The light snow descends on the parking lot outside the Alerus Center in Grand Forks. Until now, it's been unseasonably pleasant weather in the small city. Tonight however, the temperature is about to sink and more snow is to fall.

Some of the staff stands outside, puffing away on cigarettes and chatting up the job a few did in setting up the ring and stage for tonight's event. Their attention span is tested, however, as the sound of air exhausting and the roar of a diesel engine is heard from not too far away. When the source of the noise comes closer, more staff members take notice as the vehicle comes into sight. Exhaust plums into the air as the mammoth machine pulls up to the arena. The newly restored, long nose Peterbilt comes to a stop and begins to win stares from the many crew members. The sily black and purple paint job accents the chrome finish on the twin smoke stacks and the shined up fuel tanks and rims.

Behind it, a modified trailer has been painted to match the rest of the truck and dark tinted windows are visible. The air horn sounds a couple times, grabbing the attention of any people outside who had not been paying attention.

Crew Member: What the hell?

Stage Tech: I've never seen that truck at an event before.

A loud exhaust of air is heard as the air brakes apply and the engine ceases operation. The lights die as the passenger door opens followed by the driver's door.

Stepping into the fresh snow flakes, the two figures can't be mistaken. The black hood covers the head of the driver, but the sleeveless sweater reveals the never ending display of tattoos covering his arms. Vance Raymes makes his way over to the passenger side to meet up with his partner. The Ego walks to the back of the truck and opens the side cubby hole.

Crew Member: Dude! That's a sick lookin' truck!

The members of Change In Spades pay no mind to the compliment as seconds later, both men close the door to the storage compartment. Raymes turns and reveals a rather large item resting on his shoulder. Donnelly pats another large weapon in his free hand as both make their move towards the arena.

Matt Mills: What's all the commotion about out here?

The PRIME Interviewer steps through the doors and is met by the approaching duo out looking for revenge. He doesn't have a mic in his hand this time. The staff members standing in front of them begin to part like the Red Sea as the Spades make their way between them. Their weapons come into view now. Raymes is carrying a very large solid steel pipe looking item. The Ego brandishes a very large stainless steel wrench. Both men don't look afraid to use the weapons if they need to and the staff members have already figured this out. Matt Mills is the only thing standing in their way.

Matt Mills: Guys, how's Leticia? I went to see her in the hospital soon after the show ended last week.

The Spades stop in front of Mills, focused looks on their faces never wavering.

Vance: Fine.

All three men look at each other. Nobody moves.

Nitz: You don't have a microphone Matt.

Matt Mills: So?

Vance: So you're getting in the way of us and the bones we wanna break.

Matt nods, moving to the side. He doesn't do it out of fear for himself, he does it in agreement with what Raymes and Donnelly have in mind for certain members of the roster. He saw Leticia and there was certainly no valid excuse for the sick attack she was forced to endure.

Change In Spades move past him and enter the double doors to the arena. The crew members both look on, one stomping out his cig on the pavement.

Crew Member: Man, that was a god damn Snipe Bar Raymes was carrying. He's gonna kill someone with that thing.

Millsy looks as the double doors close and looks back towards the Crew Member. Another nod seems to condone that behavior.

Matt Mills: Yep, and I can't blame them one bit for it.

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.

The pyrotechnics for ReVolution 214 tower toward the heavens, signifying the official start of the last show for the King of Kings arc. This evening is expected to be chock full of chaos after the potential riot last week involving Tyler Nelson's Army and a slew of other superstars. Everybody in the building has some sort of agenda and none of them are scared to promote it.

Scanning into the crowd, those who have lumbered into the building get their nanosecond of camera time, jumping over one another and screaming like a pack of wild dogs. Given the recent ReVolutions, tonight should definitely be one for the books.

Over at the announcers table, Richard Parker is for once not gorging on food but shuffling papers much like his partner in crime, Nick Stuart. The voice in Nick's ear indicates that ReVolution is...now.

Nick: Welcome everyone to ReVolution 214!

Richard: The last before we find out that Chainz is indeed the Jewel in the Crown of 2009.

Nick: He's got some stiff competition and all of them are in attendance this evening. I can't imagine any of them not being after the events of last week.

Richard: Let's just say that it's good to be in PRIME. We're back to the old days when riots were happening every other card. It's just a good time.

Nick: You are just hoping some fans go tumbling in the wake and you can pick up some free buffet food out of their wallets.

Richard: It could happen.

Nick: Folks, it certainly could. Michael Sloan, notorious by his absence on the last few cards, made a significant impact on ReVolution 213 and the ramifications are being felt by the entire roster.

Richard: He is leading the Nelson Army into 2010 and nobody wants to get in his way.

Nick: Well, there are a few men unafraid of The Monster and for Lisa Tyler's sake, she better hope that Brandon Youngblood can cool off the red hot beast at King of Kings.

Richard: We are going to get a preview of that this evening.

Nick: Indeed we are. We've cut back on the matches but that doesn't mean the quality has diminished. In a six person tag, Johnny Raindance and Bryan Dawkins, confirmed opponents for King of Kings, will be teaming up with a mystery partner to go against perhaps the most awkward team in the history of PRIME.

Richard: Those guys have enough history to write a few short stories.

Nick: Hessian will team with Jay Phoenix, the newest member of the Nelson Army, and I'm being told we'll get a reason as to why he joined later tonight, and also on their team is going to be the man he betrayed last week...Troy Douglas.

Richard: Not to mention that Hessian owns Troy Douglas seven days a week.

Nick: And then in the Main Event, an insane 8 man tag that I have a feeling won't stay in the ring for long-

Richard: Gee, wonder what gave you that impression.

Nick: Chainz, Tyler Nelson, and the Wolves of Slaughter will face off against Diego Foster, Brandon Youngblood, and Change in Spades.

Richard: We are going to need an entire squad of security to keep this match in the building.

Nick: And not to mention we have other individuals easily capable of creating a scene on their way or already in the building: Tony Gamble, Devin Shakur, and Universal Champion, Jason Snow.

Richard: You just get the feeling it's going to be one of those nights.

Nick: Well we're about to find out if indeed it is. Let's start the show.

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

Nick: Here we go! It looks like the champ has finally decided to "grace" us with his presence.

The crowd gives a mixed reaction, albeit a loud one, as the PRIME Universal champion emerges from backstage, his title gleaming on his shoulder. The remnants of the Great American Nightmare are still healing along his hairline.

Nick: Last week, Jason Snow told the boss that he wouldn't be taking part in any of Tyler Nelson's mind games, and I've got to say, I think it's a smart move on his part. If he's going to win this battle, he's got to keep it where he's best - in the ring. Because as much as I hate to admit it, when it comes to psychological warfare, there's just no one in Tyler Nelson's league.

Richard: You know, Stuart, you spent weeks verbally abusing our champ, but now, just because he's at odds with Tyler Nelson, you're paying him compliments. Make up your damn mind.

Nick: Well, there are a lot of things about Jason Snow that I don't like, but there's not much worse I can imagine than Tyler Nelson as our Universal Champion.

Richard: Now you know what I went through when Chandler Tsonda was running around here with that belt.

The music dies as Snow enters the ring, microphone in hand. He waits for the audience to quiet.

Snow: So here we are peasants... plebes. Wenches. Right on the brink of King of Kings - King of Kings, where Jason Snow's dominance began in 2008. Where Jason Snow's dominance will continue - WILL CONTINUE - in 2009.

There's a reaction from the crowd at that, but whether or not it's positive or negative, no one can say for sure.

Snow: Now, I know a lot of you have been wondering where I've been these past few weeks. Wondering where the Villain was while Tyler Nelson and his group of circus freaks ran wild around this place. Wondering - is the champ hurt? Is the champ sick? Where's the champ? Some of you even had the audacity to think... to think... to think I was scared.

A smirk crosses Snow's face as a smatter of cheers and boos rise up from the crowd.

Richard: Definitely made me wonder.

Nick: Well, there are a lot of bad things about Jason Snow, but I have to say, I can't imagine him being afraid of anything. I don't think his ego would allow that.

Snow: I just can't have that. I just can't have it be said that I, the G-reatest professional prize fighter of all time, was afraid of anything. GOD DAMN ANYTHING! So what am I going to do about it? What am I going to do? This! I'm going to call Tyler Nelson out, right here, right now.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!

Snow: I'll put this belt on the line at King of Kings, but right now, lets just do this for old time's sake. Who wants to see Jason Snow beat the greedy green piss out of Tyler Nelson!?

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!

Snow: Who wants to see Tyler Nelson's battered, broken body smeared all over this canvas, right here in North Dakota!?

Nick: YES!

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Snow takes a moment, grinning, glancing at the roaring crowd on either side of them.

Snow: Then I guess there's only two things we need to make that happen. First, we need the most charismatic, unbeatable, God damn near IMMORTAL, PRIME Universal Champion in God damn history!

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!

Snow: Check.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!

Nick: I can't tell if these people like Jason Snow or if they just really hate Tyler Nelson.

Snow turns to the entrance.

Snow: So I guess... I guess that means we only need one more thing...

Still staring at the entrance.

Snow: I guess we only need that sorry... slimy... cowardly... ugly, dirty, low-down son of a Saigon midget bitch... Tyler Nelson.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: Just to clarify, ladies and gentlemen, we here at PRIME have nothing against the people of Saigon.

Richard: Or midgets.

Nick: Little people.

Snow leans over the ropes, rocking with the intensity of the crowd.

Snow: Ty-ler... Ty-ler... come get what's coming to you Tyler. Time to be a man. Ty-ler... Ty-ler..

TY-LER! TY-LER! TY-LER!

Nick: We've got twenty thousand people mocking Tyler Nelson!

Richard: Don't give into these idiots Mr. Nelson! There's nothing to prove!

Nick: He's got everything to prove! But I don't think he's man enough to come out here and face Jason Snow one-on-one. For old time's sake!

TY-LER! TY-LER! TY-LER!

The chant grows louder and louder until it feels like the very core of the building is shaking. Snow flashes that smirk again.

Snow: I wouldn't get your hopes up, plebes. I think it's fairly obvious that Tyler Nelson doesn't have the GUTS... doesn't have the BA-

"Karn Evil 9" by Emerson, Lake, and Palmer

RAAAAAAAAAAAAA-BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: Here he comes! Tyler Nelson! He's going to meet the challenge after all!

In the ring, Snow looks ecstatic. He removes his leather jacket and tosses it into the crowd before unstrapping the Universal championship, kissing its face, and placing it at his feet. He crouches down, preparing to fight. Smiling.

Tyler Nelson appears at the top of the ramp, smiling too, dressed in a full suit. There’s a microphone in his hand, and by his body language, it’s obvious that he has no plans of going any further.

Tyler Nelson: Alright, alright, folks, show’s over. There’s not going to be any King of Kings preview here tonight.

He’s waving a hand.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: I knew he didn’t have the guts.

Richard: Who needs guts when you’ve got brains?

Tyler Nelson takes a long moment to eye up Jason Snow at a distance, glaring disapprovingly. He shakes his head.

Tyler Nelson: You know, Snow, nothing’s changed. I mean, look, I’ll give credit where credit is due. You’re an ok athlete.

Nick: An "ok" athlete?

Tyler Nelson: You’ve got a decent look. And even though your gimmick is tired, I guess it’s still got a few miles worth of amusement left on it.

It’s Tyler’s turn to smirk.

Tyler Nelson: But damn it, Snow, it was true back when I took you under my wing in Greed Inc, and it’s just as true now... you don’t know the first thing... about BUSINESS!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Tyler Nelson: While I’m sure it might give the ratings a bit of a spike to see you and I go toe to toe for nothing but pride, you’ve got to start thinking about the BIG picture, Snow. Pay-Per-View buyrates. Who’s going to want to pay to see me take your title if I show them tonight that it’s an inevitable conclusion?

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nelson smiles, eyeing the fans at either side of him before turning his attention back to Snow.

Tyler Nelson: You know, Snow, I’ve spe-

Snow: SHUT YOUR GOD DAMN MOUTH!

Nick: WHOA!

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!

Nelson’s mouth tightens and his eyes grow hard.

Nick: I don’t think Mr. Nelson appreciates that kind of disrespect!

Richard: If only these guys could get along.

Snow: You can talk about buyrates and you can talk about ratings and you can talk about business, but all I know, Tyler, is me beating your ass has been a long time coming!

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!

Snow: So you either take what’s coming to you in the ring, or so help me God, you sniveling, yellow, gutless bastard - I will make it my personal mission to hunt you down and give you what’s been coming to you all these years!

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!

Nelson looks angry at the top of the ramp.

Tyler Nelson: So that’s the way you want it!?

Snow: Damn right that’s how I want it!

Tyler Nelson: Me and you? Right here, right now?

Snow: Come on down you son of a bitch!

Nelson looks from one side of him to the other.

TY-LERRRRR! TY-LERRR! TY-LERRRR!

Nelson huffs, and then with the dirtiest look in his playbook, he says:

Tyler Nelson: FINE! FINE! FINE!

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!

Nick: Here we go!

Richard: Don’t do it, Mr. Nelson! It’s bad for business!

Nick: This goes way beyond business!

Nelson stomps toward the ring, pulling his jacket off and tossing it aside. He starts to work on his tie and his buttons after that, and soon enough, he’s in the ring. Snow gives him some room, grinning ear to ear, but then, just as he’s about to pounce, Nelson backs off toward the ropes with his hands up.

Tyler Nelson: HOLD IT! HOLD IT! HOLD IT!

Snow obliges, reluctantly.

Nelson scowls.

Tyler Nelson: Before I put you in your place right here, tonight, in North Dakota....

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!

Tyler Nelson: OH SHUT YOUR MOUTHS! THE PLACE SMELLS LIKE PISS!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Turns back to Snow.

Tyler Nelson: You know, Snow, for years, I’ve listened to you go on and on about greatness and superiority and all your other nonsense. But truth be told, Snow, there’s a lot you can learn from me - a lot I tried to teach you back when you were with me in Greed Inc. Obviously, you’re never going to figure out the business side of things, but that’s only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the things you’re completely ignorant of.

Snow approaches Nelson, getting uncomfortably close.

Nick: Wait a minute... we’ve got a disturbance in the crowd here... something’s going on. NO! NO! That’s Chainz!

The one and only Michael Sloan emerges from the audience and steps over the barricade, completely unbeknownst to Jason Snow in the ring. Elsewhere, there are other rumblings in the crowd.

Nick: GOD NO! This was a set up! That’s Hessian! The Wolves of Slaughter! The whole Nelson Army is coming out here through the crowd.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Tyler Nelson: You see, Snow...

Nelson smiles as his army creeps into the ring behind the Universal champion. One by one, they close in, and all around the crowd is booing hard. Hessian is all business. Elise Ares bounces lightly on her toes while Kazys is stone cold. Chainz looks positively gleeful.

Tyler Nelson: You never learned how important it is in this business... to keep some friends close.

Snow: You know, Nelson, I’m running out of pati-

It’s at exactly this moment that Snow’s eyes catch a glimpse of the big screen, and on it, he sees his dire predicament. The entire world freezes.

Nick: This is going to be a slaughter! It’s five on one!

Snow peeks over his right shoulder. Chainz. He peeks over the left. Hessian.

He takes a deep breath and looks up at the lights. And then back down at Nelson.

Snow: So that’s how this is going to be, you son of a bitch?

Tyler Nelson does nothing but smile.

Snow: Fine.

But not for long.

Snake Eyes.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!

Tyler Nelson eats it and stumbles backward and then out through the ropes. Snow whirls on Chainz, swinging his microphone, but the monster is ready and he blocks it. A heavy forearm from Hessian comes crashing through and the moment of elation is over. Cheers turn to boos as the champ tumbles and falls, and then the feast is on. Kazys Jankauskas fires devastating boots into Snow’s ribs while Chainz drops knee after knee on the other side.

Nick: Come on!

Snow tries to fight, but he’s devoured, taking shot after shot.

Nick: This is not right! Someone has to do something about this! Someone in the back! Anyone!

With Snow taking his beating in the ring, the camera cuts backstage.

First we see Bryan Dawkins, watching on a monitor, his arms crossed. He doesn’t look happy, but he doesn’t look like he’s about to offer a helping hand either.

Next we get a look at Diego Foster. He’s watching a monitor too, and also unmoving.

Change in Spades are next, but nothing’s different.

Jason Snow has burned plenty of bridges in his time.

Back in the ring, Tyler Nelson is up again. He’s wobbly, but he’s back in the ring, and he’s got his microphone again. He’s screaming at Chainz.

Tyler Nelson: Get him up! Put him up! Powerbomb this son of a bitch!

Chainz wastes no time obliging, and with visible delight, he hoists the long-time Universal champ high above his head, and then sends him crashing down to the mat.

Tyler Nelson: Hit him again! Do it again!

Chainz pulls Snow’s lifeless body up off the mat and hits him with the second patented powerbomb.

Tyler Nelson: That’s right! That’s right! Give him to me! Give him to me now!

Hessian scrapes Snow’s carcass off the mat and hurls him toward his boss’ feet. With absolute glee, Tyler Nelson picks Snow up and stuffs his head beneath his arm.

Richard: Greed is good!

Nick: No!

Greed is good.

Nelson plants Snow’s forehead into the gold face of the Universal Championship.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

After that, he raises his arms in victory.

"Karn Evil 9" by Emerson, Lake, and Palmer

Nelson picks up the Universal Title for a moment, grinning at his own reflection in it, and then he drops it across Snow’s body. He and the army leave the ring.

Nick: How is Snow ever going to overcome these odds!? He’s not just facing one man - he’s facing the entire Nelson Army! There’s no one backstage willing to help him after all his time as... well... Jason Snow.

The scene shifts backstage where we see one Tyler Rayne, watching the carnage. He takes a deep breath and then he spits.

Rayne: Fuck’m.

Back in the ring, Snow lies motionless on the canvas, and then we’re taken elsewhere.

Recorded Earlier Today

PRIME corridors aren't usually built for outlandish occurrences. Sure, the occasional wrestling fiasco might take place in the halls, but never has such an event sparked widespread media coverage based off a practical joke which nobody appears to know the antagonist for.

Matt Mills stands in front of three Go-Karts with an OLD SKOOL MIC!!!!!!!!11 in hand. We would also like to mention that this segment is sponsored by the Sonny Silver Acme Corporation. Flood of individuals surround every inch of the racing track, all of whom are player hating on a specific entity in the race.

The microphone lowers into Mills' arm and he slips the cord around his hand to ensure it won't rise up prematurely.

Matt Mills: Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the first ever PRIME Mario Kart race.

HOO! HOO! HOO! HOO! HOO! HOO! HOO! HOO! HOO! HOO!

Matt Mills: Today's contest will be three laps throughout the Alerus Center with the winner being the first team or individual to break the red ribbon at the end of the third lap. As I'm sure you all know, this glorious race started over a short stack of pancakes.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Tony Gamble's posse of midgets jump up and down but nobody on camera notices them.

Matt Mills: Mr. Gamble believes The Oompas ordered the waitress to bring the food while The Oompas believe it was Mr. Gamble. The battle was then taken to Facebook where Mega Job accepted the open invitation to join in this race. Quite frankly I have no idea why, but NONETHELESS... We are happy to have them here.

...

Nobody cheers for Mega Job. Not even Al Snow.

Matt Mills: Introducing first, they hail from the Lollipop Guild-

GEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Matt Mills: Six of the finest racers in the world live and painted in living color...THE OOMPA LOOMPAS!

Oompa Loompa Doopa De Do
Our Pimp Hands Are Strong Against Joo

The Oompa Loompas emerge from the side closet to a roaring ovation. A few of them have used eye black and painted their faces even more. Why? It's chuckle worthy in my head right now. Deal with it. They hop into a two piece car that can detach in the middle and become two separate cars. I say that only because it will be used as a spot.

Matt Mills: Introducing their opponents, accompanied by Steve the Rambling Communist-

STEVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

All the people in the hood know who Steve be.

Matt Mills: They are truly the biggest losers our great nation has ever seen, yeah we're still looking at you Detroit Lions...MEGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA JOBBBBBBBBBBBBB!

Gunshots ring out through the boombox Steve brings with him. Mega Job strut into their kart and size up the Oompas.

El Janito: For once we are not the underdogs in a contest, Beef.

Beef: This is truly a miraculous day in the history of Mega Job.

Matt Mills: And finally, hailing from Las Vegas Nevada by way of the overhead storage compartment in the PRIME plane...He is the Dom Perignon of Midgets...TONY GAMBLEEEEEEEEEE!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGAMBLEYOUMYBABYDADDY!

I know
You know
I'm on FIAHHHHHHHHHH

If you don't know who I be
You betta ask somebody bout me

The Grin pimp walks out and hops into his vehicle, growling menacingly at the Oompas and barely acknowledging Mega Job.

Matt Mills: Alright, guys you all know the rules...They aren't any.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Matt Mills: ...GENTLEMEN, START YOUR ENGINES!

VROOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!

Matt Mills: ANDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD GO! I will now hand it over to your commentators.

Fade to Devin Shakur and Bryan Dawkins sitting in a booth with disgusted looks on their faces.

Devin Shakur: How the f**k did we get roped in this shit?

Bryan Dawkins: Asking the wrong guy, bruh.

The world of professional wrestling can be a real mind fuck sometimes. We can be fair about the fact that people who choose this career are not the most balanced of individuals. Life on the road can eat at what fragile bits of sanity remain. Consider this…

PRIME is an entertainment juggernaut. Each edition of ReVolution draws in thousands of live attendees and millions of viewers at home. The professional wrestling business pulls in hundreds of millions of dollars annually. Like any good business, PRIME thrives on brand recognition. When fans show up at the arena, or tune their televisions to FX for the night, they are welcomed by a familiar and comforting sight. The stage set-up. The ring placement. The announce team. ReVolution is a visually recognizable product. To accomplish this, things must remain as consistent as possible.

Now consider the corridor appearing on the PRIME*View or a loyal television set at this exact moment. The same black production crates are stacked against the dull walls. The same nameless crew members shuffle through the scene, all buzzing about the same business that preoccupies them every week. The neutral colored paint on the wall. The fluorescent lights. It all looks near identical to what was on television last week. It may as well be the same damn arena.

Of course, it is not. Last week was Tennessee. This week is North Dakota. It is a twenty hour drive from one to the other. Five hour flight. Regardless of how each member of the PRIME roster (and staff) decides to arrive at the next destination… they have to get there somehow. Which means that a journey of some sort has been made. Even documented in some fashion, most likely. There is a lapse of time in which other events take place. Autograph signings. Radio and television appearances. Charity banquets. Time spent with families, for those fortunate enough to have them. Things happen.

Tyler Rayne knows for an absolute fact that he left Knoxville last week. He remembers it quite vividly. There was a mob of women waiting outside the building in hopes that he would still be wearing that Native American getup from the Thanksgiving spectacular. These women were well rewarded for their patience when The Underground Pimp did, in fact, leave the arena in nothing but an animal skin loin cloth. Someone (we’re looking at you, Bryan Dawkins) thought it would be hilarious to hide Rayne’s civilian clothes and then forget to tell him before they left the arena. No doubt some janitor in Tennessee is making a cool grand on eBay right about now. The underwear alone should net about five or six hundred.

The point is, he very clearly remembers leaving the arena last week. He remembers flying out to the East Coast for a few days before catching a red-eye out to North Dakota. There was a radio show this morning. Now there is the Alerus Center for ReVolution. The longest reigning 5-Star Champion in PRIME history is walking down the very corridor shown on the PRIME*View (and televisions across the company) right now. He wonders aloud…

Tyler Rayne: Is it just me, or are these the same gods damned hallways from last week? I’d [bleep]ing swear to Hoyt that is the same stack of boxes where I talked to Captain Caveman. Look, there’s even a shitty broom closet next to the crates.

See what we mean? This whole traveling circus thing can be a real mind job. Now most times our boy here likes a good job. Blow job. Hand job. Tit job on occasion. This whole all-the-hallways-look-the-same, wasnt-i-just-in-this-building bullshit, though? It’s enough to drive a man insane. Even more than he already may be.

Tyler Rayne: Christ, I’m in the building for five minutes and I already need a drink.

His young Chinese-American companion sighs from a few steps behind. She is wearing a pink mini with matching heels and sports jacket. The girl rolls her eyes in exasperation.

Juli Lee: You have been drinking, Ty. For like… the past three hours.

Tyler Rayne: Well that would explain why I have to piss so [bleep]ing bad. Shit, I hope they still have those Leonard Aarons urinal cakes in the bathroom. Nothin’ like pissin’ on that douche’s face to make a good evening better.

The Golden Boy smiles a bit at the thought. More than a bit. He is completely lost in the idea of pissing on Illtown’s face (and probably other various ways of embarrassing The People’s Chump). So much so that he continues walking down the very same corridor from last week. You saw it. He saw it. Same thing. Juli stops. Waits. He keeps walking. She clears her throat after a good two or three yards. It is only then that Rayne realizes he is alone. The Underground Pimp turns to see his personal assistant standing some distance behind, arms crossed over her chest. You been shopping lately? Seen that look on a mother’s face when she has just had enough of her children and the Christmas and the screaming. Like she’s two seconds from tearing the intestines out of the next living thing that walks by and using the length of it to hogtie her little hellspawn. Yeah. Well Juli kinda has that look right now. Her head tilts ever so to the left. Rayne looks at the black silhouette painted on the door to her left and smiles.

Tyler Rayne: Huh. Thanks.

Juli Lee: Someone has to take care of you. It’s obvious you aren’t capable.

Tyler Rayne: I do just fine for myself, [bleep] you very much.

Juli Lee: How many times have you been shot? Stabbed? Died?

Tyler Rayne: Now there are very legitimate reasons for most of those… not all of that is my fault… there were occasions… and more than one person who… shit. Yeah. Thank you.

Juli Lee: You’re welcome.

Tyler Rayne: You can find the locker room well enough on your own?

She nods.

Tyler Rayne: You’ve still got the twenty-two?

Juli Lee: Ty…

His face is suddenly serious. Intense even. She cannot hold that gaze but rather just nods at the floor.

Tyler Rayne: Good. You see ‘im… he takes even a step toward you. Looks at you at all… just unload and run. Sloan’s a big guy, you won’t miss. Aim for the chest. The stomach. Whatever. Point. Shoot. Run. Don’t look back.

Juli Lee: Is that… is this really going to be necessary?

Tyler Rayne: I doubt it. But after last week, I’m not taking any chances. There’s a good chance I’ll meet him in the finals of the Crown. Just in case he wants to make a preemptive strike or somethin’…

Juli Lee: OK. I’ll be careful.

Tyler Rayne: Thank you.

The Hero of the Day seems to lighten instantly. The corners of his lips curl back into a small smile. The mischievous twinkle returns to his eyes. He shrugs the black leather racing jacket from his shoulders, revealing the hot off the assembly line, brand spankin’ (and we use this word with a modicum of humor) new T-Rayne t-shirt. Simple black tee, just the way he likes ‘em, with one word written across the chest in white letters. The letters are splattered on the tee, sort of like a paintball may explode, or some other viscous goo might spread upon impact. Four letters. One word. COME.

Tyler Rayne: Take my jacket?

She gets paid to do more than point out where the bathrooms are, right? The cute young girl folds his jacket over her arm and takes a step forward. He watches, concern suddenly etching the stubble.

Juli Lee: I’ll be fine. Dawkins is in the locker room. Just take a [bleep]in’ piss already. Damn.

The personal assistant shakes her head once. How quick she is to change roles from annoyed mother to overprotected teen. Her heels clack away down the hall. Tyler watches until the pink disappears around the corner, then turns to push his way into the bathroom. There is another word printed on the back of his shirt. Same font style. Four letters. One word. BACK.

Now the corridor you may have seen before. From one arena to the next, those halls all look the same. We’re in a restroom now. About to pony up to a urinal with Tyler Rayne (Thank the Baby Jesus, they do still have those Leonard Aarons urinal cakes). It’s damn near a guarantee you’re about to see something you haven’t seen before.

Sixteen women in the Alerus Center just fainted. There are about seven hundred more readying their photographic devices. Every woman watching at home just pressed Record on the DVR. A quarter of them are home alone. Lights off. Pants down. Even Elise Ares is scooting a bit closer to the monitor in the Wolves locker room. Lisa Tyler is making a preemptive phone call to her censors. The FCC is making a preemptive phone call to Lisa Tyler. The entire female populace is hanging on the precipice of glorious possibility.

The most wanted man in PRIME saddles up in front of the urinal and, much to the disappointment of almost an entire nation, secretly unzips his fly behind a safety screen of porcelain. An audible groan can be heard from the females in attendance. The Underground Pimp offers that sexiest of smiles in response to the sound. The women swoon all over again. Some of the ladies at home have vivid imaginations and the groans coming from their couches are not ones of disappointment. Swoon? Long done. Those women are much closer to the print on the front of his shirt.

Speaking of close, who is that fine fellow there standing about three urinals down from The Golden Boy? That son of a bitch who just became the object of jealousy for all those lustful ladies watching right now. Funny we should ask. See, our boy Tyler was so busy enjoying a luxurious piss all over LA3’s mug(shot?), that he did not even notice that fellow standing a few urinals over. The man with the smooth, shaved head. Tyler looks back down into his own urinal. Up at the shaved head. Back down in the urinal again. Up to the head. Down. Up. Down. All the strange and unnecessary movement grabs the attention of our mysterious shaved friend. So when The Underground Pimp looks up for a final time, he is greeted with a stone cold glare from two narrowed green eyes.

Ladies and gentlemen, one of four Jewel in the Crown semi-finalists and a former three time 5-Star Champion… Brandon Youngblood.

Tyler Rayne: Anyone ever tell you you kinda look like a big dick? I mean literally. You look like a giant [bleep]ing penis. Never noticed it myself until just now. You know, where I can compare the two. It’s… very strange.

One might imagine that Mr. Youngblood would be less than amused at such a comment. His face certainly seems to indicate as much. Of course, on the flip side, the Hero of the Day is nothing but smiles.

Tyler Rayne: Son of a bitch. You’ve got that whole not talking thing goin’ on, don’t ya? How convenient for me, cause I don’t [bleep]ing shut up. This is just too good. Tell me somethin’. I mean, don’t, cause you’re not talking, but… you actually plan on going through with the rest of this tournament? I just… I was thinking the last time you and I were in some sort of tournament together you pussied out with some bullshit injury right before you were scheduled to face me and I proceeded to take your then vacant 5-Star Championship on an historic and unprecedented run.

Youngblood seems to have emptied the tank. Or maybe he’s just putting it on hold until he can find another, quieter facility to relieve himself. The Pariah steps away from the urinal and marches quickly past a potential opponent at King of Kings. Not that he would leave the bathroom before washing his hands first. So while Youngblood is washing his hands and Rayne is still urinating on a face not even a mother could love (look, he had a lot to drink before the show), the door to the bathroom opens and yet another imposing and recognizable figure steps inside.

Call it fate. Call it destiny. Call it dumb fucking luck for all we care. This is an arena built to hold thousands. There are probably dozens of facilities spread throughout the building. What are the odds that three of the semi-finalists for the Jewel in the Crown tournament would end up in the same gods damned restroom? Seriously. Youngblood is washing his hands like most hygienic people do, when the door opens and The Inhuman Being strides on in… only to take a moment’s pause at the unexpected situation. There is a tense moment between Tchu and Youngblood as both men contemplate where this could lead. The moment is quickly interrupted by more babbling from just around the corner. There is a half-wall there that prevents The Golden Boy from seeing the latest arrival to North Dakota’s most popular public restroom.

Tyler Rayne: I bet I know what you’re thinking, too. You held that belt, what? Three times? That’s sort of impressive in its own right. Or at least I thought until I actually looked it up and the combined length of your three title reigns doesn’t actually add up to my one. Which is… sort of pathetic when you think about it. Anyway, on the off chance that you miraculously scrape by Chainz to make the finals, I was just wondering if you were planning to pull your spleen or some other ridiculous [bleep]ing bullshit to get out of fighting me. Again. Not like I won’t make it past Tchu. Dude’s tough and all, but he’s retired and come back more times than Elise Ares has caught the clap. Not exactly what I’d call dedicated, you know?

PRIME’s Wrecking Ball raises an eyebrow at those last few remarks. Youngblood just shrugs and dries his hands. The Underground Pimp finally finishes his business and steps away from the urinal. He damn near turns right into the solid frame of a former two-time Universal Champion. A former champion who does not look particularly happy. Rayne meets his gaze with a smirk.

Tyler Rayne: Somethin’ on your mind, Chewie? Or you just stop by to get a peek at the goods?

The Inhuman Being stands motionless, arms folded across his chest. For a moment, he returns Rayne’s smirk with a stone-faced glare, before turning his attention to Youngblood, pointing at The Golden Boy.

Tchu: Guys mouth never stops, does it?

Tyler Rayne: I’m afraid Dickhead there isn’t speaking. You’ll need to direct all questions and concerns in this direction. I suppose you have a problem with something I said? Was it the thing about not being dedicated? How I’m gonna take you out in the semi-finals? Or was it the stuff about Elise having the clap… didn’t know you two were an item or anything, but if you’re…

The 2005 Jewel in the Crown jumps in, cutting off Rayne (and that’s no small feat).

Tchu: I’ve got no problem. You can say whatever you want. Run your mouth till your jaw falls off. I don’t care if you call me every four letter name in the book. Don’t care if you, ironic as it is, poke fun at my here again/gone again "dedication".

At this point, Youngblood has finished washing his hands, having grabbed a couple paper towels to wipe them dry, but he has no intention, silent observer or not, of leaving the scene. Not when two potential KoK opponents are about to start swinging haymakers.

Tyler Rayne: Don’t care what I say? Is that so?

Tchu: That’s so. Cuz that’s who you are, Ty. In the long and storied history of PRIME, no one has ever run their mouth more successfully than you. Problem is, that don’t amount to squat. For every verbal knockout you’ve racked up, I’ve knocked a guy out in the ring. For every ego-centric promo you’ve cut, I’ve main evented some show, sold out some arena. While you’ve been busy dropping pop culture references and working hard to be the resident funny man, I’ve spent a career in PRIME winning anything and everything that this company has to offer.

Tyler Rayne: Speaking of ego-centric promos…

Tchu: So keep runnin’ your mouth, Rayne. Keep jokin’ about my un-retirement, cuz when we step foot inside that ring at King of Kings, it’s not gonna be very funny anymore. And after we’re through, then I’ll worry about our mute friend or Chainz, whichever it’ll be!

Each word of the Inhuman Being’s last sentence grows louder, till his voice is practically booming, bouncing around the restroom walls.

It isn’t every day (at least, one would hope not) that a man hears his name echoing through a public restroom. And so, when such an event does in fact occur, morbid curiosity alone will lead the guy to see just what the hell is going on.

He’s merely passing through the hall, heading for the nearest collection of vending machines, but when the word "Chainz" billows out into the corridor, the hulking frame of the Intense Champion stops dead in his tracks. Turning his head toward the restroom, the monster pauses briefly before stepping toward the door. Placing his massive hand right across the word "MEN’S", he shoves the door open. When he does, he finds a strange sight. It’s a restroom alright, but no one is pissing. No one sits in an occupied stall, and no one busies themselves washing hands. Instead, three men stand in the middle of the room, locked in cold stares.

Chainz: I’ve seen some creepy shit, but this…

Tchu: Speak of the devil.

Chainz: Are you all discussing my most consecutive wins record or talking about how it’s going to feel to watch me win JitC?

Tyler Rayne: Please. Like I should be afraid of a dude who can't even score with a bitch as hard up as Lisa Tyler.

Tchu: He’s got a better chance of that happening than you beating me Rayne.

Chainz: It will happen sooner or later, women can’t turn me down for long.

Tchu: Until you rape them, right?

Chainz smiles, it’s a guilty smile except he doesn’t feel guilty.

Chainz: In the end they all want it anyway, women are whores like that.

Tyler Rayne: He does have a point. Chicks can be sluts.

Brandon Youngblood stands silently staring at his opponent at King of Kings in disgust.

Chainz: Don’t look at me with your longing eyes you fag. I bet all three of you were in here sucking each other off.

Tchu: I think you’re referring to your prison years.

Chainz: Hardy har har, now if you’ll excuse me I smell the sweet perfume of a certain young lady that needs to learn her place.

With that Chainz slides back out of the restroom.

Tchu: Sigh, that’s a PRIME record holder.

Tyler Rayne: Speaking of holding... I am not holding my cock. Nor am I letting either of you [bleep]ers, so being in this bathroom is just plain weird. Cheers, bitches.

The Underground Pimp has a fleeting moment of forgetfulness. He seems unable to remember just how much room The Inhuman Being is taking up there in the bathroom and straight checks his shoulder on the way out. Tchu grunts, but let's it slide. There will be more than enough receipt for that come King of Kings.

Tchu: He really doesn't shut up, does he?

The emotionless face of Brandon Youngblood studies PRIME's Wrecking Ball for a final moment before he, too, takes his leave. Without a word, of course. Which leaves Tchu alone in the bathroom. So we should leave him, too...

There are times when this job makes her feel as if she is working at a day care center, with all the babies whining about this that or the other, and other times when she feels so damn proud that no matter what these same babies do - they still bring in ratings that the competition wishes they had. There is a reason Revolution does so well even during it's most troubling times, and she believes that she is that reason. But it is times like this that make her drop her face into her palms and let out a blood curdling scream that garners a response she wasn't expecting.

"I know how you feel."

She stares down at her lap, unsure if she is going crazy since it sounded as if her vagina just spoke to her.

"You really let me have it last week."

She backs away from her desk, suddenly full aware of just who the voice belongs to.

"I couldn't sleep all week trying to figure out who I was going to have to face at King of Kings."

Lisa ducks down and finds Tony Gamble sitting Indian style under her desk. There's a pretty high pile of pistachio shells in front of him.

Tony Gamble: Hey there.

Lisa Tyler: How in the HELL did you get in my office and more importantly...How long have you been down there?

Tony Gamble: Long enough to figure out that isn't a Honey Baked Ham between your legs.

Her eyes narrow and her lips purse.

Lisa Tyler: Tony, I'm not in the mood to discuss my business attire.

Tony Gamble: I didn't even realize they made fishnet panties.

Now she's really angry.

Lisa Tyler: Get out of there!

His teeth are green when he smiles.

Tony Gamble: What?

Lisa Tyler: Now!

Tony walks out, leaving the pile of shells there when he does.

Tony Gamble: Okay, now you're just being a bitch.

Lisa Tyler: I doubt you want to make this worse than it already is.

The grin looks around the room, then places his hand on his chest.

Tony Gamble: You're talking to me?

Lisa Tyler: I could just as easily give you multiple opponents for the Pay-Per-View. There are plenty of superstars who would love to have a crack at the 5 Star Championship. Not to mention I can sue you for sexual harassment for trying to sneak a free peek-

Tony Gamble: I wouldn't necessarily call it free, I think TMZ paid three hundred per picture.

Tony pulls his cell phone from his pocket.

Tony Gamble: Not to mention how much I made off of the people in my contacts.

The Boss keeps her glare fixated on The Grin. She's really not in the mood to deal with another disturbance after the anticipated ones she'll have to deal with before the evening is over.

Lisa Tyler: Get out. Right now, or I'm going to make you defend the belt tonight.

She extends her arm and points toward the door.

Tony Gamble: Is it Bryan Dawkins?

Lisa Tyler: DAM! How would you like to become a PRIME Champion?

Tony Gamble: Okay, I'm leaving.

Tony walks over and opens the door, pausing slightly and looking back in.

Tony Gamble: So how many people know about that tattoo?

Lisa Tyler: ...

Tony slams the door shut behind him.

Diego Foster and Alyson Sparks are walking down a hallway somewhere in the bowels of the Alerus Center. Diego looks determined, unsmiling, hands in the pockets of his black Tapout sweatshirt. Alyson is wearing a violet blouse and a black knee length skirt, and in contrast to Diego is speaking animatedly, arms in the air, gesturing, her expression somewhere west of upset.

Alyson: I can't believe how incredibly reckless you are! You've finally made it to PRIME and you're willing to jeopardize your career by provoking Chainz. Chainz, of all people!

Diego turns to look at Alyson, incredulous.

Diego: Are you serious? I'm not scared of him. Not at all. I can hold my own in the ring with anyone. Isn't that the line you've been feeding the reporters these past two months?

Alyson: You think he's going to wait to settle this in the ring? How naive can you be?

Diego: Doesn't matter where it is. Everyone might go around saying that he's a monster, but that's just a gimmick. He's just a man, no different than any other.

Alyson: A man notorious for brutalizing women! What about my safety, did you ever think about that?

Silence hangs in the air for ten count. Diego breaks eye contact, looking at his feet, before meeting Alyson's eyes again.

Diego: Just stick with me and don't worry about it.

Alyson's about to say something when her eyes suddenly widen in fright, a scream escaping her lips as she steps behind Diego for protection. The reason becomes clear when Michael Sloan steps on camera a beat later, Intense Title draped over his shoulder. The sight of him provokes a swelling of boos from the fans in the arena. Looking at Alyson he chuckles to himself.

Chainz: That’s a nice little squeal you have lady, maybe I’ll get to hear more of it. As for your little boy, don’t listen to him, he can’t protect you. No one can protect you from me. If I want you, I’ll take you.

His smile fades as he steps up to Diego, eyes hardening as the two exchange a hate-filled stare.

Chainz: As for you, punching me in the face last week was a mistake you’re going to regret. And while it's kinda amusing to me that a crybaby fa**ot like you was able to find the balls to do it, I just can't let something like that slide.

Foster takes a step closer without hesitation.

Diego: You just name the time and place.

Chainz: How about tonight? Forget about that 8-man tag match. Why don’t we go settle this in the ring like your bitch probably wants us to. Now, since I don’t want you to go piss yourself and run out of the building I’ll make it worth your while to show up.

Sloan grabs the Intense Title from his shoulder and dangles it inches in front of Diego's face.

Chainz: Though you've done absolutely nothing since you first showed your face in PRIME, I'm going to give you an Intense Title shot tonight, just to ensure you show up in the ring for the ass-kicking you've got coming.

Diego: I don't need an Intense Title shot as an excuse to beat the living hell out of you, but if you're giving me one, I'll gladly take it.

Sloan lets out a sinister laugh, slinging the belt back up onto his shoulder. Nodding his head, he begins walking backwards, hand patting the gold.

Chainz: Great. I guess we'll be seeing each other in the ring, then. Don't be late.

He almost turns away, then turns back, looking over Alyson from head to toe, making no attempt to hide it as his smile grows wider. He turns to look at Diego again, inclining his head in Alyson's direction.

Chainz: And make sure to bring your girlfriend. I want her to have a front row seat for this.

When Diego says nothing, Sloan merely shrugs and walks away, still smiling to himself. For a few seconds there is nothing but silence as the tension clears the air, before finally Diego turns to look at Alyson, now smiling himself.

Diego: See, I told you I know what I'm doing. You've got to make your own opportunities around this place. Just had to rile up the right guy and now look, I'm going to be the Intense Champion by the end of the night. How easy was that?

Alyson doesn't return his smile, however. Worried, she only shakes her head.

The door to the dressing room opens with force, light streaming in from the hallway outside. Two figures are backlit, their features momentarily shrouded as they stand in the doorframe. The voice gives name to one of them.

"Get in there."

Tyler Nelson pushes the smaller figure into the room, slamming the door closed behind him as he flicks the light switch. In the harsh, white glow from above Jay Phoenix stands, muscles on neck bulging, as he glares over his shoulder. His fists clench and he takes a move, small but noticeable, towards the taller man.

Nelson: Don’t even think about it, Phoenix.

Phoenix: It’s just you and me now, Nelson, none of your thugs to get between us.

Nelson: I don’t need them to deal with you – not when I have this.

Nelson pulls a folded piece of paper out of his jacket and waves it under Phoenix’s nose. The smaller man reaches out, snatching it from Nelson and crumpling it in one fist. Nelson’s eyes sparkle as he gives a deep-throated laugh.

Nelson: Do what you want with that, Phoenix, it is just one of numerous copies anyway – there are plenty more where that came from.

Phoenix: Damn it Nelson, it was never meant to be like this …

Nelson: You are right about that Phoenix – it was NEVER meant to be like this; what the Hell makes you think that you can come to the arena tonight and demand some air time to set the record straight, anyway?

Phoenix: What?

Nelson: Oh yeah, I know all about the fact that you got here early tonight to ask Lisa Tyler for some ring time before the match – just as I know that you haven’t got your meeting with her just yet.

Phoenix: … how?

Nelson: Something that you will learn, Phoenix, is that I plan for everything and know everything that is going on in this place.

Phoenix: I just wanted to let Douglas – to let everyone – know why I did what I did last week …

Nelson: Two things – the first is that you did what you did last week because I said so, nothing more and nothing less and the second is that when I want you open your mouth and say a single, damn thing I will let you know … just as I will let you know exactly – EXACTLY – what I want you to say too. You are mine, Jay; are we clear?

Phoenix: This is ridic …

Nelson: I said ARE WE CLEAR? If not we can always go out there, with that little piece of paper, and tell the fans just what it is – your call.

Phoenix: … we’re clear.

Nelson: Glad to hear it … and one other thing.

Phoenix: Yes?

Nelson: I want you and Hessian to win that match tonight but …

Phoenix: What?

Nelson: … I don’t really care if there are three people on the team still standing at the end of the night. All I care about is MY guys looking good because if they do that then I look good too, capice?

Phoenix: … sure, whatever you say.

Nelson: Exactly, Jay, exactly.

Let's be honest here for a second. Lisa Tyler, PRIME's current VP of Personnel Relations, wants order restored to her shows, yet she wants ratings. Ratings that perhaps only random acts of violence, sex and more violence can deliver. What she wants is a happy medium. What she's getting is entirely different.

Enter Nitz Donnelly and Vance Raymes.

The two remaining members of Change In Spades stand directly opposite PRIME's Head Honcho. It's the first meeting seen on screen between Lisa and Nitz since their not-so-friendly run in's during Donnelly's first stint in the company.

Lisa: So let me get this straight. After last weeks abortion, you two feel you can just come into my building wielding weapons? You think you can cause the same kind of chaos we were all forced to endure last week?

Donnelly twists his weapon of choice for the night, a very large stainless steel wrench, in his hands. His normal smirk absent from his tired features.

Nitz: Given the circumstances, it might be best to can the bullshit, tight assed attitude Princess.

Vance: Enough.

Donnelly backs off upon hearing the voice of his partner boom throughout the small room. The Tortured Artist lifts his difference maker, a large solid steel bar, and rests it over his shoulder. Lisa Tyler wears nothing but a passive look.

Lisa: I never liked you Nitz, but you tried to do me a favor and succeeded... somewhat.

Vance: Excuse me?

The Ego rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed with the breach in confidence he had obviously trusted Lisa Tyler with.

Nitz: You had to go and f**kin' say that now didn't ya?

Lisa: You mean you didn't tell him?

Vance: Someone might wanna fill me in real fast.

The impatience is building up inside Raymes, looking to his partner first and foremost for answers. Donnelly meanwhile holds his head in a free hand.

Nitz: It was like this...

Flashback to October 28th. It was the first ReVolution for the Spades in PRIME. It was also the first of a few private meetings between two people who seemingly dislike each other.

Lisa: I can't believe I'm even doing this, given our history together, but I need a favor.

Nitz: I can't believe this either, I'm actually interested for once in something you have to say.

Lisa: Good. As you know, I have this... problem... with a certain member of this roster. This problem has bloomed into a security concern for me. One where I sometimes don't feel safe entering a building holding a PRIME event.

Nitz: Chainz gettin' a stiffy for you is he? Perhaps you should dress like a man, although he doesn't seem to treat them well either.

The VP of Personnel Relations shivered in her chair at the mere mention of the Monster from Hell's Kitchen.

Lisa: I need him off my back. I'd prefer it to be permanent, but temporarily will suffice.

Nitz smirked, crossing his arms.

Nitz: You on the rag or something? No woman on this planet shows such a lack of rationale unless they're drippin' crimson nectar from their twat.

Lisa: Your disgusting choice of words not withstanding, you could be compensated for your assistance.

Donnelly held his chin in his hand, perhaps considering the boss ladies request.

Nitz: What could you possibly offer me and my friends to make up for the risk of disembowelment at the hands of that psychopath?

Lisa: Just trust me that you'll be fairly compensated when I deem the task complete. Right at this moment, I have nothing more than my word to give you. Given my position in this company, my word is my bond.

The image being broadcast to the arena and on television screens throughout the world is switched back to a live feed. Nitz Donnelly shrugs his shoulders.

Nitz: When I said Letty's beating was my fault, this is what I meant.

Vance: You rotten little bi-

Lisa: Don't get mad at Nitz.

Raymes thrusts his free hand down onto the desk of Tyler, shocking her a little. He growls at her.

Vance: I wasn't talking to him.

Nitz: Smooth, get the big angry mofo even more angry.

The Ego shakes his head. The usual mouthpiece of the Spades stands back from his partner, leaving this discussion to the other two.

Lisa: Look, I feel the request was successfully fulfilled and as I said I'm a woman of my word. So at King of Kings, you'll be able to beat the holy hell out of Elise and Kazys legally when you face off against the Redeemed and the Wolves of Slaughter for the tag team titles.

A cheer is heard coming from the arena bowl.

Vance: That's all fine and dandy, but you still have a sick twisted bastard running around here hurting innocent women. His balls should be nailed to the wall right now.

Lisa stands up behind her desk, trying to make her point.

Lisa: Sloan's status in PRIME is just business. I'm sorry for what happened last week with Leticia, but PRIME business is none of yours.

Vance: MICHAEL SLOAN IS MY BUSINESS!

His deep voice reverberates off the walls. Nitz taps him on the shoulder.

Nitz: Our business.

Vance: You can offer us title shots, but it doesn't change the fact that our friend was put through an unspeakable torture. This is fair warning, if we see The Wolves or Chainz tonight, someone's ending up hurt. End of story.

The Tortured Artist turns and walks toward the door. Nitz looks down at Lisa.

Nitz: It was nice to co-operate for a change. Guess it couldn't be that way forever.

The Ego turns to follow his partner in exiting the office. Dam peeks his head in through the open door left vacated by Change In Spades.

Dam: Everything ok boss?

Lisa Tyler slumps down in her desk a little, but keeps a steadfast attitude about her.

Lisa: About as good as can be expected.

It hadn’t taken Diego Foster long to get on the radar of one of the worst men in PRIME and it took him even less to get a title match out of it. A snug and rather content Foster is already in the ring waiting for his Intense title match, but to his chagrin it doesn’t appear that it’ll be likely.

Nick: Well what a surprise, Chainz told a lie.

Richard: You weren’t expecting him to really come out here and defend his title, were you?

Nick: I guess I was an idiot for thinking I could take him at his word.

Chainz’ smug and grinning face appears on the PRIME*Tron.

Chainz: You weren’t really thinking it’d be that easy for a crack at my title?

Foster shakes his head in anger in the ring.

Chainz: You ain’t the brightest are ya? Oh hey, where’s that fine young thing I told you to bring to the ring with you?

Foster starts to sweat a bit as he watches Chainz walking in the backstage area.

Chainz: People never take my advice and then they bitch at me. You should’ve listened to me son.

Out of the crowd and behind Foster fervor is occurring. He doesn’t even have a chance to turn around as his eyes are glued on screen.

The Wolves of Slaughter are quickly in the ring and behind Foster. Before he can turn around he’s clocked in the back of the head by Kazys. The Lithuanian begins stomping on a down and out Foster while Elise takes out a set of handcuffs. She orders Kazys to pull Foster towards the ropes and before Diego has a chance he’s handcuffed to the ropes. Unable to break free he looks on in horror as The Wolves back off.

Chainz: Thank you. That’ll be all.

Kazys and Elise exchange disgusted glances as they look on Foster with mock pity. They slide out of the ring and head towards the back, not wanting to see what happens.

Chainz: Ahh, here we are. Let’s go.

The camera zooms out to reveal a locker room. Foster’s eyes go wide with recognition. Chainz smells the air like a predator on the prowl and grins from ear to ear.

Chainz: I smell her perfume. It’s tickling my senses. You really should have listened to her; I don’t much care about you. It’s her I’m after. Let’s have a peek shall we?

Chainz is about to push the door open, but notices the cameraman not following him. It seems that after last week, no one on the roster wants to be witness to what Chainz is capable of doing.

Chainz: Do your damn job and follow me!

The cameraman shakes his head and turns to walk away. He doesn’t get far as he’s leveled from behind by an enraged Chainz.

Nick: Oh come on, he can’t do that!

Richard: He can do whatever he wants, haven’t you realized that?

Chainz kicks the downed cameraman a few times drawing the ire of the crowd. Finally satisfied he picks up the camera himself and holds it by his side. Mumbling something inaudible he stands near the door and knocks softly on it.

Alyson: Who... who is it?

Her voice is soft and meek and Sloan’s smile is stark and sick. The image is haunting as the crowd falls silent. Diego Foster tries desperately to free himself from the handcuffs, but it’s no use. He can do nothing, but sit and watch.

Chainz: Hey baby, mind opening the door?

Alyson: No, go away.

He quietly taps on the door.

Chainz: Oh come on babe, you can’t hide in there all night.

She doesn’t respond.

Chainz: You know what the wolf said to the little piggy’s when they wouldn’t let him in?

Nick: I think I’m going to be sick.

Richard: In a way this is all Diego Foster’s fault. If he wouldn’t have stuck his nose in places it didn’t belong none of this would be happening.

Chainz: Alright enough of this.

With a sudden burst Chainz kicks the door and it bursts open. Apparently PRIME’s door budget is about as good as UFC’s.

Alyson shrieks in fright as she falls back on her butt. She scouts to the far wall and is terrified when her back comes in contact with the cold surface. Looking around for a place to go, she’s dismayed to find herself trapped between a rock and a rapist.

Chainz sets the bulky camera on the ground and shuts the door behind him. Pulling out a cord from his pocket he latches the handle of the door and ties it to a nearby locker. With the cord securely in place he sets his sights on the frightened girl.

Chainz: Where you running to dear?

Alyson: Ppppplease, stay away from me.

Chainz: No can do I’m afraid, but you can thank your friend Diego when you see him next.

He quickly sits next to Alyson and puts his arm around her shoulders. Drawing her near he smiles as he looks into the camera.

Chainz: Nice piece of ass you got here Foster, I’m amazed you’ve kept her to yourself. Usually when people show up in PRIME they at least offer me a glance, but you kept her wrapped under lock and key it seems. Everywhere she went you’d be following behind like a stray dog that no one wanted around.

Foster is beside himself in the ring, but he can’t free himself. A few officials have made their way to the ring to try and help him, but there is little they can do until someone finds a pair of wire cutters.

The crowd is anxious to see Foster freed and are rooting for him, but it becomes more and more apparent that Chainz is in complete control. A sickening feeling is begging to spread through the arena.

Nick: I don’t like this at all.

Chainz: You smell like innocence honey, why don’t we dirty you up a bit?

Alyson quickly frees herself from Sloan’s grasp and runs to the door, but Chainz quickly grabs her foot and trips her up. She turns and tries to kick him with her free foot, but it’s caught in Sloan’s meaty hand. Her high heels fall off and Chainz brings her foot to his nose as he inhales her scent and licks her bare soles, sticking his tongue in between her toes in a sexually disgusting and nauseating manner.

Richard: Hmm, okay, not exactly my fetish but okay.

Nick: Ugh, I don’t think Lisa Tyler is going to like this.

As if on cue, a loud knock is heard on the locker room door. It’s clearly the voice of Lisa Tyler.

Lisa Tyler: Sloan, open this door now!

Chainz: Shh, don’t pay her any attention Alyson. Lisa and I have a rather open relationship so I’m sure she won’t mind us having some fun.

Chainz begins to pull at Alyson’s clothes and she desperately tries to escape his clutches, but that’s easier said than done.

Nick: …………….

Richard: ………………

The crowd is silent, Foster is silent, but his bulging and teary eyes tell the whole story. He’s never felt so weak, so helpless, and so full of hate.

Alyson: Please, Miss Tyler help me!

There’s a loud banging on the door as the cord slowly begins to give way.

Chainz: Damnit, should’ve hanged a do not disturb sign. Guess we’ll have to cut this short sweetheart.

He grabs her arm and begins twisting it into angles it was never meant for. She tries to scream, but his giant hand is quick to cover her mouth. And then the unmistakable sound is heard just like the week before.

SNAP!

Alyson’s eyes well up in tears as she convulses from the pain.

Diego Foster is going crazy in the ring, trying to tear his arm off just to free himself. The officials restrain him as one runs out with bolt cutters.

Lisa Tyler: Sloan, what are you doing in there?

Alyson tries to scream again for help, but her mouth is still covered. Chainz swallows her up into his body and switches to her other arm as he whispers in her ear.

Chainz: Just one more to go sweaty.

Her pleading eyes look into Sloan’s icy cold blues, but there is no mercy in them. Her second arm is twisted in a similar fashion and shortly snaps with the same sickening sound as the other. Alyson no longer tries to scream as he eyes roll into the back of her head. Sloan lays her passed out body in the middle of the locker room, grabs her shoe and unlocks the door.

Chainz: She’s all yours.

Smelling her shoe he passes by a distraught and irate Lisa Tyler who runs into the locker room with EMT’s right behind her. Foster meanwhile is freed from the handcuffs and is running full sprint towards the back. By the time he gets there the EMT’s are working on securing Alyson’s arms together. Lisa Tyler looks sadly at Diego Foster who can’t speak. He collapses next to the door feeling helpless. The crowd meanwhile is silent as are Nick and Richard. Without anything being said, the show cuts to a commercial.

Now we go back to the hotly contested race between Mega Job, Tony Gamble and The Oompa Loompas. Your commentators for the evening are Devin Shakur and Bryan Dawkins.

Devin Shakur: (fake enthusiasm) And would you look at that, Mega Job makes a cut on the inside and manages to retake the lead. What exciting action, eh bruh?

Bryan Dawkins: (reading from script) Wow...That...Was...Inspiring. I have only seen skill like that once, turn page, back in the 90s when a young Codemaster was starting out.

Devin Shakur: (deadpan) Ha. Ha. Ha. He is a legend.

Codemaster suddenly appears from a nearby trashcan behind Dawkins and Shakur, drinking from a coffee mug.

Codemaster: Ha...! Only the legends can still be mentioned years after they've left the promotion.

(note: Codemaster for PRIME HOF. =P)

Bryan Dawkins: Oh what a privilege...We are joined by the man himself.

Devin Shakur: I feel this is the worst crime I've ever committed in this place.

Bryan Dawkins: Agreed, bruh.

Down on the course, Mega Job is out in front by an Oompa length (you know, instead of a car length...It implies they have a very short lead) ahead of Gamble, while The Oompas themselves are trying to get around their former benefactor.

Oompa Loompa Doopa De Do
We Are Going to Run Wild On You
Hulkamania Ain't Got Shit On Us
Once We Pit You Right Now

Tony Gamble: Say whaaaaaa

The Oompa Car receives a burst of energy and gives Gamble the pit maneuver, spinning him out against the wall and around in about fifty circles.

Tony Gamble: F**K!

The Only Thing You'll Wanna Do Is Cuss
But They Bleeped Out the best word
Even Tyler Rayne Can't Use A Sword
We're Gonna Win And There's One Reason Why
Because We're the Oompa Loompa Doopa De Do's

Mega Job notices the injustice and actually frowns for The Grin. During their brief period in the PRIME family, they got to know The Grin and felt a kinship with him...

Ok, we're lying, they just want to cheat.

We also forgot to mention one thing about their vehicle.

Oompa Loompas: Uh-oh!

It runs on waffle syrup and spews said substance out of the back. The Oompas spin out as well while Mega Job makes the third turn way ahead.

Beef: This is such a foreign feeling.

El Janito: What, inventing a vehicle that runs on syrup?

Beef: No. Winning.

Devin Shakur: YES AND IT COUNTS!

Bryan Dawkins: Why did you try to front with Fiddy's crew, bruh?

Devin Shakur: Because one of his girls wouldn't let me give her a FA-

End Commercial.

Nick: It's time for our first match, PRIME fans.

Richard: Didn't think we were bringing you a match, did ya? Yeah, we set up the arena and had people buy tickets so they could crowd around an empty ring and watch segments on the big screen all night. Because we're funny like that.

Vince Howard: The following contest is a 6-man-tag under normal rules, one fall to finish! Introducing the first team...

A haunting guitar melody plays over the PA system as on the flames start to appear on the tron, 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. The flames on the big screen 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.

Vince Howard: From Flagstaff, Arizona, weighing in at 215 pounds… JAY PHOENIX!

The crowd cheers as Phoenix walks out from the back.

Nick: Jay Phoenix getting some love from the crowd.

Richard: I wonder if we're gonna get a repeat performance from last week.

Nick: No, I think Phoenix is going to bring something new to the table.

A smile plays across Phoenix's face as he pans his attention around the arena, 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 center of the ring.

Vince Howard: And his partner...

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 three rapid-fire cannon blasts, each one louder than the last, and the song immediately cuts to the start of the chorus.

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

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. As the song hits the chorus one more time, he slides into the ring, and salutes the crowd in all four corners.

Vince Howard: And their partner...

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. 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.

Vince Howard: From Detroit, Michigan--

Richard: The only good thing to come out of that town in the last 30 years!

Vince Howard: – at 355 pounds, he is HESSIAN!

Breathing in the atmosphere, Hessian raises his arms to the sky as the entire stage 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.

Nick: When you look at this team, you see a team that has a lot of versatility. If there were any kind of notable trios tag titles in wrestling today, on paper this team would have a great chance to win it. But it all goes back to chemistry.

Richard: Usurping your job for a second, I'll agree and say that really the whole team hinges on Troy Douglas. One might think of what Phoenix did on 213 but fact is Douglas has had issues with both his partners in recent memory and it's up to him more than either of the others to work toward a common goal of walking into King of Kings with a win at their backs. Hessian, meanwhile... just give him somebody to hit and he's happy, so I don't think he'll be much of an issue.

Nick: Well put.

Richard: I have my moments.

Keeping pace Hessian briskly marches towards the ring 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 dissipates on the stage and the fire dies down almost completely as Hessian reaches the ring apron, clenching his fists and reaching up for the top rope. The Hardcore Monster climbs the apron and over the top, stepping forward. Douglas and Phoenix give him a wide berth, hopping out of the ring altogether. 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.

Vince Howard: And their opponents...

"WOO HOO!" "Song 2" by Blur.

The big screen comes to life with the theme, accompanied by pyrotechnics, orange and aqua lighting, and the video package of "The Flyin’ Hawaiian."

Vince Howard: First, from Hilo, Hawaii weighing 202 pounds... 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.

Nick: There's a big smile on Bryan Dawkins's face.

Richard: He just got a Snuggie in the mail. You should've seen him dancing around like an idiot.

Nick: He was dancing around because he got a Snuggie?

Richard: No, he dances around like an idiot every week. He's only smiling because of the Snuggie.

Dawkins acknowledges fans at ringside and plays to the crowd, giving his signature "hang loose" hand gesture. Rather than enter the ring, though, he waits at the apron.

"Here comes the raaaaaain!"

Vince Howard: From Verona, Missouri weighing 227 pounds... he is the only fourth generation professional wrestler in PRIME... Johnny Raindance!

Johnny Raindance, now having three matches under his belt enough that the regular PRIME fans know who he is, give him an appropriate cheer for his performances in PRIME to date.

Richard: So three matches, and this guy is 1-1-1 here. He at least has the one win, but I've seen better starts out of much worse guys.

Nick: What counts is if Raindance is willing to stick it out for the long haul. Also, I believe that the referee ruled the match a No Contest instead of a draw last week, so his record should still be 1-1-0.

Richard: Here I am trying to give the guy credit for showing up on 213 and you go and take it away. Fine, I'll go along with it. Raindance was so horrible last week he might as well have stayed home and his record would look exactly the same! Ha!

With his music playing loudly throughout the arena, Johnny Raindance strides confidently to the ring. Dawkins and Raindance wait outside of the ring, neither entering yet. Not until their partner arrives. The music fades and for a moment, nothing happens.

Nick: For some reason, this match has Dawkins's and Raindance's team billed with a mystery partner.

Richard: We know good and damn well who's gonna walk out here to support his friend Dawkins, why even bother with that?

Just then, "Surfing With The Alien" hits the speakers and the people go berserk with cheers.

Nick: It can't be! Is he here? Back in PRIME after all this time?

Raindance and Dawkins look at each other wide-eyed, then hastily slide into the ring. Dawkins beats his partner to Vince Howard, taking the microphone out of his hand.

Bryan Dawkins: Whoa whoa WHOA, bruh! What gives? That's not his music!

The crowd is a little deflated, which makes at least one man happy.

Richard: Haha! Excellent! False hopes are the best kind!

The music stops. After a few moments, "Learn Chinese" by Jin and Wyclef comes up.

Dawkins & Raindance: NO.

The music stops again.

Johnny Raindance: Come on, Ian, you had your fun. Play out our partner.

Another pause. Who knows whether or not the sound guy, who got into a certain somebody's "happy stash" a few minutes earlier, will do as he's supposed to. But then... they hear "Shadows" by 12 Stones, and the stage becomes obscured in mist. The men in the ring don't say a word, Raindance giving a nod and a thumbs up.

Nick: I... know I should know this theme. But it's not connecting just yet.

And even the fans have that hint of recognizing the tune but not the wrestler it belongs to. But then they see a silhouette slowly begin to step out from the gorilla position. And when they hear--

Vince Howard: And their partner... Jerusalem, Israel--

They know. And they cheer.

Nick: This is big! Almost two years to the very show that saw his last PRIME appearance and he's back!

Vince Howard: Weighing 395 pounds... TITAN ST. JAMES!

The man known as "Shadow Mountain" walks out into full view.

Richard: What? Where'd they find him at?

Nick: I don't know, but suddenly this match has become all the more competitive! St. James, at over seven feet, is now the biggest man in the match.

Hessian, especially, takes notice of Titan's presence, a nod and a grin on his face. The former Israeli specialist joins his partners down at ringside. Together they all get up to the apron and the other team is in as well.

Richard: So, we gotta match?

Nick: We have ourselves a match indeed.

Bryan Dawkins starts off in the ring with Troy Douglas, while Jay Phoenix claps his hands out to the crowd to get them into it. Megatron puts his partner's motions out of mind and focuses on the man in front of him. Dawkins raises the hands, coming in kick to the left, leg. Douglas blocks it, kicking at Dawkins's stomach in retaliation. A hard European Uppercut follows this, with Douglas taking control of the High-Risk Hawaiian's wrist to pull him into a Shortarm Clothesline. With Dawkins on the mat, Douglas drops an elbow, which Dawkins sits up to avoid. The Hilo Hurricane (a working nickname, technically inaccurate since Pacific storms are always called "typhoons" even if the average person doesn't realize this) uses his hands to spin himself on the mat and gain the rotation necessary to kick Troy Douglas in the back of the head.

Richard: Simple enough.

Bryan rises before Troy, punching the man in the side of the head as they come to their feet. Dawkins hits a Spinning Punch to rock Megatron's jaw, then turns and jogs but gets stopped with a Saito Suplex from Troy Douglas.

Nick: Douglas going for an early cover.

1...

2...

Dawkins gets the shoulder up. Troy Douglas pulls him up and succeeds with an Atomic Drop, which leaves Dawkins open to the Lariat from behind. But that's not all.

Nick: Johnny Raindance with the Missile Dropkick! And another kick from Dawkins! AND TITAN ST. JAMES!

The crowd cheers immensely for the improvised teamwork, with the referee sending the non-legal men out of the ring. Bryan Dawkins covers for the pinfall.

1...

2...

Kickout!

Nick: We need a replay of that!

The Wal*Tron at the arena replays the same thing that the audience watching at home views with picture-in-picture. Before the lariat hits Bryan Dawkins, Johnny Raindance flies in with a dropkick to the bicep, stopping the attack and turning Douglas around. Dawkins backflips with the Pele kick to crack Douglas in the back of the head. This disorients him, making it that much harder to effectively counter or avoid the rebounding Axe Bomber from Titan St. James that whallops the upper chest and takes the man down.

Richard: I'd expect that kind of cheating from college kids taking a test, but not Titan St. James. I guess even if he's in PRIME tonight he's still retired from paying attention to our rules.

Bryan Dawkins rushes over to make a tag to Johnny Raindance. Raindance and Dawkins together whip Troy Douglas to the ropes. He returns into a double-team Back Elbow, but as that doesn't take the man down, the two partners whip him over with a team Snap Mare. Raindance flips over with the Neck Whip, a move that Troy Douglas used on him a few weeks ago. Dawkins, meanwhile, stays behind and throws a knee into Troy's back between the shoulder blades. Johnny Raindance returns with a low Dropkick off of the ropes to lay out Megatron flat, with Bryan Dawkins following up with the Quebrada before rolling away.

Nick: Very good teamwork from Dawkins and Raindance, opponents at King of Kings but partners tonight and acting very much the part.

Johnny Raindance makes the lateral press with the leg hook.

1...

2...

Kickout.

Richard: Raindance remembers how he was just lucky enough to surprise Douglas with his finisher in their last meeting. He doesn't want any part of a long contest with... well, anybody.

Nick: Johnny Raindance goes in with forearms to keep Troy Douglas off of his feet. Douglas gets up anyway. Raindance with a European Uppercut. Megatron catches the arm, Inverted DDT!

Troy Douglas decides that the best defense is a good offense is to get the bigger man into the ring. The tag is made, with Hessian ignoring Douglas and moving in on Johnny Raindance. Stomp after stomp after vicious stomp is targeted at the chest and midsection. Because, you see, walking around someone's body and stomping at every body part just once is mostly a waste of time and a very thinly disguised way to catch one's breath.

Richard: Hessian is the measuring stick for all new guys in PRIME. You haven't been tested until you stand up to his attacks. Welcome to the hazing, Raindance.

Hessian brings Johnny Raindance to his feet and sends him into the neutral corner. Following in with a clothesline, Hessian pulls the Mayan luchador from the corner and scoops him onto the shoulder, dropping him across the top rope with a Snake Eyes. The Murder Show leaves Raindance on his feet, taking back to the ropes.

Nick: Blind tag by Jay Phoenix!

Von Kelsig turns to his partner with a look of extreme frustration.

Richard: Not a good idea. In every culture around the world, the one agreed upon thing that you just don't do is get in Hessian's way.

With an "I got this" expression, Jay Phoenix runs the apron to the corner that Raindance was just in. Slinging himself over the top, Phoenix sets his feet on the middle rope and backflips for the Moonsault Body Press.

Nick: There's a pin.

1...

2...

Bryan Dawkins double stomps Phoenix's back, breaking the pin. The referee sends Dawkins out of the ring, and Phoenix attempts another pin.

1...

2...

Kickout.

Phoenix grabs an arm and drops down into the submission.

Nick: The full name of this attack is the Ude Hishigi Juji Gatame, typically known as the Cross Armbreaker here in the U.S.

Richard: That's why your job is to say "Jay Phoenix does a Cross Armbreaker." People don't watch PRIME to learn.

Johnny Raindance fights against the hold, squirming and pulling and moving himself by his hips, finally getting to the ropes.

Nick: That's a very damaging submission hold, even if it doesn't look very glamorous. Johnny Raindance has to be hurting even if he's trying to stay in this thing.

Richard: Look at him holding the arm like a wuss.

Jay Phoenix stands at Johnny Raindance's right side. A roundhouse kick to the back of the leg precedes a kick at the midsection. The sore arm also receives a kick, and then a roundhouse is aimed at the head. Raindance, showing his own strength, bridges back in a one-handed Matrix evasion. Rolling out to the side, up on his knees, Phoenix aims another roundhouse to the face, yet Raindance once again bridges backwards, folding himself up to avoid it once more. Phoenix, adapting and seeing that Raindance can't move anywhere quickly, takes the momentum.

Nick: Standing Moonsault onto the 4th generation wrestler!

Because Raindance's shoulders are not on the mat, no pinfall may be counted, however it still looked painful. Phoenix follows up by taking hold of the arm and once again dropping into a Cross Armbreaker.

Nick: Springboard Fist Drop!

The right move at the right time by Bryan Dawkins to force the break. Dawkins quickly rolls out of the ring, assistance having been provided. Both Phoenix and Raindance are down.

Richard: White men standing back and watching as Native Americans destroy themselves. This isn't quite politically correct but damned if it's not historically accurate.

Raindance, being closer to his corner, rolls over and tags Titan St. James, who leans over the ropes to make it easier. St. James comes in pulls Jay Phoenix up into a Bearhug. Shadow Mountain walks the man over to his corner, there unleashing with knees to the gut and forearms to the head. With the referee making him remove the man from the corner, Titan takes the arm and pulls out, circling a whip into the same corner. Jay Phoenix hits chest first, with a pushing kick to the back of the neck sending him resting into the corner. St. James lays in with the shoulder blocks to the lower back, then tags in Bryan Dawkins. Dawkins comes in and with Phoenix down in the ring, Titan hiptosses his partner into a flipping Senton. Dawkins makes the cover over the chest.

1...

2...

Jay Phoenix gets the shoulder up. Dawkins tags in Johnny Raindance again, the two pulling up Jay Phoenix and whipping him to the ropes. On the return, they kick him in the gut, then step to the side. Jumping up, Raindance puts his knees to the chest and falls down, while Bryan Dawkins leaps as high as he can and puts his leg over the shoulders of Jay Phoenix. The Rocker Dropper/Code Breaker combination puts Phoenix down hard.

Nick: What a move! There's the pin!

1...

2...

Richard: Oh look, Troy Douglas remembers it's a team match and pulls off Raindance.

Nick: I have to say that right now the team of Titan St. James, Bryan Dawkins, and Johnny Raindance are working much better as a unit.

Johnny Raindance isn't fully recovered from the attacks he suffered, and takes a moment to get back up. Eschewing a further attack on Jay Phoenix, Raindance turns to tag in Bryan.

Crowd: OOH!

The big boot to the back of the head by Hessian stops that.

Richard: Another of those things you don't do is keep The Murder Show on the apron too long.

Hessian pulls Phoenix over to his own corner. Jay Phoenix and Johnny Raindance get up at the same time, Raindance moving in first.. Jay Phoenix kicks at the legs again, wanting to avoid the potential for Raindance to get going. He's not the fastest or strongest or most agile man in PRIME but he seems to have an ability to just make things happen. A man like that you have to keep immobile. Raindance takes more kicks to the leg, but retaliates with a European Uppercut. Jay Phoenix throws a Spinning Back Elbow, but it doesn't connect.

Nick: Hessian levels Johnny Raindance with a straight punch to the jaw!

Richard: And now he tags himself in. And nobody is going to complain to his face.

Hessian climbs into the ring, but he doesn't attack Johnny Raindance. No, he drags the man over to his own corner, looking at a particular opponent the entire time.

Richard: And see how badass Hessian is? He's demanding that Titan St. James tag in.

The crowd is ready for a slugfest, a slobberknocker as it were, and they cheer immensely. Titan St. James unflinchingly tags into the contest, with Hessian backing up and raising arms, ready to fight. Raindance rolls to the apron, with St. James stepping over the top into the ring.

Nick: It's the Murder Show versus Shadow Mountain! Who will prevail!

Richard: The one who doesn't lose first.

Hessian comes in first with a punch that St. James interrupts by leaning forward and hitting a headbutt directly to the bridge of Von Kelsig's nose. The man is spared any busting of the nose, but it's still quite an impact. Shadow Mountain follows up with a hooking body blow with his left arm, flowing into an elbow strike with the right arm.

Nick: Titan St. James has been away from PRIME for almost 2 years and he hasn't lost a step!

Richard: Hessian's biding his time. He never stays on the defensive too long. His form of defense is "win first."

Titan clinches the head and throws a few knees at the body, Hessian still taking them with a 40 pound weight disadvantage. Lowering the head, Titan pounds hammer fists directly into the back of Hessian's neck, intending to make the man more vulnerable to follow-up attacks.

Richard: God Smack! Titan got all a' that one!

The brutal uppercut from Hessian gives pause, and a heavy case of "Where am I?" to Titan St. James. The latter big man may have been an agent for Israel and the FBI but no terrorist in the world is built like Hessian is built.

Nick: Hessian LIFTING up Titan St. James in a Reverse Bearhug. And drops him in a Side Slam!

Titan's head bounces off of the mat, with Hessian covering for the pin.

1...

2...

Nick: Titan presses Hessian clear off!

But that doesn't stop Hessian from coming back at him with a low boot to the face. Hessian uses the kneeling height of Titan St. James to manage some knees into the man's face after he gets up that much. St. James shoves back on a leg from Hessian and gets to one knee. The clubbing forearms serve to soften Titan's massive neck and shoulders, but it also pushes Shadow Mountain to rise up with his own Bearhug Slam!

1...

2...

Richard: Kickout by Hessian, he was not gonna go down that easily.

The two big men haven't hit each other that much, but as big as they both are, those hits are going to be all the more devestating. They both get to their hands and knees, driving themselves rise further. But Hessian chooses to stay on the attack and punches Titan in the face from their lower position on the mat.

Richard: Damn, that punch-- I think I felt that yesterday.

Titan St. James goes back on his knees, stopping himself with an arm, then comes back forward and punches Hessian in the head at the left eye.

Nick: And Titan with a strong punch of his own! Hessian will be lucky if he doesn't walk away from this with a black eye!

Von Kelsig swings his arms to maintain his balance, like masked Kane used to do whenever he took a punch, and returns the favor with another punch. Titan St. James answers in kind.

Nick: They're on their knees, they're slugging it out! Who will break? Who will give? Which man is the tougher competitor?

Hessian comes out on top, throwing a series of rights and lefts. Without a sturdy base underneath him, without full range of motion from the hips to send the power through to his shoulders, Hessian can't get the best bang for his buck on the punches, but with greater speed of punches he makes the barrage overwhelm Titan St. James.

Richard: There's your answer. You should have more patience.

Hessian keeps punching, drawing back for a big Haymaker. Titan blocks it punching Hessian at the throat to deal pressure to the windpipe. Even big men need to breathe. St. James chooses to drop to the side, rather than continue striking.

Nick: The Wave!

Bryan Dawkins hits his Shining Wizard finisher on Hessian from the side, sending The Murder Show down. That would be the end of it, except for Johnny Raindance also adding in his cross-ring Guillotine Leg Drop from the top.

Nick: Fire in the Sky! Hessian is down and out!

Titan St. James remains in his position on the mat, with Jay Phoenix and Troy Douglas getting into the ring as well to knock the other men out of the match. It leaves Titan St. James in the ring with Hessian. Shadow Mountain pulls up his opponent, Von Kelsig looking out of it. An elbow to the back of the head precedes the move that PRIME hasn' t seen in so long, the aptly-named

Richard: HESSIANCANRANA!

1...

2...

3!

Richard: He did it! He did it!

Nick: Incredible! The only reversal Hessian could mount from that Rydeen Bomb position and he succeeded with the pinfall victory! You are probably never going to see him do that again!

Richard: He doesn't have to, Nick. Now anybody who CAN actually pick him up will be thinking, "Is he gonna do something crazy still?" And the answer will be, if you have to think about it, you lost the match.

Vince Howard: The winners of the match by pinfall... Jay Phoenix, Troy Douglas, and Hessian!

Von Kelsig's music plays up on the arena's speakers once more, Motorhead telling the world that even with the power and skill that is Titan St. James, you can never count out Hessian. And that is what everyone who would cross him must remember.

Whenever fans and viewers think about ReVolution, never does a quiet time cross their mind. A plethora of egos are forcefully jam packed into one arena for an entire evening and have to endure one another. The grind of constant nagging in one's ear along with the threat of physical violence at every turn is known to cause a little stress here and there. That's why, thanks to the spike in ratings over the last few shows, Lisa Tyler has gone to the trouble of hiring two professional massage therapists for the competitors. Although, much to the chagrin of Tyler Rayne, he presumed the women were Chinese and happy endings were involved. Both parties vowed never to speak of the potential arrangement again.

But more than a few wrestlers have wondered why the room is completely empty yet nobody is allowed inside.

Well, the two guys walking through the door might hold the keys to that question.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Devin Shakur and Christian Daniels, both with big grins on their faces.

Nick (OSV): Oh boy.

Richard (OSV): We've already seen the shocking return of Titan St. James and Jason Snow assaulted, all four JITC participants at the urinals, and these guys are just making their way into the building.

Nick (OSV): Devin Shakur slated to put his Golden Ticket on the line against Hessian at King of Kings. But he's already guaranteed to Lisa Tyler that he will be walking away with it.

Richard (OSV): Could be a little over his head there after what happened last time.

Devin Shakur never goes anywhere without a plan. His plan also usually ticks off more than a few people on the roster. And after the chaos has already erupted this evening, it's likely Lisa Tyler doesn't want to deal with these two nuisances as well.

Emerging from their readied positions are the two therapists, who walk up and shake the hands of Daniels and Shakur. They escort the duo toward the room while scheming takes place.

Devin Shakur: So you heard what's been happening tonight?

Christian Daniels: Hoot'naholla lemme tell ya. Boys tryin'ta run like we used'ta.

Devin Shakur: Think we ought to get involved?

Christian Daniels: Somehow Dev, I think trouble gonna find us tonight.

Devin Shakur: Might be right.

A few of the dark card workers notice the attractive female therapists maneuvering around Daniels and Shakur and share glances with the brothers. All of them emit loud sighs while Daniels chuckles and stands in front of the group.

Christian Daniels: Tell ya what, first one ya f**kers finds Hessian'n tells him'ta get his Vikin ass down here getsa hundred.

Rushing down the hall like a fresh pizza has just been placed out on the buffet table, all the wrestlers disperse and search for The Murder Show while Devin Shakur lays face down on the table.

Devin Shakur: Remove my shirt and I'll kick your head off.

Brunette Therapist: Yes, sir.

The therapist pushes her hands down into Shakur's spine while Daniels takes a sip of beer and hops onto his own table.

Lisa Tyler is going to try a new approach with Michael Sloan and stands in the middle of the ring.

Nick: I wonder what’s on her mind.

Richard: Maybe she wants to give us raises?

Nick: You are dreaming.

Lisa Tyler is all business as she brings the microphone to her lips.

Lisa Tyler: Mr. Sloan, get out here now!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

If not already clear, the fans show their true and unequaled hatred for Chainz. His actions in the past few weeks have truly stood out as heinous and completely evil.

It doesn’t take long for Michael Sloan to appear from the back.

Nick: Ugh, the very sight of that man makes me sick.

Richard: I’m usually a fan of his, but the actions he’s been doing lately make it hard to say anything positive about him. He’s clearing PRIME of all the lovely ladies, what are we going to look at?

Michael Sloan smiles sadistically as he carries his Intense title over his shoulder. He makes his way to the ring and slides in until he’s standing directly in front of Lisa Tyler, who doesn’t back up one inch. Her face is contorted in rage.

Chainz backs off slightly so he can get a mic.

Chainz: You called?

Lisa Tyler: Mr. Sloan, while I appreciate the ratings you provide I…

Chainz: You do know you don’t have a show without me, right?

Lisa Tyler: Don’t interrupt me. Who do you think you are?

Chainz: I’m PRIME’s all time consecutive win’s record holder. I’ll be the longest reigning Intense champ when it’s all said and done. I’m going to be the Jewel in the Crown winner in a few weeks. I’m going to be the Universal Champ at Culture Shock. Your Universal Champ!

Lisa Tyler: You think your actions are befitting a Universal Champion? Some brave fighter you are, breaking the arms of a defenseless woman.

Chainz: I left the bitch with her mouth which she can put to work sucking cock at a local 7/11, that’s all most women are good for anyway.

Lisa stands silently, trying to hold in her rage.

Chainz: You on the other hand Lisa aren’t like most women. You know, I’d treasure you like the finest jewels if only you’d learn your place.

Lisa Tyler: Learn my place! I’m your boss and you’ll learn your place!

Chainz: You won’t be boss for long with that attitude, but enjoy your power trip while it lasts. Just remember one thing bitch, I find power sexy and if you lose yours you’ll be nothing more than a Leticia and an Alyson and you’ve seen what I do with those whores. Now unless you’re gonna bend down and let me get at that sweet red ass of yours I’m out of here.

She is about to speak, but just as she goes to open her mouth Chainz turns his back and walks away from her. He slides out of the ring and heads towards the back with a smile.

Lisa Tyler: I’m not through with you Sloan!

He lifts up his middle finger.

Nick: He can’t do that to our boss.

Richard: He’s a PRIME record holder now, an Intense Champ, and someone that can’t be easily fired. He can pretty much do what he wants right now especially with Nelson’s group backing him up.

Lisa Tyler: Sloan! Get back here!

Her demand is unanswered as Chainz disappears to the back leaving behind him an arena of booos and hate.

His head is throbbing, that's plain enough. He paces his dressing room, fuming, his Universal title strapped back around his waist and the flat of his palm stuck against his forehead. He's muttering to himself.

Snow: ...god damn peasant thinks it's 2002..

There comes a knock on the door and Snow eyeballs it angrily.

Snow: NOT NOW!

Another knock.

Snow: I SAID NOT NOW!

It's quiet for a moment and Snow resumes his pacing.

Then there comes a third knock.

Enraged, Snow stomps over to the door and lets it fly open, crashing against the wall.

Snow: ARE YOU DEAF, YOU-

Speechless.

Tyler Nelson is standing on the other side.

Nick: What!?

Snow is frozen for a moment, unsure of whether this is another dirty trick or just an early Christmas present. Either way, instinct takes over and he flies at the door...

Only to be grabbed immediately by a pair of PRIME's finest security guards and one Mr. Simmons.

Tyler Nelson: Back! Hold him back!

Snow is sputtering, spitting mad, but the security manages to push him back into his dressing room. Simmons takes a handful of Snow's throat and pins him to the back wall.

Tyler Nelson: I'm not here to fight you, Snow - I did that already tonight.

Snow: ARRRGH!!!!

Tyler Nelson: Easy now. I'm sure you've probably got a few bumps and bruises. Wouldn't want you to strain anything and get yourself knocked out of King of Kings. Speaking of which, it occurs to me that there's one minor formality that we've yet to get out of the way...

Snow: Let me f(CENSORED)ng go!

Tyler Nelson: If you'd just calm down for a minute, you moron!

Snow refuses, fighting and pushing, eyeing Simmons like a madman even while his oxygen is at a premium.

Tyler Nelson: SNOW! Do you want to get your hands on me?

Snow glares.

Tyler Nelson: DO YOU!?

Snow finally starts to calm himself, still breathing heavily.

Tyler Nelson: We should probably sign the contract then, don't you think?

From his jacket, Nelson produces a handful of papers. He holds them out near the champion, and when the trio of security let on of his arms go, Snow snatches it quickly. He's still trying to calm himself. Seethes through clenched teeth.

Snow: Give me a f(CENSORED)ng pen.

Nelson smiles.

Tyler Nelson: Gladly.

The scene, a segment presumably taped a day or two earlier, opens in small studio setting. Seated in a black leather chair, Matt Mills is surrounded by a framed picture, a small coffee table, a potted plant in the corner… anything to try and create a false sense of homeliness.

Matt Mills: Ladies and Gentlemen, joining me now is a man who, just three weeks ago, returned to PRIME in impressive fashion, quickly winning his way to a spot in the JitC semi-finals at King of Kings. He is a PRIME Hall of Famer, the man known to millions around the world as "The Inhuman Being", Tchu.

The camera pans away from Mills, and seated in a matching black leather couch, across from the PRIME interviewer, is the Wrecking Ball. He’s dressed simply enough, a pair of black slacks and a blue button down blue shirt. His expression, as is so often the case, remains cold and blank, nearly impossible to read.

Mills: I want to thank you for taking this time to sit down with me and talk a little bit.

Tchu: Not a problem.

Mills: First thing I gotta ask, we saw the injury against Gamble… how are the knees holdin’ up?

Tchu: They’ll never be 100%, really never have been, but I’m doin’ alright.

Mills: Three weeks ago, to the surprise of fans around the world, you returned to PRIME, unannounced, in the opening round of the Jewel in the Crown tournament. What brought you back?

Tchu: The same thing that brings any guy outta retirement. There’s just a rush that ya miss. I guess you could call it a sickness. We’re like junkies, and you can’t get that next hit sitting at home on the couch. Just enjoy it too much to quit before the body absolutely forces it.

Mills: But many would argue that you’ve got nothing left to prove. Two Universal titles, a Dual Halo victory, a previous JitC winner… the most accomplished superstar in PRIME’s history, and one of the most dominant wrestlers of all-time.

The Inhuman Being shifts in his seat as he shakes his head.

Tchu: It’s not about having something to prove. The last time I felt I had to prove anything was when people said "Ok, you’ve torn through PRIME, but what about branching out?" So I took the next six months and made the finals of the TEAM Tournament of Champions. Focused on PTC and captured the IG Championship, and then the pinnacle, the Unified Championship. This has nothin’ to do with "proving" anything. I’m here for other reasons, including a promise I made to a friend. A promise that I broke when I entered PTC’s GTT7, and I need to fix that broken promise.

Mills: Do you care to elaborate on that promise, or that friend?

Tchu: Not right now.

Mills: Ok, so if you feel you have nothing left to prove, then why come back? So many athletes who come out of retirement feel there’s something left undone, something left to accomplish…

Tchu: When Michael Jordan first retired, he’d won 3 straight NBA titles, scoring titles… he was already a lock for the Hall of Fame and considered by many to be the greatest basketball player of all-time. Then he took a couple years off, came back, and did it all over again. 3 more NBA Championships, more MVPs, more talk about being the best to ever play the game. He didn’t come back because he had anything to prove, he came back because he could, because he could win more titles, more awards. Because nobody could stop him.

Mills: You’ve come back to win another JitC?

Tchu: I’ve come back because I can. When I retired nearly two years ago, I did so because I felt I’d done it all, not because I couldn’t do it anymore. I retired myself. And as days turned to weeks turned to months, that began to eat a whole in my f***ing stomach. I came back because I’ve still got it, so why should I sit on the sidelines and be satisfied?

Mills: You had the chance to go out in storybook fashion. You’d ventured into the world of PTC, taking on some of the greatest wrestlers from numerous federations, including GCW and SCCW… and you’d lit the world of PTC on fire, much as you’d done in PRIME. After defeating Clinton Sage and capturing the Unified Championship, you said goodbye following a classic bout with your ally, Lindsay Troy, dropping the title to her at Culture Shock. Are you worried that you’ve ruined your chance to go out on top?

Ward takes a deep breath, tugs on his shirt sleeves, sliding them halfway up his forearms. A quick laugh escapes the Hall of Famer’s lips.

Tchu: Matt, everyone always says that the dream is to go out on top, that professionals want to retire at the height of their success, but I don’t really believe that. The real competitors want to go out when they have to; they want to go out when they’re down and beaten and there’s no other choice… when they just can’t do it anymore. Then, and only then, does a guy want to call it quits. Am I afraid I’m not going to go out on top? I’m counting on it, Matt.

Mills: Counting on it?

Tchu: Why quit when you’re on top? Why not just stay there?

After three weeks of silence, the Inhuman Being’s words hang, heavy, in the air as the screen fades to black.

And once again, deep in the heart of Lap 2, we head back to the race between Tony Gamble, Mega Job and The Oompa Loompas.

Bryan Dawkins: Welcome back to Midgets and Losers Race for Charity 2009, bruhs. The charity is for our entertainment and the fact that we finally got pineapple delivered into the damn commentary room, bruh.

Devin Shakur: You can get pineapple but they won't let my girlfriend through.

Bryan Dawkins: Well, bruh, in our overprotective society today, all security personnel have to be on the lookout for potential hazards to the global envir-

Devin Shakur: Just go ahead and say the damn line.

Bryan Dawkins: SHE HAD GUNZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!

Devin Shakur: Le sigh.

Bryan Dawkins: If you wanted an update on the race, Mega Job still maintains a small- Ha, I said small – lead over Tony Gamble, who recovered amazingly bruh, from The Pit maneuver. The Oompas are still trailing behind, bruh, but we've cut off their mics so we can't hear them sing another song.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Bryan Dawkins: Get the hell out of here Codemaster bruh.

Codemaster: Fine. But just know that you shall RUE the day that you messed with the Blackest Brother in the Hyrule Kingdom! I shall rain down destruction not unlike the kind of destruction rained down when I get a 25 killstreak! Or when I get to level 80 and learn Fan of Knives! Oh, yes, much rueing will be h--

And then Dawkins hits him in the face with a pineapple.

In the field of play, The Oompa Car has now become The Oompa Cars. Remember that little note earlier I said about how their car can detach in the middle? Well now they have two smaller cars, one on each side of The Grin.

Tony Gamble: Oh crap. This isn't good.

And they suddenly produce...yardsticks.

Tony Gamble: OH NOS!

WHACKWHACKWHACKWHACKWHACKWHACKWHACKWHACKWHACK

Tony Gamble: AH! DAMN DAWGS! WATCH THE FACE! WATCH THE FACE!

Gamble is in the biggest fight of his life. Forget not knowing who his opponent is at King of Kings, he's getting smacked in the head by six Oompas carrying yard sticks around like they are fucking ninjas. They know exactly how to use these and where to place them. Gamble must retreat into his fortress of solitude.

So he makes a daring play and ducks into the body of the car. The Oompas are confused.

Oompa Loompa Doopa De Do
What The Hell Happened To Gamby Poo
Now We Focus on Mega Job

Or so they think.

Rising like the phoenix is The Grin with a mallet in hand. The Oompas look scared, like they've just been pointed at by Hulk Hogan.

Probably because that is how Gamble is pointing the mallet at them.

Each trio of Oompas duck and cover in their cars while miraculously all the vehicles are able to follow the complex course. One Oompa emerges from the left car and tries to hit Gamble with his yard stick.

BAM

He goes down.

Another from the right

BAM

Two from the left.

BAM! BAM!

One from the left and another from the right.

BAM! BAM!

All six.

BAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAM!

Gamble swings like he's A-Rod and gets all of them down to claim an undisputed second place position.

Tony Gamble: Whack An Oompa.

And now sets his sights on Mega Job with one lap to go.

Whenever Hessian stalks down a corridor, he's usually got evil intentions on his mind or he's fixing to pound someone into the wall. Either way, his presence makes people scamper and never look back. Unless you are Titan St. James, you aren't going to have enough muscle mass, height, or a pair between your legs big enough to stand in Hessian's path. He's just one of those guys who answers to a select few individuals and even they are unaware if they can control him with one hundred percent efficiency.

So when a fatigued undercard wrestler beckoned him into the break room, claiming it was important, Hessian presumed Tyler Nelson wanted to speak with him. They've already gone on the attack for most of the evening, what other individuals were on the agenda to be destroyed before the night was over? Would they cramp the space of Lisa Tyler and flaunt their arrogance?

Well, not exactly. When The Murder Show tips open the door and sees two men being pampered, one with cucumber slices over his eyes and the other sipping on a beer and munching on a bag of chips, a sigh that could shake the walls resonates from the big man.

Christian looks over and tips his beverage to the big man before pointing the rookie over toward the table.

Christian Daniels: Money's over there.

The rookie sheepishly takes his money and avoids the glare of Hessian.

Christian Daniels: Kids round here got respect I tell ya.

Hessian: What do you want, Daniels? I don't have time for these games of yours.

Christian Daniels: Spendin all yer time tryin'ta dismantle our roster so you boys can play tag wrasslin for the belts if Nelson gains Tyler's spot?

Hessian: Point. Get to it. Now.

Christian Daniels: I ain't wanna talk'ta yer sorry ass, that guy's over there.

The Biker points to his brother who is having the most insured leg in PRIME rubbed down by his personal therapist. Hessian takes a giant step over and stands at the side of Shakur's head, arms folded across his broad chest.

The Man in Black doesn't bother to take the cucumber slices off his face and waves at The Murder Show.

Hessian: I always figured you more for the kind of man who received a rubdown from some burly girl with giant tattoos and a mustache in the back room of a bar.

Devin Shakur: Your mom doing alright by the way?

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

If Hessian were in his normal state of mind, he would have just flipped the table and yanked the confused Shakur from the ground by his throat, hellbent on leaving him for dead. Instead, he cracks a smile.

Hessian: Not going to work this time, Devin. I've got you right where I want you and soon you'll become my puppet after I maul you at King of Kings...for the second time.

The Man in Black sighs and lets out a soft sound of satisfaction when the therapist gets to his foot.

Devin Shakur: If this is right where you want me big guy, mission accomplished.

Hessian: Always the one to play the fool aren't you, Devin?

Devin Shakur: If I'm known for playing the fool, then you must be the valedictorian of PRIME in that department.

Hessian: That isn't going to work either, Devin. Face facts, when it comes down to it, you aren't capable of beating me and we both know that.

Devin Shakur: Right, Hess, when push comes to shove, I never get anything done around here. I've sold that Brooklyn Bridge to a few people. I'll make sure your brochure is in the mail.

Hessian: I take it you didn't summon me for idle chit chat.

Devin Shakur: Well, that would be a trip but your stench is really pissing my aura off, so I'll get to why you are here. Since you got to pick the stipulations for the last match-

Hessian: Thanks for letting me do that by the way.

Devin Shakur: Sure. Anytime. I'm going to go ahead and pick the ones for this match, and fitting enough it's going to be...Last Man Standing rules.

Hessian chuckles. No, scratch that, he doesn't chuckle. He laughs so hard that both therapists and Daniels stop what they are doing and stare at the big man in annoyed disbelief. The Murder Show slaps his thighs and he doesn't do that very often.

Shakur uses his right hand and motions the therapist back to work, which reluctantly occurs.

Hessian: No, seriously, what is the stipulation?

Devin Shakur: I just told you.

Hessian: You can't pin me for three seconds but expect to keep me down for ten?

Devin Shakur: That's the plan.

Hessian: And what happens when you fail?

Devin Shakur: When I fail?

Hessian: Yes, when you fail, because there's no way in the world you are going to keep me down that long.

The Black Plague responds with an eerie calmness.

Devin Shakur: My recommendation for you Hess is get ready. Why? Our differences are glaringly obvious. You are a foot taller than me. You weigh about 140 pounds more than me. You can still use weapons in that match...And yet I'm still making those stipulations. What do you assume that makes me?

Hessian: Stupid?

Devin Shakur: Or the exact opposite. Do you think in a match where I'm putting the biggest power play in the business on the line that I don't have a contingency plan? Two? Three? Four? Maybe the last four months have all been a part of the biggest con job in history. Are you believing what your eyes tell you, Hess?

Hessian: I'm believing what my ears hear.

Devin Shakur: That's your problem. That's everybody's problem. If I were you Hess, I'd really look at the world around me. The first sign that a problem is evident is admitting one exists and you haven't done that. You still don't believe people are out to get you. You still believe you have an army of friends behind you.

Hessian: Because I do.

Devin Shakur: All those security blankets you've been using to sleep at night Hess are about to turn into snakes. What you thought was comfort will turn into suffocation and before you have a chance to realize the wool has been pulled over your eyes, it'll be too late. You'll be left in the back alley like an aborted child who nobody wants and nobody needs. Then you'll know I've been right the whole time.

Hessian shakes his head once again and turns toward the door, cracking it open.

Hessian: I just hope you know how to make a good cup of coffee, Dev, because I loves me some coffee and I'll want a lot of it every ReVolution...Maybe even a good foot massage. Nobody's been near those things in years. Get your sander ready, Dev.

Hessian lets the door swing behind him while Shakur shakes his head, cucumber slices staying in place.

Devin Shakur: Thinks he's the cool kid in school still, such a shame.

Matt Mills, who has been stuck covering all the chaos from earlier in the evening discovers the brothers in their relaxed states.

Matt Mills: So this is where you two have been hanging out.

Devin Shakur: Not the same ReVolution without us creating havoc is it?

Matt Mills: We've got a melee going on around the building.

Devin Shakur: Might want to get someone to lock our door then.

Matt Mills: Tyler Nelson is making his giant power play and you don't even care?

Devin Shakur: Mills, if you were getting a massage this good, you wouldn't care either. Oh, speaking of which, bring BLT in here would you?

Matt Mills: I doubt she wants to speak with you after all that you've put her though.

Again, The Black Plague doesn't flinch.

Devin Shakur: ...That's funny, I could have sworn I left a thousand dollars in my jacket pocket over there, although not like I'd notice if it was missing so someone could coast over to Atlantic City and swing by the blackjack table...

Mills casts a suspicious glance over at Shakur's trenchcoat and creeps over toward the fine piece of leather. He sneaks a hand into the pocket and pulls out the wad of bills, tucking them into his pocket.

Matt Mills: What if she says no?

Devin Shakur: I get him to take the money back.

Christian raises his head from the massage table and holds out five cards, flicking them in Mills direction one at a time.

Christian Daniels: One. Two. Three Four. I declare...War.

The sound of fist smacking open hand scurries Mills out of the room.

Devin Shakur: We should have hired these women years ago.

Christian Daniels: Damn straight.

"Karn Evil 9"

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

Nick: Oh not again.

Richard: The boss, Stuart! The CEO!

Nick: That's yet to be decided.

Tyler Nelson is positively beaming, strutting out from the back, and for all the world looking like the crowds boos are cheers and he's the most popular man in the room. He does a turn for the crowd, arms stretched, on his way to the ring, and once there, he's nothing less than jovial.

Tyler Nelson: Do you know why I'm the best in this business? Do any of you have a clue what it takes to get by in the wrestling world? It's not about size, it's not about strength, it's about brains! Something the people of North Dakota, frankly, know little about.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

Tyler Nelson: That's right. That's right. Boo me. Do whatever you want, but you just so happen to be looking at, UNQUESTIONABLY, the next PRIME Universal Champion!

Nelson takes a moment to bask in it all.

Tyler Nelson: You see folks, the reason why I've been able to stay on top for as long as I have in this business is because I'm DAMN good at one thing. It doesn't matter how big a man is, it doesn't matter how strong a man is... EVERY man has a weakness, and damn it, I find that weakness.

Nick: What's he talking about?

Richard: Strategy, Stuart. You wouldn't understand.

Tyler Nelson: Lets take our friend, Jason Snow, for instance. Snow has some very, very clear weaknesses, and already tonight, I've taken advantage of each and every one of them.

Nick: I don't think I like where this was going.

Tyler Nelson: First and foremost, Snow is a legendary hot head, constantly acting before he thinks. You all got a taste of that tonight.

Nick: Tyler Nelson is the devil.

Tyler Nelson: Second, and most obviou-

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

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!

Richard: These idiots like Jason Snow now?

Nick: I think it's more that they hate that man in the ring right now, and they feel like Snow might just be the man to shut him up, once and for all.

Snow charges out from the back and down toward the ring. Immediately, Nelson is bailing out. Snow slides beneath the bottom rope into the ring and then the opposite bottom rope back out. He chases Nelson around the ring until finally Nelson grabs a chair, waving it like a bat.

Nelson: Stop right there or I’ll wrap this chair around your head.

Snow hesitates, teeth clenched.

Nelson: That's right! Hold it for just a damn minute!

Nelson takes a moment to gather himself, breathing deeply and straightening his tie.

Nelson: There’s something I think you should hear.

With the chair still in hand, he heads back into the ring. Once there, he waits for Snow to enter.

Nelson: As I was saying, Snow - you're a hot head. Now pay attention. You might learn something.

Snow enters the ring with a microphone of his own, trying his best to keep his cool. Once there, Tyler Nelson steps up to him, face to face, nose to nose. He clutches the chair tightly in his hand.

Nelson: Do you think I'm afraid of you, Snow?

Matching glares.

Snow: I think you should be.

Nelson chuckles at that.

Tyler Nelson: Cute.

He turns away from Snow then, but never takes his eye off him, sauntering the ring with all the confidence of a wielding a chair with a small army at his disposal.

Tyler Nelson: Before you so rudely interrupted me, we were discussing your weak points. The second of which, Snow, most obviously, is that over inflated ego of yours.

He circles Snow now, chair in hand. Snow watches coldly, ready to pounce, but also remembering what happened at the beginning of the night. One never knows how Tyler Nelson lays his traps.

Tyler Nelson: You know, Snow, sometimes I really do think you believe you're invincible. Some might think that's endearing, but believe me, Snow - it's stupid. No one's invincible, and I've spent tonight picking you apart systematically. I told you before that I made you way back in PCW, and that I would break you at King of Kings.

Nick: I really, really have a bad feeling about this.

Tyler Nelson pulls the King of Kings contract out of his jacket. Snow's eyes grow a strange mixture of angered and curious. Nelson's grinch smile is right there in his face.

Tyler Nelson: You recognize this, Snow? It's the contract you signed for King of Kings, just a little while ago tonight. You were so hot headed there Snow... so determined to get your hands on me you could taste it. Your focus was so narrow that you couldn’t see the big picture. I can't say I don't envy it on some level, but mostly, I just think you're an idiot.

Nelson glances down at the contract, in the same hand as the microphone.

Tyler Nelson: And then there's that ego of yours Snow. That little voice inside your head that makes you truly believe you're invincible. That sense of immortality is probably the exact root of your third and most fatal flaw, Snow.

Snow waits, eyes cold on Nelson.

Tyler Nelson: You've never felt the need to surround yourself with good people. Helpful people. Always going alone. A lone wolf... sounds appealing enough...but when your back’s against the wall and you’re facing destruction, you’ve got no one to turn to.

There's that smile again. Nelson holds the contract high above his head.

Tyler Nelson: What I hold in my hand is the contract…

Dramatic pause.

Tyler Nelson: …for a LUMBER JACK MATCH at King of Kings.

Nick: WHAT!?!?

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHH-BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

Snow is visibly shaken by the news. Deflated. Nelson is on cloud nine.

Tyler Nelson: You see Snow? You see that? Look at you! Look at the mighty Universal Champion. The match hasn't even begun yet, and I've already beaten you! I've already gotten the best of you! At King of Kings, I'm going to bring Hessian to the ring; I'm going to bring Chainz! I'm going to bring the Wolves of Slaughter! I’ll order Jay Phoenix to attack you! Tell me, Snow, just who in the hell are you going to bring? Hmmm???

Snow shakes his head, eyes on Nelson.

Nick: I can't believe this. A lumber jack match? Snow's spent three years making enemies on this roster. Who the hell is going to want to watch his back?

Snow raises the microphone to his lips, but then lowers it again. Finally, after all this time, speechless.

Tyler Nelson: That's check and mate, Snow. That's game over. Because no one in that locker room is going to come to your defense. Not Jay Phoenix, because I own him.

Steps closer.

Tyler Nelson: Not Bryan Dawkins.

Closer.

Tyler Nelson: Not Diego Foster.

Nose to nose now.

Tyler Nelson: Not Nitz Donnelly or Tony Gamble or Tyler motherfu-

WHAT-WHAT-WHAT-HIT IT!!!

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!

"Stick ‘Em Up" by Quarashi. Know it. Love it. Celebrate.

Richard: No! Snow doesn’t have any friends! Nelson just said so!

Nelson was right in the middle of saying so. As such, his mouth was still open to finish those words, so his jaw did not have far to drop. Snow looks just as shocked as Nelson.

Nick: There’s no mistaking that music, Richard. Rayne and Snow have never been friends that I know of, but The Golden Boy has made it very clear that he has no love for Tyler Nelson, either.

The fans are rabid. A large section of them is surging a bit more wildly than the others. The riotous movement takes the attention of both the Universal Champion and his King of Kings opponent. The two men in the ring look up into the crowd and there, standing amongst a sea of his most loyal followers, is Tyler motherfucking Rayne, microphone in hand.

Tyler Rayne: You called?

Nelson is too flabbergasted to speak. He stares, stunned.

Tyler Rayne: That look on your face right now, Nelson? That is f*cking priceless. That is what I came out here to see. You really weren’t expecting this, were you? Thought you had it all figured out. Well free piece of advice for ya, shit bag. Me? I’ll never do what you’re expecting. A might unpredictable, you could say.

The Greediest Player in the Game has been caught unawares by this turn of events. This is unexpected. Nelson is not the number one contender for lack of wit, though. He is a cunning mastermind and a plan is formulating at this very moment to turn this thing back around. It just hasn’t formulated quite yet…

Tyler Rayne: I can see the smoke rolling out of your ears, kids. You’re wondering what the f*ck I’m doing out here. Now it’s true enough I’ve got no love for Frosty or his Universal Championship. Far as I’m concerned he can sit and spin on the gods damned thing, long as he shines it up all nice and pretty for Culture Shock. Because I will be the Jewel in the Crown after King of Kings. I will be facing Jason Snow for the Universal Championship at Culture Shock. And I will beat the every loving f*ck out of him before I take that title away.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!

The Greediest Player in the Game points out toward The Underground Pimp.

Tyler Nelson: Look here, you son of a bitch! I’ll be the one walking into Culture Shock as the Universal Champion. If you think-

Rayne cuts Nelson off.

Tyler Rayne: Jesus Christ, you sound like fingernails on a chalkboard. Just shut your cock hole and listen, will ya?

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!

Tyler Rayne: Before we get too carried away with the inevitable asskicking you’re going to take at King of Kings… we have tonight. And tonight I was sitting back watching the proceedings earlier, watching your so-called army beat the piss out of that so-called champion… and I had this weird sense of déjà vu. Like I had seen that before. Then it hit me. Great American Nightmare. Chandler Tsonda.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!

Nelson finds an opportunity to smile, remembering the Army’s dismantling of The Model Citizen.

Tyler Rayne: You did quite a number on my boy Tink. So while I may not care that much for Frosty, I really, really f*ckin’ hate you, Mr. Nelson. In fact, part of the reason I came back was to make your life as miserable as possible. You wanna talk about weaknesses? How ‘bout you being a self-absorbed cock monger? Now I know I have mentioned on more than one occasion how I’ve been looking forward to getting revenge for that very fairy friend of mine. Everyone knows I’ve been gunnin’ for ya, Nelson, ‘cept apparently you. You’re stupid enough to come up with a lumberjack match? To make it legal for me to be at ringside and straight rape you out of the Universal Championship? You think for one second I would pass up an opportunity to f*ck you over like that?

Nelson continues to smile. He has nothing to fear from any single man on the PRIME roster. Not with the forces aligned beside him.

Tyler Nelson: You seem to suffer from the same illusions of invincibility as our soon to be ex-champion. What possible threat could one man pose against the combined might of—

Tyler Rayne: Ya know, for a supposedly cunning dude… you’re really f*cking stupid. One man? Perhaps you never reviewed those old PRIME DVDs… but we were called The Three Amigos. Now Tink may not be here to round out that number, but three minus one is still two. Don’t think for a second that Dawkins doesn’t wanna kick your ass almost as much as I do. It’s unfortunate you weren’t around at the time of my last reign, because you would realize that I don’t have the same problems making friends as ol’ Frosty down there. I’m pretty confident, after what Chainz pulled last week, Diego Foster would be more than willing to take my back on this one. Shit, I’ll be the first to admit that Nitz and I don’t really get along much, but we both hate this f*cking censorship bullshit. A little common ground may be all we need to give our relationship a fresh start. That big, burly man friend of his is probably lookin' for some revenge, too. That’s before I even make the phone call to Uni. Lindsay Troy starts asking for favors, and you might just see Tchu step out there. Her and Dam are tight. Now maybe he can’t risk his plush job as Director of Security, but I’d bet he could spare a few Enemigos for a good cause. Wade Elliott’s got a boner for the girl. Little sweet talk and the promise of a bottle of whiskey might be enough to pull that bastard out for one more night.

Nelson stalks around the ring, almost pouting, with chair in hand. He keeps shifting his gaze between Snow and Rayne. The champ, meanwhile, folds his arms across his chest with a smirk on his face as he watches the King of Greed squirm.

Nick: This is starting to become a long and distinguished list of possibilities.

Richard: This is starting to become very unfair.

Tyler Rayne: Now if that isn’t enough to keep you up at night, give your friend Devin a call. I bet he’d be willing to meet up for another one of those secret, late night meetings. Exchanging money for services rendered? Hmm. What does that sound like? After you take his dick out of your mouth, ask him about UltraViolence. Make sure and swallow first. It’s not polite to talk with your mouth full. Give Emo credit where it’s due, he did end my life. Damn near ended my career. But ask him how many of these fans he had to go through to do it. You think a half dozen steroid junkies constitutes an army? No, my friend. This is an army.

The Underground Pimps spreads his arms like a messiah, indicating the flock of loyal followers that surround him. The entire Alerus Center rumbles beneath the unified chant of twenty thousand plus.

HA-OOH! HA-OOH! HA-OOH!

Tyler Rayne: Spartan warriors, down to the last. You bring your five jacked up lumberjacks to King of Kings, Mr. Nelson. I’ll bring five thousand. Five times over. Beat those odds, you son of a bitch. Jason Snow may not need help whippin’ your ass in a fair fight, but I don’t think anyone expects you to fight fair. With me in his corner, he won’t have to either. I’ll be down there as a lumberjack. Bring a chainsaw with me if I have to. Whatever it takes to make sure that Jason Snow walks out of that building with the Universal Championship. Whatever it takes to make sure you do not. King of Kings will not be host to the crowning of Tyler Nelson. For as long as I’m on this roster, kid, I can guaran-f*cking-tee that no night will be.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!

Nelson raises his microphone to respond, but words fail him. This was unexpected. This was not a part of the plan. Adjustments will need to be made. The King of Greed spits one last baleful glare up into the rafters before throwing his steel chair down at Snow's feet and sliding out of the ring before the Universal Champ has a chance to incite violence. Nelson storms to the backstage area, offering a final look back at Snow before shaking his head in disbelief.

Nick: An unexpected turn of events here this evening. Tyler Nelson thought he had the Universal Champion backed into a corner with the announcement of a Lumberjack Match, but then comes Tyler Rayne to help even the odds.

Richard: Why can't that walking STD just mind his own damn business? He's always sticking his nose in where it doesn't belong, and ruining perfectly good plans like he did tonight.

Nick: I don't think Rayne gives much of a damn for Nelson's plans, Richard.

Richard: That's because he is a thug and a miscreant. Someone needs to teach him some respect.

The Universal Champion begins to step out of the ring, but pauses to give his surprising new ally a nod of appreciation. The Underground Pimp offers a return salute before disappearing into his masses.

"What the Hell are you playing at, Jay?"

As Jay Phoenix walks through the backstage area, dressed and painted ready for battle, he is pulled up short by the barked question from behind him. Before he can react he is pulled around, sharply, to find himself facing an irate Troy Douglas.

Phoenix: … Troy.

Douglas pushes Phoenix back against the wall, fists clenched through the shorter man’s t-shirt, and leans in towards him.

Douglas: You know I didn’t think that we were best buds or anything like that, but I thought – at least – that the time we spent travelling and working together at CSWA would have meant that you wouldn’t stab me in the back!

Phoenix: It’s not like that …

Douglas: Considering you hightailed it out of the arena last week before you could explain what it WAS like I have no idea at all why you decided to lie down in the middle of the ring and let that piece of scum, Nelson, pin you!

Phoenix: I didn’t ‘decide’ …

Douglas: You know I could have said ‘no’ when you phoned me and asked for my help. I could have left you to face Nelson and Ares all alone but I didn’t. I respected you too much for that so had your back – and what did you do in return?

Phoenix: Troy, I didn’t know …

Douglas: What you DID in return was screw me over! Did you, Nelson and his cronies all get a good laugh at my expense? Did you think that it was funny to get me to the ring only so that another ‘loss’ could be chalked up against me? Is that it? IS IT?!

Phoenix: No, listen, that wasn’t the plan at all …

Douglas: You know what? I really don’t care what your cunning plan was Jay. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I hope that you are happy with yourself – I hope that you are proud.

Phoenix: I’m not …

Douglas: All I know is that we have a match to get though tonight … unless, of course, you decide to lay down for Raindance, Dawkins or whoever the Hell they are bringing in.

Phoenix: No, I won’t …

Douglas: I don’t care, Jay – you’ve burned whatever bridges you had with me, ‘my friend’, so next time you decide to call me …

Phoenix: Yes?

Douglas: Don’t!

Douglas releases his hold on Phoenix who slumps down the wall until he is sitting there, head in hands. Before Douglas walks away he looks down at Phoenix, a sneer on his face.

Douglas: Actually I know one other thing – you made me look stupid Jay, and I don’t like that at all so rather than stabbing YOU in the back I am going to do this right here, right now, and to your face … you and me, King of Kings, one on one. Payback.

Without a second glance Douglas walks off into the arena, leaving Phoenix to sit alone, watching him walk away.

Phoenix: I'm sorry ...

Lisa Tyler's night can be summarized in one word: awful. Tyler Nelson is charging ahead full throttle and nobody appears to be out of his sights. He's willing to run over any and everybody in order to force the hand of the woman he despises. He wants Lisa Tyler to submit and bow before his greatness, sacrificing herself so he can achieve the spot he once held.

Even though the times have been dire for the boss, she'll never consider doing that. Not a million years. She'd let anything happen before the ascension of Tyler Nelson...

Well maybe she'd let it happen before she allowed Michael Sloan to touch her.

The Boss has been summoned to the latest room in her creation to relieve some stress from the superstars and isn't fond of the sight she sees upon entering.

Two additional massage therapists have been brought in, and three of them are working on Devin Shakur's back. The Man in Black lets out content groans while the rejected Rayne Dancers work through years of stress on his body. He's paying them an exceptional amount, far more than they would make in a single month, so none of them are going to complain. The fourth grinds her hands into Christian Daniels shoulder over on another table. Lisa Tyler turns and glares to the camera, indicating that the person holding the object leave the room.

The person backs away but keeps the audio going in a way similar to the start of another conspiracy segment from an October Pay-Per-View.

"What do you want, Devin? I'm kind of losing my federation here."

"Relax, we all know you aren't losing anything."

"Nelson would see things a different way."

"Let him think that, so did you do what I asked?"

"Unfortunately, the board agreed with a lot of your ideas. The Wolves do deserve a tag title shot-"

"Kinda makes'ya slappin that bitch stupid worthless, eh?"

"You know I can fire you if I wish, Mr. Daniels? Your contract expi-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, move on."

"And everybody else is occupied in a match."

"Even the YMCA kid?"

"Jay Phoenix will face Troy Douglas at King of Kings, that has also been signed."

"Tremendous. Now, I need you to do something for me...That thing we discussed over the phone a few days ago..."

A large hand grabs hold of the cameraman and spins him around. It belongs to none other than Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas.

Dam: Boss said shut it down and she meant...shut it down.

The cameraman is escorted down the hall and out of the corridor. He's nervous and doesn't want to get reprimanded by his boss, but keeps the camera zoomed in tight despite the orders of the large head of security, hearing the odd piece of information when a voice is raised or Dam sticks his body back through the door.

"...Get the dirt..."

"...Under any circumstances?"

"...I need this. You don't know how badly I need this."

"...Gotta go, boss, ain't getting 'nemore tranquil round here."

About forty five seconds later, Lisa Tyler and Dametreyus emerge from the break room and storm down the hall, greeted by a horde of Enemigos. The cameraman slips into a nearby stock room to avoid being detected.

The second turn of Lap 3. Only one more turn to go in the exciting race for supremacy between three of the biggest windbags in the business, Mega Job, Tony Gamble and the Oompa Loompas.

Your commentators...Yeah, you should know who the hell they are by now.

Devin Shakur: I'll tell you B Dawk-

Bryan Dawkins: Don't call me that, bruh.

Devin Shakur: How The Oompas have managed to persevere through all the agony of this match I'll never know, but they have taken a pounding and still keep on ticking.

Bryan Dawkins: Just like what Hessian is going to do to you at King of Kings, bruh?

Devin Shakur: At least I'm not opening the card...Bruh.

Bryan Dawkins: OK, that's it, you wanna go? We'll go, bruh.

Devin Shakur: I'll beat you so bad this time you'll end up loving banana, I mean not that you don't already love taking Rayne's-

Dawkins leaps from his chair and tackles Shakur to the ground, pummeling The Man in Black with right hand after right hand.

So now we're going to do the last portion of this match without the commentators. Mega Job powers around the turn and can spot the finish line ahead.

But the Oompas are creeping on them, too close for comfort and they have fused back into one car.

El Janito: Hey, Beef?

Beef: Little busy! What?

El Janito: The Oompas have become Voltron?

Beef: Really?

El Janito: Really.

Beef: ........Dammit.

However, Mega Job has one saving grace and they have summoned him for such a critical moment in the match.

Steve the Rambling Communist.

He walks out onto the course and stands in front of the Oompas car.

Somebody would say something, but you know...He's Steve.

The Oompas have no choice but to crash into him.

EXPLOSIONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!

The Oompas go in six different directions but none of them break the red ribbon or sail over it.

Steve stands there, arms folded across chest, unharmed in any capacity.

Steve: PIMP.

And now it appears...I can't believe I'm even saying this...Mega Job might win a race. They can see the finish line, smell the victory, and they can feel the admiration of all their friends. They came from the depths and took on the challenge but reigned supreme-

Putt. Putt. Putt. Putt. Putt.

El Janito: NO!

Beef: Anything but this!

It seems that when Mega Job used their oil slick maneuver back on Lap 1, they burned fuel in the process. The waffle syrup vehicle is losing speed.

El Janito: COME ON, BABY! GIVE IT ALL YA GOT!

But the realization gets bigger and bigger. They aren't going to win.

Beef: AHHHHHHHHHHH! WE'RE NOT GONNA MAKE IT, JANITO!

Janito slams his foot into the gas pedal one last time and gets a burst of energy...

But goes wide right and slams into the janitor's closet: a tower of mops, buckets, brooms, and bleach falling on them and leaving them out cold.

Meanwhile...

Tony Gamble: YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

The Grin crosses the finish line, breaking the red ribbon with arms held high above his head.

And there you have it folks.

Nick: Well, we've experienced one hell of a night in terms of chaos, and with the match coming up I don't think it's going to be any prettier.

Richard: That's one hell of an understatement, my friend.

Nick: These eight individuals have been brawling throughout the entire night in some form or fashion. One has to believe that almost everybody else on the roster is watching with intrigue.

Richard: Well, everybody except Devin Shakur who can't keep himself from being pampered.

Nick: Jason Snow can't be happy that he got assaulted. Tyler Rayne came out and made his intentions known. Lisa Tyler is striking deals. Hessian is...

Richard: Hessian

Nick: And...Wait, what is that?

Richard: Well, I was hoping we wouldn't need to have this discussion for a few more years.

Nick: There is movement in the crowd.

Richard: In every man's life Nick, he reaches a point where changes occur and-

Nick: Diego Foster and Chainz are in the crowd!

Richard: What are you talking about? I'm trying to explain puberty here.

Nick: ...Diego Foster and Chainz!

Richard: Get a camera over there.

Sure enough, madness has erupted in the crowd and those around the arena are going nuts. Diego Foster finally got his grubby paws on Chainz and he is swinging for the fences with forearm after forearm, blistering the forehead of The Monster from Hell's Kitchen.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

And North Dakota is soaking it up. Loving the moment.

Nick: Chainz has been running roughshod over the past few weeks and finally someone is getting their due retribution.

Diego unleashes another forearm and a 12 to 6 elbow on the forehead. Chainz stumbles down the stairs, gripping the rail to ensure he doesn't fall on his back. He doesn't want to be on the receiving end of a stifling Diego Foster leg kick.

Although it doesn't matter for Foster. He'll take any strike he can get, and if he has to settle for a knee to the head then that's what he do. Chainz backpedals down the stairs while Foster continues to bring the aggression.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: On the stage. Brandon Youngblood has a hold of Tyler Nelson.

Richard: Jason Snow must be creaming himself at the mere sight of this.

Nick: If he's not on the way out here to help.

Richard: Fair point.

The Greediest Player in the Game was yanked from his locker room a few seconds ago by The Pariah and taken out for the match. Why? Maybe because he doesn't like the way Nelson has been dealing the past few weeks. Maybe because he knows it'll anger his Jewel in the Crown semifinal opponent, or maybe because he's Brandon Youngblood and marches to the beat of his own drum. Speaking of marching-

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Tyler Nelson is performing in his own one man band after receiving the stingiest knife edge chop in the business. He rolls down the ramp, cursing all the way down and trying to recuperate for some kind of retaliation. Youngblood stalks down silently and menacingly, fist balled and ready to strike.

That is when Nelson is thrown a life preserver in the form of The Wolves of Slaughter. They fly down the ramp, Kazys Jankauskas clipping Youngblood from behind with a clothesline.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: And here comes the numbers game. Change in Spades haven't gotten out of the locker room yet according to sources and The Wolves are getting the jump.

Richard: You know who must be loving all this carnage right now? Just a thought...The Redeemed.

Nick: ...For once, you've made an excellent point. Both of these teams have been brawling at breakneck speed over the past few weeks while The Redeemed have been silent. This could bode well for the champs once the Pay-Per-View rolls around, because we now know that it will be a triple tag team match for the belts.

Nelson gets a reprieve and rolls into the ring, clutching at his chest while The Wolves assault The Pariah. Elise lands a spinning back kick while Kazys fluently drops Youngblood on the back of his skull with a side Russian leg sweep. Elise follows through with an elbow. Nelson shouts for his associates to bring Youngblood in the ring. He's feeling froggy.

Speaking of froggy, the battle between Diego Foster and Chainz is etching closer and closer toward the ring. Diego barrels off a right hand, but Chainz has replenished enough strength to counter with a shot of his own, and it's not a cream puff kind of strike. Diego withstands the shot and goes for a knee to the midsection, but Chainz catches the leg and slings Diego forward with a powerslam. The sound of flesh smacking against concrete is sickening and those in the surrounding areas make their voices heard.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Richard: And you are telling me these guys are going to have a match?

Nick: It could be very possible if all of them would get into the ring.

Richard: Yeah, like that'll happen. You aren't containing these animals.

Tyler Nelson paintbrushes Brandon Youngblood across the face and sticks a finger in his grill, badmouthing him for being so disrespectful to the future Universal Champion.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

And the odds are about to be evened up.

Nick: Change in Spades! Here we go! We've got a four on four, now ladies and gents!

Richard: Someone give me a popcorn bucket, preferably one that doesn't contain a hole in the bottom. I know how Rayne likes to use that trick on unsuspecting women-

Nick: Quiet.

Nitz Donnelly and Vance Raymes bolt down the ramp like bats out of hell. Well, Nitz does anyway, Vance is pretty damn large and not going to win any races against Usain Bolt in the near future. The King of New England makes his presence known immediately, springboarding onto the top rope and launching himself in the direction of Tyler Nelson.

Only to be captured by Kazys Jankauskas. Nitz flails around like a child on a sugar rush, but Kazys isn't letting go.

Fortunately for The High Class Ass, he's got a saving grace that picked Elise Ares up and threw her at Kazys feet, dropping The Wolves into a heap.

Brandon Youngblood lifts Tyler Nelson off the ground and drives him into the canvas with a devastating belly to belly suplex. He mounts The Greediest Player in the Game and brutalizes him with punch after punch.

Nick: This is starting to get out of hand.

Richard: Starting to? Where the hell have you been the past two hours?

Chainz notices the disadvantage and tries to shake Diego Foster, but he's refusing to let go of The Monster's ankle. Sloan grunts and groans while dragging Foster toward the ring, telling Nelson to hang on until he gets there.

With The Pariah on top of him, he might not have that much time left.

The Wolves and Spades have seen enough of the ring and are on the floor, trading rights and lefts. Nitz and Elise have paired up while the two titans of the teams slug it out against the padded barricade, almost bringing it down because of their combined weight.

Nick: That's 600 pounds leaning against one portion of the barricade, Richard.

Richard: If they make their way over here, cowards and fat people first.

DING! DING! DING!

Nick: And we've got a match under way. This counts as their entrances and the two legal men in the ring are Brandon Youngblood and Tyler Nelson.

Richard: This is a mockery of wrestling. How can Tyler Nelson be treated in such a manner?

Nick: He's getting exactly what he deserves Nick, and I hope a few more people give him a beating before the night is over.

Richard: Shame on you, Nick. You should never disrespect greatness in such a way.

The Pariah doesn't want to let up, but he doesn't want to lose the match for his team so he removes himself from Tyler Nelson. The King of Greed uses the corner to get up, but probably wishes he hadn't once Youngblood winds up his right hand.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Richard: That one is going to hurt his children.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Richard: Grandchildren.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Richard: And now Youngblood has ruined the entire Nelson dynasty.

Meanwhile, on the outside, Chainz has finally gotten to the barricade and pulled Diego Foster up to a standing position. He delivers a headbutt and backs up a few steps. The newcomer doesn't have much of a clue where he's at, and is even more ignorant when Chainz rushes ahead and spears him through the barricade, bringing a piece of it down underneath. The blow might have been cushioned for Diego's back, but his ribs will be bruised tomorrow.

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: Damn near three hundred pounds into the ribcage of Diego Foster.

Elise Ares receives a knee to her midsection, but that appears to have been her plan all along as she bends her arm and drives the elbow into Nitz Donnelly's groin. He doubles over, leaving his neck vulnerable enough for Kazys to bicycle kick him across the back of the head. Vance Raymes spins Kazys around and pops him with a right. Elise crawls over and goes for the second low blow, but Vance steps on her hands and prevents the shot.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Bicycle kick number 2 from the ReVolution 200 Battle Royal winner.

Nick: While we've got a match going on in the ring, the action is still fast and furious on the floor.

Chainz is slow to get to his feet, Kazys and Elise walking over to assist him up. The trio put the boots to Diego Foster while Brandon Youngblood whips Tyler Nelson across the ring and slams him to the canvas with a straightjacket suplex. Youngblood drops down and goes for the cover.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

Chainz reaches in and pulls Youngblood to the floor, belting him with a right hand.

DING! DING! DING!

Nick: It didn't take long for Lisa Tyler to order the stoppage of this one.

Richard: This is four on four and none of these guys can hang with Nelson's crew.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

And judging by the size of the man stalking down the ramp, they aren't going to be able to for much longer.

Nick: The Murder Show!

Richard: If you thought the mugging was nasty a moment ago, it's only going to get worse from here.

Nick: Anytime a seven foot two man enters into a scene, you are bound to have problems for the other side.

Richard: Not to mention the problems already around the ringside area.

The Wolves of Slaughter have each grabbed an arm on The Pariah and sling him into the barricade. Chainz puts a boot across Youngblood's face while Ares spreads his legs and drives a boot into the groin. Change in Spades have recuperated and look to get involved in the melee, evening up the odds.

Unfortunately, they never saw The Hess Express and end up bumping heads as a result. Hessian takes a hold of Vance Raymes, lifting him into his arms and slamming him down to the canvas.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: Hessian exploiting Change in Spades there and I doubt you are going to see any of Devin Shakur or Christian Daniels out here to help.

Richard: Nitz and Devin had a brief friendship in the past but that was before Shakur became a world class wrestler.

Nick: And a world class douchebag.

Richard: Would you rather have a three on one masseuse to back ratio or be dealing with these guys?

Nick: I don't know whether or not he's on the side of Lisa Tyler or not, but if he is then he needs to come out and show some support.

Richard: Devin Shakur is in business for himself. Plain and simple. Always has been. Always will be.

Nick: And everybody out here is in business for Tyler Nelson. Look at him direct traffic.

Diego Foster clings at the leg of Kazys Jankauskas, but Iron Wolf barely notices. Chainz and Hessian get on a side and size up the newcomer.

Nick: Oh no. We saw the same thing happen to Chandler Tsonda at Great American Nightmare. This was the worst of those moves.

Richard: 650 pounds of pressure coming down on your back.

Chainz and Hessian rush forward, leap into the air and crash down across the spine of Diego Foster. He screams out in pain but there is nothing he can do. He is helpless while both Chainz and Hessian roll back and forth across him.

And apparently the word Chandler Tsonda finally sparked the cavalry.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: HERE WE GO! TYLER RAYNE HAS HIT THE SCENE!

Richard: And he's not alone. The man is packing some weapons.

Nick: The FCC better get ready to end this abruptly-

Richard: Not those. He found Change in Spades weapons.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: JASON SNOW! Now we've finally got us a fight!

Never in the wildest dreams of any PRIMEate did they anticipate seeing the Universal Champion and Tyler Rayne storming down the ramp almost in unison ready to battle an opposing force, but it's happening. The Underground Pimp reaches the steel stairs first and leaps without fear into the pile. Chainz and Hessian turn to meet him, but instead Chainz gets clocked with the stainless steel wrench. The Underground Pimp rushes at him and takes him down near the timekeepers table, pounding with all of his might on the bald head.

Hessian would go over to help, but he's got a problem in the Universal Champion. Jason Snow springboards to the top rope and comes down with all of his high flying and leverage ability, taking the big man down. Well, Snow can't take all the credit because Hessian is like a mountain. Diego Foster's body tripped The Murder Show and gave Snow the much needed clutch assist. Tyler Nelson is not a happy man right now, watching what could have been a shining moment in his career go up in flames because of Rayne and Snow. He even indicates such by screaming at them.

Tyler Nelson: You pricks will never amount to my greatness. NEVER! YOU HEAR THAT SNOW? THE BELT IS MINE!

There are many scary things in professional wrestling. Chainz giving you a smirk. Hessian running at you full speed. Tony Gamble preparing to put a submission hold on you. Chandler Tsonda on the top rope ready to end your night.

But all of those pale in comparison to the dual glare Tyler Nelson receives from Jason Snow and Tyler Rayne. He'll never admit it, but he's not exactly comfortable standing in the ring with both men dead set on heading in after him. Diego Foster dives on Chainz and picks up the slack from The Underground Pimp, unleashing sheer hell upon The Monster.

Nick: Oh yeah, here we go. Tyler Nelson has just been trapped!

Richard: GET OUTTA THERE NELSON! FLY! FLY LIKE THE WIND!

The Underground Pimp hops on the apron and steps through the ropes, no fancy drama and build up. Jason Snow steps in a second behind him and they get on each side of Tyler Nelson. The Greediest Player in the Game's eyes are darting like a crack head's. Back and forth. He knows they are both coming. Which one is faster? Which one will hit harder? Does it matter?

Rayne steps forward and Nelson jumps.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Snow puts his lights out with Snake Eyes.

Nick: That felt GOOD and North Dakota is losing their mind. This is revenge, ladies and gentlemen.

Richard: Ugh. I'm sick of this.

The Wolves of Slaughter and Change in Spades haven't separated from one another in quite a while. Nitz Donnelly is thanking Elise Ares for belting him in the crotch earlier by exchanging right hands with her over by the announcers table. He lifts her up and almost slams her through the table, looking over to his right for the wrench Tyler Rayne brought down.

Nick: Uh boy.

Richard: We seriously might need to get out of here if he's eyeballing that bad boy.

Nitz momentarily leaves The Havana Harlot and goes for his wrench. Unfortunately, he's side swiped by the ever faithful Kazys Jankauskas who punches Donnelly across the eyes and sends him back into his partner, who low blows Nitz a second time before grabbing him by the hair and yanking him to the ringside mats.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Brandon Youngblood and Hessian have found one another again and neither man is enjoying what the other one is dishing out. Youngblood lights up the chest of The Murder Show with a chop. Hessian counters with one of his own. It's not in the Youngblood league, but not many people will argue that it's not intense. Chainz wraps around the barricade and gives his partner the assist, nailing a shot on Youngblood from behind.

Nick: Even though this is six on five at this point, the size difference is playing a critical role.

Richard: Not to mention that Snow and Rayne are having way too much fun in the ring.

It's true. Tyler Nelson is being batted around like a pinball by The Underground Pimp and Original Villain. He receives a right hand from Tyler Rayne. Snow feels like he has to make the next one harder and does. Rayne feels the same way and swings his hips into the punch. Snow grabs hold of Nelson's shoulders and winds up.

Diego Foster grabs hold of the snipe bar Vance Raymes intended to use on Chainz and sneaks into the scene. He spins The Monster around and clocks him on the head with it, knocking him to the ground in a heap.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: This is carnage, Richard.

Change in Spades look across the ringside area and observe Diego using one of their weapons to good use, clobbering Chainz with the tool. It's not a hollow piece of wepaonry so both men crack smiles before going back into battle. Nitz over by the announcers table and Vance by the timekeepers booth.

Hessian paws Brandon Youngblood away and boots Diego Foster in the head, knocking him backwards into the ring apron. He rushes forward and crushes him with a big time splash. Youngblood, fearless competitor that he is, leaps onto Hessian's back and tries to choke him out.

Well, we can't blame ihm for trying at least. Youngblood gets thrown off, but rises up and tries again, punching Hessian with all of his might.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: And now it's going to get really interesting!

Richard: What is that old hag doing out here?

Nick: That old hag is the last semifinalist in Jewel in the Crown and he might want himself a piece of Chainz or Hessian.

Richard: Good luck.

The Inhuman Being strides down the ramp and gives The Murder Show a stiff forearm to the head. Hessian counters. Tchu. Hessian. Tchu. Hessian. Tchu. Hessian. Youngblood. Youngblood gets on Hessian's back and uses the help of Tchu to drive him down to the canvas, punching him in the back of the head. Tchu rushes forward and lands a clothesline on Hessian, joining in with Diego while Chainz scrambles against the barricade. He's doing his best to throw any kind of punch that will get him free for a moment. Jab on Tchu. Jab on Diego.

None of it is working but Michael Sloan doesn't believe that and rushes forward, backing the two of them into the Youngblood/Hessian pile. Both men are getting up and now its a full on five way brawl.

Nick: This is pandemonium.

Richard: Those big bastards are going to trample us to death!

Elise Ares ducks a punch from Nitz Donnelly and kicks him in the shin before slamming his face into the announce table. As Nitz is about to get up he catches a hard right from Kazys who in turn catches one from Vance Raymes. Elise jumps on his back and tries to club the big man as best she can, but he simply throws her to the ground. Kazys is back up and laying in lefts and rights staggering the big man who takes a knee only to be hit from behind by Elise. Nitz climbs the announce table and flies onto his opponents, taking both the Wolves out.

Nick: Back and forth, this thing isn’t even resembling a wrestling match. Although what’s happening in the ring is a sight for sore eyes.

Richard: What are you talking about, that’s bull!

Tyler Nelson is taking a beating of utmost proportions in the ring as both Jason Snow and Tyler Rayne are dishing into the greedy bastard. He takes a right from Rayne and when he turns he catches Snake Eyes from Snow.

Nick: Tyler Nelson, who some might say is responsible for all this is getting his ass handed to him now.

Richard: Yeah, with a 2 on 1.

Nick: He has no problem when those are the odds he’s using on people.

Richard: It’ll be different at King of Kings because he’s going to walk out with the gold.

That very may well be, but tonight Nelson is taking a beating. Snow is on top of Nelson, punching him repeatedly while the King of Greed can do nothing but try and cover up.

Nelson’s fellow army member Chainz is faring no better. Having drawn the ire of so many individuals in the past few weeks he’s now feeling the full blunt of their anger. He’s surrounded by people he’s pissed off.

Nick: This is the one many out here that I truly loathe. At least with Nelson you can attribute everything he does to his narcissism and greed, but Chainz is just an inhuman asshole for no reason.

Richard: Well, I can’t say I agree with his actions, but he’s been effective lately so I can’t really argue.

Nick: Can’t or won’t?

Richard: Well if you want him sniffing around your house at night be my guest.

Nick: …Actually, good point.

Chainz is taking a pummeling from Diego Foster who is livid from Alyson’s attack earlier. Chainz manages to poke Foster in the eye and back away, only to be met by Brandon Youngblood who is more than happy to get in a few shots. Chainz tries to fight back but is seized upon by Tchu, who is also eager to wear down the sick freak. Chainz somehow escapes the group, only to find Tyler Rayne waiting for him to get in his licks. The Spades, who have distanced themselves from The Wolves are now getting in their shots as well.

Nick: Look how many enemies Chainz has made. He clearly is the most hated man in PRIME.

Richard: Well duh.

Nick: The Nelson army is getting beaten down right now.

A group of men continue kicking and punching Sloan who is bleeding from his face, but still wearing a sinister grin as if he’s enjoying everything. The group is suddenly knocked over like bowling pins as Hessian comes flying in. He swings his arms wildly connecting with people and sending them flying.

Nick: Hessian for the save. I still don’t know why he feels he needs to help Sloan.

Richard: I don’t think he’s helping Sloan. Since Shakur’s not out here he just wants to pummel someone.

Hessian does just that as he lays siege to people, until the numbers overwhelm him. Tchu and Rayne go to work on the giant while Brandon Youngblood and Foster go back to work on the fallen Chainz. The Wolves are back in the fray as they get into it with the Spades again.

Nick: Lisa Tyler is going to need to come out here and restore order before this breaks down.

Richard: Order? You think she can get order of these guys?

Having put down Hessian, Tchu and Rayne look each other over before trading blows. The JiTC semi-finalists are trying to get the upper hand on each other as they brawl around the ring.

Meanwhile, Tyler Nelson has somehow gained control of the action in the ring and is dishing out blows to a groggy Jason Snow. Before long Nelson has Snow on the ground, but not for long. Snow trips Nelson up and is back to his feet in no time flat.

Nick: What madness. Oh, Hessian just floored Brandon Youngblood and Diego Foster, freeing the monster from Hell’s Kitchen.

Chainz quickly slides into the ring and turns straight into Snake Eyes from Snow.

Nick: Down he goes.

Snow turns around and is kicked in the gut and dropped with DDT by Nelson.

Richard: Down he goes.

Kazys is getting beat down as both members of the Spades are hammering on him. Elise climbs the top turnbuckle and jumps into the sea of humanity, barely making a dent in the 3 men who don’t seem to be fazed much by her offense.

Tchu has the upper hand as he whips Tyler Rayne into the ring steps and eats a big left hand from Youngblood.

Diego Foster slides into the ring and floors Nelson with a clothesline before setting his sights on the rising form of Michael Sloan. He waits until the beast is up and charges, only to eat a big boot. Chainz quickly slides out of the ring to the dismay of the fans and avoids all of the action going on. He waves his hands in disgust and climbs into the fans searching for an escape.

Nick: That coward.

Richard: Wait, what are they doing?

Nick: The fans, they’re standing up to this bully. They’re not letting him by!

Indeed, a group of fans block Sloan’s exit which riles up the big man. Shrugging his shoulders he begins to attack the fans who grab their chairs and start pummeling Chainz as best they can. Sloan tries to cover up, but can’t stop the steel from hitting his flesh. He quickly abandons that plan and jumps back into the fray where he’s immediately met by Brandon Youngblood who is more than eager to spike his head into the floor with a DDT.

Nick: Thank God, it’s about time.

Lisa Tyler appears out of the back with security and officials in tow. She tells them something and they quickly descend on the brawl, which is actually becoming a riot as some of the more eager fans have jumped the barricades and are seeking out Chainz specifically and also Tyler Nelson.

Richard: Get those common folk off our champions!

Chainz throws a small young man to the ground and cracks a woman in the jaw before sliding into the ring and out on the other side while security comes down.

Hessian lays waste to fans who get in his way as he seeks out more people to pummel.

The Wolves and Spades continue their brawl and disappear in the sea of humanity caused from the fans.

Tchu and Rayne continue to trade blows as security holds them apart.

Jason Snow has to be restrained from Tyler Nelson who is trying to fight off the rioting fans.

Brandon Youngblood, feeling like this is beneath just jumps into the crowd and leaves the fight behind him.

Diego Foster tries to attack Chainz who is making his way towards Lisa Tyler and before he gets there he’s pounced upon by Foster. Diego turns him over and tries to land blows, but is reversed and finds himself eating lefts and rights. Chainz quickly gets up and walks by Lisa Tyler and before heading to the back points at the riot happening before her. He yells something at her and disappears backstage while the action continues in front of her.

Lisa Tyler shakes her head as she watches her show spiral out of control.