ReVolution 222 opens with a shot of Devin Shakur sitting in his reclining chair at his work desk with his legs propped up on the mahogany table. He puts a hand over the left side of his mouth and pretends to light a candy cigarette. He takes a long drag and flips off the camera with a smile on his face.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

On a wider shot of the office, Christian Daniels flicks cards to Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas in the lounge area by the plasma television. Matt Mills would have been invited to the game, but nobody in PRIME will take his "I'm good for it" phrase at face value anymore. The game of choice for Shakur's two man security team is

Nick (OSV): Folks, welcome to ReVolution 222, live from The Palace of Auburn Hills.

Richard (OSV): This building sucks so bad Ron Artest won't come here anymore.

Nick (OSV): Try making it out of the building tonight, big guy.

Richard (OSV): Somebody fetch me Sheed, ain't like he's doing anything these days.

Shakur keeps the cigarette in his mouth, a testament to newfound corporate skills. We'll leave the sexual innuendo jokes for you to fill in.

Devin Shakur: I would like to officially welcome everybody to the kick off of PRIME's Born Again tournament. This evening will feature three matches, nine of the twenty one competitors, and see a good portion of the second round determined. PRIME has decided to break down any perceived glass ceiling by giving newcomers who wish to give the landscape an individual bracket for themselves, while sticking everybody who has had a match before in a 'Stalwarts' bracket. The Stalwarts bracket takes center stage with a Main Event featuring ...'The Inhuman Being' Tchu--

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick (OSV): These people apparently haven't forgotten what Tchu did to Shakur at the Dual Halo.

Richard (OSV): I'm sure the newfound candy cigarette budget, coming out of Tchu's paycheck, also remembers.

Devin Shakur: Squaring off against former Universal Champion, Boda, and someone who I hope is appearing in person this evening, Garbage Bag Johnny.

A mixed bag reaction for the GCW Commissioner. He's got the hardcore devotees who remember from his days of nude aerobics and those who remember him from the villainous days of Hessian and lounging in PRIME while holding the Golden Ticket of 2009.

Devin Shakur: The second Stalwarts match sees Troy Douglas and Elise Ares pick up their rivalry from Culture Shock and incorporate a returning Emilio Rage into their web of violence. Although, from what I've heard, Ares has probably already been picked up by both of them. BAZING.

Shakur gets up and gives a Tiger Woods roar and fist pump, all while keeping the candy cigarette in his mouth.

Christian Daniels, keeping his focus on the cards, gives a thumbs up. Dametreyus makes an observation.

Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas: Y'all white boys gotta get class'n yo humor, boss.

Richard makes a stifled chuckle while Nick facepalms. Shakur takes a bow and gets back to his speech.

Devin Shakur: And our single New Era bracket showcases Black Death, who I will be suing for gimmick infringement at some point, taking on Roxie Sykes and Crazy Joe.

Nick (OSV): I wonder what joke Shakur will crack at that.

Devin Shakur: It'll be a joke worth five-thousand dollars of your paycheck if another snide mark comes out of your yap, Nick.

Richard (OSV): BOOM.

Devin Shakur: And we are also featuring four of the newcomers in a tag team match, which is just a veiled way for me to humor myself by watching them try and team up before beating the snot out of each other in the future. Enjoy the forced labor you four, and remember to wash my car after the match. Pollen season might be done for the time being but that doesn't mean I don't like a shiny automobile.

Nick (OSV): I liked Shakur better when he was evil and plotting schemes to ruin our roster.

Devin Shakur: I hope all of you enjoy the show this evening. A word of advice for anybody out there roaming for the Universal Championship...be grateful for the opportunity. Cherish the moment because you may never get another one as long as I'm around. While some glass ceilings might have been shattered...Others still exist.

Shakur flicks the cigarette into the camera and gives a stern look, one more serious than the rest of his speech.

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 Big Bad Boda Daddy manhandles the Dual Halo, showing that even after four years away from the ring he is still one of the best in the world.

Always under attack.

Garbage Bag Johnny appears in hologram form at the door of Devin Shakur. It's just one of the many awesome things he's done during stints in PRIME.

Always coming in last,
Bringing up the past.

Emilio Rage strikes a menacing pose for the camera. He's been away since ReVolution 84, but the Nicaraguan Nightmare is always a force to be reckoned with.

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

The controversial Chainz stares into the camera with a sadistic glare.

So paranoid...
Watch your back!

Hush. We're not going to tell you much about this guy because he might have everybody killed.

Oh my, here we go...

Castor V Strife is a nine year veteran in the wrestling ring and is so Hollywood he owns his own production studio.

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

Even though she is quite disoriented, Elise Ares clutches the 5 Star Championship firmly in her right hand. The first singles gold of her PRIME career.

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

Vance Raymes blasts Elise Ares in the skull with a boot.

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 snaps off a Good Times, Painful Memories kick at the expense of Tony Gamble, costing his longtime compadre the 5 Star Championship.

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

Christian Daniels snarls to the camera and takes a swig from his beer. He's only wrestled three times, but try convincing a seven foot Biker that he can't be in the introduction video. Especially one who has the ear of The Boss in Black. Not easy.

To explain,

Nitz Donnelly is the first man to enter the Dual Halo 2010. He takes the best shot of every wrestler and comes out with a Top 10 finish, solidifying his name as a PRIME superstar.

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

Tyler Rayne flashes the million dollar smirk toward the camera. It melts the hearts of every woman on the planet and a few guys too.

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

David Noble is back in the land of PRIME and looking to recapture lost glory.

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,

Matt Mills with a microphone in his hand. Yes, you better believe this gambling addict has finally worked his way into the introduction. He'll use the income from being featured in this to create a new online account at Full Tilt Poker. We believe the screen name will be isildur2.

Looking so sorry that I'm gonna believe,
You've been infected by a social disease.
Well, then take your medicine.
I created the Sound of Madness.
Wrote the book on pain.
Somehow I'm still here,

Tchu lands a Downfall on Chainz and captures the Intense Championship.

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?

Black Death. A mastodon of the squared circle looking to make an impact in PRIME.

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

Roxie Sykes looking to strike out on her own.

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

Shawn Hart. He's got a plethora of gimmicks wrapped up into one with a style fresher than Chandler Tsonda.

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

Troy Douglas sends Jay Phoenix down the End of the Road at King of Kings 2009.

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

The Prince of Delusion, Vangelus Olsig, defeats Brandon Youngblood to become the Dual Halo 2010 winner.

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 boss, Devin Shakur. He conned and weaseled his way into the front office and now has his wish, to run PRIME as he sees fit. The Dark Days of PRIME have officially begun.

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

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

PRIME...Number One by Definition.

The tag match featuring four newcomers started with the power representatives of each group, Bishop Steele and Vic Thunder. Steele came straight into Thunder, looking to utilize his Mixed Martial Arts background and take advantage of the 290 pounder. Steele presented a good stand up game and got Thunder into a neutral corner, forcing knees into the midsection and landing elbows across the forehead. Elvis Nixon strutted over to break Steele from the corner, which allowed Thunder a chance to get in a big boot over Nixon's head and tag out to Strife.

Strife entered the ring and immediately nailed a signature 'No Place Like Home' on the groggy Bishop Steele. Strife went for a quick cover but Steele managed to kick out at two. Strife continued to go on the offensive, landing a European uppercut and inverted atomic drop. Steele went into the ropes and Strife followed him, hooking him around the waist and rolling back for a roll up. Steele managed to kick out at two and maneuver Strife into a compromising position, locking his legs around the midsection and going for a rear naked choke. Strife had the presence of mind, or perhaps stubbornness, to keep his chin down and avoid the submission. Thunder came back into the ring and broke up the hold, putting an elbow of his own against the top of Steele's skull. Thunder grabbed hold of his partner's arm and brought him over to the corner. Both teams made the tag at the same time.

Shawn Jessica Hart bolted into the match with a discus clothesline, backing Hart against the ropes. Strife tried to intervene but received an atomic drop for his troubles. Hart threw Bishop over the ropes and focused on the legal man, Vic Thunder, catching him with a rolling mafia kick to the forehead. Thunder backed against the ropes and got his left leg caught in a dragon leg whip. Before Thunder could react or reach for his corner, Hart was already transitioning into a figure four leg lock. He dropped back in the middle of the ring. Thunder looked to use his athleticism to break the hold, get to the ropes, or reverse the pressure. His shoulders went to the mat twice before Strife separated the wrestlers with a diving headbutt on Hart.

Bishop Steele entered the ring and the match completely broke down. Elvis Nixon couldn't do much to keep the four wrestlers apart. Steele went after Strife while Hart and Thunder kept on one another. Strife and Steele went to the floor, where Steele tried to land a Superkick. Strife caught the hold and spun Steele around, using the spin as leverage for his Director's Cut finishing move. In the ring, at the same time, Thunder looked for a stalling vertical suplex, but Hart swung out and was able to hit the Hart On for a pinfall victory.

Winners: Shawn Jessica Hart and Bishop Steele

Smacking her lips together, she seems satisfied with the ruby red lipstick as a smile crosses her face looking back at her reflection. Luckily, the PRIME 5*Star Championship belt doubles as a personal mirror... perfect for the narcissistic personality of The Wolf Of Slaughter. Elise Ares quickly turned around and made eye contact with the other remaining member of Nelson's Army. Chainz stares back, practically salivating from staring at the champions' ass for a rather lengthy period of time.

Elise Ares: So, now that I have you here and...

The Undisputed Queen of Swagger snaps her fingers, catching Chainz staring at her breasts.

Ares: Yo, up here. Hi!

Chainz finally makes eye contact with his associate.

Ares: Good, now that you're looking at me, I have a very important question for you. This is second only to the question of if I want to remain on life-support or not later in life, so I need you to focus and I need you to be honest.

Chainz looks at her with a bemused look on his face. He already knows the question before she can even ask it. Still, having nothing better to do he shrugs his shoulders and allows Elise to proceed.

Ares: I need to know... which wrestling attire looks better on me. Alright?

Holding up two two-pieces, Elise Ares holds up one outfit which is a black leather top with blue-violet tribal patterns across the chest. It comes with black leather chaps with matching tribal patterns and a pair of blue-violet bikini bottoms. The second outfit is also a two-piece, top with boyshorts in gold with black accents. She held them up to her body one at a time, trying to gauge a reaction from Chainz's face.

Ares: One.

She holds up the black leather and blue-violet.

Ares: Two.

She moves it away, now holding up the gold and black.

Chainz grabs a piece of paper and begins scribbling on it, obviously drawing Elise's attention.

Ares: So when you going to be able to speak again?

He shrugs, but continues scribbling. He holds up the paper.

"Wanna be really daring and piss Lisa Tyler off?"

Elise's eyes light up as she nods enthusiastically.

He scribbles some more.

"You should wrestle topless."

Ares: Ugh... you're hopeless.

Elise drops both outfits onto the floor and plops down onto the couch that adorns their dressing room. Putting her arms over her head she closes her eyes and takes a deep sigh. Meanwhile Chainz stares holes into the curves of her body.

Ares: I could really use your help you know, as opposed to you fucking me with your eyes.

Chainz does just that as she mentions it, grinning wide.

Ares: It's not like Kazys is around anymore. You're all I've got.

He sighs, probably just for her benefit and joins her on the couch. Before she can stand up his arm is around her. Despite everything she feels slightly unnerved being so close to an alleged killer.

He scribbles in the paper.

"You'll help me out with my problem and I'll help you out with your problems. Have I screwed you over before? Don't you trust me?"

Ares: I trust you... but I'm not wrestling topless.

He scribbles some more.

"Relax babe, you're not exactly my type. Hot yes, but you know my type. See, me and you ain't so different. You'll see that one day."

He pats her on her head and leans in and kisses her on her forehead. As he leaves she shudders and nearly throws up.

Ares: I need to get up.

At first there is some resistance.

Ares: I... really need to get up.

Chainz lets go with a frown as Elise eyes the shower, but it's too close to match time she just didn't have time. Pacing back and forth she shudders once again before looking back at Chainz, who simply grins.

Ares: Fine, I'll help you but I need you to have my back too. Like... tonight. I need you at ringside. Not that I can't handle it myself or anything like that. It's just nice to have someone watch my back in case Troy Douglas or that Gitmo try to molest me or something...

Everyone except Elise seems to find the irony of the situation, gathering a few snickers from the crowd.

Ares: Guy creeps me out.

Elise makes eye contact with Chainz.

Ares: More than you.

Chainz simply nods his head telling her he's got his back. He motions to the door and Elise knows it's time. With a uneasy sigh she heads out with Chainz smirking behind her.

Red-haired, pale-faced, beautiful and unsure. She puts a cigarette to her lips like she’s on automatic, then stops, spits it back into her hand, crunches it between slender fingers. New start.

Roxie Sykes blinks into the strip-lighting and smells the air of something different. She’s passed her first test, the unwavering scrutiny of Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas, remembering to hold her tongue and not take offense as the Director of Security pronounced his surname at her in some kind of humourless bark that passed for a greeting. He didn’t just tick her off a list, he keyed her name into a pad. He didn’t just open the double doors of the loading bay, he swiped her in with an electronic card. Rumours of PRIME’s demise have been greatly exaggerated. Though it’s far from being her way, she can’t help but feel awed.

Her boots click and clack on the polished floor as she eats up the corridor, kitbag over her shoulder. She passes a wall of medical certificates outside the EMTs’ station. She’ll be in safe hands, then. She’s never seen something like this before.

GCW might be the buzz promotion right now, and she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t agonised over turning her back on it might become the biggest regret of her nascent wrestling career. But this... this really is something else. And with every passing step she feels more at home.

There’s no Tim Shipley for her to walk two steps behind. There’s no Garbage Bag Johnny to direct her towards his office plants with a flick of his stern hand, moving to more pressing business such as instructing AXEL Action on how to make the perfect sandwich. There’s not a relic of her time as a ring announcer for Just Wrestling; PRIME has more class than to swing a contract at any of those reprobates. And High Octane Wrestling? She just hopes nobody remembers she was there.

Her smiles grows broader. A tongue flicks devilishly across unpainted lips. She can make this place her own. Her own.

"How!"

She whips her head round. Not the sort of greeting she expected... but the lank, greasy brown hair is all too familiar.

Roxie: Oh, mother fucker.

This time, he’s not even a hologram.

The melodic verse of "Like the Angel" blares over the loudspeakers, causing PRIME-ates to momentarily set aside their bananas and stop swinging from branch-to-branch, in order to stand in raucous ovation for the approaching Nicaraguan Nightmare.

Nick: We were told this man was set to make his return tonight, but boy is it exciting to see the former Alias "PRIMEal Rage" champion back in the flesh!

Richard: I hate to admit it, but I kind of missed the bandana-wearing freak. He’s a little too big to be a Lucha Libre, but Mexico must be wild with anticipation!

Nick: Nicaragua.

Richard: Sure. Fine.

A fury of bright pyrotechnics explodes in continuity upward from the bottom of the entrance ramp to the top. The white sparks fizzle out just as a thick steam of dry ice rises to either side of the PRIME-A-Tron. The words "ETERNAL RAGE" flash in bloody red font and seemingly drip off the screen as it fades away, replaced by the grinning countenance of Emilio Rage wearing his patented red bandana. "Viva la Revolucion" flashes in electric font across his chest.

Then, Emilio Rage himself steps out of the back and stands momentarily at the top of the ramp with his hands on his hips. His shifts his intense brown eyes from left to right, in subtle acknowledgment of the cheering fans, before he turns his gaze downward toward the ring. He cracks his neck from side to side and jogs to the ring, slapping hands with a few fans along the way.

Richard: Still kisses ass, I see. How sentimental.

Nick: Emilio has always been a man of the people, Richard. He fought and bled for them –for this company- against some of the most evil people to have ever stepped into the ring.

Richard: Yeah. Peter Vetra sure was a juggernaut…

Emilio uses his size and speed to vault over the top rope, landing with both feet on the apron to another chorus of cheers.

Emilio is wearing his typical attire: camouflage fatigue cutoff shorts, faded black combat boots, and of course, the red bandana. On this occasion he also sports a white tee-shirt that reads "IGGY COME BACK!" in old-school blue PRIME font. He takes off the shirt and throws it to a kid in the front row.

Richard: I wonder if that "IGGY" refers to "Lisieux" or "Pop?"

Nick: …

Emilio turns and gives Vince Howard a warm handshake, whispering something into the ear of the smiling ring announcer before accepting the microphone. He lifts it to his mouth as if to speak but shakes his head as a shit-eating grin spreads across his dark face, forced to wave off another round of cheers that consumes The Palace in Auburn Hills.

A familiar accented voice cuts in.

Emilio: Hey…Michigan!

More cheers.

Emilio: Now I know what you’re all thinking: look what the cat dragged in. But I assure you that Mr. Bojangles had nothing to do with my return.

Some laughs.

Emilio: So what’s up with the red font? It’s as if PRIME’s colors mirrors myself. I left this company black and blue. And now I return, refreshed, reinvigorated, and tan as a mother-fucker.

Richard: Family show, Emilio. Family show.

Nick: Pleeease.

Emilio: I see that they finally took out the trash, too. Vampir Nosferatu. Dani Furher. Tyler Nelson is gone. A good thing, too. Because if he was still around, my friends, believe me: he’d be the first poor bastard suspended in air, a heartbeat away from having his brain smashed into the mat.

Emilio swings out his hips and jerks his right arm in the motion of his finisher, the ROAR.

Fans: PRIME-that-shit! PRIME-that-shit!

Emilio nods his head in appreciation for a moment before his demeanor takes on a more serious tone.

Emilio: But the more things change, the more they stay the same. I see how they still let power-hungry assholes run this place. But at least it ain’t no Chinamen and his cat.

Richard: Hin See is a legend!

Nick: I think you mean "horse’s ass."

Emilio: I celebrated my 40th birthday last year. Which reminds me, by the way, to thank those of you who wrote. And in case you’re all wondering, yes, I’m a legal U.S. citizen now. So there won’t be any more staged deportations on live T.V.

He pauses, briefly.

Emilio: Yeah, there’s a few things I still want to get off my chest. Chris Sloboda, for one. You may be back in good standing with some folks here, but don’t think I’ll forget what you did to me, what you did to yourself. The Dark Age. The branding. All of that nonsense you did with that other PCW-reject, Nosferatu, and the rest of those goth F***ots.

Fans: PRIME-that-shit! PRIME-that-shit!

Richard (shaking his head): A mouth as dirty as the floors he should be mopping. How appropriate.

Nick: It’s the Dark Age, Richard. (shrugs) Fuck ‘em.

Richard: …

Emilio: No matter what you went through since your return, Boda. No matter how much respect I may have for you in the ring..In my book, you still owe me an apology. We’re not even yet. Not by a long shot. But that…that can wait…

Emilio stops to catch his breath as a few random cheers of "EM-I-LIO, EM-I-LIO" break out in various sections of the Palace of Auburn Hills.

Emilio: No, I’m not here for revenge. And no, I’m not here to flaunt my former accomplishments. I’m not some gimmick promotion by the PRIME front office, part of some half-assed plan to wheel out the old-timers like it’s some damn Veteran’s Day parade. No, I’m here for myself. I’m here to compete in the Born Again tournament. I’m here to win the PRIME Universal Title.

EM-I-LIO! EM-I-LIO!

Emilio: And that, my friends, simply means wrestling. Wrestling in this very ring (points down to the mat), and nowhere else. My days of heroically defending this company from the "demons" is over. I’m too old, too experienced, and quite honestly, too selfish, to do that again. I think I’ve earned the right to focus on my career and to focus on getting that ever elusive strap of gold. (Pauses to motion toward his waist.) And that’s the only business I really have here anyway.

Richard: He was a magnificent competitor, Nick. Some would argue the best of his era. But he never did have the gold.

Nick: No. His one shortcoming as a professional wrestler. But that’s what he’s here to address.

Emilio: Because of my past lapses in judgment, of watching over the flock instead of tending my own needs, I don’t have much of a legacy left intact. Yes, I brought the PTC Global Title home to PRIME for the first time. And for a while I held the record for the longest time wrestled in the Dual Halo. But even that record has been eclipsed. The title I held for a record time, the Alias Title? It doesn’t even exist anymore. Probably pawned off to "Cash for Gold" when that bitch Tyler Nelson flew the coop.

Richard: Actually, that’s not technically true.

Nick: Shh!

Emilio: Anyway, let me end by just saying that I’m going to do whatever it takes to win this tournament. I’m in the best shape of my life, and –god willing- if this old man’s body holds out, I’ll finally get what I’ve always deserved. And, well, I guess I should say…It’s good to be back.

Fans: PRIME-that-shit! PRIME-that-shit!

The melodic verse of "Like the Angel" begins to play as the screen fades to black.

Emilio Rage's first match since ReVolution 84 saw him walk into an already boiling hot re-match scenario with Troy Douglas and Elise Ares. Megatron failed to capture the 5 Star Championship at Culture Shock and had revenge on the brain. Ares, without bodyguard Kazys Jankauskas at ringside, decided she would rather deal with Douglas out of the gate than Rage. Douglas and Ares picked up where they left off at Culture Shock, swinging away on one another with Douglas utilizing his power advantage and striking abilities against The Havana Harlot. He whipped Ares into the ropes and landed an elbow to the jaw, but his celebration was short lived when Emilio Rage clotheslined Douglas in the corner and then military pressed him into the air. Rage held him for what seemed like an eternity before planting him on the floor. Some of the fans were split on how to act afterward, but all cringed when Douglas hit the ringside mats.

Ares and Rage collided, with Rage getting the better of the early exchange with a swinging DDT. He went for a cover, but the 5 Star Champion wasn't going out so easily. Ares scrambled away, rolling down to the floor and forcing Rage to expend energy by following her. Ares used her speed advantage to get around the ring and back inside before Rage could, hitting him in the face with a dropkick. Ares decided to welcome Rage properly back into PRIME by dancing around, shouting Que Tal Eso and spitting on him. Rage went into a ...ok I'm not finishing that because it's such a terrible pun, but he was angry.

Rage sprung from the canvas and tried to grab Ares, but she out-maneuvered The Nicaraguan Nightmare and managed to get on the top rope for a flying corkscrew lariat. Ares went for the pinfall, but Troy Douglas picked himself up from the floor long enough to grab Ares and swing her around in a German suplex. The Nicaraguan Nightmare thanked Douglas by kicking him in the head and floating him over with a gutwrench suplex. He stomped on Douglas' forehead and went over to Ares.

Rage grabbed Ares and brought her up on his shoulders, immediately planting her into the canvas with a Death Valley Driver. The Havana Harlot was loopy, and Rage ensured she would stay in that state for a few more minutes. An enziguri stumbled Ares into the corner and a splash flopped her into center ring. Rage dropped for the cover, but was unsuccessful in getting the three count. Rage continued his offense by picking Ares up and hoisting her on his shoulders for a powerbomb. Ares countered by landing a hurricanrana, sending Rage down to the floor for a brief moment. Ares bounced off the ropes and used Douglas as a springboard to land an insanely awesome Amethystation on Rage. Even though they knew the move was awesome, everybody in the crowd still booed.

Ares tried bringing Rage back in the ring, but someone with her caliber of swagger shouldn't have to bring 281 pounds back into the ring. She about called out for Kazys, but remembered he doesn't work here anymore and rolled under the bottom rope to land an STO on Troy Douglas. Ares went for the cover but Douglas kicked out. The Havana Harlot kept up the offensive initiative, elbowing Douglas and launching him into the buckle. Ares was able to land a hurricanrana on Douglas, sending him under the bottom rope and to the floor.

She turned around just in time to receive a standing side kick from Rage, putting her flat on her back. The Nicaraguan Nightmare went for the cover, but Ares was able to kick out before the three. Rage grunted and glanced up at referee Bernie Roberts before setting up for the end of the match. Rage hoisted Ares up and put a knee into her gut. He grabbed her head and went for the ROAR, but Ares showed her flexibility by flipping over and kicking Rage in the head. The Nicaraguan Nightmare stumbled around. Ares bounced off the ropes and landed a spinning rifle kick to the head, putting Rage down in the center of the ring. Ares crawled over to the corner and put herself on the top rope, looking to land Your Feature Presentation for the win. Before she could, Douglas decided to be an inconvenience and interject, causing him to get a boot to the head and fall on the apron. Ares shot back and got all the way around, before Rage rolled out of the way. Ares landed on her feet, but Rage was able to land a jumping ROAR to send her down to the floor. Douglas saw an opportunity and bolted into the ring, but he too received a ROAR. Rage pinned Douglas to advance into Round 2.

Winner: Emilio Rage

Everything is black. The fans' reaction is predictable as darkness shrouds the arena; they're on their feet cheering and whooping, anticipating something big. After a few moments, though, it becomes quite apparent that Pro-Wrestling Cliché #452 is not in full effect.

Soon the PRIME*View dies, and the back-up lighting system is quick to follow. Security guards' torches light-up like stars on the horizon, but they are too few in number to create anything more than faint, sporadic twinkles. Nick and Richard are none the wiser. Both announcers try to talk us viewers through the situation, but their dead headsets mean that their words are lost on everyone but those in the immediate vicinity.

The crowd grow restless. The cheers have long since died, replaced by a confused murmur and even a few jeers. PRIME technicians fumble around in the darkness and security try their best to calm down an increasingly irritated audience. Vince Howard gets to his feet, but even his radio microphone is down.

Then, as boos begin to fill the arena, something happens. A loud electronic crackle buzzes from the PA system and fizzes into the sound of a radio tuned to a dead station. A white flicker on the PRIME*View.

Then static. The screen becomes a black and white snowstorm of interference – it's more than enough to captivate the fans' attention.

Something flashes. Once, twice. Maybe thrice; you're not sure.

Purple and black. Oblong. The image does not linger long enough to take-in the finer details, but you know what you saw.

A mask.

The PRIME*View continues to flicker and buzz. The thousands in attendance try to make sense of what they've just seen, but what comes next is definite. A single word cuts through the static.

Hush.

A few seconds later and its gone. The house-lights return, and if the crowd weren't confused before then they sure are now.

Nick gently thumbs his headset's mic.

Nick: Hello? Is this working?!

Richard: What the hell was that about, Nick?

Nick: No idea, Richard. No idea.

Normal service resumes.

Oh, how good it feels to knock on a door with an actual hand! That's probably what GCW Commissioner and hopeful PRIME Champion Garbage Bag Johnny is thinking when he knocks on a door with Elise Ares' name on it, because his knocking is relentless. He's more or less tapping out the rhythm to the vocals of his own theme song as he half-sings along under his breath.

Ares: You're early!

The screeching sound of Elise's voice can be heard from inside, but just barely over the consistant knocking from the 2009 Dual Halo Winner. Before he even knew it the door was pulled out from under his fist, leaving nothing but air to knock at as The Swaggeriffic Champion begins speaking before she even really sees who it is.

Ares: I told you after the show, because there is no way I'm going to get all made up for all these ignoran...

Pausing in mid-sentence she takes a look at the bearded smile that lies in front of her.

Ares: Please tell me you're not the stylist.

GBJ: Are you Elise Ares? PRIME 5 Star Champion, Elise Ares?

Ares: Thaaat depends on who you are...

GBJ: Well, I'm not your stylist. I'll tell you that much.

Ares: Oh, thank Jesus.

With that said Elise quickly ducked back into her locker room, swiftly slamming her door shut.

The GCW Commissioner shakes his head and brings out the big guns, pulling out a bass guitar and an amp from behind a backstage fichus. He starts slapping and popping, blasting Elise's locker room with funk like Metallica did with the Sandinistas. He's really going into a funk frenzy here, hitting notes that he didn't even know existed.

Slowly the door opens back up, revealing Elise Ares clinching her ears in horror. Screaming she tries to break through the awesome riffage.

Ares: SILENCIO! Gah, do you have any idea how hard it is to worship yourself in the glow of your own championship belt with this stuff going on out here?!

Garbage Bag Johnny stops as Elise rubs her ears.

Ares: Who in the world are you anyway?! Disturbing the greatest champion in the history of PRIME, don't you know who in the hell I am. I'm Elise Ares, dammit. I jumped a shark once.

GBJ: Uh, yeah. Don't you remember me knocking on your door a few seconds ago and asking you if you were Elise Ares? And aren't you the one who doesn't know who the hell I am? And isn't it me that's not supposed to know what's going on?

GBJ clears his throat, which is probably full of weed resin and the like.

GBJ: Anyway, if you'd just let me get to the chorus, it would've explained who I am, but I suppose I can just burn you a CD later...the name's Garbage Bag Johnny, but my friends call me Commissioner Garbage Bag Johnny, and I just wanted to let you know that I'm going to be coming after that 5 Star Title of yours.

Ares: Wait, are you trying to confuse me? We've talked before?

Elise eyes the bearded man in the suit suspiciously before whispering.

Ares: Are you from the future?

Garbage Bag Johnny waves his free hand out in front of him, undoubtedly baiting Elise with the eye candy that is his well formed slap bassin' thumb.

GBJ: Not talked...wrestled. I pinned you in the Dual Halo, and that banks me a shot at that strap you're walking around with. I just wanted to meet you face to face and let you know I look forward to wrestling you for it in a clean, sportsmanlike way at some point in the near future.

Suddenly the once repressed memories of PRIME's 5*Star Champion flickered into her head like a lightbulb, her eyes grew wide before looking at the man across from her. Once taking a close look at the man, she gags and shivers run up and down her spine.

Ares: You... touched me?

GBJ: If my memory of the match serves me correctly, we all were touching each other. It was wild...like the 1960s.

Ares: Or Spring Break 2001.

Elise was deep in thought for a moment.

Ares: Or so I'd imagine, if I were... heh. Right. My Title. You're gonna try and take it. I'm going to kick your ass. Yadda yadda yadda. But hey, good luck kid. Shave off that beard, buy a suit that didn't come from JC Penny and there's potential for you and that Gee Cee Dubya yet. I should stop by sometime, give you guys a hand... blow your audiences mind. You'd have to move out of the bingo hall for that though. I know a guy who could hook you up with a real big horse track or something like that, but I don't come cheap.

GBJ: Eh. I'm not really interested in paying you anything, but feel free to stop by a show if you like sometime. I can probably pull some strings and get you backstage. We've got great catering. We've got these meat and cheese trays, put 'em on a cracker with meat, then cheese, then another meat, then another cheese, then a last meat, and then a last cheese, and you've got yourself one hell of a sandwich.

Ares: Ehhhh...

The thought of lowering her standards to eating cracker sandwhiches disgusted her.

Ares: I'll have my people talk to your people.

GBJ: Sounds great. If you need anything, just have them contact me directly. Anyway, it's good to meet the competition. I'm looking forward to wrestling you.

Garbage Bag Johnny extends his hand out for a handshake.

Ares: No.

Elise winces a bit by the thought.

Ares: I don't do that.

GBJ: Oh, right. You guys are into the cheek kissing thing...a little weird, but I consider myself a cultural embassador.

GBJ remembers back to junior high Spanish class or something, and is quickly denied leaning in to kiss Ares' first cheek, let alone fire off another one on her other cheek.

GBJ: Maybe that's the French.

Ares: Alright, I think I'm going to go... vomit, now.

GBJ: Yep. Definitely the French. Anyway...

Garbage Bag Johnny puts his hands in his pockets and awkwardly starts rocking back and forth between the balls and heels of his feet. Elise expects him to finish his thought, but he lets it trail off, or it just wasn't there in the first place.

Ares: You were leaving? I hope.

GBJ: Think I'll just stand here and play some bass if you don't mind. I'm wrestling in the main event here tonight, and a little fingerstyle groove really calms the nerves.

Ares: ...I'll just go grab my bags.

With that said Elise Ares disappeared inside of her locker room, leaving GBJ back once again to his own devices. Garbage Bag Johnny shrugs and goes back to his instrument, back to the only song he really knows how to play...his own tune.

An image appears on the screen that you're sure has flashed on screen earlier in this programme but for less than a second in time; and it's a logo that reads "SKYMONT". We are bombarded with infinite more images after this – a waterfall of matrix code making the backdrop as clocks and ancient symbols, zodiac signs, landmarks of London and all sorts of pop culture references collage. The text reads this:

THE IMAGINARY MAN

THE PROTAGONIST

AVANT GARDE

SUICIDAL

THE CULT ICON

COMING SOON...





SKYLAR MONTGOMERY

The opening contest of the Born Again tournament featured three distinct styles. Black Death, a massive freight train with slick submission ability; Roxie Sykes, known for modeling her style after idol Ellis Nash, and Crazy Joe, a man who appeared quite normal stuck in between his two counterparts. The normalcy wouldn't lend itself well against Black Death, who worked Joe from the opening bell with vicious body shots. Joe tried fending himself off, creating some space against The Plague, but Black Death was on a mission and launched Joe from the ring with a German release suplex. Roxie Sykes scurried past Black Death and added her own touch of assault on Crazy Joe with a tope con hilo.

While Roxie might be considered a spotmonkey, one thing she does not have is an ability to create a juggernaut offense, especially against a powerhouse like Black Death. She kept her distance, letting Black Death go down to the floor and brutalize Crazy Joe by slamming him into the ring post, rattling his skull against the ring steps, and crushing his 300 pounds into Joe against the apron. Joe was rolled under the ropes where he met a standing shooting star press from Roxie. She went for a cover, but Black Death pulled her from the ring and launched her feet first into the steel barricade.

Joe looked to mount some offense with a hurricanrana, but the counter sit down powerbomb from Black Death nearly shook the ring. Roxie watched on from the floor, but knew she had to break up the count in order to have a shot at keeping her Born Again dreams alive. She dropkicked Black Death in the back of his head, breaking the three count with milliseconds to spare. The Plague tried cornering his opposition, but Roxie kept moving around the ring while peppering Black Death with strikes. A veteran of the squared circle, Black Death didn't get frustrated, keeping his focus on Roxie. Eventually, she wouldn't have anywhere to run.

Roxie tried venturing to the outside, but Death grabbed her by the throat and displayed his power by chokeslamming her onto Crazy Joe. The crushing impact rolled Roxie to Joe's right and left Black Death to go for a cover. Somehow, Joe kicked out. Black Death didn't seem to mind, grabbing Joe and forcing him into a hangman's neckbreaker. Joe managed to kick out again and boot Black Death in the groin. It slowed the big man down long enough for Roxie to interject with a 450 splash across Black Death's back. The big man went down and Roxie looked to seize the opportunity, but Black Death managed to kick out and launch Roxie onto the apron.

Crazy Joe caught Black Death with a knee on the jaw and tried for a Fameasser. Black Death swung Joe around and caught him in a gutwrench powerbomb. The wind from Joe's sails went out. Both Roxie and Black Death sensed his imminent demise.

Roxie laid on the apron while the massacre of Crazy Joe continued. Death whipped Joe off the ropes and caught him over the right shoulder, planting him in center ring with an Island Driver. The cover didn't cross Death's mind, picking Joe from the canvas and maneuvering him into the Black Death Driver. The win looked to be academic until Roxie re-entered the scene from the top rope and caught a rising Plague in between the eyes with a Whipcrack. She hit the right spot, putting Black Death on his back and looking up at the lights. She moved quickly over to Crazy Joe and turned out his lights with a Re-Decree. Black Death couldn't get over in time to prevent the pinfall. Roxie Sykes advances into Round 2 of Born Again.

Winner: Roxie Sykes

That mysterious logo occupies the screen again, and then the avalanche of ensuing imagery as the text reads:

THE IMAGINARY MAN

THE PROTAGONIST

THE CULT ICON

CONTROVERSIAL

AVANT GARDE

SUICIDAL

COMING SOON...






SKYLAR MONTGOMERY

************

We hear the loud sound of the crowd BOOOOing as we zoom out from the previous video to see it displayed on the huge 'Tron in the coliseum that PRIME is hosting it's spectacle at tonight. The bloodthirsty, dumbed down hordes moan and hiss at the previous video even though it's come to an end now and something new is happening.

Nick: What the hell is going on now?

The area lights are out. The crowd are going wild with flash photography. But a real spotlight, travelling all the way from the top of the dome, hits the entrance stage. And then, from BENEATH the entrance stage rises a man nailed to a cross.

Richard: WHAT THE!? NO FUC -

Nick: Shutup. (becoming professional) Er... Richard that man... who is crucified... appears to be new PRIME acquisition -

Before the sentence is complete "Sorry You're Not a Winner" by Enter Shikari drops onto the p.a. system with all it's weight. And as the English scene kid'z screamo anthem rages on, the crucifix rises to the stage completing it's ascension and spotlighting the man it bears.

That man is Skylar Montgomery.

Nick: (becoming unprofessional) WHO THE HELL IS THIS GUY!?

The whole audience is BOOOOOing it's little heart out. The Imaginary Man hangs with his head hung low and his long bright ginger greasy hair hung over his face. His "MAIN CHARACTER" T-Shirt hangs from his bony frame like it too is crucified. His bloodspattered blue skinnyjeans are more bloodspattered and torn than usual, and his feet are bare.

Of course Nick Stuart's earlier question was rhetorical. Many fans already know of Skylar's notoriety as JUST Wrestling's perennial troublemaker and self-proclaimed Cult Icon. They try to simply stay quiet for a moment – giving the attention seeker the cold shoulder treatment. But soon they break back out into vocalised envy as The Imaginary Man just continues to hang there, from that cross. Then they die down again, and there is complete and utter silence for a nano-second of time.

In that nano-second Skylar flicks his orange hair back and his head up to reveal his face is the V for Vendetta mask (because SkyMont wears a different mask to every show). Bursts from his shackles and jumps free from the giant cross landing on the stage with one knee bent and his palm slapping onto the floor.

First he looks up. Then he rises to stand and click his neck. Then he pulls a microphone out of his back pocket. And then he speaks.

SkyMont: (to the sound of booooing) I am Skylar Montgomery and I am here to send you people a very simple message.

He points at them all in semi-circle.

SkyMont: YOU ARE GOD.

They booo louder. He doesn't care.

SkyMont: It's that simple. That's it.

He turns his back and just walks past the giant cross and out through the normal entrance curtain as the crowd fall silent. The commentators don't even catch up to speed, stunned like us all.

SkyMont: (bursting back out onto the stage) SIKE!!! Of course it's not that simple! If it was that simple you people wouldn't be booing me when I say it. I wouldn't have to feel the need to try and convince you now. See because your booed me now I'm forced to go on rant like I always do. Because I can't help it! IT'S WHO I AM! I CAN'T ACTUALLY!!!! (he stops, clicks his neck and breaths) I can't... actually stop thinking like this and acting like this and saying these thing because I am actually like this. It's not a gimmick, I actually think these CONTROVERSIAL things.

Nick: (under his breath) Can't we just cut to something else??

SkyMont: I wasn't even supposed to make a live appearance here tonight. I was supposed to wait backstage and watch how things work round here while they hyped me up with those video packages (BOOO to the mention of the video). MUAHAHAHA! Yes The Skylar Montgomery Narrative has gone big-budget now that I've signed a deal with PRIME Wrestling!

He laughs and the crowd can only boo some more.

SkyMont: But I'm making this live appearance right here and now because I disobey orders whenever I get the chance, and I'm gonna start as I mean to go on. Because I'm a badarse Anti-Hero like that. Because I'm an Anti-AUTHORITY FIGURE and because I was put here to show YOU PEOPLE that the only path to righteousness is doing the exact opposite of the majority. The only path to righteousness is (pause) by being "Avant Garde". By being Out-Of-The-Box, like me.

No emotion comes from that porcelain face but so much more from the dry English voice. The crowd have stopped booing again. The commentators have long given up hope on commentating on this.

SkyMont: Once I was watching that film Equilibrium with a group of friends whilst eating psychedelic mushrooms in sandwiches, and I kept speaking up about how the film is shit and clearly a ripoff of The Matrix. And they all told me shut up. But how idiotically stupid are they!? I mean, when you're watching a film that's message is of individuality and truth why would you all put down the one guy who says he doesn't like it?

He hangs his head, drops his mic-hand from his mouth and uses it to clutch his left arm, swaying from side to side like a guilty toddler. He puts the mic back to the grinning mouth of his Guy Fawkes mask.

SkyMont: Because I am Out-Of-The-Box and Avant Garde and an Imaginary Man and a Cult Icon and basically everything really.

Pause

SkyMont:I am Skylar Montgomery and.... YOU.... ARE.... GOD!

He slings the microphone into the crowd and whoever catches that will probably have it confiscated before they can have some fun. They give him a loud but mixed reaction as he turns to leave, but it becomes a decisive BOOOO as he turns back to flip them all his middle finger and then just disappears.

The arena lights come back on and "Sorry You're Not A Winner" by Enter Shikari belts out as we fade to another segment...

We are taken to the backstage area where resident know-it-all and the best interviewer in the business, Matt Mills, is standing outside the locker room of Boda.

Matt: Matt Mills here, looking to get some questions and answers from Boda as to his thoughts on what happened at last weeks ReVolution. Let’s cut to the video of last weeks events.

Boda: WHAT?... Oh…sorry. [takes a glance at the caller ID] Sorry hun. I’ve gotten two calls and hang ups, no ID. I assumed it was another prank call. Yeah, I’m on my way home tonight. Should be in after 2am. Flight leaves in an hour. Kids okay? That’s good. All right... I’m gonna head out. I’ll call you when I land in Orlando. Bye.

Hanging up on his wife, Boda turns the phone off to avoid anymore prank calls. The Big Bad Boda Daddy grabs his luggage, turns his music on again, opens the door and walks out. He barely gets out into the hallway when he stops abruptly at the sight before him. His bags slip to the floor.

Plastered all over the walls are black and white promotional head shots of him with bright red bullseyes painted over his facial features. Boda rips the earbuds out of his head as a look of confusion and anger spreads across his face.

Boda: What the fuck?!

He notices two stagehands standing a few feet away from him, quizzical looks on their faces as well. They point their fingers, not at Boda but at something over his shoulder. He whirls around and finds an older full-sized poster of himself holding the PRIME Universal Title taped to the door of his locker room. It, too, is painted with a bullseye. He looks back to the stagehands, but they've departed.

Seeing that he’s alone now, Boda yanks the poster off the door, watching it fall to the ground. He grabs his belongings again, then heads towards the parking garage to head back to Orlando. As he stomps toward the exit, the feed shoots back to the announce table.

As the replay ends, Mills is now joined by The Big Bad Boda Daddy. The big man shakes his head as he finishes watching the video.

Matt: Boda…. Any thoughts on last week?

Boda: Of course I have thoughts, and thank god we’re on HBO so I can speak my mind freely. Seems someone has decided to ‘call me out’. Problem is, I have no clue who. First, prank calling me 2 or 3 times, and then pictures of me all over the backstage area. Not just pictures…but pictures with red bullseyes!!

Matt: You looked somewhat spooked by that scene last week. Were you?

Boda: Matt, I’ll admit it….. It threw me off my guard a bit. I’ve been around along time, I’ve seen a lot of shit, but that was a new experience.

Matt: Any thoughts on who it could have been? Or better yet, why?

Boda: Man…. It could be anyone. There’s a lot of new faces here since Culture Shock. Hell, it could have been Garbage Bag Johnny or Tchu.

Matt: Your opponents tonight?

Boda: Why not? Why not them two? And why not do it to make a name for yourself. That’s what I think. Calling out, playing games with a veteran like myself. Hell…. It’s probably Elise Ares.

Matt: Why her?

Boda: She must have heard I love Cuban women. And she thought it’s a way for her to mark her territory. Elise, honey…. Hate to tell you… I’m married…. Sorry. Listen…. I’ve got a match to get ready for. All I know is this…. I will find out who is responsible for last week. And when I do…. It won’t be pretty.

The former PRIME champion walks off leaving Matt Mills alone.

Matt: Well, as of now, Boda seems to be taking this thing lightly. Will we see more from the ‘bullseye’ artist? Only the person responsible for last week, knows for sure.

Nick: Ladies and Gentlemen, the time has come. The moment we've all been waiting for….

Richard: Don't speak for me.

Nick: On March 21st, 2010, PRIME hosted it's annual extravaganza, Culture Shock, featuring the hotly anticipated behemoth known as the Dual Halo. This massive structure hosted some of the best in-ring performers both in and outside of PRIME…but one man walked away triumphant. One man walked away the victor. And, most importantly, one man walked away with the cherished Golden Ticket, entitling him to anything, yes anything, he desires.

Richard: This nut-job will probably end up asking for a shiny new blade to slash himself with.

Nick: Richard...

Richard: What? A blade is like an emo kid's gameboy. And heaven knows they don't get much more emo than Dani Furher.

Nick: His name is Vangelus Olsig, mind you, and whatever it is he plans to use that golden ticket for, we're only moments away from finding out! But, seriously…can you say shock?

Richard: Shock.

Nick: I mean…I imagine that's the only word that can describe the feelings of thousands of fans as they watched this guy triumph over dozens of the world's best. Here's a guy who came to PRIME as a sloppy kid, went on to establish himself in the Intense Division, and managed to embark upon a journey worthy of his Hall of Fame induction.

Richard: And he's PRIME's resident emo-pirate. Let's not leave that out.

Nick: But with all of that being said, there's no doubt in anyone's mind that his greatest feat came that night in Wembley Stadium as he stood before millions…the 2010 Dual Halo Winner. A man who was scheduled to be in PRIME for one night only defied every obstacle set against him…and, because of such, it appears he'll be sticking around with us just a little bit longer.

Richard: I'm leaping with joy. No, really…I am.

Nick: Ladies and Gentlemen, joining us by satellite from his home in Auburn, Alabama…PRIME Hall of Famer and 2010 Dual Halo Winner….VANGGEEELLLUSSS OLSIGGGGGG!!!!

The crowd bursts into a frenzy at the return of the man they thought they'd never see in PRIME again.

With a blank stare and a pale expression, Olsig peers into the camera.

Nick: Vangels Olsig…so great to be speaking with you!

Vangelus Olsig: You-…you're welcome.

Nick: Now Va-…

Vangelus Olsig: Sorry…I mea-…I meant thanks.

Nick: Right. Well, Vangelus, before we get to the obvious question, let me ask you…how did it feel to be proclaimed as the winner of the 2010 Dual Halo? I mean, you've participated in a couple of Dual Halo's since your 2004 PRIME debut, but always fell short. So, to finally have your hand raised in triumph…how did that feel? What was running through your mind?

Olsig's eyes appear bloodshot as he offers no answer.

Nick: …Vangelus?

Vangelus Olsig: Oh, ummm…it…it was, ummm…nice. Very nice.

Nick: Nice? That's it.

Vangelus nods, before taking a quick glance around the room where he sits. The medium hush that falls over the arena alludes to their collective bewilderment.

Nick: Okay…well, umm…let me ask you this. What made you accept the invitation to participate in the Dual Halo this year? I mean, you've been out of action for quite some time…was there a little ring dust you had to work off? How did it feel to step in between those ropes again after such a long hiatus?

Olsig is peering down at the ground while the question is being posed. After about eight seconds of silence, he snaps back into the interview and presents his answer.

Vangelus Olsig: Ummm…it felt…kind of like…cheese.

Nick looks over at Richard, both of them exchanging a crazed glare.

Nick: ….cheese, Vangelus? Care to elaborate?

Olsig's eyes shift from side to side in rapid motion.

Vangelus Olsig: Ummm…no. Not really.

Nick: Ooookkkkay, umm…are you feeling your best, Va-…

Vangelus Olsig: IT'S ALL FABRICATED!!! THE ROBOTS!! THE CRAB LEGS!!! THE ONE-EYED GOBLINS!!! THE ONE-EYED GOBLINS, NICK! WHAT ABOUT THE ONE-EYED GOBLINS!?!?!

Scrambled responses ring throughout the arena as Nick appears speechless.

Richard: This is obviously a case of one too many days spent in the Intense Division.

Nick: Umm, Vangelus…before this thing gets any more…looney, for lack of a better term…than it's already been…let's get right down to our main reason for having you here. The golden ticket.

The crowd explodes in expectancy…

Nick: Let's not beat around the bush here…simply put, stand up and tells us…what are you cashing in the Golden Ticket for?

Silent anticipation falls over the crowd…Vangelus peers into the camera with a blank stare while pushing himself out of the seat.

Vangelus Olsig: I…I'm gonna use the golden egg to…

Nick: Umm, you mean the golden ticket, right?

Vangelus Olsig: …right. Ummm, I'm gonna use the Golden ticket to…to…to….



*THUD!!!!*




*GASP!*





































"Someone call an ambulance! Call an ambulance!!"

For several seconds, the only sound heard is the commotion coming from the home and the bustling of microphones coming from the announce booth. Finally, Nick chimes in.

Nick: Oh my G-…fans, we apologize…Vangelus Olsig has just blacked out in his Alabama home. We're not sure what's going on, but we've got medical teams rushing to the scene immediately.

Richard: Okay, now I'm creeped out.

Nick: Fans, we'll…we'll be back.

The scene fades with a host of camera men, technicians, and general bystanders attempting to revive the motionless Dual Halo winner.

The Main Event of the evening saw three veterans of the squared circle vying for an opportunity to advance and face Emilio Rage. None of the competitors were quiet about making their case, Tchu and Boda exchanging fisticuffs before the bell started. These two were no strangers to one another. The bigger Boda was able to gain an advantage over Tchu, ending the exchange with a big knee lift and swinging neckbreaker combination. The Big Bad Boda Daddy's first distraction of the evening came from the PRIME*View, which featured his PCW Extreme Championship defeat to Trashcan Man and his PCW Continental Championship defeat to Duke Williams. The Enforcer was distracted long enough for GBJ to re-enact his favorite scene of Dumb and Dumber, where Lloyd punches the chef repeatedly in the balls. The biting part did not occur. Boda fell to the ground in a heap.

Tchu clubbed Johnny across the back and executed a side Russian leg sweep on the Garbage Man. The Intense Champion grabbed Johnny by the legs and catapulted him into the ropes, catching him on the comeback in a Razor's Edge with a twist. Tchu launched Johnny head first into the buckle and the Garbage Man bounced off. Boda got back into the scene looking for a sneaky roll up on Tchu. He only received two before receiving a clothesline from the Inhuman Being.

Tchu kept his attention on Boda, landing forearm after forearm into the corner. Tchu locked the head and went for a DDT, but Johnny interrupted the moment with an electric chair drop on Tchu. Boda picked Johnny from the canvas and went for a gutwrench powerbomb, but his loss to Tyler Nelson in FSW kept Johnny upside down, which might have been the worse of the two positions for GBJ. Nonetheless, he was able to slither over and down the back, landing on the second rope and connecting on a bulldog. Tchu took the opportunity to run off the ropes and land a stinging lariat that sent Johnny spinning around. Tchu went for the cover on GBJ and got two. He moved over to Boda and got two again.

Tchu pondered what move from his arsenal to pull next and who to pull it against. Boda reached his feet first and received a jawbreaker. Tchu held Boda in position and went for a double underhook facebuster, but Boda lifted Tchu up and took him down in an Alabama slam. Tchu was down for the count and Boda looked to be on his way to securing the victory, until the PRIME*View reared its ugly head again, displaying a loss to Killean Sirrajin from Overkill 05 in a Buried Alive match. Needless to say, Boda was quite confused and would definitely have a word with the guys in the truck. GBJ saw the opportunity and capitalized, running himself into Boda with a flip splash that sent the big man through the ropes.

Johnny kept on Tchu, landing a right hand and then a headbutt. The headbutt seemed to do more harm than help as Tchu was able to swing Johnny around for a belly to belly side suplex. Tchu went for the cover, but Johnny kicked out before the three. Looking down at his adversary, Tchu decided to bring the match home and yank Johnny to his feet. Boda yanked on the foot of Tchu, preventing him from setting up for the Downfall. Boda used Tchu to pull up into the ring and land a big forearm across the head. Johnny ran forward and received a headbutt for his troubles. This headbutt did much more help than harm to Boda. Boda stepped over the top rope and hoisted Johnny on his shoulders, positioning him in the Torture Rack. A highlight came across the screen of Boda's Universal Championship defeat to Karina Wolfenden at ReVolution 58. The scene set off the big man and sent him from the ring, seething and screaming at the people in the truck all the way up the ramp.

Meanwhile, Tchu got to his feet and stumbled about the ring. Garbage Bag Johnny leaped from the top rope and landed a Dumpster Dive for the pinfall victory, advancing into Round 2.

Winner: Garbage Bag Johnny