to wrestle because he enjoys the sport and not for some kind of bully-entitlement complex.

Richard: Don't listen to Nick, kids. PRIME is the Serengeti. It's all about being the king of the pride. Nobody gets anywhere being nice like Simba. It's all about killing and eating and mounting from behind to assert dominance. REAL hardcore stuff, thug life, kicking babies, all that sort of human sacrifice that gets a guy to the promised land. Remember that kids – PRIME.... we eat souls.

Back in October of 2002, Richard Parker met Duke Williams during a 'Front Office Appreciation Summit' for Primetime Championship Wrestling. Duke, then going by the moniker 'Dukestar the Goblin' for reasons that defy both logic and Euclidian geometry, immediately smacked Richard upside the head. When Richard asked why he was hit, Duke said, "You'll probably deserve it some day." Guess what today is?

"WOO HOO!"

Vince Howard: His first opponent, from Hilo, Hawaii weighing two hundred two pounds... "the Flyin' Hawaiian" BRIAN DAWKINS!

The big screen comes to life with "Song 2" by Blur, accompanied by pyrotechnics, orange and aqua lighting, and the video package of "The Flyin’ Hawaiian" Bryan Dawkins. Dawkins strolls out of the back to an ovation from some of the crowd, to which he replies with the Hawaiian "hang loose" hand gesture, before jogging down towards the ring.

Richard: This AGAIN?

Nick: When Raindance said that he was willing and able to wrestle tonight, Lisa Tyler was left to find a suitable opponent. Fortunately, Bryan Dawkins felt that their first round match at Revolution 210 was good enough that he didn't mind doing it again, so we have this match booked.

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

Richard: That's the start of the match, I'm going for a sandwich.

Nick: Sit down.

Dawkins and Raindance exchange a brief fist bump, more in the "good luck, bruh" manner than in the "I just got nominated to run as Democratic presidential candidate, Michelle!" way. Backing out, the two come back in with a collar-and-elbow tieup, though Dawkins feints low with the go under and into a School Boy.

Nick: Raindance kicks out before the one count.

Richard: Shame, we were *this* close to moving on to Nelson and Ares destroying Jay Phoenix.

Nick: And his partner?

Richard: Partner? We all know Phoenix is the odd man out in the buddy system of life.

Both men back up, Raindance takes a Side Headlock out of another tieup, spinning away and backward from the body to scissor Dawkins's legs and trip him forward. Johnny allows the Flyin' Hawaiian to free his legs, rolling forward to get away. Raindance rolls with him, though, and Dawkins is pulled back down into a School Boy as well.

Richard: Another kickout before one. What is with them and their whole "trying to not lose" thing? It doesn't suit them one bit.

Dawkins and Raindance get up at the same time, nodding.

Nick: Right now the two are testing the waters, getting a feel for how the other intends to play this match. Both men are agile, though I think Dawkins is a bit quicker on his feet from a standing start. Raindance has a minor size advantage, though his pedigree certainly gives him something of an advantage to use in the ring, having three generations of champion luchadors in his family.

Richard: They were giants. In Mexico. There's a reason they were champs, they just had to sit on their opponents and that was it. What lessons were they going to impart? "When you lurch forward, try to have an opponent there to break your fall. He'll even let you get a three count on you!" Nothing doing for Raindance... he'd have to go into midget wrestling to get a comparable experience.

Johnny Raindance and Bryan Dawkins go into a tieup, with Dawkins spinning out into an Arm Wringer.

Nick: Raindance backs off, pushing on Dawkins's shoulder and standing on his toes to utilize his slight height advantage in relieving the pressure on the arm.

Moving over to the side of the ring, Raindance puts his free arm on the top and uses it to backflip, releasing the torque on his shoulder. Breaking the grasp on his wrist, the Mayan luchador spins Dawkins's arm backwards for a Top Wristlock. Dawkins can easily turn around out of it, but as he does Raindance twists the shoulder forward into the Arm Wringer. Dawkins has to reverse himself, but as he does, Raindance catches in the Standing Armbar and sets his legs on the top rope one at a time. This results in Johnny Raindance being perpendicular to the mat, held up by the ropes and Dawkins's arm, and from here Raindance proceeds to simply spin himself over to continually put more pressure on Dawkin's arm with The Bruh unable to turn his own body fast enough to alleviate all of the pressure.

Richard: Leave it to a Mexican to sleep on the job and still get the job done.

Nick: I've never seen this kind of move before!

Richard: It's like a Moonsault Abdominal Stretch.

For the running joke about Abdominal Stretches, see Revolution 212.

This can only last so long before Dawkins wises up and drops to his back, pulling Raindance off of the ropes in the modified Arm Drag. Raindance hits on the top of his back, getting up with Dawkins putting in the Side Headlock. Backing to the ropes, J-Rain pushes off and Bryan Dawkins hits the ropes, coming back with the Shoulder Block that knocks down the luchador.

Nick: Dawkins to the ropes. Raindance stays low. Dawkins over and to the ropes again. Raindance with a Hiptoss reversed into a Monkey Flip!

Johnny Raindance hits the mat with the flat back bump, rising into a Dropkick. He attempts to get up, taking another Dropkick. Getting up a little slower this time, Raindance inadvertently gives Dawkins the opening to move in with a roundhouse kick to the midsection.

Richard: Aw, isn't that special, he's trying to copy Tyler Rayne.

Nick: You don't befriend a man like that and not make an attempt to learn from him.

Dawkins whips Raindance to the ropes, with Raindance bouncing off and returning into the Back Body Drop.

Nick: Raindance leaps clear over Dawkins!

And traps the High-Risk Hawaiian into a Crucifix Pin on the way over.

1...

2...

Kickout!

As Dawkins gets up, a straight toe kick to the gut catches him unaware. Raindance follows with a European Uppercut.

Nick: Backslide!

1...

2...

Nick: Bryan Dawkins, having faced Raindance only a few weeks ago, had him well-scouted. Those European Uppercuts are Raindance's preferred arm strike and it worked against him.

Richard: Yeah, he needs to get with the crazy high-flying "Frog Splashes to check the mailbox" style like all other non-Los Diablos luchadors.

Bryan Dawkins amps it up with a punch to the jaw, stunning Johnny Raindance. Dawkins follows up with a series of knife edge chops. Raindance hits a headbutt to take Dawkins off-guard, then attempts another European Uppercut. Dawkins is able to block it with his hands, but Raindance falls back and swings up his leg, kicking the Flyin' Hawaiian on the side of the jaw.

Crowd: Ooh!

Nick: That's what Johnny Raindance needs to do. He has a unique style and experience and he's got to utilize that against the faster Bryan Dawkins.

Raindance pulls Dawkins back up and whips him into the corner. He follows in with the running splash, but Dawkins slips out to the side. Johnny stops himself on the middle ropes.

Crowd: OOOH!

But falls prey to the middle rope Springboard Enzuigiri.

Nick: Raindance falls off of the turnbuckle and Dawkins goes for the cover!

1....

2....

Kickout.

From in the ring, Bryan Dawkins hops up to the top rope. Turning around, he takes aim and Raindance pulls down on the top rope.

Richard: Hawaiian, meet high risk.

Though still woozy, Johnny Raindance steps up on the rope. Dawkins uses punches to try to fight him off. Raindance is pushed away, but springs up to the middle rope again and adds in his own punches to the midsection.

Nick: Both men are fighting for position on that top rope. This is a very precarious position but they're not giving an inch.

Bryan Dawkins scores his own headbutt, pushing Raindance back off of the top rope, but the luchador is undaunted and jumps up to the middle rope, then steps to the top. Dawkins sees Raindance leap up onto his shoulders on the top rope.

Nick: It's a Frankensteiner off of NO!

But Dawkins loses his balance before Johnny Raindance can flip backward. The Top Rope Frankensteiner goes horribly wrong, both men falling off of the top rope to the floor below.

Nick: No no, this is not good.

The referee, seeing how neither man landed in a way that they could try to protect themselves, goes down to the floor. Checking both men, he sees that neither man is even awake. A 10-count would simply waste precious time. Instead, he calls for the bell, a No Contest, and waves for trainers to come down from the back.

Richard: Well, that didn't take long.

Nick: Folks we're very concerned about these two men and hope to hear an evaluation from them soon. It's never pleasant to see wrestlers go down in this way.

Richard: On the plus side, that line "Go big or go home?" Looks like they went home early. I love these fan favorite high-flyers; they get out of the way pretty fast so we can move on with the show.

With PRIME's trainers and medical professionals jogging out from the backstage area, the cameras slip out to a wide shot of the crowd.

Over the past few weeks, Lisa Tyler has implemented unique methods to prevent Devin Shakur from running rampant over the shows. She gave him a skybox loaded with liquor for 211, but that was subsequently ruined by the returning Tyler Rayne and Bryan Dawkins. The Boss went out of her way on 212 to purchase a Nintendo with Duck Hunt for The Black Plague, only for Hessian to ruin the game and pull Shakur through a ceiling.

Tonight, she's either too occupied with Tyler Rayne walking around in only a loin cloth or abandoned the idea entirely, because The Man in Black and Biker are resting comfortably in their locker room. They are enjoying beverages from the mini-refrigerator they boosted from the Thanksgiving party while everybody was distracted with The Underground Pimp.

"Two times, baby. Can't nobody even come close to being as good as me."

Both of which are alcoholic because they are dealing with the biggest verbal nuisance in the wrestling business...Tony Gamble.

Well, biggest in his own mind at least. It's the thought that counts.

The Grin struts around the room with the 5 Star Championship donning his shoulder like a trophy wife. Neither Shakur or Daniels-

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

-Are particularly fond of The Permascar Superstar's rambling, especially since he's done this since they got into the building.

Tony Gamble: I'm a legend, the greatest of all time. My resume is greater than Michael Jordan and George Bush's combined. I've made so many people tap, you'd swear you were watching Fred Astaire dance. You remember when i beat Angelo Deville to win Jewel in the Crown-

Christian Daniels: (muttering) You still got dem suicide pills?

Devin Shakur: Sold em to Rich Rollins a few years ago for his jean jacket trenchcoat and bandanna.

Daniels winds up his right hand and smacks Shakur across the back of his head Gibbs style.

Tony Gamble: Or when I became the most downloaded man on the Internet after beating the Illustrious Face Eater? Of course you do, because I still am. YEAH BOI!

The Grin pelvic thrusts for the camera.

Christian Daniels: Almost wish Rayne'da shot me when he had'tha chance.

Tony Gamble: Have I ever mentioned I defeated Jason Snow twice?

Gamble sticks a peace sign up into the air with his index and middle finger.

Devin Shakur: Only about...756,004 times.

Tony Gamble: I do love even numbers. That's why I had to go and beat Hessian TWO TIMES too. I mean...I know you couldn't even beat him once, but I've beaten the two most "dominant forces" in this place and they kept me out of the Hall of Fame last year? Pfft, please. I should start my own.

Devin Shakur: Why don't you go do that right now so we can think?

Tony Gamble: Think? What is there to think about, man? I didn't think when I beat Wade Elliott to get the Intense title. You ought to catch my seminar on how to beat rednecks if he ever decides to come back since...How many times did you beat him again?

Devin Shakur: Ugh.

Tony Gamble: And don't even get me started on Chainz. I made that dinosaur tap at ReVolution 146. Where the heck is my big breasted anorexic Barbie doll?

A knock on the door masks the exhales of relief from The Man in Black and Biker. At the door is a stagehand with a clipboard in hand. The Grin notices he is wearing a Tyler Rayne shirt and recalls another memory.

Tony Gamble: ReVolution 170. Tyler Rayne. I pinned him 1, 2, 3. I'm the greatest man to ever live...Oh, what do you want, little man?

Stagehand: I'm five inches taller than you.

Tony Gamble: And I'm five times better, what's your point?

Stagehand: Ms. Tyler would like to speak with you.

Tony Gamble: Did she happen to say what it was about?

Stagehand: Negative, sir.

Tony Gamble: Probably wants to give me the right to rename the 5 Star Championship like they used to do with the Alias strap.

Devin Shakur: (under his breath) Should rename it the 5 inch championship if that's the case.

Shakur and Daniels exchange a high five.

Tony Gamble: Hey, don't go anywhere, I'll be back to tell you guys the rest later.

Gamble shuts the door behind him, leaving Shakur and Daniels to their own thoughts.

Devin Shakur: Is there enough alcohol here to make us forget tonight?

Christian Daniels: Think we can stand Rayne long enough?

Devin Shakur: I'm willing to try anything at this point.

Christian Daniels: Let's roll.

The brothers stand up and exit their locker room, but down the hall they can hear The Grin still moving his mouth.

"I mean...Tyler Nelson beat Killean Sirrajin and then I beat him, so therefore, such as, the Iraq... I'm greater than Big Red, too."

Christian puts hand to face and smacks himself in the forehead.

Christian Daniels: One of these days I'm gonna strangle that midget.

Solitude is a near impossible thing. A moment’s peace is just nowhere to be found. An entertainment spectacular as big and as grand as ReVolution requires nothing short of an army of dedicated production staff to pull off. This generally means that someone is standing around every corner. An electrician. A pyro engineer. Medical experts. Financial advisers. The list could go on and on and on. Every show requires the cooperation of a plethora of experienced professionals in varied fields. So to find a quiet corner for reflection and contemplation… that is a rare treat indeed.

Of course it helps when a couple of lunatics in ridiculous costumes take siege of the catering area and convert it into a Thanksgiving feast for the ages. Everyone who does not have immediate business keeping the show running is in there filling a plate and stuffing their faces. Which means the halls are unusually empty for a ReVolution broadcast. The backstage area unusually quiet.

This is where we find the hero of the day, Tyler Rayne, enjoying a delicious piece of grammy’s homemade pineapple pie. He cuts another forkful from the wedge and scoops it into his mouth. The feathers dangling from his headdress bob a little as he chews. The Golden Boy sits atop a stack of black production crates, still adorned in nothing more than that headdress and a loin cloth, his bare leg hanging over the PRIME logo on the side. He is alone. These boring, white corridors have been abandoned for the greater enthusiasm of the feasting hall.

Abandoned by all but one other, it seems. Theses empty halls do not lend well to stealth or subtlety. Not that the man approaching would know much about either of these things… but even if he were trying to be subdued, it was a futile effort. Heavy footfalls echo off the barren walls, announcing the arrival of The Murder Show before he actually turns the corner and appears in the same hall as Rayne. Hessian looks to be marching with purpose (isn’t he always?). All purpose is lost, however, when his eyes unwillingly flicker to the abundance of bronze flesh sitting atop the production crates. The Elite Champion comes to a halt. Dark eyes narrow to take in the scarred visage before him. And there is a lot to take in. Certainly more than Hessian cares for. The Underground Pimp smiles, more than amused at the situation. Elevated as he is on the crates, Tyler is tall enough to look The Brutal Legend straight in the eye. Hessian wishes he could tear his eyes away to do the same. It’s like staring into an eclipse, or watching the aftermath of a car crash on the side of the road. You know you’re not supposed to, you don’t even want to, but…

Tyler Rayne: So which of the so-called evil geniuses is manipulating you this week, eh, Captain Caveman?

Hessian: Captain…? I guess your smart ass healed up before the rest of you, huh?

Tyler Rayne: Some things never change, my friend. You know, like how much I love to talk. Which, speaking of… you up for a chat?

The Murder Show raises an eyebrow in suspicion.

Hessian: So you prefer letting trouble find you as opposed to seeking it out yourself?

It is a statement, not a question. The Golden Boy shrugs and sets his half-eaten pie to the side.

Tyler Rayne: Not entirely. There was a little bird told me you’d be walkin’ this way. Also turns out I was tryin’ to eat this here delicious slice of pie and some foul odor wafted up out of nowhere and damn near melted my [bleep]in’ nostrils. Some hideous combination of rotting fish, booze, and despair. I thought maybe Elise had uncrossed her legs or something… but turns out, there were a couple of homeless walked in thinking we were a soup kitchen or some shit. So I left Hawaii to deal with them and figured it was a good time to come chat with you.

Hessian: Lotta people seem to wanna chat lately. I'm getting tired of it...

Tyler Rayne: Yeah, well, you’re quite the conversationalist. Look, I’ve noticed that people seem to be [bleep]in’ with your head these days. Shakur. Nelson. Etcetera. Now you kinda ask for it, bein’ dumb and gullible and all…

The Elite Champion narrows his eyes. An angered snort blasts through his nostrils. This is usually the part where most people take notice and wonder exactly how he came to be known as The Murder Show. Old clichés about angry giants buzz through their heads. This is the last look a lot of unfortunate souls gaze frightfully into before eating a fistful of Hess Smash. Tyler Rayne, though? Pfft. The longest reigning 5-Star Champion in PRIME history just rolls along like he doesn’t even notice.

Tyler Rayne: … but these stories just don’t jive. Even you should have noticed that. Someone is lying. So I’ve been thinkin’ this whole cluster with Nelson and Shakur is—

Hessian: None of your damn business. If you wanna keep that pretty face of yours, it’ll stay that way too.

Tyler Rayne: Easy, Cap’n. I’m not here for a fight. Yet. Thought you might react this way, though. Mind if I show you something?

The Murder Show gives the Golden Boy another disgusted once over.

Hessian: Aren’t you showing enough already?

Tyler Rayne: Now who’s the clever one?

The Underground Pimp hops down from his post, a wide smile splitting his 5 o’clock shadow. He is genuinely amused by Hessian’s comment. Tyler turns his back to The Murder Show, something very few people are brave enough to do, and saunters over to the nearest locker room. Without a word or comment back, he slides into the darkened room. Hessian grumbles an obscenity under his breath but follows not too far behind. The Golden Boy doesn’t even look up when Hess enters the room. Not a locker room at all. Just an old broom closet. Tyler has stacked a handful of empty buckets on top of each other. A portable DVD player sits atop the makeshift throne.

Tyler Rayne: I came back to PRIME for two reasons. The first and foremost being to find every person involved with what happened to my boy Chandler… and return the favor in kind. Somethin’ bothers me about that, though. I know Emo was involved. Sure, Nelson tells you otherwise… but that just doesn’t make sense. You know Emo. You really think it’s possible for him to take out both me and Dawkins, only to let some other schmuck put Tink on the shelf? He had two of the Three Amigos notched into his studded belt. I seriously doubt the third one went down without some sort of involvement on his part. Don’t think his ego could handle that. Not having the complete set.

The Murder Show offers a single grunt. That made enough sense. It certainly sounded like it could be true, but Nelson had promised Shakur had had no involvement.

Tyler Rayne: Of course, the trick is to find some real evidence, right? Well, fortunately, I’m a [bleep]in’ ninja.

His finger drifts up to the Play button. A grainy scene appears on the nine inch screen. Black and white, obviously copied from some sort of surveillance footage. Devin Shakur and Tyler Nelson are both easily identifiable in their respective styles of suit. The dateline in the corner places this meeting on October 18. The evening of The Great American Nightmare.

Devin Shakur: After the match.

It is apparent something quite secret is happening here. The usually boisterous Man in Black is whispering in hushed tones. Whatever it is these two are discussing, they want it kept between themselves. Some of the words are impossible to make out.

Tyler Nelson: …still haven’t said what’s in it for me.

Some of them are not. Christian Daniels steps into the room now. There is some shuffling between the three of them. Nelson positions himself closer to Daniels, or more to point, the briefcase Daniels is opening. There are a lot of bills stashed inside.

Christian Daniels: One million.

There are dollar signs dancing in Nelson’s eyes. The Greediest Player in the Game is practically salivating at the contents of the briefcase. Even the following concern is not enough to completely wipe the joy from his face.

Tyler Nelson: What about Kelsig?

Christian Daniels: Don’t worry about him.

The scene ends here. The screen flashing to snow and static. The Murder Show growls. His fists are balled. His forearms shake with rage. He is emanating destruction. Before he can find an outlet for his rage, though, a new scene begins. This one takes place exactly one month later. November the 18th. Last week’s ReVolution. This one is not nearly as exciting. It takes place in a broom closet not so much unlike the one they’re in now. The one on the nine inch screen is occupied by a single resident. Christian Daniels. He appears to be donning a black getup reminiscent to that of the man who brutally attacked Hessian last week.

Tyler Rayne: Funny how Emo knew exactly where to find you after that ass kickin’ last week, eh?

Hess Smash. Two meaty palms find purchase around Tyler’s neck. The Underground Pimp is lifted a few inches from the ground and slammed into a rack of cleaning products. The hands around his neck begin to constrict like a python.

Hessian: Where did you get the tapes?

Tyler Rayne: Told you… I’m a [bleep]in’ ninja. Plus… hard… to breathe…

The pressure on his throat is relieved. Though he is not released.

Tyler Rayne: Despite the fact that Lisa wants to keep arguing with me about it… my Golden Ticket contract grants me all the powers and luxuries of her own position. Which includes access to any files or other relative information I may feel the need to get hold of. Security footage, for instance. I’ll give those boys credit, though… they did a damn good job of trying to hide this shit. Must’ve paid more than a few people off to keep it under the rug.

The Murder Show now releases his captive. This is not the fight that boils through his veins. There is a question, though.

Hessian: Why? Why do you care who's [bleep]ing with me?

Tyler Rayne: I told you, I came back to find out who had a hand in Chandler’s… in what happened… and deal with them. These two are the ring leaders. Turning you against them serves my own purpose well enough for now. Before you ask the other obvious question… yes, I know you had a hand in that. And yes, there will come a day when you and I have a reckoning because of it. The difference between a man like Nelson and a man like me… I don’t need to lie about it. Sometime down the road I’ll come to collect. You’ll see me coming. It won’t be a surprise. Won’t be a secret. I’ll just walk right up and start bleeding you. For now, though, you have other things to deal with. As do I. So by all means… go deal.

The Underground Pimp waves a hand toward the door, ushering The Murder Show to leave. Very few people have the brass to act in such a nonchalant manner when it comes to the Elite Champion.

Hessian: This ain't over.

Tyler Rayne: Very [bleep]in’ far from, as a matter of fact.

Now it is the smaller man who hardens a gaze. It is hard to take a man seriously, dressed as ridiculously as he is. Hessian doesn’t see the outfit, though. He sees the promise of violence in the eyes of Tyler Rayne. He sees a future of blood and pain for the both of them. He sees… truth. Honesty. There’s something about The Golden Boy… Hessian takes him at his word. This reckoning would come later. He could trust that, for now, Rayne’s intentions were occupied elsewhere. So with that, The Murder Show stomps out of the broom closet. There were some new matters to attend to. People to see. He could trust the Underground Pimp for the moment.

Of course, then again, Hessian had been wrong before…

The name on the door reads ‘Devin Shakur’. A hand appears and raps on the door several times, not excessively hard, but with enough force to convey purpose. The voice of the Black Plague inquisitively calls out from inside the room.

Shakur: The hell do you want?

"It’s me. Open up."

Shakur: I don’t know any me’s. I also don't know any Tony Gamble's so I swear to God-

This time a fist pounds on the door several times. The camera pans back to show that the impatient hand belongs to The Greediest Player in the Game, Tyler Nelson.

Nelson: Open the damn door, Mr. Shakur!

Shakur: What’s the password?

Tyler scowls, not really in the mood for games. He punches his fists onto his hips, sighing heavily.

Nelson: [BLEEP]

Suddenly the door cracks open.

Shakur: Lucky guess. Are you with Gamble? I'm really not in the mood to hear his schti-

Nelson: Just open the door already! We’ve got a couple things to discuss.

The Man in Black sighs and opens the door a few more inches, enough to glance outside and ensure Tyler Nelson is alone. Satisfied that the coast is clear, Devin pulls the door open and motions for Tyler to enter. The King of Greed rolls his eyes and saunters into the room. Shakur checks the corridor one more time. Nelson gets to the center of the room and spins on his heels, just in time to see Shakur wedging a chair underneath the doorknob.

Nelson: Paranoid much?

Shakur: You try dealing with a guy who has been gnawing your ear off for the past three hours, not to mention I just saw Rayne snitching me out to Hessian. Big. Giant. Viking. You might know him.

Nelson: Since you brought it up, what the hell were you thinking telling Von Kelsig about our arrangement regarding Tsonda? I don’t need Hessian thinking about anything other than what I tell him to think about.

Shakur nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders as he walks over and plops down on the couch against the far wall.

Shakur: You have your agenda, I have mine.

Nelson: I don’t need that aggravation, Mr. Shakur.

Shakur smirks insincerely.

Shakur: I’ll keep that in mind. Is that really what you came here for? To bitch about Hessian?

Nelson: No, that wasn’t the main reason.

Shakur: I'm a busy man so get on with what you have to say.

Nelson: Hiding out in your dressing room makes you busy?

Shakur: I'm preparing a giant heist of the liquor at Rayne's bash. I've got a couple trenchcoats over by the...Whatever, not important.

Nelson: Whatever the case may be, it’s time to put the final touches on relieving Ms. Tyler of her duties. Plans are being set into motion that will ultimately bring upon her ruin.

Shakur: Yeah, that's kind of obvious. You and the gang seem pretty intent on that. Let me know when it's over so I can come in and take the credit.

The King of Greed shakes his head back and forth.

Nelson: No. You are going to apply more pressure on your end to ensure the end result that we both prefer. This is the final offensive, Mr. Shakur…the endgame. We can leave nothing to chance.

The mention of the term "we" brings a frown to The Black Plague's face but he hides it quickly from The King of Greed. Working with Tyler Nelson was never in his plans, kicking Lisa Tyler out of office was never in his plans, but it wouldn't be hard to manipulate Nelson once he's in office. Shakur knows money tickles Nelson's fancy, so he decides to play along.

Shakur: And when she’s gone?

Nelson: Obviously I’ll be in charge, which could be favorable for you if you are indeed helpful to the cause.

Shakur: I’ll see what I can do.

The Greediest Player in the Game nods his head and then makes for the door. He stops short, however, as the chair is still wedged underneath the doorknob. Nelson looks back at Shakur, who huffs as he pushes himself off the comfortable sofa he’d been sitting on. The Black Plague kicks the chair out from underneath the doorknob, allowing Nelson to leave.

Lisa Tyler knew taking her show back would mean getting herself into predicaments she might not fully be prepared for. Instances like slapping Elise Ares and having to address the roster weren't her usual methodologies, but with the board breathing down her neck at every turn, she had to compromise the usual business modeus operandi in favor of making an impact on each and every show. She was becoming a more empathetic figure, someone who was forced to watch the inmates run the asylum even with a stern figurehead warning them time and time again. Did she feel like she was gaining control of the show? Yes and no. Only time would tell if her long term plans would work.

A knock on the door interrupts her from thought and she peers up toward the head of security, who rises from his chair and drops his Readers Digest. Dametreyus cracks open the door and doesn't see anybody at eye level so he shrugs his shoulders and shuts the door.

The second knock holds more veracity. Dam rolls his eyes and flings open the door, eyes darting back and forth for the perpetrator.

"Very funny, Dam."

Dametreyus glances downward to see the 5 Star Champion, Tony Gamble, standing in front of him.

Dametreyus Fuquieawytas: Sorry boss, didn't see ya there. What's the password?

Tone Gamble: The what?

Dametreyus Fuquieawytas: The password. You didn't think I'd just let you walk in, did you?

Tony Gamble: Damn man, it's easier to get into the White House.

Dametreyus Fuquieawytas: Damn, how'd you figure out it was house?

Tony Gamble: I made the Big Dog into my Big Bitch, this was a piece of cake.

Dametreyus Fuquieawytas: Come on, she's waiting.

The Grin dusts his shoulders off and struts past Dam. The big security force stifles a chuckle while Gamble walks over to the actual boss and stands in front of her, arms folded across his sculpted chest.

Tony Gamble: This better be good. I don't appreciate such discriminatory treatment.

Lisa Tyler: You are quite short, Mr. Gamble, at least in comparison to Mr. Fuquieawytas.

Tony Gamble: Smaller, but you know I bring the P-I-M-P wherever I go.

Dam has to put the small magazine over his mouth to restrain himself.

Lisa Tyler: I'm sure you do. Anyway, I brought you here to inform you that you will be defending your 5 Star Championship at King of Kings.

Tony Gamble: Say whaaaaaaa?

Lisa Tyler: It's been far too long since the fans have seen you on television, let alone in a title defense. I figure with the roster growing and people dropping from Jewel in the Crown, we need to give the champions a run for their money.

The Grin runs a finger along his imaginary beard and shrugs his shoulders.

Tony Gamble: Seeing as how I should be the Universal Elite Five Star champion, I should defend at least one, sugar.

Lisa Tyler: Don't ever call me that again.

Tony Gamble: Sorry, Salt N Pepa. So what scrub have you lined up for me to face? Hessian again? We all know he can't wrestle his way out of a wet paper bag. By the way, did you know I defeated him twice?

Lisa Tyler: I've heard that.

Tony Gamble: Really shows off that big things come in small packages. So anyway, my opponent?

Lisa Tyler: Well, that's the quagmire of the situation, Tony. They have requested anonymity.

The Grin again plays with his imaginary beard.

Tony Gamble: Chandler Tsonda? He's always had it in for me ever since I sponsored the Oompa Loompa cologne, thus trumping whatever fairy perfume he wears.

Lisa Tyler: It's not Chandler Tsonda.

Tony Gamble: Nova? I knew that stoner was jealous I carried him at Culture Shock 2007. Did you know I headlined that and UltraViolence in the same year?

Lisa Tyler: Yes, I knew that Mr. Gamble.

Tony Gamble: AH-HA. So you admit it's Nova.

Lisa Tyler: No, Tony, it's not Caesar.

Tony Gamble: Rats. Would you tell me even if I got it right?

Lisa Tyler: No.

Tony Gamble: Come on Sporty, tell me what I want what I really really want.

Lisa Tyler: ...Sporty?

Dametreyus Fuquieawytas: Spice Girls reference, boss.

Lisa Tyler: I never liked them.

Tony Gamble: I'm not getting anywhere with this, am I?

Lisa Tyler: Mr. Gamble, I suggest you start training.

Tony Gamble: Pfft, please. I'm ready made for competition. Nobody can handle this...(whispers) Is it Dam?

Dametreyus Fuquieawytas: I'd whoop you'n bout foh seconds flat.

Tony Gamble: Nickle please.

Lisa Tyler: Tony, I have another appointment so please...How do they say get out in cool speak?

Dametreyus Fuquieawytas: Get'ta steppin.

The Grin turns around and gives Dam the evil eye before walking through the door and slamming it behind him.

"Kingdom of the Worm" by Motorhead.

Nick: Looks like we're about to get a visit from the Elite Champion!

Richard: He won't be Elite for long once Brandon Youngblood gets his shot.

Nick: Well that bout will be scheduled soon enough I imagine, for now though I wonder what the big man has on his mind given the main event tonight.

Vince Howard: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! Please welcome at this time the PTC ELITE CHAMPION.........HEEEESSIIAAAN!!

Hessian power walks down to the ring with a sneer already plastered across his face, throwing himself up onto the apron and over the top rope and straight into Vince Howard. Grabbing the microphone from him, he spins on his heels and glares at the stage while Vince raises his hands submissively and backs straight out the ring.

Hessian: I'm not in a playing mood tonight. I'm busy enough as is preparing to wrestle in the World's Worst Random Draw match, without having to worry about other matters. I'm not out here to address that match; Chainz and Kazys know damn well what's coming their way...

The crowd give a cheer for arguably the most liked man in Nelson's Army.

Hessian: No, I'm out here right now to address the problem that's been nagging at me for the last couple weeks...DEVIN SHAKUR...

The crowd immediately fill the arena with boos.

Hessian: GET OUT HERE!

Richard: Got your umbrella-ella-ella handy, Nick?

Nick: Why's that?

Richard: (popping an umbrella up) 'Cos it's about to hit the fan.

The Murder Show hasn't long to wait before the infamous words spoken to Tyler Rayne before his decimation at the Dual Halo ring out across the arena.

GOD SAID THAT A MAN SHOULD WORK WITH HIS HANDS!

The boos easily drown out the sound of Peter Frampton and "Black Hole Sun" as the most stylish man in purgatory waltzes out onto the stage with a cocky smirk gracing his lips. Adjusting the lapels on his leather trench, Shak Diesel flicks the microphone up and down in his grip and brings it to his lips as the music cuts out.

Devin Shakur: You rang, m'lady?

Nick: Yikes, this is going to get ugly and fast if Shakur goads Hessian like that.

Richard: Not even Shakur's striking looks can balance the sheer fugliness of the Murder Show.

The Murder Show paces towards the ropes and grips the top one, grinding the cable between his thick mitt and gritting his teeth.

Hessian: Credit where credit's due Devin. You got me. Maybe I'm not the smartest wrestler in the world, but I damn sure top the power list. Still, you convinced me my team was against me and I bought it. You set up an assault against me and had someone double for Daniels so I would think it was Kazys or Chainz that attacked me. I bought that too.

Devin Shakur: Like I said last week Santa, I was telling the truth. You can't trust anyone around you...

Hessian: NO! Enough of the lies! I've seen proof that everything you said is a goddamn lie! Hard. Video. Evidence.

Shakur feigns a sign of concern and twirls the microphone around in his fingers.

Devin Shakur: Well I can't imagine how that could have happened...

A few Tyler Rayne chants rise up from the crowd, and the Man in Black rolls his eyes at the sea of fans, while Hessian prowls back and forth around the ring like a lion.

Devin Shakur: So you think you've got it all worked out then?

Hessian: I know I do, you snake. I saw the deal you made with Nelson. I saw the cash in Daniels' hand. I saw Daniels getting kitted out to assault me last week. I'll deal with Nelson at some point, we all know how easily corruptible he is when money's on the table, but you? Paying off others to do your dirty work? I've always thought of you as a tough son of a bitch and a pretty evil one at that, but what do you did was the coward's way out.

The crowd are getting behind Hessian now, throwing abuse at Shakur who simply folds his arms and flicks his fringe out of his eyes, rolling them and blowing air out his mouth.

Devin Shakur: You really must have the worst memory of anybody on the roster. I've said time and time again that I take the credit while others do the work. It's kind of my thing. I don't have to answer to you for anything I have done or that I do. My business is my business and-...

Hessian: That's where you're wrong Shakur. When you paid Nelson to take out Tsonda he used me among others to do the deed. Ergo, it's become MY business. You could've taken him out yourself, but you chose this method instead. Whether that was to bait me for this moment or not I don't care, all I know is I was stupid to think we were finished when I pinned you at the Nightmare.

Devin Shakur: It takes you this long to figure that out, and you just called me wrong. Dumbass.

Hessian: Enough is enough. No more mind games. No more lies. It's time for violence. You want blood, you got it. At King of Kings I'll give you your rematch...

The fans lift the roof right off the building with a bloodthirsty roar.

Devin Shakur: So you've finally come around on that as well.

Hessian: But you're gonna put that Golden Ticket on the line!

Shock ripples through the arena but Shakur only shrugs his shoulders. He should have figured this was coming. Last week Chainz made it clear how this conversation should go, but Hessian seems to have done it ass backwards regardless.

Devin Shakur: You've really let Nelson rub off on you haven't you big man? You are being greedier than I am.

Hessian: It's nothing to do with greed. That's Nelson's game. I want that Ticket on the line because when I tear you limb from limb I want the power to make you the puppet. I win the match, I win the ticket and I make whatever wish I please. There's a strong chance it might involve you and your contract but we'd have to see who comes out on top at the PPV, wouldn't we?

The crowd are on the edge of their seats as Shakur seems to be pondering the idea. He goes from contemplative to angry to concerned to stoic and then finally arrives at scheming; his eyes taking on a serpentine quality.

Devin Shakur: Alright, you've got a deal, Viking.

RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Devin Shakur: ANCH. Not so fast, morons. I want something in return. I'm a businessman by nature and don't go into such lopsided deals without some insurance.

Hessian: Name it.

Devin Shakur: You get the Ticket if you win but the insurance I get is...

The Murder Show gestures for Shakur to spit it out. He's teasing Hessian along with the audience.

Devin Shakur: You seem to have a knack for hardcore violence. Hell, that's the only way you managed to come out on top against me.

Nick: It was a cell match for God's sake.

Richard: Let the man finish!

Devin Shakur: You need to go toe to atom bomb as opposed to toe to toe. I want that hardcore reputation of yours on the line. When I win at King of Kings, you are banned from using anything more than your fists and your feet...For the rest of your career. No weapons. Even if the match is no holds barred you can't use anything other than the soupbones and legs. If your opponent comes into contact with anything other than that ugly conglomerate of body parts you call a frame...You are fired. Still want the Ticket now, ogre?

The Murder Show now takes the time to think about the stipulation while the fans boo the idea ferociously. Some are shouting at Hessian to turn it down, while others are pleading audibly to take the chance at the Ticket. Rather than the many emotions Shakur went through to reach his decision, Hessian simply stares at his foe before raising the microphone.

Hessian: Golden Ticket versus No Hardcore For Life? Deal.

Devin Shakur: This is going to be your worst nightmare come to life, Von Kelsig. I'll see you at the funeral.

Shakur drops the mic and disappears behind the curtain as Hessian looks over the sea of roaring fans, wondering what the hell he's just gotten himself into.

Richard: It's on like Saigon!!

Nick: My god what an announcement!! Hessian will face Shakur again at King of Kings, and his entire wrestling philosophy is on the line! Should he lose, Hessian will be denied any hardcore ability for the rest of his career!

Richard: And if he wins, Devin Shakur is going to regret it for the rest of his life and beyond!

Nick: Folks we now have one more amazing contest scheduled for King of Kings this December! It's going to be Hessian vs. Devin Shakur II...and it's going to be biblical!

Wrestling shows should feature some kind of wrestling in their commercials. So here you go.

Nick: Coming up now we have Jay Phoenix continuing his crusade against the Nelson Army.

Richard: Actually, Nick, we in the business prefer to call it a death wish.

Nick: He will face the number one contenders to the Universal Championship Tyler Nelson and former Tag Champion Elise Ares.

Richard: With some mystery partner nobody has probably ever heard of. I mean, who in their right mind would support Jay Phoenix?

Nick: Someone who obviously has some conflict with the Nelson Army. At this point, I wouldn't be surprised if Lisa Tyler herself was the mystery partner.

Richard: I'm sure Chainz would be stuck by the gorilla position...litera-

Nick: Enough of that.

Richard: And yes that would be hot to see the boss lady rumble in the jungle.

Nick: Elise is probably still sore from the 212 Main Event encounter with Diego Foster and Brandon Youngblood, and Tyler Nelson isn't a wrestling specialist. On ability alone, I have to give Phoenix the edge and we don't know who the partner is.

Richard: Yes, but what Nelson and Ares lack in wrestling prowess they make up for in the cheating department.

Nick: Maybe so, but cheating might not be able to save them from the wrath of Phoenix.

Richard: Really? What is that faerie going to do? Fix Elise's hair?

Nick: He might pull a few chunks of it out if she gets in his way.

Richard: Please, Nelson and Ares have this on lock.

Vince Howard: Ladies and Gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall and is a Tag Team Match. Introducing first, weighing in at 121 pounds...ELISEEEEEEEEEE ARESSSSSSS!

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.

Announcer Prompt:

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.

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 make 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.

"Karn Evil 9" by Emerson, Lake, and Palmer pulses through the PA system and the crowd erupts in the proverbial chorus of boos.

Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

See? I told you. Tyler Nelson makes his way out from the back, accompanied by his head of security, Mr. Simmons. The two men make their way to the ring while dodging debris and insults hurled at them from the fans.

Nick: There is absolutely no love lost between the fans and Tyler Nelson.

Richard: That’s because these idiots don’t know greatness when it’s staring them in the face.

Vince Howard: Making his way to the ring…..accompanied by Mr. Simmons…..from Dallas, Texas and weighing in at 225 pounds……"The Greediest Player in the Game" TYLLLLERRRRRRRR NELLLLSONNNNN!

Nelson climbs into the ring, still bathed in the shower of boos raining down on him.

Vince Howard: From Flagstaff, Arizona, weighing in at 215lbs, standing 5'11", this is the HOTTEST star in wrestling … JAY PHOENIX!!

A haunting guitar melody plays over the PA system as on the VideoTron flames start to appear, curling up to completely cover the blackness of the screen.

A drumbeat fills that air as words, sung in a powerful, pure voice can be heard mingling with the melody as a bass driven counter melody joins with an electric guitar to complete the music.

"Day by day, watching you disappear
Wishing that you were still here beside me
On my own, swimming against the tide
There's nobody on my side but your memory"

The flames on the VideoTron die down, leaving the screen completely black again … until suddenly with an explosion of light and noise the flames reappear, this time in the easily distinguishable form of a Phoenix that fills the whole screen.

"Then I'll rise, right before your eyes
On wings that fill the sky
Like a Phoenix rising
Like a Phoenix rising"

The crowd are on their feet, cheering and screaming as the realisation of just who it is hits them.

"Wings of fire, tearing into the night
Screaming into the light of another day
Carry me out of the hurricane
Into the smoke and flame and we'll fly away"

On either side of the ramp way two bursts of flame leap out, sending two fan shaped flares of fire across the entrance, through which a silhouetted figure walks as on the screen, superimposed on the mystical flame bird symbol, two words appear … JAY PHOENIX.

"And I'll rise, right before their eyes
On wings that fill the sky
Like a Phoenix rising
Like a Phoenix rising

Higher, higher hear the thunder roar from above
Fire, fire, fire make me whole"

Phoenix stands on the ramp way, the flame still bright behind him, as the music still plays. He is dressed in a black leather look body suit, flame motifs running up the side of both legs, meeting at the thigh where they join together to form almost a belt of fire. The arms are cut off at the shoulders exposing muscular biceps, the left one covered with a glistening tattoo of a stylised Phoenix in flight surrounding by bands of gold and red flames. Black and red elbow pads are met by taping that covers his forearms and wrists. A silver necklace hangs around his neck, falling down to his chest, and when the light catches it at the right angle it can be seen to be a disc containing thin interlocking strands, a bright purple amethyst at it's centre … a dreamcatcher.

"And I'll rise, right before their eyes
On wings that fill the sky
Like a Phoenix rising
Like a Phoenix rising

Wings of fire, tearing into the night
And we'll fly away ... "

A smile plays across Phoenix's face as he pans his attention around the arena before slowly walking down towards the ring. When he gets to the ring, Phoenix, with a quick move, jumps to the ring apron and climbs the turnbuckle, holding an arm up to the fans, who resume their cheering in response, before vaulting over the ropes to land in the centre of the ring.

Vince Howard: And his partner...

Richard: Alright, let's see what piece of crap Phoenix was able to dig out from the construction site-

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.

Nick: Uh oh!

Richard: Well, not exactly from the construction sight-

Nick: Elise and Nelson are going to need to bring their A games tonight!

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

Vince Howard: He hails from Greensboro, North Carolina and weighs in at 260 pounds...

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

Vince Howard: He is ... TRROOOOOYY DOOOUGGGLAAAASSSS!!!

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. Behind him 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, he 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.

Jay Phoenix and Troy Douglas exchange small talk in the corner while Tyler Nelson looks over at Elise Ares and lets out a light snicker. Why would he feel so confident about facing two people who he doesn't exactly favor well against competitively?

It could be Kazys Jankauskas standing at the gorilla position, ready to spring on a moment's notice.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Richard: Like I said Nick, Nelson is not going to come in here without a plan.

Or it could be Chainz and Hessian observing the action on separate monitors in the building.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Richard: Group unity is a powerful thing, Nick.

Nick: It's a disgrace is what it is.

Richard: It's not about what you know Nick, it is about who you know and Nelson knows a lot of powerful individuals.

Nick: He has decent wrestling ability but never decides to display it.

Richard: Never has to, always keeps the opposition guessing.

DING! DING! DING!

Nick: And that's what he is going to do right now by allowing Ares to step in and take on Douglas.

Phoenix and Douglas exchange an awkward glance with one another before stepping through their respective sides of the ring and allowing their partners to circle around and lock up. Douglas uses his massive weight advantage to back Elise into the corner. Tommy Giles steps in and breaks the two apart, momentarily anyway. At the split second Ares goes for an eye gouge on Megatron, Douglas winds up and cracks her in the jaw with a devastating forearm. Ares drops to her backside in place, Douglas standing over her prepared to unleash a series of shin strikes to the face.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: She tries for the eye gouge but can't withstand the punishment when she gets countered.

Richard: She's being smart, Nick.

Elise cowers in the ropes and Tommy Giles is forced to step in and keep Douglas at bay. Megatron rolls his eyes and looks over at Nelson, motioning over toward Elise Ares with an indication like "You want these people around?"

It's an after the fact motion he shouldn't have made because Elise capitalizes on it.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

By kicking him in the nuts. The Havana Harlot scurries from her position and lights Megatron's ribs up with a kick. Douglas grunts and stumbles backwards, leaving himself susceptible to the follow up spinning heel kick from the former Tag Champion. Elise follows through with a shin kick and leaps onto Douglas' shoulders, rolling him over and executing the hurricanrana to perfection.

Richard: Yeah, they don't have enough wrestling talent to hang with these two right?

Nick: Her offense was all predicated on the low blow.

Richard: Excuses, excuses.

Douglas rolls underneath the bottom rope and to the outside, expecting to find some type of solace where Elise can't perform one of her shady tricks. Unfortunately, Douglas doesn't expect Tyler Nelson to leap from the apron and land a picture perfect clothesline, taking Megatron to the ringside mats and allowing Nelson to spring up and place the boots to his shoulders.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: This crowd is not appreciative of Tyler Nelson in the slightest.

Richard: Greatness is often misjudged by the masses, Nick.

Ares slides down to the floor and assists The King of Greed in putting Douglas underneath the bottom rope. Phoenix almost leaps from the apron but knows all too well that the referee would divert attention to him thus allowing Douglas to be pulvarized even further. Ares yanks Douglas by the hair and delivers a European uppercut, staggering Douglas into the corner. Nelson taps his partner on the shoulder and enters the ring, taking Douglas by the hair and hauling off a right hand. Nelson muscles Douglas against the ropes and fires him to the other side of the ring. Unfortunately, Nelson isn't as strong as he would like to believe and gets reversed. Douglas moves to the center of the ring and hoists Nelson into the air, watching him flail around on the way down to the canvas. Back body drop. Nelson shoots up to a standing position and receives an elbow across the forehead.

Nick: Nelson's series of tricks didn't work. Douglas is back in command of the contest.

Richard: Wonderful.

Douglas locks Nelson around the waist and slings him around in a belly to belly side suplex. He drops down and goes for a quick cover.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

Ares dives into the ring with a double ax handle and breaks up the count, scooting underneath the bottom rope before Phoenix can intervene. He grunts and screams at the referee to restrain Ares. Giles can only walk over and bark at her, threatening disqualification if she steps into the ring again. Douglas hops up and looks over at Phoenix who has his hand extended. Douglas then stares out at the crowd.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: Oh they want to see it.

Richard: Nelson can thoroughly embarrass this sap once again.

Nick: Phoenix wants a piece of Nelson after the constant weeks of torture.

Phoenix leaps off the canvas and begs for the tag while Nelson shrugs his shoulders and motions for Douglas to tag Phoenix in. Douglas turns around and smacks the hand.

Nick: And there is the tag. Jay Phoenix is about to collide with Tyler Nelson.

Richard: He'll get the floor wiped with him in about five seconds.

Phoenix steps into the ring a bit slower than most would expect. He's been clamoring for this encounter ever since Nelson stepped into office and bid for Lisa Tyler's spot. Even though it is known to everybody that the entourage is hanging around the building, Phoenix still has enough time to get off a few good shots on Nelson before the inevitable beatdown.

A man who was chomping at the bit a moment ago is now walking back and forth with a solemn expression drenched across his face. Nelson stands in the center of the ring confident while Phoenix paces, perhaps he's savoring the moment, although Nelson isn't looking to tag out and hasn't summoned the troops to play the numbers game yet.

Nick: Phoenix taking an awfully long time to get his hands on Nelson.

Richard: He's finally realized Nelson is too powerful a man and can't bring him down.

Nick: I really doubt its that.

Phoenix raises his head from the tilted position and looks Tyler Nelson dead in the eyes. The hatred which should be there is replaced with reluctance. A smirk emerges on Nelson's face as he points down to the canvas.

Nick: What? Why did he point there?

Richard: Telling Phoenix where he's gonna end up if he decides to step across the line.

Nick: I don't think it's that, Richard.

Douglas looks a bit confounded in the corner, encouraging his partner forward and trying to get the crowd behind The Eternal Flame.

PHOENIX! PHOENIX! PHOENIX! PHOENIX! PHOENIX! PHOENIX!

Nelson glances down at the mat this time and delivers a more authoritative point. Phoenix glances out at the crowd and over at Douglas, mouthing something to Megatron. The look of confusion on Douglas' face turns to one laced with more aggression. Phoenix turns back around to face Nelson, now unable to look The Greediest Player in the Game in the face.

Nick: What the hell is going on here?

Richard: You've got me on this one. Even I don't know.

Phoenix drops down to his knees and glances up at Nelson, arms extended forward in an exacerbated tone wondering if this is what he wants. Nelson emits a slight bit of rage and mouths "contract".

The word is enough to get Phoenix down on his back and Nelson to make the cover.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Nick: What the hell?

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Richard: Oh this is too awesome.

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

DING! DING! DING!

Even though Megatron is furious, he still can't find himself able to leave the apron and wonder what happened. Whatever Phoenix said to him doesn't make a lot of sense. The Eternal Flame himself rolls underneath the bottom rope and appears disgusted with himself. He storms up the aisle, refusing to talk to fans and ignores the screams coming at him from all angles.

Vince Howard: ...The winners of this match, Tyler Nelson and Elise Ares!

Nick: I...What in the world did we just witness?

Richard: The awesome power of Tyler Nelson, Nick.

Nick: Phoenix laid down for Tyler Nelson after what happened last week...That is the last thing I would have expected.

Richard: I'll agree with you on that one.

Nick: He said for months Nelson was the one who aggravated and drove him crazy, but now we are getting this? I...I don't know what to think.

Richard: Nelson appears to be the one who has a clue about this entire situation. Look at his face.

Indeed, the smirk on Tyler Nelson's face grows wider and wider while the confusion inside the building grows larger and larger. Troy Douglas drops down from the apron and follows Phoenix backstage, looking for some kind of answer. Ares comes into the ring and the pair lock arms, hoisting them high in victory.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: Well we are going to try and get a word with Jay Phoenix right now. I understand Matt Mills is keeping up with him backstage. Go ahead, Matt.

In one of the many corridors throughout the building, Jay Phoenix walks like a man on a mission toward his locker room door. Troy Douglas cannot keep himself in the frame because Phoenix is walking at such a high rate of speed. Matt Mills, struggling to deal with the Rayne bash and this developing story, huffs and puffs, sticking his microphone in the direction of The Eternal Flame.

Matt Mills: Jay! Jay! If we can just get a quick word with you.

The Eternal Flame doesn’t respond, doesn’t even glance in the long time interviewers direction. Instead, he shoves open the locker room door and grabs a single gym bag from the bench, one that doesn’t require packing of any kind. Everything is ready to go. On the turn around, Phoenix brushes past Mills and makes his way toward the Exit. Mills is persistent and not willing to give up, so he keeps after Phoenix, microphone forward.

Matt Mills: Jay. You laid down for Tyler Nelson after months of angst between the two of you. What did he say to you? What did he do?

Expressionless like a rock, Phoenix keeps moving forward, bolting past the remnants of the thanksgiving bash into the parking lot. He picks up speed, wishing to avoid eye contact with any wrestler around, and slams through the official Exit door leaving Matt Mills standing in a state of disbelief.

Nick: I don’t know about you Richard, but this has been a great night so far.

Richard: What’s so great about it? I’m just waiting until the main event, although I still think Lisa Tyler purposefully booked that match to screw with Nelson and his army.

Nick: She says the drawing was random and I for one believe her.

All I wanna do... BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM

"Swaggeriffic" by Verbz hits and suddenly the mood in the arena is soured. Boos rain out as one half of the former tag team champions emerges from the back.

Elise Ares, looking fine and bitchy as always, wears a scowl on her pretty face as she makes her way to the ring with a microphone in hand. People try to reach out and grab her, but she makes sure to stay away from their grimy hands jumping and dodging PRIMEates like they were NFL linebackers on her way down towards the ring.

Nick: Just great, I’m sure this is exactly what we needed.

Richard: Have some respect Nick; she’s the alpha female in PRIME.

Nick: I wonder if her cheek is still sore from that slap last week.

Elise slides into the ring and motions for the music to be cut. Bringing the microphone to her lips she tries to speak, but the crowd won’t let her.

Booooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

They really hate her, but it doesn’t seem to matter one bit. She smiles while they yell and waits for them to quiet down. 

Elise: I've been here for a little while and what I've noticed most is that PRIME likes to load its roster with a bunch of absolutely useless female. There is only one kind of female I hate more than Lisa Tyler... and that's do nothing females who keep a job by shaking their goods around for the crowd. They give girls like me a bad name. See not only am I beautiful... I've got style, grace, and talent to spare. For you see for every one of me... and yes, there is only one Elise Ares.

Nick: Thank God.

Richard: Shhhh.

Elise: There are a million girls on the roster like that whore, Leticia.

The fans cheer at the mention of The Spades manager.

Elise: You see while I'm out here being the most entertaining entity in the history of PRIME, she's skipping along the outside of the ring with her trashy hair and her dog face. It takes more than a skimpy outfit to be the Alpha Female here in PRIME, and one of the criteria is not banging Nitz Donnelly. Leticia is the only thing nastier than the language he spews out of his mouth every week, and don't even get my started on Vance. I'm pretty sure he'd follow around any slutbag who moves. If it wasn't for Kazys, I'm sure that creeper would be hanging all over me... just like all of you are right now, undressing me with your eyes. I'm not out here to be your eye-candy so all your mouth-breathers need to wipe the drool off your mouths before I slap it off.

Booooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Nick: What a sweet girl she is.

Richard: Shut up, I wanna hear this.

Elise: She has a nice little cover acting like she has some big important MMA training, but I haven't seen her do anything in PRIME besides open her legs... have you?

She smirks as she parades around the ring, soaking in the jeers from the fans. 

Elise: So as the Alpha Female of PRIME, I feel like I need to fix this bitch before we have some ugly, dog-faced, hormonal slut bringing down the integrity of my tag team division. Leticia, you want to gloat about your MMA training, why don't you come out here and fight a real woman. It's time I show the entire world why I'm the best female in this business... and you're nothing but a cock sucking, do-nothing ho with love handles.

It doesn’t take long for Leticia to respond, but when she does she’s not alone.

"Undead" by Hollywood Undead hits the speakers and Leticia walks out from the back with both Nitz Donnelly and Vance Raymes in tow to a roaring ovation from the capacity crowd.

Elise looks a bit frustrated at seeing both members of Change in Spades with her.

Elise: I'm a little surprised to see you out here Nitz, I thought by this point in the show you'd have your head firmly planted up Sloan's wife's ass. I'd really hate to see what he's going to do to you when he find out about you sniffing around Tracy.

Leticia: Shut your mouth skank. You want a match with me? You got it.

Wasting no time Leticia runs into the ring and starts pummelling on Elise who does her best to defend herself. She tries to slide out of the ring but in doing so lands right in the clutches of Nitz Donnelly and Vance Raymes. She tries to run around them, but they grab her with a smile and roll her back into the ring for a waiting Leticia to pounce on.

Nick: She may have bitten off a bit more than she could chew.

Richard: The odds aren’t fair I mean… oh here we go.

Tyler Nelson and Kazys Jankauskus run out from the back and immediately get into it with Nitz and Vance. The four begin to brawl and quickly the fight spills into the audience. They trade blows back and forth and the Spades get the advantage as they level both Nelson and Jankauskus.

Seeing that Elise begins to panic a bit as Leticia grabs her by the hair and throws her around the ring. Elise begs for mercy and then quickly jabs her opponent in the eye. Elise grabs Leticia and drops her on her head with a DDT.

Meanwhile, the fight continues to take all four competitors further and further from the ring until they disappear down a tunnel and continue the brawl in the backstage area.

Thinking she has the upper hand Elise struts around the ring which gives Leticia enough time to recover. She gets up and when Elise turns around elbows her in the forehead and kicks out her legs. Elise drops to the ground in pain as Leticia begins to stalk her for the end.

Boooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Nick: Oh God no!

Richard: Finally he’s here.

Emerging from the back Chainz begins to slowly make his way down the ring. Elise sees him and panics at the giant taking his sweet time while she has to deal with Leticia in the ring.  Chainz slides into the ring and grabs Leticia by the back of the neck and with a force reserved usually for male competitors he shoves her to the ground. Elise stands up straightening her clothes and fixing her hair before she gets back on the mic.

Elise: It's about damn time, Sloan.

Chainz shrugs his shoulders as he hungrily sets his sights on Leticia.

Elise: But it'd almost slipped my mind so I'm glad you came out here to remind me. I slipped up just a tiny, tiny bit and happened to mention to Mr. Sloan what Nitz Donnelly has been up to. Tracy isn't like you. She's a married woman and in her yard there are no dogs allowed. I'm not going to let a creep like Nitz get into her head and try to manipulate the poor girl. But since he ran away, he isn't here to pay for his own sins...

Elise Ares smirks as she looks into the eyes of Leticia.

Elise: But you are.

Nick: I think we need security out here right now!

Leticia springs up from the floor and attacks Chainz, throwing fists and kicks as fast she can. Chainz blocks the blows with a smile on his face and finally grabs a foot. He then leans forward and nails a vicious clothesline and causes Leticia’s head to bounce sickly off the mat.

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Richard: Uh, this is going to get bad.

Chainz mounts the now defenseless girl and starts slapping her around, smiling the entire time as he grips her head like a basketball and slams it into the mat over and over again. He takes a moment to look down at Leticia with sickening pleasure.

Boooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

The crowd watches on helplessly. An eerie and disturbing feeling begins to spread around the arena as Chainz continues to smile with every slap he dishes out. He finally gets off, lifts Leticia off the ground, and throws her into the turnbuckles. She buckles and falls to a sitting position. Chainz runs from the opposite corner and drives a knee into her head.

Nick: She’s defenseless and a woman and this near 300 pound monster has no soul!

Richard: Erm, this may be taking it a bit too far.

Nick: A bit? A BIT? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU RICHARD? Chainz is a monster and this is just a manager!

Chainz lifts the motionless woman off the ground and places her between his legs. With Elise cheering him on he lifts her up and drives her back into the canvas with a massive powerbomb, only to hold on and to it all again. With the chain reaction complete Leticia is now motionless in the middle of the ring, but Chainz isn’t done as The Swaggeriffic One barks orders to cripple her from outside the ring.

Nick: This...Bitch is ordering Sloan to go further, and you know he doesn't have a f**king reservation about it.

Richard: Nick-

Nick: Nick what? What are you going to say? Nobody with a damn brain in their head can be favorable to what is going on. They are trying to cripple another human being!

Richard: ...I got nothing.

He hovers above the lifeless form and slowly draws near her face. Planting a rather gentle kiss on her lips he grabs her arm and locks in an arm bar. A loud cheer from the crowd is heard as the Spades, finally aware of what happened, begin to make their way to the ring through the crowd.

POP

The loud sound is unmistakable and so are the screams coming from Leticia who awoke due to the pain. Her arm is bent and crooked in a sick and unnatural angle. It doesn’t take a doctor to know that her arm is broken. Chainz slowly lets go of the arm as if nothing had happened, leaving and opening for Elise Ares to make her way into the ring.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: Absolute disgrace. Lisa Tyler is within every right to fire anybody involved with this act before the night is over and I wouldn't blame her one bit.

Triumphantly, Elise stands over Leticia triumphantly and yells a couple choice words at her before leaning over and hitting her with a couple slaps across the face. Like the Cheshire Cat, Ares wears a smile from ear to ear before she looks up at the crowd and poses before screaming for them all to hear...

Elise: ¿Que Tal Eso?

With those words Ares chuckles to herself before spitting down on the screaming Leticia, a helpless victim of a sadistic attack from Chainz. The Spades finally near the ring and Chainz slowly slides out of the ring with his eyes glued sadistically not on Leticia, but Elise. She notices his unhealthy glare and shudders in her skin before the Spades slide into the ring. Ares quickly ducks out and joins Chainz as they head slowly to the back, mission accomplished.

Nitz Donnelly holds Leticia in his arms as she yells out in pain while security and EMT’s finally make their way to the ring, after hovering around ringside in fear of the monster that is Chainz.

Richard: Guess the lesson in all this is don’t be a woman on PRIME since people like Elise and Chainz will be there to do that. Oh and for Nitz, keep your hands off Tracy.

Nick: I really hope I see all of them on the unemployment line tomorrow morning.

Richard: People like violence Nick, and he’s the best around.

Nick: That's not violence Richard, that's an assault and one that doesn't prove anything. Yeah, Sloan can assault a woman half his size. What does he gain out of it?

Richard: It's not his fault Nitz pursued Tracy!

Nick: Who the hell cares? Did anything happen between them? No! Now Leticia has a broken arm. Sick. Cut to the back. I don't want our audience watching anymore of this.

It didn't take long for the medical personnel to get an ailing Leticia Mendoza backstage. Nitz and Vance were both following closely, the cries coming from The Latin Princess wrenching at their hearts with each breath. Both have expressionless looks on their faces, possibly not believing what just happened out in the ring.

As soon as Leticia is loaded into the ambulance, Nitz and Vance quickly make their way over to their car. The lights ignite on the ambulance as do the lights on their rental car. The ambulance pulls out of the lot. Vance puts the car into drive and pulls out to follow.

Nitz: This is all my f**kin' fault!

The Ego punches the plastic interior of the car.

Vance: You can't blame yourself. Chainz is a god damn coward. He outta have his head torn from his shoulders for doing this to Letty. He should have come looking for trouble man to man.

Nitz: He deserves a hell of a lot worse. Who the hell knows what he'll do to Tracy when he sees her.

Vance turns a corner, closing the separation the ambulance caused by speeding around a couple stopped cars.

Vance: I think next week, we call an audible.

Donnelly looks over at the Tortured Artist. His right hand is on the top of the steering wheel and the muscles of his arm rippling with anger during every movement. His words are full of rage, seething at the simple thought of Michael Sloan.

Vance: Anyone comes looking for trouble, we exert our will. Chainz comes around...

Raymes tightly closes his eyes, wincing at the mere thought of the pain Chainz has caused their friend. He opens them quickly to keep an eye on the road.

Vance: I'm gonna break his f**kin' back.

Needless to say, the remaining minutes left before they pulled up at the hospital contained nothing but silence.

Thanksgiving is a tradition passed on from the first days of the American colonies. Over the generations, the holiday has adopted some of its own traditions. Sort of like one of those Russian nesting dolls that has the egg inside the egg inside the egg. The day is most beloved for the great feasting that occurs. Here in Knoxville there are no exceptions to that. Tyler Rayne and Bryan Dawkins have come together to provide a bountiful buffet of pineapple based dishes for the ReVolution crew and roster. The catering area has been redesigned as a New England colony to host the Thanksgiving banquet. There are scantily clad and oh so super hot ladies serving both food and beverage to the patrons. The guests entertain each other with both light hearted conversation and heated arguments. Just like being home with the family. There may not be a football game playing on the television screen, but we have something even better.

Foosball.

The two competitors are our hosts for the day. For the blue side, Lord Bryan Dawkinshire, constable of the New Honolulu settlement and friend of the pineapple. For the red side, Chief Fucks Like Rabbit, leader of the Kikkenass tribe and friend of the woman with loose morals (and loose other things, too). A small contingent has gathered around the table to watch the contest. Both men spin their sticks fiercely (hello innuendo) in an attempt to score the game winning goal. The feathers on Rayne’s headdress sway furiously from side to side as he darts along the table. A gleaming of sweat begins to form at the Hawaiian’s hairline. The Underground Pimp makes a last second save and sets himself up for a vicious shot at the opposite goal. Little block men twirl with maddening speed under the force of his arm.

Tyler Rayne: C’mon, kid, let’s see what ya got.

Bryan Dawkins: Keep talkin’, old man. Me and these little wooden Gambles are going to kick your ass.

Tyler Rayne: Life-size for more authenticity.

The Flyin’ Hawaiian catches the ball on a backspin, sending it hurtling toward his own goal. A quick flick of his wrist corrects the error and the ball is now careening toward Rayne’s goal. A shadow flutters near his feet. The ghastly face of Tony Gamble grins up at The Golden Boy, sliding out from beneath the table like Willem Dafoe from beneath Stewie’s crib.

Tony Gamble: You called?

Tyler Rayne: Sweet Mother of Hoyt, the [bleep] did you come from?

He takes his eye off the ball for just a moment… but a moment is long enough. Rayne makes a lunge for his goaltender, but it is too late. The ball slides right around the wooden player and plunks down into the goal. Tony Gamble slides back beneath the table, a low but evil cackle left in his wake.

Tyler Rayne: Son of a Lisa Tyler!

Bryan Dawkins: Hells yes, bitches. Who da man?

Tyler Rayne: I call bullshit. [Bleep]in’ Bilbo distracted me.

Bryan Dawkins: I didn’t see anybody, bruh.

Tyler Rayne: He was under the…

The longest reigning 5-Star Champion in PRIME history leans over to search the underside of the table for PRIME’s current 5-Star Champion. The Grin is nowhere to be seen. Nothing under the table but open air and a collection of nose goblins.

Tyler Rayne: [Bleep].

Juli Lee: That’s three in a row, Ty.

Bryan Dawkins: Face it, bruh. I got the skills to pay the bills.

Tyler Rayne: Yeah, well you’re still wearing Birkenstocks.

Bryan Dawkins: Damn.

"Spare some change?"

The voice is like the mutant offspring of a cough and a wheeze. The breath that accompanies it smells like cheap booze and gonorrhea. The man somehow managed to sidle up next to Rayne without making a sound, despite the fact that his shoes were only half held together and the zippers of his three dirty winter coats tinkled together like a wind chime in a tornado. The soot covered face is shrouded in a scraggly, matted beard. Two of his teeth are rotted black. The other three are stained a ghastly yellow.

The Underground Pimp takes a quick step to the side, attempting to put some distance between himself and this homeless crazy who has wandered into the arena. Tyler gives himself a once over to check and make sure he’s still wearing next to nothing. Yep. Practically naked.

Tyler Rayne: Where the [bleep] you think I’m keeping change, old man? The hell did all you bums come from, anyway? Youngblood invite his family to the [bleep]in’ Thanksgiving dinner?

Now that he mentions it, there are quite a few of the less fortunate shambling about the cafeteria. Most of them have gravitated to the buffet tables. A handful of them are mingling with the commoners, shaking half deteriorated coffee cups in the international gesture for charity.

Juli Lee: I think they think it’s a soup kitchen.

A blonde twenty-something with Double Ds walks by, balancing a plate of pineapple cheesecake on her hand.

Tyler Rayne: I don’t think they have those at a soup kitchen. Where’s Dam? Don’t we have some sort of security in this place?

Bryan Dawkins: I think they’re too busy with the refried pineapple, bruh.

The Flyin’ Hawaiian nods over toward the end of the feasting tables. Sure enough, a dozen Enemigos are gathered around one of the serving dishes, spoons in hand. Of even more interest is the uncomfortable looking young man standing next to them. The bespectacled bystander is donned in a cheap suit he probably stole from Tyler Nelson’s closet. Brown hair is slicked back with enough grease to fry a pineapple. He shifts nervously near the table as he surveys the room, obviously searching for someone.

Bryan Dawkins: Who’s the suit?

Tyler Rayne: Prometheus.

Bryan Dawkins: You mean, like… Prometheus. The Prometheus.

Juli Lee: I’m guessing this has something to do with you.

In answer to her question, the young man begins striding across the banquet hall. He is careful not to come too closely to any of the homeless stankies loitering about. This makes his trek a bit longer than necessary.

Cheap Suit: Mr. Rayne, I have a delivery for you.

Tyler Rayne: Of course. What am I in trouble for this time?

Cheap Suit: I’m afraid I am not at liberty to say.

His eyes shift uneasily to each of the two companions. The young man removes a single envelope from within his discount suit and hands it to the Underground Pimp. No more pleasantries are exchanged. The man cannot get out of the cafeteria soon enough. Tyler doesn’t waste much time ripping open the top of the envelope.

Bryan Dawkins: Damn, bruh. They never personally deliver my mail.

Tyler Rayne: Well, since all of my residences burned down or exploded… they tend to hand deliver the important stuff. They’ve got the address for the club, but by the time I actually get to Japan and check the mail… it’s just easier to hand it to me.

Bryan Dawkins: The important stuff?

Tyler Rayne: Subpoenas. Usually.

Bryan Dawkins: And this one?

Juli Lee: A subpoena.

She was peeking over his shoulder as he opened the letter to scan the contents. Tyler takes a moment to give the correspondence a more thorough read. A half smile cracks his lips and he tosses the letter down on the foosball table. The Hawaiian can’t help but take a pick.

Bryan Dawkins: That is a lot of zeroes, bruh.

Juli Lee: They’re suing you for damages?

Tyler Rayne: The money paid out in the lawsuits after UltraViolence. As well as the money they lost when the advertisers pulled out after two eleven. Hundreds of thousands of dollars being siphoned from my paycheck. Someone figures I owe them.

Bryan Dawkins: Lisa…

Tyler Rayne: Maybe. Maybe not. She could have pushed this to the board. Or they could have just come to this decision themselves. Sucks I can’t just go ask her. Bitch’ll stonewall me either way.

Juli Lee: But your contract… you can’t be fined or punished in any way. Right? You’re untouchable.

Tyler Rayne: Yes, well, that’s the tricksy part. If I choose to dispute their claims under the terms of my contract… they’ll take me to court to discuss the terms of my contract. Of course I wouldn’t be able to work until the matter was resolved. Which also means l wouldn’t be able to abuse the luxuries and powers that the contract bestows upon me.

Juli Lee: So you either pay them…

Tyler Rayne: …or I lose my trump card against Nelson and Shakur.

Bryan Dawkins: Gotta admit, bruh, that’s pretty smart.

Tyler Rayne: It’s a good move on their part. Fortunately I don’t need the money. What I do need is a way to keep check on either of those two should they find a way to usurp power. I love this place too much to let them twist it into whatever perverse little playground they may have in mind.

Juli Lee: You know, I’d bet Nelson says the same thing about his campaign against Lisa.

There is a moment of silence. Tyler gives her a single nod of acknowledgment.

Tyler Rayne: I suppose if he can convince me of that, maybe it won’t be Lisa I’ll be looking to partner with.

The only sound is of sharp breaths and the swish of cloth as Hessian throws punch after punch into thin air. Taking copious gulps of air he pivots and spins on the spot, quite gracefully for a giant. Stopping momentarily he drops his arms by his side and jogs on the spot, increasing his breathing before going into another bout of shadow punching. He doesn't even notice when the locker room door opens and the Intense Champion walks in.

Chainz: Seems I'm not the only one with a busy night.

Hessian greets his monster-in-crime rather unpleasantly as he continues preparing for the match.

Chainz: I hope you're not getting your hopes up too much.

The Murder Show stops his preparations and faces Chainz, taking a final deep breath before composing himself.

Hessian: Hope is for the weak, man. I've got enough faith in my ability without praying for any kind of luck.

Chainz: Sometimes ability ain't enough big man. I thought you'd learn that by now, but seems you're still missing the point.

Hessian: Hehe, I'll give you credit Sloan you're a psychological sumbitch. Shame the pressure's on you and not me.

Chainz frowns because what Hessian just said held truth, still he wasn't going to lose his edge.

Chainz: Yeah I suppose, but it's just business you know. I mean what you did was truly remarkable, coming back so soon after your loved one was gutted so brutally. I don't know if I could've come back like that and to suffer a loss that very night too, damn man, I gotta hand it to you for keeping your cool. I know if it was me, I'd forget about PRIME until I found the bastard who did it.

The Elite Champion's features soften, his eyes twitching momentarily before he sighs and pats his comrade on the shoulder.

Hessian: That's low man. But you know what's lower? Like, snake belly low? Lording a title around that you haven't really earned. Hell, every man you've faced this year I could beat in one match in one night. I mean your biggest challenge so far has been Kaiser Vashaun, but I made mince meat out of him each time I faced him. You realize I'm going to be the one to end your tainted streak and put you in your place, right?

Big Hess smirks and winks at the Intense Champion. Unfortunately for him, Sloan's face is cold and unfeeling. Nothing wavers him, it's unnatural and slightly disturbing seeing a man with no emotions.

Chainz: My title? Hell, I don't care about titles you know that Hess. You want my belt 'cause right now all it's doing is looking good on my wife. Speaking of low, how many times have you lost to Gamble now?

Hessian swallows his pride, feeling himself getting angry inside but refusing to bow to Sloan in the face of their upcoming match.

Hessian: Twice. But I'm not wrestling him tonight...I'm wrestling you and Kazys, and I'm going to show you how a real monster throws down.

Chainz: Ha, well man it'll be fun regardless. Just a word of caution, I'd watch out for Kazys and Nelson, I don't think they like you very much anymore.

With that, Chainz smirks and walks off feeling like he'd gotten into the head of Hessian, if even slightly. The Murder Show snorts and returns to his training, throwing harder punches than before, and this time connecting with his locker room wall, grunting with each punch landed against the wall.

She walks the pace of a determined woman – a woman scorned, but determined still. Through the corridors she leads, followed by our trusty viewpoint, around corners and past doors and more doors. Finally, she stops at one, and from our view along the wall, we can’t see the name on it. She sighs.

Lisa: I can’t believe I’m doing this.

Gathers herself. With a deep breath, she knocks three confident raps, and then she waits.

Lisa: I know you’re in there.

Nothing.

Lisa: I’m coming in.

She opens the door without further warning and we round into the room behind her. There, on a sofa, with his feet up, sits none other than our Universal Champion, Jason Snow. His championship is draped over his lap. His eyes lazily roll to her.

Snow: I know you’re desperate for ratings, wench, but barging into my dressing room on live television might draw a different audience than you’re looking for.

Lisa turns to the other side of the room, where she finds herself on a small television screen – Snow is watching the live broadcast.

Lisa: Right.

She folds her arms over her chest.

Lisa: You’ve been a little more scarce than usual, "champ."

Snow: It’s not like you don’t know where to find me.

Lisa: Things can get a little hectic out there.

Snow smirks, but says nothing.

Lisa: Look, this isn’t easy for me, alright? I guess I just want to say… I just want to say I’m glad to have you on board.

Snow: On board?

Lisa: Well, that’s probably not the best way to put it.

Snow: I don’t think there is a way to put it. I’m not on board with anything, wench. This isn’t about me and you, and it isn’t about me going out of my way to save your job. There are very few things in this world I give less a damn about.

Lisa: Alright, fair enough. But I do have you on my side for this, right? Right?

Snow rolls his eyes to her again, cold and dead.

Snow: Make no mistake – I’m on any side that’s not Tyler Nelson’s. And it hasn’t got a damn thing to do with you or with any of those peasants out there, cheering me on like the blithering idiots they are. There’s an old score there, and I plan on settling it.

Lisa: I guess that’s as good as I could have expected. We could still use you out there.

Snow smirks, and for a moment, there’s a spark of life in those eyes.

Snow: Really? What the hell does any of it matter to me? I’ve got Tyler Nelson exactly where I want him, wench, and that’s in the middle of a ring at King of Kings. I don’t give a damn if he brings his whole army and half a national guard to ringside – after that night, Tyler Nelson’s not going to be a problem for you anymore. Or anyone else. Believe me.

Lisa: I have your word on that? You haven’t been all too vocal la-

Snow: I’m not interested in Tyler Nelson’s mind games, wench. He can pull out all the footage and all the commentary in the world, but the truth is, he knows I haven’t forgotten. And he knows I’m coming for him. Rest assured, he’s sitting somewhere right now, trying to plan a way out of this, or around this, or beneath this. But that’s not going to happen. At King of Kings, I’m getting a Christmas bonus from you, whether you realize it or not – Tyler Nelson, gift-wrapped in the center of a PRIME ring. My ring. I’m going to take him apart, piece by piece.

He turns back to the screen.

Snow: You don’t have to worry about PRIME, wench. It’s safely in your hands.

There also needs to be a good batch of dancing occurring in every ReVolution and not just from Tyler Rayne's strippers.

Nick: Well partner, we're about ready to embark on the last of Round 2's festivities.

Richard: With all the carnage already going down this evening, are we going to have a federation once we go to black?

Nick: I can't imagine Lisa Tyler will be happy. She's going to be irate by the time this is all said and done.

Richard: I think we're going to see the bitchiest Lisa Tyler ever come 214.

Nick: Could be right about that buddy, but for now we've got to focus on the first of the matches this evening: Roque de la Red Vs Jacob McKail Vs Tchu.

Richard: Geezers galore, Nick.

Nick: Some of the most talented veteran members of any roster, Richard. Roque de la Red has been around the independent circuits and all over the world. Jacob McKail has popped up in various places and is currently working for the JUST tour-

Richard: JUST? Wait, hold on a minute. That's the name of their company?

Nick: Yes, they've held quite a few PRIME talents during their time, including Bryan Dawkins-

Richard: Ah, so it's a foreign kind of terrorism federation.

Nick: ...And we have Tchu, who is perhaps the most decorated superstar to walk the halls of PRME, looking to resurrect his career and a trip to King of Kings would raise his stock a few levels.

Richard: I wonder if he can get the football through the tire anymore if you catch my drift.

Nick: ...I can't believe you are making viagra jokes.

Richard: That's what I do and believe me, I do it better than anybody.

Nick: With or without the little blue miracle?

Richard: What are you insinuating brother? I don't go near those. That's Chainz' deal.

Nick: So Chainz uses viagra?

Richard: What? No, I thought you were talking about dil...Oh wow. I...

Nick: Now we're both going to die because you can't pick up subtle references.

Richard: I'd like to take this moment right now to apologize to Michael Sloan and Tracy. Mr. Chainz, you don't need viagra because you have a very attractive wife.

Nick: You just called Tracy attractive. Sloan could interpret that as you hitting on him.

Richard: ...F**k. Dude, help me, what am I going to do?

Nick: I believe we need to send it up to Vince Howard for the in-ring introductions.

Richard: YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME! I'M SORRY, SLOAN!

Nick: What are you sorry for, Richard?

Richard: For saying Tracy might use di...OH YOU ARE NOT BAITING ME INTO THAT!

Nick: Well, I tried.

Vince Howard: Ladies and Gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall and is the Bracket D-

Richard: SHE'S GOT BIG BREASTS! YOU DON'T NEED A DI-

Vince Howard: Can it, fat boy. Anyway, this is the Bracket D-

Nick: He said Double D's, Richard.

Richard: Stop trying to hoodwink me like that little girl on Modern Family does. I'm tired of it.

Vince Howard: Finals. The winner of this match will go onto King of Kings and fight for the number one contendership to the Universal Championship. Introducing first...JACOB MCKAIL!

Emerging from behind the curtain is Jacob McKail. He gets a warm reception from the audience, although some of the hardcore fanatics boo him rather loudly. They are aware of his past and aren't particularly fond of his re-emergence onto the wrestling scene in SCCW, JUST, and PRIME. If he were to get through this round, they would have to see more of him and that would make their blood boil even further. McKail walks firmly to the squared circle with a stern look, ignoring those in both groups. He hops onto the ring apron and steps between the ropes, walking over to his corner and tucking his head into his chest waiting on the arrival of Red and The Inhuman Being.

Nick: McKail is focused and ready to make his presence felt, but he's got two worthy opponents coming down the aisle momentarily.

Richard: He's got the big match experience.

Nick: Does Sloan have big match experience, Richard?

Richard: (pointing finger at Nick) Stop it.

Vince Howard: Introducing next, weighing in at 240 pounds and standing 6'1...Roque de la Red!

A flurry of flamenco guitars flutters through the arena as Breed 77's "Shadows" hits the PA system. As the houselights switch to a dim, red hue, a hurried clapping rhythm punctuates the introduction, accompanied by a fizz of red and white pyrotechnics from the top of the big screen.

The masked Roque de la Red steps through the sparks and throws an ageing fist into the air. Standing at the top of the ramp, he surveys the scene briefly before s single spotlight illuminates his quick descent to the ring. Hitting both sides of the ramp, Roque slaps hands with a few fans, before hitting the ringside area and walking halfway around the outside of the ring. Reaching the commentary area, Roque hops up onto the apron, before slipping into the ring and preparing for action.

Nick: At 49 years old, he's got the most experience out of the trio in the ring and one has to believe he will utilize that.

Richard: How can someone like that be limber on their feet? I mean, dude has to hear his knee joints during every moonsault. It has to be a bit discouraging.

Nick: Well, he managed to get this far and I don't think we can discredit that. He's got just as much a chance as either of the other two competitors.

Richard: I've heard he did some shady things to get into the tournament-

Nick: None of those have been confirmed or denied.

Richard: So I'm going to put my support behind the geezer.

Richard: And finally, weighing in at 244 pounds and standing 6'2...TCHUUUUUUUUUUU!

The overhead lights fade quickly so that not even a sliver of spotlight is on anywhere in the building. Fans in the audience raise their lighters into the air and wait, the darkness comforting them because they know what is coming next.

Godsmack's 'I Fucking Hate You' roars through the arena as blue lights begin to slowly blink on and off around the building.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Tchu emerges from the back, making his way to the ring with methodical, determined steps. He makes his way into the ring.

Nick: The crowd favorite this evening.

Richard: A sell out if you ask me. He's come back more times than Michael Jordan, Ric Flair, Hulk Hogan and Shawn Michaels combined.

Tchu climbs the middle turnbuckle in one corner of the ring and form a 'T' with his arms, then throws them apart with an animalistic 'roar', as the fans sing along with the chorus of 'I fucking Hate You'.

Nick: He would know what something like this takes. Roque might have the most experience around the world, but Tchu has the most experience in the PRIME landscape. This one should be a classic.

Richard: We'll need to break out the Bengay by the ten minute mark, I'm telling you.

DING! DING! DING!
No man in the ring at the moment wants to make the first mistake, so nobody emerges from their corners at the sound of the bell. McKail is naturally suspicious of both opponents, believing they'll both target him. Tchu knows that PRIME never has a sudden finish under any circumstances and will need to incapacitate both opponents for a true shot at glory. Roque de la Red wonders if the tacos he gorged down prior to the match will haunt him later in the contest during the essential moments.

Nick: Everybody trying to feel the competition out before making any sudden moves, nobody wants to get caught on the defensive early.

Richard: Translation, they are doing that all important stretching so the cramps don't dig in once they get moving.

McKail makes the first move, going directly after the Inhuman Being and engaging in a collar and elbow lock up. Tchu has the natural power and brawling advantage so he's able to break free from the exchange and back McKail into the corner, shoving his forearm into the throat area. Referee Elvis Nixon scampers into the scene and demands the hold be broken. Tchu obliges while McKail rubs at his windpipe.

Although, one piece of advice Tchu forgot in that alpha male moment, never turn your back on a luchador.

Roque de la Red with a small package.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

McKail breaks up the pinfall.

Nick: McKail saving Tchu right there. Roque playing the role of sneak in that one.

Richard: Almost worked.

McKail takes hold of Roque and fires a European uppercut, staggering the luchador back into the ropes and delivering an Irish whip. Roque reverses the momentum and sends McKail into the cables. On the comeback, Roque goes for a dropkick, but McKail catches him by the legs and slams him into the canvas. He props the legs up, all the weight focused directly on Roque's neck. Roque mumbles but nobody can understand him underneath the mask. The luchador is launched backwards in a catapult, but finds himself in a unique position when Tchu grabs hold of him and in one fluent motion puts him on the shoulders and falls backwards for a Samoan drop.

Nick: Nice combination of moves there from McKail and Tchu.

Richard: I don't believe McKail was expecting Tchu to join in on the party.

Indeed he wasn't and Tchu isn't expecting McKail to lop his head off with a clothesline once he turns around. The plan was for McKail to kip up and deliver another move, but Tchu interrupted and paid for it. McKail puts a boot into the midsection of The Inhuman Being and brings him to a standing position, swiftly landing a European uppercut and firing a boot to the midsection. Tchu catches the foot, but that is just what McKail desires, leaping into the air and going for an Enziguri.

Although, he soon finds out that Lesson Number 2 of the match is never expect your opponent to fall for everything. Tchu suspects the kick and ducks underneath, momentarily relinquishing the foot and locking McKail around the waist, flinging him overhead with a release German suplex. McKail folds in the corner, leaving Tchu a moment to catch his breath.

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Or so he thought. Revert back to Lesson 1. Roque de la Red goes low and dropkicks a seated Tchu in the face. He covers.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

Tchu powers out of the veteran luchador's pinfall attempt and is put in a side headlock.

Nick: Roque's strategy is apparent in the early going-

Richard: He didn't bring his good hip with him to the building so he's opting to stay away from the fight until absolutely necessary.

Nick: I don't see why the wrestlers don't mutiny and have you fired.

Roque de la Red torques on the submission, but Tchu finds a way to fight back against the ropes and shove Red away. When he slams into the ropes, Red throws his shoulder into Tchu and takes the former Universal Champion down. Roque hits the ropes on the far side, Tchu rolls over trying to trip him, but Roque has enough gas in the tank to leap over and jump onto the second rope. He springs back and lands an elbow across the chin. Tchu stumbles back into the ropes and receives a spear from the right side courtesy of Jacob McKail.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: Jacob McKail doesn't care which competitor he goes after so long as he's one step closer to booking a trip to Alabama for King of Kings.

Richard: What in the world are we holding King of Kings for in Alabama? I could think of a ton of places I'd rather be around the holidays than Alabama.

Tchu clutches his side while falling through the ropes, leaving McKail and Roque to do battle for the moment. McKail punts Roque in the midsection and follows through with a seamless neckbreaker that puts Roque on the canvas and gives him a momentary chance to catch his breath. He's no where near exhausted, but a second to see where each of his opponents are doesn't hurt any wrestler at this stage of the contest. Tchu clutches onto the top rope and strains to get himself back onto the apron. McKail seizes the opportunity and rushes toward the second rope, springboarding up and looking for a cross body block. A sure fire move that would damage the back of Tchu and jeopardize his chances of advancing into Round 3.

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: Wow! Tchu snatching victory from what could have been the jaws of defeat.

Richard: That's another injury tacked onto the career of McKail.

At the last possible moment, Tchu sprung to life and wrapped his arms around McKail, spinning around 180 degrees and planting him into the ring apron with a powerslam.

McKail rolls off the apron in pain, clutching at his lower back and rolling underneath the ring. It's a good thing he made that decision because Roque de la Red leaps over the top rope, clutches Tchu around the legs, and launches him backwards into the canvas with a sunset flip powerbomb.

Nick: Roque slamming the PRIME Hall of Famer right into the ringside mats!

Richard: I'm liking him more and more as the match progresses. Did you see the velocity on that?

Nick: Indeed I did, Richard, and I'm sure Tchu will be feeling that one in the morning.

Richard: He'll definitely need the cold tub tomorrow.

Roque isn't without some pep in his step, grunting and groaning underneath the mask while bringing Tchu up and rolling him back underneath the bottom rope. McKail tries to slide toward Tchu and get a pinfall before Roque can establish himself back in the ring, but the luchador is ready and waiting, leaping over the top rope and coming down with a seated Senton splash on McKail's lower back. The veteran winces while Roque folds Tchu's leg.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

Nick: Roque almost had the cover there, capitalizing on the chance with both competitors down and ailing.

Roque mumbles something to Elvis but he only responds with the peace sign. The luchador gets up to a vertical base, leaps into the air and comes down with a knee across Tchu's forehead. PRIME's Wrecking Ball rolls away but is met with a boot to the back and hands across his shoulders. Roque knees Tchu in the gut and drives him into the canvas with a DDT. The luchador spins around and grasps the ropes, leaping onto the top, swinging his legs around and falling back with a moonsault. It doesn't have the potency of his finisher, but will do as an attempt to steal the match.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

Nick: McKail with the save.

Richard: Roque is showing everybody that old timers have a place in the land of PRIME.

Nick: Haven't you been bashing them for their age all throughout the match?

Richard: My tune often changes. I'm what they call a Mariotti.

McKail gets on top of Roque and hammers him with rights and lefts, bringing the luchador and his rolling yet sneaky offense down to size. McKail fires off a knife edge chop and whips Roque across the ring. The luchador reverses the whip and goes high, looking to leap over McKail, but the grizzled veteran is having none of it. He catches Roque on the way down in an atomic drop and flings him overhead with a belly to belly suplex.

Nick: McKail able to get a few solid moves. If he can keep the momentum going-

Richard: He'll run smack dab into a botched ring post and end up jobbing the hard way. Don't fight the Roque.

McKail transitions around and catches Roque on the way up with a spinning heel kick to the top of the head. The luchador goes down, giving McKail enough time to scatter over and drop an arm across the chest.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

Tchu doesn't just come in and make the save, rather he comes in and makes a giant impact. McKail expects to feel Roque kick out from the hold, but not Tchu grabbing him around the waist and slinging him around like a ragdoll into a tilt a whirl backbreaker.

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: Out of the pinning position. Tchu saw an opportunity and he took full advantage of it.

Tchu goes for his own cover, putting a lot of pressure on the shoulders of McKail.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

McKail pushes out before Elvis manages to slap his hand against the canvas for the third time. Tchu sighs and looks over at Roque. What the hell? He'll try a cover there as well.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

Roque kicks out a little faster, leaving Tchu to figure out which one he wants to go after. All three men are a little worse for wear after the back and forth exchanges and constant pinfall interruptions. Tchu glances over at McKail, figuring his lower back problem to be a bigger issue and lifts him from the canvas. The Inhuman Being shoves McKail into the corner and lowers his shoulder into the abdomen. The wind leaves McKail's body and allows Tchu the perfect chance to wind up and land an uncontested forearm to the side of the head. Tchu follows up with an elbow on top of the head and clutches the wrist. McKail is helpless, the velocity carrying him across the ring and into the buckle. Tchu drops into a three point stance, bulrushes ahead and lands a big time monster splash.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: Tchu looking for power offensive moves this late in the contest. He wants to put McKail or Red down for the count pretty shortly.

Richard: Don't see him doing that to Red because he's on the top rope!

Tchu has been in the business a long time and knows how to read the lips of the announcers should he happen to glance over in their direction. It also didn't help that Richard practically screamed to him. The Wrecking Ball spins his head around just in time to feel the full two hundred and forty pounds of Roque de la Red falling onto his body with a cross body block. The luchador knows an opportunity to sweep out the rug and covers.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: Are you serious?

Richard: STEROIDS! HE'S ON STEROIDS!

Tchu manages to kick out of the pinfall, turn over and lift up onto his knees with Roque de la Red still clutched in his arms. The feat is even more astonishing when he pulls to a standing position and propels Roque backwards with a fallaway slam, right into the arms of Jacob McKail.

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: Well his back was hurting prior to that and now-

Richard: Man might have a few teeth rolling around after that.

Tchu doesn't wait for any kind of reaction from McKail, forcefully hitting the ropes and charging back in his direction. The Inhuman Being goes for a big time stinger splash-

Richard: What the? He just threw Roque back at Tchu!

Nick: A human project-

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: Van Daminator with Roque de la Red playing the part of a steel chair.

Richard: Their heads bumped together after McKail's kick. That was straight nasty!

Nick: I guess there's another lesson to learn from this match, expect the unexpected.

McKail springboards onto the top rope from inside the ring and arches himself backwards, indifferent on which opponent he comes down on. He knows both of them aren't in the greatest shape. The full force of his moonsault lands on the unfortunate Roque de la Red. Cover.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

Nick: Tchu shoves him off at the last second!

Richard: The old guys can still put on a creative match, that's for sure.

Nick: I never doubted them for a second. You are the one who is going to get us sued by the AARP.

Richard: I was never a fan of anything to do with Arn Anderson.

Nick: ...God that was weak.

McKail is stunned at the thought of the match going on any longer. He exerted a lot of energy on that moonsault and figured the innovative nature of the human Van Daminator. Tchu is shoved away by McKail so more focus can be applied to Roque de la Red. The luchador is brought to the canvas and placed over McKail's right shoulder. He backs up to the nearest corner and sprints out to the center of the ring, spins Roque and delivers a running powerslam onto the back of Tchu.

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: We need to stop having so many cringeworthy moves in this match.

Richard: The hell we do. This is totally awesome.

Nick: All three of these men are going to need some cold tubs tomorrow.

Richard: The Main Event is going to have some expectations to live up to.

Nick: I think the rage of Tyler Nelson is going to be enough to make up for that.

Richard: :(

Nick: Did you just...Alright, we're not going down that road again.

McKail rolls Roque off Tchu and moves the Inhuman Being onto his other side. He goes for a double cover, figuring he can get at least one of them.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

Double kickout. Tchu rolls over and grabs his back while Roque is thankful for the chance to allow new air into his lungs. McKail rises to his feet and lets out a loud sigh. This is supposed to be his shining moment, and instead the two old farts on the canvas won't give him the satisfaction. McKail nudges Roque aside with his boot and focuses on The Inhuman Being, pulling him from the canvas and locking an arm around his head. He lifts Tchu into the air and goes for a brainbuster.

But Tchu is able to press through and bring himself down to a standing position once again. Without any warning, he lifts McKail into the air and almost drives him through the canvas with a vicious spinebuster.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: Tchu defying the odds once again and making a comeback.

Richard: You've got to be kidding me. The man has taken the most abuse in this match and yet he's still able to keep on ticking? Steroids. I'm telling you.

Nick: Would you lay off? He's the most decorated man in PRIME history. I doubt he's going to torture his body with that and risk ruining his reputation.

Richard: Yeah, just like Sirrajin didn't.

Tchu grabs hold of the top rope and prepares himself for the incoming Roque de la Red. The luchador goes for a clothesline, but Tchu ducks underneath, lets the momentum of the ropes carry Roque back into him, fires a boot to the midsection and pulls him backwards with the piledriver, Mick Foley style. Tchu's head careens into the canvas, leaving Jacob McKail as the lone man standing between Tchu and glory.

McKail winds his right foot up and goes for a superkick, but Tchu grabs the foot and spins McKail around, hooking him by the waist and lifting him up with sick strength into a Broken Soul sit out gutwrench powerbomb.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: Tchu with both competitors down. This is the opportunity he has been desperately seeking.

Tchu slaps his hands against the canvas and pulls against the ropes, straining himself and vehemently looking to stand up. Roque de la Red is already coming back for more. The luchador charges forward and leaps into the air, going for a hurricanrana. Tchu backpedals and slides underneath Roque, locking him in a sleeper hold. The crowd and Roque both know what is coming next.

Nick: DOWNFALL! TCHU WITH THE DOWNFALL AND HE'S GOING FOR THE COVER!

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

McKail tries to kick Tchu in the head to get him away from Roque

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

But he doesn't pull it off in time.

DING! DING! DING!

Vince Howard: YOUR WINNER OF THE MATCH...AND THE WINNER OF BRACKET D IN THE 2009 JEWEL IN THE CROWN...TCHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!

Richard: Well, that settles it. This tournament is officially a f**king farce.

Nick: This could be one of the best tournaments in recent memory. We have Brandon Youngblood, a man desperately seeking redemption. Tyler Rayne, one of the greatest competitors and a finalist in last year's Jewel in the Crown and now the most decorated star in the game in Tchu. Any one of the final competitors would make for a stacked Jewel in the Crown rendezvous at King of Kings.

Richard: I hope they are the one who wins it because I despise all the other three.

Nick: We need to take our hats off to Tchu. He didn't need to come back another time but he wanted to show people that he still had it, and from the looks of things this evening, he still does.

Richard: Whatever. He got lucky. Roque could have kicked out if he had a little more time.

Nick: That's the weakest excuse in the book, Richard. Give Tchu some kind of credit. He's now the third man in the Jewel in the Crown field.

Richard: Bleh.

Fresh from his assault on Leticia earlier in the night, Chainz parades around the back looking rather content with himself. Backstage crew members give him a disgusted look as he passes them, but none dare get in his face. That is until he runs into the freshly hired Diego Foster.

Diego: I bet you are real proud of yourself Sloan?

Chainz stops and looks at the man in front of him as if surprised he’d have the guts to get in his way. He smiles at him, eager to get into it with someone else.

Chainz: You don’t really care about a skank like that do you? What’s really bothering you Foster? Is it that you lost and are out of the JitC, while I’m still in and haven’t lost in months?

Diego Foster grinds his teeth in anger.

Chainz: Or is it because I’m the Intense Champion and you’re nothing?

Diego: Some champion you are. Where’s your title?

Chainz: It’s around the waist of a woman way too beautiful for you to lay eyes on. Now shut up and get out of my way boy.

Chainz tries to push his way past Diego Foster, but he holds his ground firmly.

Diego: You know, I was warned by friends and family about you. They told me to never cross your path or get in your face, but all I’ve seen from you is you can spout a bunch of disgusting words and fight women. Some big scary monster you turned out to be.

Chainz: And I’ve been warned about no talented big mouthed losers like you. You talk a good game and when it’s time to back it up you tuck tail and run. I bet your entire career you’ll be hyped as the next big thing or the next champion and instead you find yourself here in PRIME, grasping at the bottom rung. If I make you sick, then do something about it, but you won’t because…

He doesn’t have a chance to finish his sentence before Diego Foster lines up and squarely punches Sloan in the face. The monster reels back and is about to return the offense, but is immediately speared back into a wall. Chainz grimaces as Diego Foster begins to work the body and face, letting his hands go free. Everything is going his way and the fans in the arena are finally happy to see Chainz get his, but that doesn’t last long.

Out of nowhere Kazys Jankauskus and Tyler Nelson pull Diego Foster off Chainz and begin working him over. Chainz explodes away from the wall and floors Foster with a massive clothesline. The three men begin to stomp away as if trying to put out a fire, while Elise stays off to the side cheering and yelling at Foster.

???: Stop it!

A shrill yell is heard as the pitter patter of heels begins to draw near. Chainz stops as if in a trance as he listens to the click clack and smells a sweet perfume growing stronger. Alyson runs over to try and beg the men to stop their assault.

Alyson: Stop it, he can’t defend himself.

Nelson: Everybody who isn’t with us is against us and they must be taught a lesson.

Chainz: You’re not with us either are you sweet thing?

A scared look covers her face as Chainz grabs her by the hair and pulls her into his body. He smells her up and down, shivering with excitement.

Chainz: Lovely scent you’ve got there. It’ll go good with mine.

He laughs as Foster sees what’s happening in front of him. A surge of adrenaline hits and he tries to fight off his assailants, but the numbers are too much.

Chainz: Guess I’ll make it two in a night. It’s time for us to show PRIME what happens when they mess with us.

He grabs Alyson’s slender arm and begins twisting it in a similar fashion like he did earlier to Leticia. Alyson cries out in pain as her arm slowly begins to twist into an unnatural angle.

Out of nowhere Brandon Youngblood runs in and nails Chainz in the back of the head forcing him to lose the hold. The monster from Hell’s Kitchen turns with a scowl and goes after BY who’s now standing between Alyson and the beast. Before Chainz can reach Brandon Youngblood security is flood the area and separating everyone from one another. Foster slowly gets to his feet and rushes over to Alyson’s side to make sure she’s alright while BY silently watches on.

Chainz: This ain’t over bitch. I’m gonna break her just yet, you watch me.

Nelson pats Chainz’ shoulder as he and the army leave.

As Nelson's gang recedes with the tide of officials, Youngblood looks down at the beaten frame of Diego Foster and grimaces. Diego is slowly crawling to his feet, muttering to himself, clawing at a table for purchase. Blood trickles down his face from a nasty gash, onto his sweatshirt, the floor, and the now cold plate of chicken wings set out on the table earlier by the caterers.

Brandon reaches out to help him up, but as soon as his hand makes contact with Diego's shoulder, it's slapped away, the beaten man wheeling on him like a cornered dog, teeth bared, hatred and embarrassment smoldering in his eyes. Youngblood takes a step back, but only one, readying himself for any trouble.

But in the next minute the hatred in Diego's eyes is gone, leaving only the other, tears shimmering across their surface. Closing his eyes in shame, Foster brushes past Youngblood, past the shaken Alyson without a single word, off and away to somewhere, nowhere really, anywhere but here, ignoring completely the outstretched hand Brandon extends in his direction.

Brandon stands there. He looks at Alyson, she looks back at him. They both look after Diego. Shaking his head, Youngblood walks off in the opposite direction.

If Matt Mills is good at one thing, it's getting scoops. If he's good at two things, it's avoiding things being thrown at him.

Right now, he's getting plenty of practice at both.

When he got the word to go talk to Troy Douglas, given the night's events, Mills knew he wasn't going to be greeted with a laurel and hearty handshake. Matt wasn't exactly expecting a wad of athletic tape to be hurled at his forehead, but when he saw it out of the corner of his eye, his instincts were good enough to allow him to duck out of the way and knock on the open locker room door.

Matt Mills: Troy, can I get a word?

Interrupting his pattern of firing the pieces of tape peeled of his wrists at his door in frustration, Douglas wordlessly waves Mills and his accompanying cameraman in.

Matt Mills: Troy, your thoughts on what transpired earlier tonight in your match with Jay Phoenix against Tyler Nelson and Elise Ares?

Troy Douglas: My thoughts, Matt? My thoughts are that ...

Troy looks at the ground in disbelief, shaking his head.

Troy Douglas: You know, Matt, I don't really know what my thoughts are right now.

Matt Mills: You've got no reaction to what transpired? Jay Phoenix just laid down for Tyler Nelson in the middle of the ring!

Troy Douglas: I know, Matt. I vaguely remember being there.

Ignoring the obvious sarcasm, Mills does what all good journalists do and just presses on.

Matt Mills: So?

Troy Douglas: So, Jay Phoenix has some damn explaining to do. This was his choice, and whether he likes it or not, he owes me and everybody watching this show the reason for why he became the latest man in this company to seemingly sell his soul to the devil. You know where to find me, Jay. You want to explain yourself, I'll be there with bells on to listen. Until then, I'm just going to wait.

Matt Mills: That's ... it?

Troy Douglas: That's it, Matt. No mad rages, no kicking down doors and hunting after men in parking lots and hotel rooms. I'm going to find out what I need to find out, and after that, Jay Phoenix can deal with the consequences of his actions. Got your scoop, Matt?

Matt Mills: Think so.

Troy Douglas: Good. Now, get out of here. I've got more small things to throw.

This might be one of the saddest days of Tyler Rayne’s life. The Hero of the Day arrived at the Thompson-Boling Arena with a task force of strippers and enough food to feed a starving third world country. He has provided a bountiful feast for the PRIME production crew and roster in celebration of the holiday. There has been food. There has been merriment. Good times had by all… including the increasingly large population of homeless peoples filing into the banquet hall as if it were a soup kitchen. This presents a problem for sanitation… a problem only compounded by the recent arrival of the Oompa Loompas. The strange little orange minions of PRIME’s 5-Star Champion entered the hall with an entertaining song and dance number. Everyone applauded. Then the tiny bastards went about shoving their pudgy little fingers into all the deserts. Taste testing. At this very moment, Bryan Dawkins is doing his best to filter the miniature marvels away from the buffet line. They seem to have an unnatural fear of his pilgrim hat, so The Flyin’ Hawaiian keeps waving it wildly to shoo them away. Of course he has to circumvent the bums in order to do so, which is not making the task much easier.

Tyler Rayne is standing far away from the increasing chaos. He has taken position near the entrance to the cafeteria. The Underground Pimp has a white bottle clutched in his hands, upside down. He shakes it furiously, but nothing comes out. A sigh escapes his lips. The door swings in and Juli Lee slides through the opening to meet up with Tyler. Surprisingly, she is still wearing the Pocahontas mini-dress from earlier.

Juli Lee: He’ll be here in a couple minutes.

Tyler Rayne: Why is all the rum gone?

Juli Lee: If I had to guess…

She lets her eyes finish the sentence for her, gaze shifting over to the congregation of homeless on the other side of the room.

Tyler Rayne: Gods damned bums. Still like to know how they got past security, anyway.

"Might ‘ave an answer fir dat one, boss."

The two turn to find Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas hiding the entrance to the cafeteria behind his massive frame. The Golden Boy stands and meets PRIME’s Director of Security with a fist pound. Dam gives his pseudo-friend a once over and shakes his head.

Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas: Don’ even wanna know.

Tyler Rayne: Just tell me what happened here, Dam. These [bleep]ing bums are ruining my party.

Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas: So’s I checked in wit’ da Enemigos, see who’s dey was lettin’ in da building and who’s dey wasn’t. One a deese here bums ‘as ‘imself some PRIME credentials. So’s dey let ‘im in… and den ‘e starts lettin’ all ‘is friends in. ‘e ‘ad da creds, so da Enemigos don’ give ‘im no hassle.

Tyler Rayne: That’s fantastic. So I don’t suppose we’d actually know who this ringleader of theirs is?

Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas: Actually, I do. Some chump by da name of—

"NO! YOU CAN’T HAVE IT! IT’S MINE!"

All eyes turn to the source of the disturbance. Lord Bryan Dawkinshire is screaming at one of the homeless stankies. The two are facing off from across the banquet table. Each of them has their hands grasped firmly around a plate. On that plate sits the very last piece of pineapple upside down cake. Dawkins jerks the plate toward him. The cake slides toward dangerously close to the edge. The bum pulls back. The cake slides back toward the center. Jerk. Pull. Jerk. Pull. Dawkins. Stankie. Dawkins. Stankie.

Juli Lee: Should you, uh… I dunno. Step in or something?

Tyler Rayne: I don’t wanna touch those bums. They might give me scabies.

The struggle continues on, increasing with ferocity. Both men are pulling at the same time now. A stale mate. The two combatants give one final tug. The plate shatters into two pieces. Dawkins slips backward, the shabby craftsmanship of his pilgrim shoes offering no grip against the linoleum floor. The drunken bum falls flat on his ass. The last piece of pineapple upside down cake sails through the air. Everyone watches as it arcs across the table… and lands right side up atop the head of one of the Oompa Loompas. There is a moment of tense silence. The Oompa raises a single open hand. His hand snaps shut into a fist.

All fucking hell breaks loose.

Grubby orange fingers dive into the nearest dishes. Pineapple deserts of all shapes and varieties are scooped into the pudgy palms of Gamble’s lackeys. The handfuls of delicious are launched through the air to find purchase in the scraggly beards and matted hair of an army of homeless.

Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas: I’m da hell outta here.

The big man is out the door before anyone can muster a protest.

Tyler Rayne: Some security director.

Juli Lee: Now do you want to do something?

A giant glob of pineapple pudding splatters against the side of a homeless woman’s head. A tub of pineapple casserole is dumped over the head of one of the Oompa Loompas. Two Oompas are diving in slow motion across the table, throwing cubes of pineapple at as many bums as they can see. No. We don’t know where they got slow motion powers either. Bryan Dawkins is running from one end of the table to another, trying desperately to save whatever morsel of pineapple goodness he can. The fight is too furious, though. Food is flying in all directions. Then he spots it. The last remaining dish. A wholly untouched and completely perfect pineapple pie at the farthest end of the table. The Flyin’ Hawaiian becomes a whirlwind of pilgrim power. He dodges. He weaves. He pushes and shoves and ducks and jukes and maneuvers his way through the warzone to the pie. An entire hock of pineapple roasted ham whizzes over his head. The juices drip down the side of his face. He tastes the sweet pineapple liquid and is motivated to move faster. Feet pound against the floor. Legs propel him faster and harder than ever before. Lord Dawkinshire dives across the last few feet of table, skidding over a mess of pineapple goo and ruining his fancy pilgrim jacket. His hands glasp around the edges of the aluminum pie pan. Victory. Sweet sweet victory.

A tiny Oompa boot stomps firmly into the center of the pie. The Hawaiian’s eyes widen. His face flashes through a dozen different emotions. Shock. Anger. Fear. Betrayal. He sits up to his knees on the table, arms raised to the sky, and screams.

Bryan Dawkins: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Tyler Rayne: Oh shit.

The Hawaiian’s arms fall to his sides in defeat. His head droops. His eyes slide shut. Food sails past him in all directions, but he does not seem to notice. He sits there. Miserable. His right arm begins to quiver. Then his left. His eyes pop open and Lord Dawkinshire leaps to his feet. Fingers tear and pull at the stained jacket. He rips the pilgrim attire away, revealing the muscular torso beneath. Dawkins leans forward and snatches the Oompa Loompa that stepped in his pie. He takes the midget under each armpit and turns, hurling the human projectile at the closest homeless he can find. The whino has quick reflexes, though. Dirty hands catch the Oompa in midair, preventing the inevitable collision. Nothing can stop what happens next. Dawkins leaps across the table with a spinning heel kick that cracks against the Oompa’s spine. The force of the impact smashes the Oompa directly into the whino’s face, and all three men tumble to the ground.

Van Daminator with a midget.

Tyler Rayne: Well that’s something you don’t see every day.

Dawkins is on the rampage. He punts one of the Oompas between two homeless people fighting over an empty bottle of pineapple rum. Elvis Nixon appears out of nowhere to throw up the field goal sign.

Elvis Nixon: It’s good, baby, it's good!

An Oompa launches from the table and attaches itself to Nixon’s face. Orange hands grasp and pull at the referee’s hair. He runs across the room screaming like a girl. A homeless man hobbles across the scene, Oompa attached to his leg. Biting his ankle. A homeless woman has one of the Oompas by both ankles and is twirling him in a big airplane spin. Dawkins kicks a homeless stankie in the gut and drops him with a Double Arm DDT. There is an Oompa riding a young homeless kid like a horse. The fattest of the bums is using an Oompa like a club, swinging wildly at the other orange minions around him. Then there, in the middle of all the chaos, is a familiar face.

Tyler Rayne: Well [bleep] me running.

The hair is a little stringier. The face dirtier. His goatee is scraggly and there may or may not be a cockroach crawling around in there. The gold chain around his neck is dingy and crusted with grime. Yes, he looks different… but there’s no mistaking that wild eyed and yet totally vacant look. The man appears to be babbling orders at the homeless. His arms flail as he tries to direct traffic. Yes, sir. There is no doubt about it.

Tyler Rayne: Jimmy Bonafide.

The Golden Boy is on the prowl now. He pushes his way through the madness. He dodges drunken homeless men. He leaps over ankle-biting Oompa Loompas. He marches toward the leader of these villains. The one bum with PRIME credentials. Tyler stalks toward his prey, ready to end this madness for good. The wild eyes of Jimmy Bonafide turn on the Hero of the Day. Spittle droops from his foaming mouth.

Tyler Rayne: You weren’t on the invite list, asshole.

Jimmy Bonafide: It does not matter if me weren’t! I is King of New York! I do what he wants!

Tyler Rayne: Last chance to leave.

Jimmy Bonafide: You dare to challenge the King of New York! I am destroy you!

The fighting comes to a screeching halt. Everyone turns to watch the epic battle about to unfold. The bums encircle the two combatants. A slurred chant of "Bonafide" begins wafting through the throng. The scarred warrior is not phased. He keeps his keen eyes focused solely on the King of the Homeless. Jimmy Bonafide reaches into one of his four winter coats and pulls out two platinum plated .45s.

Jimmy Bonafide: GUUUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNZZZZZZZZZZZ—

The battle cry is cut off by a quick jab to the throat. The King of New York chokes and sputters. Tyler turns his hand, palm forward, and slaps the taste out of garbage from the King’s mouth. Bonafide drops to his knees.

Tyler Rayne: This is Tennessee…

The Underground Pimp wrenches one of the guns from Bonafide’s hand.

Tyler Rayne: …and that is my gimmick…

He turns the pistol in his hand and drops a hammer blow atop Bonafide’s head. The King slumps to the ground, unconscious.

Tyler Rayne: …douchebag.

A collective gasp rushes through the homeless army. Their king has been defeated. One of the women screams. The congregation shakes with whispers of awe and fear. One of the more spineless stankies runs for the door. The others are quick to follow. In a shorter time than it took Tyler Rayne to disassemble their king, the community of homeless has fled the scene. Bryan Dawkins and Juli Lee come to stand next to their friend, who himself is standing over the unconscious body of a really, really bad former wrestler. The Oompas are fleeing through whatever air ducts and small passageways they can find. Soon, the three (four) of them are alone.

Juli Lee: Well that was… interesting.

Bryan Dawkins: The food. They… all the food.

Juli Lee: So you got in a fight. Again. Lisa won’t be too happy.

Bryan Dawkins: All those mouth watering pineapples…

Tyler Rayne: No one died. So… better than the last party I hosted.

Juli Lee: Point.

Bryan Dawkins: I am so sad right now.

The Underground Pimp turns up to the camera and offers his infamous smile. Why? Because we really have no idea how to end this proper.

Tyler Rayne: Happy Thanksgiving, mother [bleep]ers.

Lisa Tyler storms through the backstage area. She’s on a mission. The events of the evening have, for lack of a better term, pissed her off. As she power-walks, her heels clicking loudly and quickly on the floor, any PRIME staff that was even remotely in her path clears the way. They know better. Following behind the VP of Personnel Relations, trying his best to keep up with her, is PRIME’s head of security. He’s got a really long name, but you know him as Dam. Lisa blows through the make-up area and makes a bee-line for a door at the end of the corridor. When she reaches said door, she doesn’t even bother to knock before storming in.

Inside the room, Tyler Nelson spins around to meet the intruder. He would have had a shocked expression on his face, had he not expected a visit sooner or later.

Lisa: What in the HELL do you think you’re doing here tonight? Your group of heathen’s has sent women to the hospital, attacked MY talent, and generally made a mess of my show!

Nelson furrows his brow, cocking his head slightly to the side.

Tyler: What did you expect, Lisa? I’ve given you more than enough warning that this was coming, and now you’re trying to act as if it’s some sort of surprise? Perhaps I gave you too much credit, which only makes it even more unbelievable that you’ve managed to cling to your position as long as you have.

BLT aims an angry finger in the direction of The Greediest Player in the Game.

Lisa: You listen to me, Mr. Nelson. There will be no more of this madness going forward. It ends tonight.

Tyler: I’m sorry, Lisa, but what you saw tonight is only the tip of the iceberg. The machine of destruction has been set in motion, and it won’t stop until the end has been reached. That end, Ms. Tyler, is you gone from power and me named your successor. My group will gut PRIME like a pig if they have to, and try not to get any on their shoes. You’ve been warned for weeks on end of what your incompetence could bring forth, and you chose not to heed those warnings. Now you’ll have to play the hand you’ve been dealt. Too bad for you it’s aces and eights against my Royal Flush.

Lisa fumes as Nelson grins and shrugs his shoulders.

Tyler: Now, if you’ll excuse me.

The King of Greed motions with his hands for Lisa to leave his locker room. The VP of Personnel Relations glares laser beams through Nelson, but he merely curls his lip and sneers back at her before turning his back. Lisa turns on her heel and storms out of the room, frustration clearly evident in her demeaner. Once she’s gone, Nelson turns and looks over his shoulder.

Tyler: It’s only a matter of time, now, Lisa. Just a matter of time.

See, we even bleep the commercials around here. That shows how nice we are.

There is no doubt in Lisa Tyler's mind that tonight could have gone worse, much worse than she anticipated.

Although, for the life of her, she can't figure out how.

Chainz has added woman beater to his already infamous reputation, which includes a laundry list of vile rumors. The man is a walking FCC fine waiting to happen and now returned to the menacing status Lisa assumed inactivity could have prevented. It was her intention to leave Chainz off programming as much as possible, not only to help her have peace of mind, but prevent any members of the board from giving her the business.

Tyler Nelson is on the verge of making his giant move, creating such a havoc throughout the locker room that a mutiny is all but inevitable. Pirate mentality. He's going to overthrow the roster and force Lisa Tyler to sign her power over to him. It's just too good of a plan and BLT has been caught unprepared for such chaos.

He even appears to have roped in the other giant nuisance in her professional life.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Who has also made his way through the back entrance and leans against the wall, grinning like a Cheshire cat. The faint echo through the wall of those in Tennessee who loathe him is not lost on Lisa Tyler. She feels the temperature in the room drop a few degrees at his mere presence. Without looking up from her paperwork, she acknowledges him.

Lisa Tyler: Hello, Devin.

Devin Shakur: You look so cute when you are worried.

With a roll of the eyes, Lisa drops her pen and spins around in her office chair.

Lisa Tyler: I'd much prefer if we didn't go down the Michael Sloan fantasy route.

The Black Plague chuckles and pops a Fruit Mentos into his mouth.

Devin Shakur: Much the same, I'd rather not look like that at any point in my life.

Lisa Tyler: So what exactly did Nelson want you to do this evening?

Devin Shakur: Nelson want me to do? Staying cooped up in this office isn't doing favors for your brain, love.

Lisa Tyler: I saw the two of you earlier. He told you to apply more pressure on me. I should have seen it coming.

Devin Shakur: Seen what coming?

Lisa Tyler: Stop trying to be coy, Devin. You and Nelson all this time pretending to hate each other, using the ploy of Hessian to distract me and everybody else. Now with the time drawing closer, you two make your allegiance known and I'm forced to deal with both of you at once. Nelson with potentially all the belts and you with the Golden Ticket.

The Black Plague snickers. Actually, it's more a full fledged laugh than a simple snicker. He's smacking his thighs and rubbing his neck because the diatribe was so funny. It takes him a moment to stand at a full vertical position but once he does, the head is shaking back and forth while a "Tsk" sound emits.

Devin Shakur: If you are thinking that cynically, you've already had the lobotomy so we might as well use that office ride for a wheelchair. You really don't get how I work do you?

Lisa Tyler: I've got a pretty good idea. Whatever gets the job done.

Devin Shakur: Well...That part is true, but I don't work with anybody. You actually think I'm going to trust someone like Tyler Nelson to make anything worthwhile for me?

The Boss doesn't respond.

Devin Shakur: Good, at least you still know rhetoric. The thing is Lise, I don't trust anybody around here other than blood. For all the years Gamble and I have been creating chaos, he never once assisted me in a major plot. Sure, he's a nice wingman, but that's not the point. I have not nor will I ever work for Tyler Nelson.

Lisa still keeps a stone face expression.

Devin Shakur: The only way you should really be worried about Tyler Nelson is if you think he can defeat Jason Snow. Otherwise, he's still the same guy with a bunch of misfits hanging around him. He can't deliver on shit unless he's got the belt, and unless he's going to get Lance Marshall on last minute notice to replace him, you'll be fine.

Lisa Tyler: He's sending people on my roster to the hospital, Devin.

Devin Shakur: Funny, I did that and you still survived. No offense, but two managers aren't exactly the Three Amigos when it comes to talent. I think you'll be fine.

Lisa Tyler doesn't know what to think or believe at the moment. She's dealing with the biggest snake oil salesman in the business and he's giving her candid and legitimate advice. It's almost too good to be true, but maybe...Just for the hell of it, she's going to play along for a bit.

Lisa Tyler: I somehow don't think he's got any intention of stopping.

Devin Shakur: He doesn't, but he's only doing it for reaction purposes. Just like when he said he'd threaten to go on another show. I'd say assemble the troops and get the roster ready, or hide those without alliances. My experiences in riots says he'll only amp up the intensity on 214.

Lisa Tyler: What about the Pay-Per-View?

The Man in Black grins, a grin that suggests he knows her game and one that indicates genuine happiness.

Devin Shakur: The Pay-Per-View is my night, Lisa. That's actually why I came to talk. It's the night I announce my declarations for the Golden Ticket.

Lisa burrows her eyebrows.

Lisa Tyler: You just put it on the line against Hessian.

Another smirk from Shakur.

Devin Shakur: (A slow and menacing tone) There's no way in hell Hessian is walking out of King of Kings with that ticket.

Lisa Tyler: He's got a 1-0 record against you.

Devin Shakur: There's no cage to protect him this time, and if the flock is occupied trying to keep their own asses in check, I doubt they'll be coming out in droves to protect someone they've all lied to.

Lisa Tyler: So what do you suggest?

Devin Shakur: Book them. All of them. Doesn't matter against who or what the stipulations are. Give the Wolves the tag title shot. Make sure Chainz has a match if he doesn't win tonight. Leave Hessian to me.

Lisa Tyler: And how can I trust that you'll do anything different than Nelson?

Shakur removes himself from the slouched position and snakes along the side of the desk, eyes never leaving Lisa Tyler.

Devin Shakur: You can't, but at this point who would you rather put your faith in? At King of Kings Lisa, I'm going to be the most talked about man in PRIME history. Either get on the train or get off it.

The Man in Black nods at the boss and strolls over to the front door, opening it and glancing at Dametreyus before walking down the hall toward his locker room. Dam sneaks a look inside BLT's office.

She looks a tad more peaceful than she was a moment ago.

DING! DING! DING!

Richard: Does anybody else find that sound really grating?

Nick: Nah. After a few years, I just kinda got used to it.

Vince Howard: Ladies and gentlemen, the following three-way contest is your MAIN EVENT for ReVolution 213, and it is a second round match in the 2009 PRIME Jewel in the Crown Tournament!

Introuducing competitor number one...

A pause for silence in order to allow the sound to queue up following instructions from the production director. After a few seconds, the driving opening beat to "Pyhä Maa" by Teräsbetoni begins to fill the arena.

Vince Howard: Wrestling out of Miami, Florida by way of Vilnius, Lithuania, he weighs in at 270 pounds. One half of the Wolves of Slaughter ... KAAAZYS JANKAUSKAS!!!

His opponent...

"My Gift to You" by Korn hits the speakers and the crowd goes in a frenzy of boos and any other insults they can hurl as perhaps the most hated and evil wrestler in PRIME history emerges from the backstage area.

The menacing Chainz doesn't look pleased as he makes his way towards the ring. His lovely wife Tracy is walking by his side smiling like usual and waving to the fans.

As the boos continue to rain down Michael Sloan slides into the ring and paces back and forth waiting for his opponent.

Vince Howard: From Hells Kitchen in New York, New York, weighing in at 295 pounds ... he is the PRIME Intense Champion ... CHAAAAIIINNZZ!!!

And their opponent...

The arena lights fade to black and smoke and strobe fills the entrance and the stage as thrashing guitar and bellowing bass fill the ears of the fans in attendance, blaring out of the PA.

You remember, You remember me, yes,
I remember what we are, I remember only scars,
I remember only stars, I remember hell and mother,
I have seen the eye of god, Youth trust gone forever.

As the lyrical tome depicting the Hardcore Monster blasts through the air a massive silhouette approaches the stage, bleeding through the smoke which has a bluish hue through it until he stands before the ramp, emerging out onto the stage to a chorus of boos.

See only the master, risen, risen,
After all the silence, all of him laughing
After all the strangers, beaten, driven,
Try to place all things, in a certain rhythm
Do as the book told you see the pages torn,
Make the spell upon them, in human form,
So we come to call it, the great & awesome dance,
Do you see before you, the Kingdom of Romance.

Breathing in the atmosphere, Hessian raises his arms to the sky and from his open hands a pair of fireballs burst forth suddenly, much to the delight of the screaming crowd who watch as he seems to tame fire.

You remember, You remember his face,
You remember what I am, I remember only weeping,
I remember only sleeping, I remember tearing flesh,
I can only taste the devil, Your tears when you cry,

Closing his eyes for a moment he tilts his head back, quickly looking forward again and roaring as he throws the balls of fire from his hands to the floor in front of him and listening as the applause becomes louder.

Wasted with the children, singing just a hymn,
You can hear them only, crying, crying,
After all the horses gallop to fathom,
Try to fell under you, spine of the dragon,
Do as you consider, writhe & spin alarm,
Spell tricky magic, nails for your savior,
So we bravely gather, though we moan with dread,
Do you see before you, the Kingdom of the Dead.

The entire ramp from his feet at the stage to the ring apron itself ignites and bursts into flame, licking at the air almost four feet high. Hessian pauses for a moment, looking off to the fans at his side before snarling and continuing on down the ramp through the fire as it falls a couple of feet and licks at his legs as he walks on.

Can I remember, I remember you, no,
Can I remember gold, I remember silver eyes,
I remember silver skies, I remember awesome pain
I can hear the horse in darkness, Only he dreams of glory.

Keeping pace Hessian briskly marches towards the ring through the fire as the lights flicker like lightning throughout the arena and the heavy metal of Motorhead bursts the eardrums of fans around the arena. The smoke soon dissapates on the stage and the fire dies down almost completely as Hessian reaches the ring apron.

Standing at the edge of all, Looking down at last,
Can you see the others, running, running,
All the horses burning, sinking, dying,
Do you feel destiny or are you lying,
Do what you were made for, all must endure,
Soon the door closes, for good or evil,
Are you the ice queen or do you want to burn,
Here see before you, the Kingdom of the Worm

Holding his open hands in front of him, Hessian stands almost in prayer for a moment, finally clenching his fists and reaching up for the top rope. The Hardcore Monster climbs the apron and over the top, stepping forward. He throws his arms out, fists clenched again and tenses his muscles to a barrage of flashbulbs, unleashing an animalistic roar to the death of the flames and the return of the lights.

Kingdom of Romance... Kingdom of the Dead...
Kingdom of the Worm...

ALL MEN MUST SUFFER!

Vince Howard: From Detroit, Michigan, weighing in at 355 pounds, he is the PTC Elite Champion ... THE MURDER SHOW ... HEEESSSSSIIIAAAANNNN!!!!

Nick: Just look at the size of these three giants in the ring. With Jankauskas, Chainz and Hessian, you've got a combined 920 pounds ready to lay absolute waste to each other to move one step closer to a shot at the Universal Title.

Richard: Recently, we've seen these three unleash hell as a unit for the benefit of their Fearless Leader, Tyler Nelson. Frankly, I'm scared to think what happens if things between these guys really get angry at each other. Small countries may be wiped off the face of the planet.

Nick: Don't worry, Richard. If it gets out of hand, just close your eyes and I'll let you know when the scary parts are over.

DING! DING! DING!

Richard: Will somebody tell the damn timekeeper to CALM DOWN? Jesus Christ, you're two feet away from me, buddy!

Nick: The bell has rung, but none of these three monsters are ready to go just yet. I don't think any one of them wants to incur the wrath of the other two at the same time.

Richard: Uh, would you?

Nick: I'm not 6-foot-7 and 300 pounds, Richard.

After circling the ring for several moments, it's Hessian and Kazys who finally lock up, with Chainz happily waiting back on the opposite side of the ring.

Nick: And here we go ... and Hessian FLINGS Jankauskas right into the corner! The Iron Wolf weighs in at 270 pounds, and the Murder Show tossed him like a rag doll.

Richard: We've been watching Hessian do this for a year now, and you're STILL surprised. What a tool.

Nick: Kazys gathers himself, but not for long! He walks straight into a thunderous elbow from Hessian and goes down like a shot!

Richard: Yeah, avoiding that would've been a good idea.

Nick: Gee, you think so, Captain Obvious?

Richard: Mock if you want, but the big Lithuanian didn't listen to me, and look what happened to him.

Kazys quickly rolls to his feet, but Hessian sends him down a second time, this time with a stiff forearm. The Murder Show turns around to hit the ropes, but before he can exact any further damage on the Iron Wolf, Von Kelsig finds himself doubled over courtesy of a boot to the stomach from Chainz.

Nick: And Chainz welcomes himself to the party with that swift kick!

Richard: Some people bring onion dip. Chainz brings ass-kicking.

Nick: Chainz with a standing headscissors, could be going for an early Chain Reaction!

Richard: Somebody tell the network to get the ShamWow infomercial ready, we might be a little short on time. Or, Shakur and Daniels could come out and do their interpretation of Othello.

Nick: Or, Hessian could just power out and backdrop Chainz right onto Kazys Jankauskas!

Richard: That's probably better.

Nick: Wait a minute, Chainz hooked Kazys' leg on the way down!

ONE...

TWO...

Hessian makes the save! The Murder Show took a second to breathe, and nearly got caught looking at the flowers as Chainz nearly advanced to King of Kings!

Richard: Somehow, I don't think Hessian looks at flowers very often. And if he does, he probably incinerates them with his laser eyes.

Nick: Hessian has laser eyes?

Richard: Eh, why not.

Furious, Hessian lays into Chainz with a couple of boots, shoving him to the outside of the ring. Turning his attention to Kazys, Hessian pulls the Iron Wolf to his feet, only to be tripped by Jankauskas and dropped neck-first onto the middle rope.

Nick: Down onto the ropes goes the Hardcore Monster ... and here comes Chainz ... RUNNING BOOT! The Intense Champion clipped Hessian on the temple with a vicious boot!

Richard: And that just leaves Hess wide open for Kazys.

Nick: Jankauskas pulls Hessian off the ropes, right into a backdrop suplex! Tremendous strength from the Iron Wolf to power down the 355-pound Hessian like that.

Richard: Not to mention a little teamwork between Kaz and Chainz. Maybe they see Hessian as the biggest threat and may try to eliminate him from the proceedings.

Nick: I've yet to see the man -- or men -- capable of eliminating Hessian. Looks to me like whatever pair of wrestlers sees an opportunity to go after the third, they'll take it.

Richard: You really need to get those rose-colored glasses of yours fixed.

Nick: Everyone's back in the ring now, and Kazys greets Chainz with a right hand! And he gets one back! How's THAT for teamwork?

Richard: Smug bastard.

Nick: Chainz and Kazys trading blows, and now here comes Hessian, and he gets in on the festivities. We've got a three-way slugfest in the middle of the ring, and the gloves have definitely come off!

Richard: What gloves? What the hell kind of match are you watching?

Nick: Just relax and pay attention, Richard.

The trio continue to exchange hard blows with each other, but it's Hessian who finally gains the advantage, elbowing Chainz in the midsection to send him aside, then reaching back and shoving Kazys into the ropes. When the Iron Wolf rebounds, Hessian reacts quickly, scooping Jankauskas up and spinning the big Lithuanian to the mat violently with a fast-rotating powerslam.

Nick: Brutal powerslam by big Hess, nearly driving Kazys through the canvas!

Richard: Aww, you're a poet and you don't even know it.

Nick: Now Chainz takes charge ... and walks right into a Rydeen Bomb! Sit-down spinebuster by the Murder Show! He hooks the leg...

ONE...

TWO...

NO!

Richard: Right now, doesn't look like anybody can stop HESS SMASH.

Hessian rolls Chainz away into the corner, but as the Murder Show stands up, he's welcomed roughly by a forearm to the back from Jankauskas. Forcing Hessian against the ropes, Kazys drives his shoulder into the small of the Hardcore Monster's back a couple of times, then spins Hessian around and shoots him into the corner, then loads up for a charge.

Nick: Here comes the Iron Wolf ...

Richard: All aboard the Failboat!

Nick: Jankauskas ran straight into Hessian's boot! He's staggering backwards ... RIGHT TO CHAINZ!

Richard: Sucks to be him.

Nick: Kazys is in Sloan's clutches ... TORTURE RACK INTO A SPINNING NECKBREAKER!!! Jankauskas comes crashing down onto the canvas! Here comes Hessian, who eats a kick to the stomach ... AND A SPIKE DDT! Chainz is on a roll right now!

Richard: Yeah, serve him with some mayo and a couple pickle slices, and you've got a nice sandwich that'll KILL YOU DEAD.

Nick: My partner and his impeccable ability to take things literally, ladies and gentlemen.

Eschewing a cover, Chainz waits for Jankauskas to rise, then drills the Iron Wolf with a couple of forearms to the head. Once woken up, Kazys responds with a few of his own, and the two trade shots until Hessian rises behind them and, at the same time, the pair spin around and crush Von Kelsig with mirror image spinning backfists to opposite sides of Hessian's face.

Richard: Now there's a sandwich that'll kill you dead.

Nick: Brutal double backfist by Chainz and Kazys! Now both men off the ropes ... WHAT A HIGH-LOW COMBO! Chainz took out the lower half with a leg sweep while Jankauskas flatted Hessian with a flying shoulder tackle, and the impact sends the big man flying out of the ring!

Richard: Who was right now?

Nick: Quiet, you.

With Hessian on the outside, Chainz tries to get the quick advantage on Kazys, but is beaten to the punch.

Literally.

Nick: Gigantic uppercut rocks the Intense Champion! Chainz has been knocked loopy!

Richard: He threw that thing from way back home in Vilniwhateveritscalled.

Nick: Chainz wobbles off the ropes, Jankauskas has him ... INVERTED ATOMIC DROP! Kazys hits the ropes ... GIGANTIC FLYING CLOTHESLINE!

Richard: Who popped the cork on this guy?

Nick: Back up comes Chainz, TURNBUCKLE EXPLODER! For the love of God, Kazys Jankauskas just suplexed the PRIME Intense Champion right into the turnbuckles, and Chainz dropped like a sack of potatoes.

Richard: An EVIL sack of potatoes with some very strange fetishes.

Nick: Kazys pulling Chainz over for the cover, he could be on to the semis...

ONE...

TWO...

THRRR-HESSIAN MAKES THE SAVE!

Richard: I'm sure Chainz is very thankful for that, and will right a nice card in his own blood when he stops seeing the little birdies flying around his head.

Nick: Kazys back to his feet ... COURTESY OF THE MURDER SHOW! Deadlift ... into a straitjacket German suplex! What incredible strength to deadlift the 270 pound Jankauskas!

Richard: Point the first; he outweighs him by 85 pounds. Point the second; around these parts, we just like to call that HESS SMASH.

Nick: Call it whatever you want, it's devastating nonetheless, and Hessian's not done!

Richard: He's never done, young Nicholas. Ever.

Nick: The Murder Show keeps flowing right through, into a reverse face lock, up goes the Iron Wolf ... AND STRAIGHT DOWN HE GOES! Lock and Load from Hessian!

Richard: That's a lot of spinning and crashing that I want absolutely no part of.

Nick: Hessian hooks the leg...

ONE...

TWO...

THRRRNOOOO!!! Kickout by Kazys at two-point-five!

Richard: 2.53433 to be precise.

Nick: You and your finally calibrated PRIME-engraved Swiss watch.

Richard: Available on a Black Friday special at PRIMEshop.com.

Nick: Blatant shill ... check.

Kazys tries to roll free after kicking out, but finds himself unable to escape, since Hessian has already grabbed him by the leg and pulled backwards in the Demonizer.

Nick: Demonizer locked in! That excruciating half crab/ankle lock hybrid!

Richard: I think I here bone snapping. Or, somebody behind me just bit into a big pile of pretzels. About a 50-50 chance of either one.

Nick: Hess is cranking on this hold, and he's got Jankauskas in the middle of the ring! This could send Hessian to King of Kings!

Richard: Yeah, forgot about Chainz, dude.

Nick: Chainz makes the save with a clothesline that nearly DECAPITATES the Murder Show! Kazys Jankauskas almost had no choice but to tap out, and Chainz kept this match going with a brutal lariat.

Richard: He's funny like that.

With Hessian down, Chainz tries to pick up where the Murder Show left off and lock in his own version of the Demonizer, but Kazys slips free and kicks Chainz into the corner.

Nick: Jankauskas is favoring that left ankle, but he's got a chance to turn the tide in his favor. He's charging at Chainz, and he drills him with a knee to the back in the corner!

Richard: Crude, yet effective. Not my style, but I'm not a giant Lithuanian madman.

Nick: Kazys scrapes Chainz out of the corner, full nelson ... BRIDGING DRAGON SUPLEX! Sloan's shoulders are down...

ONE...

TWO...

THRRRRRRRRTWOANDNINETENTHS!!!!

Richard: You have some extraordinary lung capacity, my friend.

Nick: The Iron Wolf isn't wasting any time, setting right up for the Labanakt!

Richard: Yeah, that thing. He needs to buy a vowel or two on that name.

Nick: Wrist-clutch exploder coming up ... NOT THIS TIME! Double sledge by Hessian breaks it up!

Richard: This guy's got some SERIOUS timing.

Nick: Chainz is still prone, Big Hess has him ... BALLISTA! Gigantic release crucifix powerbomb tosses the Intense Champion all the way across the ring!

Richard: And here comes Kazys!

Nick: Jankauskas in a dead sprint ... runs right into a tilt-a-whirl ... Kiss Of Death! Hessian spiked him with the Kiss of Death!

Richard: And now it's time for a little trip on the Hellevator.

Hessian scoops Kazys up into the Canadian Backbreaker rack, but before he can execute the Ganso bomb, Kazys begins to fight his way free with elbows to the head. Hess holds on, but the Iron Wolf's struggle has given Chainz enough time to rise up and shake off the cobwebs.

Nick: Hellevator coming up...

Richard: Hellevator STALLED.

Nick: HUGE BOOT FROM CHAINZ BREAKS IT UP!

Richard: Aw, and Hess landed in the ropes and got all tied and trussed like a Christmas roast! Five bucks to anyone who goes out there and tickles him.

Nick: Kazys is still dazed, and eats a kick to the stomach from Chainz!

Richard: This won't end well.

As Chainz folds up Jankauskas, Hessian can only watch on as he tries - unsuccessfully - to thrash his way free. Up goes Kazys once, then down with a brutal powerbomb, only to be scooped straight into the sky once more.

Richard: One down, one to go...

Nick: CHAIN REACTION!!!!!!

Richard: Ain't nobody that gets up from that.

Nick: Jacknife cover by Chainz...

ONE...

TWO...

THREEEEEEE!!!! AND HESSIAN BREAKS FREE!

Richard: But, a second too late!

DING! DING! DING!

Nick: Hessian nearly tore the damn ring down to escape, and he finally did, but it was just after referee Tommy Giles counted three, as the Murder Show could only look on as Chainz advanced in the Jewel in the Crown.

Richard: Too little, too late. That's what gets you in times like these.

Vince Howard: Here is your winner ... CHAAAAAAIIIINNNNZZZZ!!!!

Nick: Ladies and Gentlemen, Chainz has officially broken the PRIME record for most consecutive victories ever with eleven in a row. Eleven.

Richard: The man is clearly a monster.

Nick: No doubt about that.

Richard: And he's the fourth and final participant in the Jewel in the Crown. What a lineup we have for that one, huh?

Nick: It might be the most stacked Jewel in the Crown final four ever and considering all the back stories, wow.

Richard: I'll leave the kissing ass to you, buddy boy.

Nick: The winner of Bracket A, Brandon Youngblood. The silent pariah. He has vowed not to speak until he contends for the Championship. He made his way through Nitz Donnelly in Round 1 and the triple threat match of Diego Foster and Elise Ares in Round 2. He's looking to cap off a phenomenal comeback with two victories at King of Kings.

Richard: If Chainz doesn't rip his arm off first.

Nick: The winner of Bracket B, Tyler Rayne...Definitely not the silent type. Ever since he came back, which was only two shows ago, he's shown that two broken legs hasn't slowed him down a bit. He went through Jeb Stewart in pretty dominant fashion and survived good friend Bryan Dawkins and Hoyt Williams in Round 2. He is also looking to get back on the cusp of the Universal Championship at King of Kings.

Richard: Potentially the best talent ever in PRIME never to win the big one?

Nick: With his resume, it's very hard to make an argument against that.

Richard: Now onto the favorite of the tournament.

Nick: He might not be the favorite, but he won Bracket C, and he is the man you see in the ring before you, Chainz. Ever since UltraViolence 2009, he's been unbeatable. Nobody has been able to stop him, from Jonathan Rhine to Kaiser Vashaun to the two men in the ring right now. He defeated Benjamin Johnson in Round 1 and just endured a grueling battle against stablemates Kazys and Hessian. When it comes to big match experience, he might be the dark horse, but you would be a fool to count Michael Sloan out of anything.

Richard: Damn straight.

Nick: And the winner of Bracket D, the returning Tchu. What can be said about this man that hasn't already been said? He might have come back a time or two too much, but the man can still hang with the best wrestlers in the world today. He defeated Tony Gamble in a Round 1 classic and earlier this evening knocked off Roque de la Red and Jacob McKail to secure his spot in the Final Four.

Richard: So the matches. I know BLT dropped them on you so let's hear them.

Nick: Ladies and Gents, the matches for King of Kings, at least the semifinals will be as followed: The winner of Bracket A, Brandon Youngblood will take on...That man right there, Chainz.

Richard: Now that...Considering what we saw moments ago, is gonna be nuts.

Nick: Which leaves a match for the ages as the other semifinal match. Tyler Rayne will be taking on Tchu.

Richard: That's a pretty big deal.

Nick: Indeed it is, and I'm sure we are going to see a lot from the four of them next week.

Richard: This card is shaping up to be pretty ridiculous.

Nick: Indeed it is, Richard. For all of us at PRIME, Lisa Tyler, Richard Parker, I'm Nick Stuart signing off for ReVolution 213.

As the show goes off the air, Chainz backs up the ramp, grinning wickedly as he savors his victory.