The low evening sun casts an orange glow over the face of the former Intense Champion. Silently, he accelerates into the parking lot of the Izod Center, his serpentine eyes flicking back and forth at the many cars already filling up spaces. Sighing to himself, he mutters something under his breath as he pulls up close to the front entrance simply to fill the void that would otherwise be filled with Tracy's rambling dulcet tones.

Rising up, he stamps a foot on the concrete and takes a whiff of the cool evening air. There's something sour on the breeze. Scanning the lot, Sloan opens the back door and removes his kit bag. Shouldering it, he locks the door and makes his way to the front door, pushing through into the melancholy mire of another day at work.

No sooner is he through the door than a chipper greeting comes his way from a familiar face in a sharp black suit complete with a dickie bow.

Richard Parker: Hey Mikey, how's it going?

Chainz fails to acknowledge Richard, slithering past him on the way to the locker rooms. The snaky look in his eyes sends a shiver down Richard's spine. The announcer heads on through to the arena, mumbling to himself.

Richard: Crazy asshole...how he ever got a job here is beyond me. Looks even funkier since Hess started banging his wife.

Climbing a set of stairs to the backstage corridors, Sloan stops dead at a set of double doors and clenches his empty right hand. With the locker rooms ahead of him, and visions of the night running through his mind, he realizes he's forgotten his other kit bag containing his ring attire.

He hisses air between his teeth and turns tail, storming back down the stairs and outside the arena. Watching the floor he sighs to himself, glancing up and stepping back suddenly as the front door opens and a blonde vision appears before him.

Her hair dances around her shoulders, her big bright eyes staring at him behind large fluttering eyelashes. A smile curls her lip that would melt any man's heart and her breasts bulge against each other to form a ball-tingling cleavage under a tight-fitting cut t-shirt.

Chainz: Tracy...

She continues to smile as she walks through the front door, maintaining eye contact as a massive foot wedges itself in the jamb, kicking it open and allowing the behemoth frame of Hessian to pass through. Hooked through each of his ten fingers is a bag, several of which are clearly Tracy's, given the colour and/or design. His bag hangs off the shoulder by a strap, colliding with the others with every move he makes.

Hessian: ...so then I swat him like he's a fly and he-...oh...

The Murder Show stops short and clears his throat, barely acknowledging Chainz as he saunters past behind Tracy, who looked through Sloan more than at him...at least in the Monster's mind. Snorting like a bull, he puckers his face and dashes out to the car to collect his bag, his eyelid twitching and his stomach getting hot and cramped.

Grabbing his case from the trunk he once again locks the car and heads back inside the arena. Pushing through the front door, he sees his wife and her charge have made slow progress to the backstage area. Tracy helps the giant hook a stray bag back onto its finger. Grabbing on tight, Hessian winks at her and together they head off for the dressing rooms.

Stalking them and keeping his head down, he catches glimpses of their conversation as they ascend the stairs to the backstage area. Every so often, her laugh echoes through the air, striking a place in his chest where his heart should be. The sight of his wife on Hessian's arm twists his perceptions, and he thinks back to August of last year...and the ramifications of his actions being perpetrated here and now.

Passing through the double doors at the top of the stairs, Hessian and Tracy make their way to the giant's locker room. Chainz follows closely, growling at the sight of his betrothed on the arm of another. Dropping a handful of bags Hessian opens it up and to the horror of Chainz places his hand on the small of her back, guiding her into the room.

The Monster's focus is fully on Hessian's hand, as his fingers slide down the tanned skin between her shirt and miniskirt and barely caress her ass over the denim. Hessian himself doesn't think anything of it, showing her in and picking up the bags again to follow suit; Chainz however sees it as a prefix to a night of sticky, salty deviancy only meant for him. The image of her tensing her muscles around him and moaning at his touch causes...the Monster...to...


snap.


A gunshot cracks through the air, but no bullet has been fired. Instead, Chainz suddenly finds himself inside Hessian's locker room standing over a buckled door. He doesn't remember actually running at the door or thinking to attack, but suddenly he's on top of the giant, pounding his skull with stiff fists as Tracy screams at him, her voice a dull boom in the back of his mind.

Hessian: Jesus Christ! What the fuck are you doing?? We're not on until later you dumbass!

The Murder Show roars at Chainz to stop the attack, unaware of just what is rolling through the former Intense Champion's head. His knuckles pop from the force of the punches directed at the giant's face, and it's not long before Hessian's nose explodes with claret. Holding his arms over his face, the giant curses Chainz while trying to kick out and defend himself.

Confused and afraid, Tracy tries to intervene by feebly pulling on Chainz's arm. The Monster from Hell's Kitchen, inebriated in a blood drunk frenzy, pulls his arm back and causes Tracy to stumble over the two feuding giants, falling to the ground and cracking her knee. Not stopping, Chainz drags Hessian by the beard out into the hall where the assault continues with sharp kicks to the head and torso.

The Murder Show tries to fight back, connecting with a hard right hook to Chainz's jaw which anyone watching can tell was closed and a little too real for TV wrestling. Chainz's head snaps from the impact and the pain in his jaw flares, but he carries on automatically, grabbing Hess by the head and smacking it off the laminate flooring.

As Chainz kicks out with another boot aimed squarely at Hessian's face, the dazed giant lashes out and grabs him by the ankle, powering to his feet and latching on with his other hand to Chainz's leg.

Hessian: What the FUCK is your problem??

Chainz's face loses its character, becoming a canvas of pure rage under the pain of Hessian's punch and the months of ire against the giant. He flicks his gaze to the double doors, and the stairs beyond.

Chainz: You're the one with the problem.

With that, the Monster from Hell's Kitchen lunges forward and on his one grounded leg connects with a hellacious short arm clothesline that sends Hessian toppling backwards onto the floor as Sloan regains his balance. Clutching his chest, Hessian grits his teeth and kicks out when Chainz advances on him.

Hessian: You're a bigger liability to this place than I'll ever be ya prick! Shakur finds out you're doing shit like this and you'll be in a world of hurt, Sloan!

Chainz: Hm...a world of hurt...sounds like a threat. You think I care? I’m going to watch this whole fucking place burn!

Picking Hessian up, Chainz knees him in the groin. All at once the giant's defenses are knocked out as he doubles over and grabs his jeans, groaning in agony. From the locker room Tracy peeks out, watching as Chainz glances back and makes eye contact with her. She cocks her head, moving to the left and the right as Chainz seems to look through her rather than at her. Licking his lips he turns to the double doors and slaps a hand on the back of Hessian's skull and another on the back of his jeans.

The double doors blow outwards, smashing into the walls either side as Hessian's 355lbs body careers almost the whole way down the stairs before landing. Unfortunately for him he lands awkwardly on a bent knee.

CRACK

He roars to begin with, but the horrendous pain pouring from his bulging knee simmers the roaring down to a crazed whimper. Hessian rolls around on the floor, tears streaming from his eyes and urgent pleas spewing from his lips. Standing at the top of the stairs Chainz watches quietly as a crimson plume blossoms over Hessian's jeans, and after a couple of moments a trickle seeps down his leg to the floor.

Lying still now with his knee elevated, Hessian raises a shaky hand to the top of the stairs at Chainz......or rather the frightened little lady behind the Monster. Seeing the twisted wreck below, Tracy can do nothing but turn tail and run for safety as her husband's eyes flash demoniacally, and he methodically steps towards Hessian one stair at a time.

The giant's calls for help go unheeded as Chainz clamps a hand over his mouth and stares into Hessian's glazed eyes.

Hessian: My knee's broke...man I've broken my fucking knee...get Fihlguud...please...

Chainz: Ohh ho ho ho...your knee is broken? Well shit. That was an accident. That...was an accident.

Slogging Hessian in the temple with another hard punch knocks the sense from the giant, allowing Chainz to pull him over to the stairs. With the greatest care he places the K.O.ed Murder Show's head over the bottom step, forcing a finger into his mouth and prying it open.

Nobody is around to witness it. Nobody is there to see or even to help as Hessian is made to bite down on the step. Ensuring his victim is perfectly placed, Chainz steps back and admires his handiwork. The body of the Murder Show lies helpless at his feet, exposed and vulnerable. For months Chainz has mentally and physically destroyed Hessian week in and week out.

Then his wife turned her back on him. The one ray of light in an otherwise gloomy world occupied by nothing but a deviant's desire to deconstruct everything around him and rebuild it in his image. She turned to that giant among men, the tower of doom of professional wrestling. That was supposed to turn the tables on him.

A sickening crunch fills the air as the sole of his boot connects with wet flesh. He doesn't even look to see what damage has been done. Chainz simply takes a deep breath, composes himself and walks up the stairs towards his dressing room ready for another day of work.

Hessian lies there in a pool of his own blood and bits of broken teeth from his burst face. Ten minutes later he's found by the next wrestler making their way to the backstage area. After that it's all a blur of flashing red and blue lights and ominous voices standing over him. He keeps his mouth shut from pain, but also knowing one day revenge will be his and his alone.

No sign of Chainz to be found after the accident. Or Tracy.



Oh, the things a man will do for his woman. Remember that.

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.

We're backstage and Matt Mills is chilling beside an unmarked door. Clad in a dark red PRIME polo, and with a smile stretched across his light features, PRIME's head interview raises his microphone to his lips.

Mills: Ladies and Gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to bring you this EXCLUSIVE first interview with PRIME newcomer and Born Again hopefu--

Suddenly the door bursts open and a hasty figure barrels past Mills. Knocked off-balance and flustered, an aghast Mills steadies himself before cantering after his supposed interviewee.

Mills: Hey, wait up!

Sweat glistens on the unidentified man's back as he strides through the corridor. The back of his head is completely hidden by what is presumably a black mask, and on his lower torso he wears a pair of baggy black pants with purple trim. A man on a mission, he does let his pace relent despite Matt's protests.

Richard: Heh, looks like Millsy's in a spot of bother...

Mills: A moment of your time, sir?!

Though he's gaining ground on the nameless grappler, Mills is clearly having trouble maintaining the pace as his breaths become short and shallow. The masked man round a corner.

Mills: Hush!

Finally, as Matt Mills' decibel raises, the man comes to a halt. Exhaling a very audible groan, PRIME newcomer Hush slowly turns round to face the always-eager interviewer, who remains unperturbed. Face-to-face with a PRIME camera for the very first time, Hush's dissatisfaction may be hidden beneath a rubber mask, but it's written all over his body language. Finally level with his target, Mills pauses for a moment to catch his breath. Eventually he smiles.

Mills: Hush, let me be the first to welcome you he--

Hush: Save the pleasantries and make it quick, please.

Glaring at Mills behind two panels of mesh, Hush folds his arms across his chest. His voice is that of a man who's smoked far too many cigarettes and far too short a space of time: thick, rough, gravelly. Mills is on-the-spot; uneasy.

Mills: Well, uhh. How about a few words to introduce yourself to the PRIME faithful and let them know what you're all about?

Mills pushes his microphone towards Hush, but the masked wrestler offers no response. Just stands there, glaring. His cheer fading, Mills retracts his mic.

Mills: Ummm, okay. Well, how about a few words for your opponents tonight; Bishop Steele and Vic Thunder?

Again he extends the microphone, and again he gets no response. Just when Mills is about to take the mic back, though, Hush grabs his wrist.

Hush: What's your name?

Mills: Matt Mills, sir.

Hush: Okay then, Matt Mills. Remember the mask I wear, and the next time you see it float by in the hallway just keep your head down and mind your own business. I'm not here to stand in front of a camera and throw braggadocio around; I'm here to wrestle. The PRIME audience will find out everything they need to know about me as soon as I'm done introducing my boot to Bishop and Vic's faces. That's where I do my talking; in the ring. So don't you fucking bother me again.

Hush pushes the microphone hard into Mills' chest, again knocking the interviewer back a step. Storming off towards the gorilla position, Hush leaves Matt alone with the camera's lens.

Nick: Doesn't he just seem like a barrel of laughs?

Richard: Guy just doesn't want to be bothered, Nick. Can't really fault him for that.

Nick: Mills is just doing his job, though. He doesn't deserve to be treated like that, especially by someone who's been here for all of five minutes.

Richard: Well he won't make the mistake of trying to interview Hush again, that's for sure!

The scene flickers on inside the IZOD Center for Rev 223. The essence of power, fame and greatness is inevitable throughout the arena. The fans are hyped, and so are many staff and wrestlers walking around in the back for tonight’s event. Cues from backstage crew flicker many different camera angles. During these camera angles the parking garage camera films as a Black Stretch Chrysler 300 C rolls into the garage. Anticipation is high as many fans and others await the glimpse of what superstar has just arrived. The limo driver steps out and heads over to the side door. Opening the door, a pair of black Jimmy Chu heels come into the picture, as these nicely tanned legs stand. It is Alexis Steele, world international model and wife of Bishop Steele. She is wearing a black BCBG dress with a matching Dolce and Cabana hand bag. She lowers here Gucci shades and blows a kiss to the camera.

Stepping out of the way, Bishop steps out behind her, wearing some Perry Ellis dress shoes, polo Jeans, and gun metal grey Ralph Lauren custom fitted dress shirt. Smirking at the camera while putting his arm out for Alexis to grab, they both walk into the arena while the fans go nuts. Chants of "Perfection" echo throughout the arena and hallways. The couple walks through the double doors. Many of the backstage crew stop what they are doing as Bishop and Alexis walk by them. Bishop shrugs his shoulders in a cocky moniker and continues down the hallway.
As they walk around the corner, they are met by Matt Mills. Bishop chuckles as he stops and engages in conversation with Matt.

"Bishop I want to be the first to welcome you to PRIME and Revolution 223 where tonight…"

"Shut the hell up, Damn. I mean you keep babbling on and on and really no one wants to hear your stupid ass speak, plus you are spitting on my $300 shirt, which cost more than those patent leather pants you have on."

The camera pans down at Matt’s pants as the fans in the arena laugh.

"Well if that was the case then…."

"Shhh really, you look better when you don’t talk. Now that we got that shit taken care of, better yet just leave Matt this is Bishop’s interview and you are just making me look bad. So shoo."

Matt hands Bishop the microphone and walks away down the hallway. Bishop smirks as he turns back towards the camera and lowers his Ed Hardy shades.

"Now finally this federation has gotten some real talent in here. I mean walking down this hallway I was none impressed with what I have seen, so tonight my opponents better have more talent then what I have seen thus far.

Anyways I want it to be known that tonight, PRIME's ratings will sky rocket because I, True Perfection, will be in the most singled watched match of the night. I will headline tonight’s show and every other show from here on. Now I have to cut this interview short simply because I have to go wipe the floor with two nobodies cause I’m Simply Damn Amazing."

Bishop drops the microphone and winks at the camera. He and Alexis walk off as the camera fades to ringside….

The match started off with Bishop Steele and Vic Thunder renewing their small rivalry from ReVolution 222 by engaging one another in a slugfest. The MMA specialist, Bishop Steele, was able to gain the advantage by backing Thunder into the corner and utilizing his superior striking to keep Thunder on his heels. An elbow to the forehead, temple, and then a knee to the midsection rounded out the combination needed to lift the biggest man in the match out of the ring.

Hush made his presence known by delivering a mafia kick to the head of Steele, moving him against the ropes. Hush showed his Japanese influence by landing a series of stiff kicks to the leg and a roaring elbow to the top of the head. Steele's upper body went through the ropes, but he was able to use his athleticism to catch himself and stay inside the squared circle. Hush went for another high impact strike, when Steele yanked him into the air and slammed him onto the canvas. Steele used his weight advantage to push on Steele, settling for the occasional strike here and there.

Hush maneuvered and looked for any advantage he could find, but eventually had to settle for the ropes. Steele pulled him from the canvas and went for a DDT, but Hush quickly countered into a ShortSharpShock and went for the pinfall. Vic Thunder broke the pin attempt at two, leaving Hush to go back to the drawing board and land a dropkick to Thunder's face.

Steele got back to his feet after a few necessary seconds of recovery and broke up the Hush assault on Vic Thunder. Steele caught Hush with a release German suplex, sending him across the ring and into the opposite corner. Steele barrelled across the ring and landed a knee to the forehead, knocking Hush for a loop. Steele turned around and landed a big time lariat on Thunder, sending him up and over the ropes to the floor. Steele went out in pursuit and landed a double ax handle across the back before slamming Thunder into the steel stairs.

Steele re-entered the ring and was caught off guard by Hush, who connected with a lungblower and went for the cover. He only managed two. Hush continued on the offensive, landing a strike to the head and making Steele exert his own energy to get up. Another boot found the head. A strike to the back of the head wobbled Steele's arms. Hush nudged Steele over to the corner, darted across the ring, rushed back and landed a front face dropkick that got the crowd on it's feet.

Vic Thunder inserted himself back into the match, but didn't have much success against Hush. A mafia kick put Thunder in the corner. Two knees to the chest from Hush put Thunder on his back. Hush completed the moveset by leaping onto the second rope and landing a double stomp across the chest. Steele charged across the ring and landed a jumping reverse DDT. Hush landed on top of Thunder at the same time so a double cover was applied. Both men kicked out.

Steele saw the weakness in Hush and pulled him away from Thunder, landing two knee strikes to the forehead before throwing him over in a Northern light suplex. Steele went for the cover but Hush persevered and kept the match alive. Steele looked down and decided the time to end the match was now. He picked Hush up and shot him off the ropes, looking for the 'Last Chance' superkick. Hush caught the leg, spun Steele around and, with the short distance given, landed a Busaiku knee kick. Steele hit the deck. Thunder rose to his feet and received the same treatment from Hush. The pinfall on Thunder was inevitable, leaving Hush to advance into Round 2.

Winner: Hush

The sight is welcoming to fans crammed into the IZOD Center. None of his attractive features have donned camera lenses for what felt like weeks. Now, finally, he is seeing the spotlight of camera's day.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Only one person can garner such a rousing ovation from the crowd; from any crowd. His black military boots thump against the concrete tiles. Every step he takes is one of precision and purpose. The slow pan up his body shows worn and tattered jeans five years too old, but still stylish. Chandler Tsonda would probably interject if he was still roaming the halls.

"Eyes up here."

Passing over the part which makes thousands of ladies swoon and forget the next few seconds of their lives, the lens makes its way to a scarred and toned midsection. A body emblazoned by wars and battles. His skin looks to be knitted on, held only by stitches and confidence.

The handsome features of The Underground Pimp are shown, sending the IZOD Center into a frenzy. He gives the million dollar smirk and hears the loud roar of the crowd, combined with fainting. He's very familiar with the sound.

Tyler Rayne swings open the door to an office. He ignores the blood red lettering 'Knock First' on the front door and strolls up to the desk. He receives a menacing glare from the lounge area.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Considering only one office in the building has a lounge area, it's now safe to say Tyler Rayne is inside the office of Devin Shakur.

And from the look on Devin Shakur's face –

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

The Boss in Black is none too pleased.

Devin Shakur: Glad you finally figured out how to get into the building this time.

Tyler Rayne: Cut the bullshit, emo, you know I never answer to anybody.

Devin Shakur: I'll bet if I had a snatch and big knockers you would be outside my office like a puppy dog, scratching against the door every two seconds for my attention.

The Underground Pimp takes a step back and does a mental picture with his hands on Shakur's face, imagining him as a female.

The sight is not one for visual aesthetic enthusiasts.

Tyler Rayne: There a trashcan around here? I've got some long lost power vomiting to catch up on.

Devin Shakur: Just sit down and let's get this meeting over with. One we should have had two weeks ago.

Tyler Rayne: You already look womanly enough with the hair, don't push your luck.

Devin Shakur: Sit down, or do I need to get a stripper in your lap so you will actually stay for more than two seconds?

Tyler Rayne: Would be a lovely gesture, but I've already got some of my regulars working the poles back in my office.

Devin Shakur: Fascinating, nice to know I'll be receiving a plethora of letters from the masses begging for a shot inside your locker room now. Sit the fuck down.

The Underground Pimp has a seat across from The Boss in Black.

Tyler Rayne: So how much did you miss me? You've been summoning me for three weeks in a row now.

Devin Shakur: I always miss staring at the faces of people I've ruined.

Tyler Rayne: Not you, literally, douche, stop trying to hawk Tink's schtick of being the homo of PRIME. I meant the ratings. You know the kind of numbers I bring in, and I know how badly we need ratings.

Devin Shakur: Our numbers aren't the worst in the world.

Tyler Rayne: Spare the political spin, I only watch Colbert if I want my news fix and you are no Colbert.

Devin Shakur: I do think bears are coming after our children. Tell 'em Christian.

Over at the lounge area, Christian Daniels and Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas are locked in another card game. The selection for this week is Razz. Both men have been equally frustrated at different points of the evening. At the moment, Dam holds a slight lead.

Christian Daniels: He don' put out'a bounty on Yogi Bear'n Boo Boo

The Pimp looks over at Christian and then back to Devin.

Tyler Rayne: You put out a bounty on Yogi and Boo Boo?

Devin Shakur: Boo Boo moreso than Yogi because I believe he's hiding vital information.

Tyler Rayne: When you think about it, Yogi is probably a serial killer.

Devin Shakur: And Boo Boo does all the planning.

Tyler Rayne: Yogi has skills though...Wait, we're getting off topic.

Devin Shakur: And I didn't call you in here to discuss ratings.

Tyler Rayne: Then what the fuck did you call me in here for?

Devin Shakur: The Dual Halo. Remember, the event you didn't win?

Tyler Rayne: Already won it once, already still have run of the place, what's the point in going for it again?

Devin Shakur: You intervened when I had the number 30 spot in the match. You and your ilk decided to stop me from entering the match.

Tyler Rayne: Yeah, about that, we had a roster only meeting--

Devin Shakur: A roster only meeting?

Tyler Rayne: Hence, why you didn't know about it. Everybody agreed you shouldn't be in the Halo, so the three of us decided to make sure you didn't enter the cage.

The Boss in Black is a little flabbergasted by what he just heard and is trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

Devin Shakur: So let me see if I get this straight...Roster-only meeting, everybody decides I shouldn't be in, and three of you volunteer to make sure I don't get in?

Tyler Rayne: The nuts and bolts, but yes that is what went down.

Devin Shakur: But you were in the match also.

Tyler Rayne: Was I really? I barely tried, barely put in an effort. I was only in there to make a couple of fuckpants look good before getting eliminated.

Devin Shakur: Fuckpants?

Tyler Rayne: New word I'm trying out. The HBO factor is something I've yet to fully take advantage of.

Devin Shakur: So at this...roster-only meeting, how many people were there?

Tyler Rayne: Decent amount.

Devin Shakur: And all of them agreed I shouldn't be in the match?

Tyler Rayne: Pretty much.

Devin Shakur: So I've got a potential mutiny on my hands?

Tyler Rayne: Maybe

Devin Shakur: May the vagueness be with you.

Tyler Rayne: Don't fucking start trying to quote Star Wars.

Devin Shakur: Then don't call roster-only meetings to try and overthrow me.

Tyler Rayne: Kid, I can overthrow you anytime I fucking well please. Read the contract.

Devin Shakur: And all I have to do is go to the Board of Directors and get whatever dumb shit you say overturned. Not a damn thing you can do about that.

Tyler Rayne: Highly doubt you'll be able to get all of them to agree on everything more than once.

Devin Shakur: I've got ways.

Tyler Rayne: Go ahead and try to get cute again. None of the shit you pull will fly. Hell, you knew how much Hawaii meant to the ratings so you brought him back.

Devin Shakur takes the opportunity to flash a grin and stand from his chair, walking around toward The Underground Pimp. The security guards don't take their eyes off the game. It's apparent to both that Shakur is just showboating.

Devin Shakur: I brought him back just like I decided to bring you back...Having the two of you sitting on your asses does nothing for me--

Tyler Rayne: Thus confirming you need us.

Devin Shakur: No...No, I don't need anything Tyler, especially not from you or Dawkins. However, I do need a source of entertainment week in and week out. Instead of having the two of you sit on your asses in some penthouse I'm probably paying for, why not have you wrestle, as that is what you guys do. I'll have the roster of PRIME go out there and beat the holy shit out of you. I get what I want both ways.

Tyler Rayne: Heh, wrestling. I know a little something about that. When I decide to go out there and compete, none of these douchecunts can step up. When I decide to put all the cards on the table, the bodies I've left behind tell the story.

Devin Shakur: Then I guess we're going to see.

Tyler Rayne: Shak, be real for two seconds. Tink has a better chance of landing ass in a biker bar before Hessian gets in the ring. Fucker is bent like a pretzel. Noble...That joke...Don't make me waste my breath. I'll wipe the floor with that cockbag.

Devin Shakur: Even so, you'd have to wrestle twice next week...And maybe against Dawkins.

Tyler Rayne: I'll pen the letter to the Board. Make sure I get a massage on the flight to Headquarters.

Devin Shakur: Looking forward to it, Ty.

The Underground Pimp and Boss in Black give each other a final staredown before Rayne spins on his right foot and exits the office.

It shouldn’t be so, but the locker room can be a lonely place.

And she shouldn’t be so, but Roxie Sykes can be a lonely girl.

Don’t ever tell anyone that. But PRIME, it isn’t her scene. She can’t relate to anyone out there. So she lays on her back waiting calmly for the night to end. She doesn’t even have a match, so she’s here, tugging on her eyelids, affecting a boredom that only shrouds her sense of gathering despair.

Sure, she could go and ask Chainz what’s good, but she’d only get the most tangible of eyefucks and probably have to shower. Certainly, she’s got shit to lay out with Garbage Bag Johnny, but two-and-oh split across two feds is nothing compared to half a decade atop the wrestling world, and Roxie doesn’t like to feel small. The obvious call is to befriend a couple of the new guys, but they don’t seem to hang where she thinks they ought to hang.

Roxie sits up on the bench, her face an expanse of grey in the unlit room, and tears a hand back through her hair. Frustration is etched all over her, because the mounting sense that she is a woman conclusively out of place in PRIME can be attributed, in her mind, to just one factor.

That she’s never done this by herself – and she doesn’t know how.

In a brief concession to the recognition that this should be written a little more like a segment – though it’d be pretty bloody boring if it had been – Roxie listlessly appraises her situation before the cameras leave her.

Roxie: Fuck. Shit. Cunt.

And we’re out.

With the unfortunate announcement of Hessian being unable to compete, the only one-on-one match of Born Again's Round 1 took place. David Noble made his long awaited return to the PRIME ring. Unfortunately for The Risen Star, he went in against a motivated Tyler Rayne.

Rayne unleashed a flurry of martial arts strikes straight out of the gate, leaving Noble disoriented. The Risen Star tried to brawl back and show some of the resiliency he displayed during his previous tenure in PRIME. However, Rayne was on top of his game and thwarted any offense Noble attempted in the early going. A combination of strikes and kicks with an attempt at a monkey flip was stopped with a jawbreaker and DDT. Noble went for an enziguri but Rayne crudely kicked him in the package and flipped him over with a T-Bone suplex.

Noble wisely left the ring and decided to get some respite on the floor. He's a fearless competitor, but even the fearless know when to restructure a game plan. Noble rolled back underneath the ropes and went for a collar and elbow, but Rayne quickly transitioned from an armbar into a DDT and back over into a hammerlock. He slapped Noble around a few times, which angered The Rising Star. Rayne appeared indifferent, allowing Noble to his feet and daring him to try any maneuver in his arsenal. Noble looked to take Rayne's head off with a clothesline, but Rayne decided to duck underneath and let Noble careen into the ropes and spring back. Rayne snapped him forward with a neckbreaker and landed a double stomp to the chest.

Noble got back to his feet and demanded another exchange with Rayne. The two locked up and Noble managed to shove Rayne back in the corner and slap him across the face. Rayne's head tilted to the side and slowly back toward Noble, who looked eager, but probably wasn't eager enough for the onslaught heading his way. A front kick blasted Noble back followed by a knee to the head and a soccer kick to the forehead. Noble found himself on the other side of the ring and received a knee buckling clothesline followed by a bulldog from the corner. Rayne was about ready to put this one in the books.

Rayne reached down and pulled Noble up, shoving him back against the ropes and landing a roaring elbow to the skull. Noble went down in a heap. Rayne pulled him from the canvas and locked him in the small package driver, pulling him to the mat with a Varga'd for the pinfall victory.

Winner: Tyler Rayne

We are taken backstage, where Boda is seen storming through the hallways, looking for something, or someone. Turning the corner, Boda comes to a stop in front of the office for Devin Shakur. As the PCW Hall of Famer reaches out for the door knob, ignoring the blood red 'Knock First' sign, he is greeted by a security guard.

Security Guard: Whoa there big guy. Mr. Shakur does not want to be disturbed at this time.

The portly rent-a-cop steps in between Boda and the door. The Big Bad Boda Daddy glances down, shooting a ‘if looks could kill’ glance at the security guard.

Boda shoots the security guard a snarl.

Boda: Listen, Paul Blart….

The short round man bravely stands in front of Shakur's office and corrects Boda.

Security Guard: Actually, it’s Officer Tickle. IZOD Center Head of Security Matt Tickle.

Boda is indifferent about being corrected.

Boda: Okay… Listen Test….. I’ve got an appointment with Mr. Shakur, you see. I’m looking to see what he knows about the mishap last show during my match.

Boda tries for the door again, but Officer Tickle doesn’t budge. Matt proceeds to open up a clipboard and starts running his finger down the page on it.

Matt Tickle: Nope… nothing on here says you’ve got an appointment with him. Mr. Shaker’s a very very busy man. Now… if you don’t….."

Boda reaches in his pocket and pulls some cash from a money clip. Boda places some unseen money on the clip board.

Boda: Sorry… I could have sworn the appointment made by... Abraham Lincoln... was on that piece of paper. Look again.

As Officer Matt Tickle glances down the paper, Boda takes the opening and grabs the back of Matt’s hair, and the back of the clipboard. With one swift move, flesh meets wood.

‘THWACK’

Inside the office, Christian and Dam grunt. Dam glances over Christian's shoulder while The Biker comments.

Christian Daniels: Someone done put'a whoopin on'er security squad.

Devin Shakur: We're bringing the Enemigos back full time. I don't care if they demand their own taco stand at each show.

Christian Daniels: Why'na hell'ya hire someone named Matt Tickle?

Devin Shakur: He needed work and I was using my Samuel L. Jackson soundboard to try and pick up temporary employees.

Boda then steps back, and as Officer Tickle is dazed, uses his size 20 boot, and the security guard’s head, as a door opener. The rotund security guard crashes through the door at the desk of Devin Shakur. The former PRIME Champion steps into the office and as he looks Shakur.

Devin Shakur: Do people not read the goddamn sign? It says 'Knock'.

Shakur presses a button on his intercom system.

Devin Shakur: Lisa, pen a new note for the front door at 224. It reads 'Knock First Or You Are Fired'

Lisa Tyler: Yes, sir.

As Boda steps over the moaning security guard, he stops and reaches down and takes back his five dollar bill.

Devin Shakur: What the hell do you want? Snow and Youngblood don't work here anymore, and even if they did neither could afford an office like this.

Boda no sells the snide remark from Shakur.

Boda: What the fuck happened last week? What do you know about those video feeds that interrupted my match last week, and caused me to not be victorious?

Devin Shakur: First, I don't know what kind of etiquette was around when you were running the ship, but people don't just come into my office and bark at me. I should dock your pay and add a vending machine in here.

Christian Daniels: Seconded.

Devin Shakur: In terms of your situation, I'm not aware of every nook and cranny going on around here. I've got roster meetings happening during Pay-Per-Views for shit's sake. Whoever is painting targets on pictures and playing videos doesn't have my direction.

Boda: Tell you what… boss…. I took the pictures as a harmful prank….. But to have the balls to dig up some of my worst moments in my career and use them as a video montage…. That’s not a prank. And I’m not fucking happy right now. I should have won that match and moved on to the next round….but no….some guy called Hefty Johnny pinned Tchu while I was being fucked with….again.

Boda cracks his neck and his knuckles.

Boda: Tell you what…. Kicking in your door was a warm-up, it’s got my blood flowing…. Devin… as you can tell I’m a little hot under the collar tonight.

Devin Shakur: I can see that.

Shakur scribbles a note to ensure Lisa bills Boda for kicking down the door. He really shouldn't purchase doors from the same company as The Ultimate Fighter reality show.

Boda: I don’t care who you send out to face me, but I want a match tonight. I'm gonna show whomever it is that's trying to intimidate me, get in my head, or what the fuck ever they are trying to do to me.... doesn't have any effect.

Boda turns and starts to leave when Shakur stops him. As Boda turns back to face Shakur, the security guard starts to pull himself up off the mess of broken door and clipboard.

Devin Shakur: You want a match? Prove you are the hot shit? Go knock yourself out, but make it quick.

With an evil smile on his face, Boda turns and heads for the door. He looks down at Officer Tickle and simply flexes like he’s going to attack him. Tickle spins around and runs smack into the wall, falling into a heap at Boda’s feet. The big man chuckles as he steps over S.O Tickle and pretends to close the door as he leave Shakur’s office.

Devin Shakur: Tickle, you are fired. Go back to being Tony Gamble's footrest. Someone get me a new door.

Christian Daniels: Who're we gon' send out'ta face'tha roid head?

Devin Shakur: I'm sure we have some jobbers in the green room, call up the Jersey Shore looking prick.

Patrician blonde hair hangs over back a shirtless figure. He turns slightly, giving us a side view of his face. A cello rings out in D-minor as he closes his eyes to speak.

"Orson Welles...

Federico Fellini...

Stanley Kubrick...

CASTOR STRIFE"

The camera flashes red and cuts to a complete side-view of the man known as Castor Strife. He stares straight ahead, blinks slowly while inhaling, and speaks again.

"Franz Kafka...

Alexandre Dumas...

Honore de Balzac...

CASTOR STRIFE"

Red flash cut to a new scene, where our Castor Strife is in a study, writing furiously on letterhead paper. This time, instead of speaking, his thoughts are simply heard.

"Gordie Howe...

Lebron James...

Phil Mickelson...

CASTOR STRIFE"

Red flash cut to the back of Castor Strife, sitting in a director's chair. The camera rotates to the front as he speaks once again.

"Julius Caesar...

Napoleon Bonaparte...

Adolf Hitler..."

Camera stops at Castor's face; he lifts up his sunglasses.

"CASTOR STRIFE"

Red flash cut to Castor sitting down, reading from the paper he was previously writing on.

"I am just a newborn, a stranger in this town...

Where, may I ask, are all the good times?

Who, pray-tell, is going to show this stranger around?

Oh, I need a dirty woman. I need..." he says, bowing his head. "...a dirty girl."

Castor crumples the paper and lets it drop from his hand, continuing...

"These words are not my own, but that of Pink Floyd's 'Young Lust'. You thought I wrote them, didn't you? I could have; of that I'm certain. Creation is my specialty, the purpose for my living.

They call me a director, pornographer...a modern day Marquis de Sade.

When I write, the imagination is captured. When I film, the moment is elegant, but also GRITTY AND REALISTIC! Oh, but the ring is my true canvas. And the things I can manufacture there could bring tears to Whistler's Mother...

...and they will.

PRIME wants a turning of the page, a...revolution. I shall do one better and give them a RENAISSANCE, for I am a renaissance man.

Nothing is quite like it, and it only comes once in a lifetime. Castor V. Strife: PRIME Universal Champion. THAT is the scene I will make, and you...you WILL applaud! Your Starman has descended from Hollywood, California. Your Starman...is here."

Fade to red.

Thanks to Boda's conversation with Devin Shakur, an impromptu match is next on the docket to help Boda blow off some steam after his loss last week in the first round of the Born Again tournament. "Remedy" by Seether cues up as The Big Bad Boda Daddy storms down to the ring amidst a chorus of boos. He's got a scowl plastered over his face as he climbs over the top rope and enters the ring. His music fades out and is replaced by what can only be described as the most fist-pumpingest song on the airwaves today. Don't believe me?



From behind the curtain struts Mikey "The Business" Guiliano, wearing a headband that's the colors of the Italian flag, an Affliction-style t-shirt that says "GTL" on it, black and white Addidas breakaway pants and white Adidas sneakers. He also has a ridiculous blowout and is eating a Powerbar while fist-pumping and jumping around to his theme song. The guidos in the audience cheer and fist-pump along with him. Boda looks less than amused and asks Vince Howard if Shakur is serious about this. For his part, Vince just shrugs.

"The Business" ascends the ringside steps and points to some girl in the crowd, calling her a "fuckin' skank" before getting into the ring. He finishes his Powerbar and tosses the wrapper away. He turns around and flexes to the Guido Nation. This gives Boda the opportunity to charge from across the ring and deliver a boot to the back of Mikey's head.

Mikey goes flying into the turnbuckle and whirls around to yell at Boda to watch his hair, but Boda just grabs his arm and whips him across the ring instead. Boda follows up with a corner splash which crushes "The Business" against the ring post. Mikey's dazed, and Boda's unrelenting. He hip-tosses Guiliano into the center of the ring, hits a leg drop, then goes for the cover.

1...

2...

Boda jerks "The Business" up off the bat by his greased-up hair, stopping the count. The referee asks Boda what the big idea is, but Boda just grins maliciously. He's not quite finished with God's Gift to Guido just yet.

Pulling Guiliano to his feet, Boda wraps his arms around Mikey's waist and pulls him into a tight bearhug. Guiliano cries out in pain as the referee checks to see if he'll submit, but he refuses. Boda cinches the hold tighter, which only makes Guilano cry out in pain more. The referee checks again but before Mikey can answer, Boda launches him over his head with a belly to belly suplex. "The Business" lands awkwardly and Boda goes for another cover.

1...

2...

Again, Mikey "kicks out" with an assist from The Big Bad Boda Daddy. Again, the referee admonishes Boda for playing around and Boda just ignores him again. He drags Guiliano to a standing position again, but Guiliano tries to fight back with fists to Boda's midsection. Boda groans but lifts a big knee to Mikey's chin which sends him reeling backwards. Smelling blood, Boda moves in for the kill, softening up Guiliano with big rights and lefts to his face and torso. Guiliano tries to cover, but it's no use. All he can do is just slump in the corner.

The referee starts a 5 count as Boda pounds away at "The Business." Boda doesn't heed the referee when he reaches 5, which causes the official to try to wedge himself in between Boda and Guiliano. Boda swats at the ref but doesn't connect. It does open up a bit of space between himself and Guiliano, and the ref is able to separate Boda from Mikey. The ref backs Boda up to the center of the ring and lets him have it, much to the crowd's delight. Boda just laughs and tries to make his way back towards the corner when from up above a box wrapped in brown paper and twine with bullseyes painting on it is lowered quickly into the ring on a hook. Boda notices its descent and his amused expression turns lethal. The box comes to a rest in the space between Boda and "The Business." The referee doesn't know what to make of this, but Boda marches over to see what's going on with the box. In the corner, Mikey's still in a haze.

Boda grabs the box and shakes it a little, which causes the box to blast a cloud of white powder into his face. The crowd gasps and shrieks in astonishment and the referee jumps back. Boda drops the box and tries to get the powder out of his blinded eyes. Before the referee can call for the bell, "The Business" stumbles out of the corner and manages to connect with two solid European Uppercuts to send Boda down to the mat. He covers quickly and holds Boda's pants for good measure.

1...

2...

3!

"Tricky Tricky" by Busted cues up again and "The Business" gets his arm raised in victory. He jerks his hand away from the ref and instead, fist-pumps up to the rafters.

WINNER: Mikey "The Business" Guiliano

The Inhuman Being has been relatively quiet since winning the Intense Championship. A first round loss to Garbage Bag Johnny and the looming threat of a meeting with Devin Shakur were all the things PRIME offered him since ReVolution 221. He still had to show up for every event and the schedule was grueling on him, even if his body was allowed to gain a little respite now and then.

Ten seconds ago, Tchu received a knock on his door from Matt Mills, indicating Shakur wished to speak with him. The Intense Champion, with belt donning his left shoulder, strolls down the corridor toward the office of The Boss in Black. The conversation could be about a number of things, but if Shakur's previous comments were any indication, the back and forth would revolve around one subject: The Dual Halo.

Shakur already spoke with Tyler Rayne about the same matter earlier in the evening, and Tchu was a member of the party who raided Shakur's parade. The Inhuman Being figured the consequences of his actions would be swift, but in the long run no harm would be done. Shakur and Tchu seldom had any contact during Shakur's tenure in PRIME and no interaction while he was running the show.

Abiding by the blood red sign on the door, Tchu knocks on the door.

Devin Shakur: What do you want, Tchu?

Tchu: How did you know it was me?

Devin Shakur: There is a camera over my office door. I'm not that much of a birdbrain idiot.

Tchu agrees to disagree in his head and nudges open the brand new office door. The third visitor of the evening doesn't garner a growl or snarl from Christian, as he is stuck trying to figure out whether or not Dam's board has a pair hidden underneath. Razz is a variation of stud, but the low cards are what wins. Dam is showing 3 4 5 6 while Christian shows 4 5 3 7. The Biker needs to figure out if he paired one of those cards or not. Tchu observes the scene and ponders the scenario for himself.

Devin Shakur: Let those two figure out the cards while we deal with the business.

Tchu: I don't think he's bluffing.

Christian Daniels: Y'on sit down'n take'ma place then?

Tchu: I'd rather not.

Christian Daniels: Then get'on wit'cha self'n do bidness.

Tchu shrugs his shoulders and walks over to Shakur's desk. He takes a glance at The Boss in Black, who is pointing at a steel chair in front of the desk. Shakur adjusts the massage settings on his reclining chair with two cup holders and a small television monitor.

Tchu: Just one of the many ways you make yourself more powerful than the rest?

Devin Shakur: Budget cuts.

Tchu: Yes, budget cuts, yet your boys over there get a lounge while the rest of us are stuck on work benches two years past their expiration date. You know Mills fell flat on his face while gearing up for an interview?

Devin Shakur: Thank God I cut his insurance then, gambling liabilities are never a good thing.

Tchu: So what exactly am I in here for? Will I be getting the Rayne treatment as well?

Devin Shakur: Indeed you will. You are a stalwart of PRIME, been around since practically the beginning, or as long as I can remember. Hell, when I came in you were vying for a spot on top of the mountain. Has there ever been a roster only meeting?

Tchu: To my knowledge, no.

Devin Shakur: Yet you willingly participated in one.

Tchu: I am on the roster.

Devin Shakur: You are the Intense Champion. Of course you are. You are one of the faces of my company.

Tchu: Capitalist translation of what you just said: I am making you money.

Devin Shakur: Correct. So since we are on the subject of business...What justification is there for not allowing me into the Dual Halo?

Tchu: Well, I figured you know...Since you've been on the communist train for such a long time--

Devin Shakur: Oh go fuck yourself.

Tchu: No one person deserves to have an unfair advantage over the rest. We're all bustin' our asses, doin' business, tryin' to help out the community, and having a tyrant like yourself stronghold all the power wouldn't be fair to everybody else.

Devin Shakur: Yet, communism is about giving people fair chance. I didn't get my fair chance.

Tchu: You tweaked your fair chance, there's a difference. If you had entered at Number 30, when the call for you came out, I doubt people would have as much of a gripe.

Devin Shakur: Yeah, that's a bunch of bullshit and we both know it.

Tchu: Your decision to start down the road of business.

Devin Shakur: Then let's switch gears to personal. What motive do you have for getting involved? I can understand STD and STD: Hawaii putting their prints all over everything, but I've never had a problem with you. Actually, I seldom have spoken to you in my three years here.

Tchu: Well, since this is a getting to know each other session, I've got a few beliefs and you broke one of the core values. Integrity. I'm someone who has a great amount of respect for the sport of wrestling and to see someone so blatantly invoke themselves into the match didn't sit right with me. Do you know how much blood I spilled in the Halo? How hard I fought to win it in 2006, just to come up one step short? The sacrifices I made, breaking my body, to win it 2007? Made me fuckin' sick when I heard your plan... and then I heard about the roster meeting. Decided to jump in and be one of the leaders of the pack. You can fill in the rest of the details if that's not good enough for ya.

Devin Shakur: And you are doing this unabashed?

Tchu: I don't apologize for my actions, Shakur. Put that down in my file if you want.

Devin Shakur: So you feel I threatened the integrity of the Dual Halo by deciding to enter late?

Tchu: After Youngblood and Olsig beat themselves to a pulp? Absolutely. I know you don't do business the right way--

Devin Shakur: I relish in doing it the wrong way.

Tchu: --So now you live with the consequences of doin' sleazy business. You didn't win the Dual Halo, big deal. What were you going to do with the Ticket anyway? Olsig deserved it. You didn't.

Devin Shakur: Let's go back to an earlier point. You know I don't do business the right way.

Tchu: That I do.

Devin Shakur: So you also know that whoever comes across my path in the wrong manner ends up getting dealt with promptly.

Tchu: I'm also aware of that.

Devin Shakur: None of those factors entered your head when making this decision?

Tchu: They did, but I'm willing to face the consequences of my decisions and fight the battles that come my way.

Devin Shakur: Funny thing you said the plural form of battle... Because that is exactly what you are going to receive as a punishment.

Tchu: A handicap match?

Devin Shakur: Oh no, nothing of the sort. I wouldn't think of giving someone such a cruel exit.

Tchu: That's a lie.

Devin Shakur: You see, there's been a long standing thing around PRIME about certain people getting championship shots. Only a select few are allowed the opportunity to get a shot at the Championship every so often. You did so by collecting a bounty and astutely cashing in on Chainz when his jaw was dislocated.

Tchu: Any time and any place.

Devin Shakur: Well, I'm glad you feel that way because I tell you what I'm going to do. I've made you come to every event since Culture Shock and I know the constant come and go has to be grueling on your wife and kids.

Tchu: ...Where are you going with this?

Devin Shakur: ReVolution 224 is going to be live from the Ford Center in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma... And you don't have to be there. I'm giving you the week off.

The Inhuman Being is a little perplexed.

Tchu: What's the catch?

Devin Shakur: There is no catch, Tchu. You've worked hard as the Intense Champion, gone out and actually done all of your promotional tours, so I've decided to reward you for the dedication you've shown to the craft.

Tchu: After all this shit about integrity and shady business?

Devin Shakur: Correct. You have the week off. Don't show up to 224.

Tchu: … Alright, fair enough. That all you wanted to see me about?

Devin Shakur: That is all.

Tchu: Then I'll show myself out, wouldn't want to interrupt the card game.

Tchu stands up and readjusts the Intense Championship on his shoulder. He looks down to see Christian still pondering the same board. He decides to make the call. Dam flips over A 2 3 4 5. Christian slams his fist down on the table, showing 2 3 4 5 6.

Tchu leans down.

Tchu: Told you he wasn't bluffing.

Before 'The Biker' can react, Tchu puts some pep in his step and exits the office. Daniels turns and looks at Shakur.

The smile on his face is a mile wide.

Christian Daniels: Give'tha boy'a week off after he done fucked ya'n'tha Halo. What's goin through yer head?

Devin Shakur: Plenty of things. He'll get his in due time.

IMAGINARY MAN. PROTAGONIST. CULT ICON. SKYMONT: flashes across the 'tron. Then the man himself appears on the screen, wearing his mask of choice for this show: classic hockey mask. Gel-hardened ginger fringe swooping over the plastic.

Skylar Montgomery:

My entourage is pretty small thus far. I need bodyguards, men that would die for me.

These days I walk around so paranoid, like a typical icon of the public, trying to avoid eye contact, marching with purpose. Fuck everybody, fuck the entire world but me.

I am so scared people want to beat me up when they see that, hey, I'm Skylar Montgomery! I am not a coward. I am not fucking scared, I don't fear anything, I just don't like the public getting all close to me.

That's why I wear masks when I enter the ring in front of you people. That's why even when I'm not in the ring I wear the psychic mask of my hands or my hood or the shadow of my baseball cap.

I'm The Imaginary Man and I am a Cult Icon.

I walk into a new town and all the women want to know who is this mysterious stranger is. And all the men, because they're faggots, want to as well. They wanna fucking exchange bodily fluids with the mysterious stranger and expend all their energy on me. I find them so homosexual.

I don't even like fighting.

Yes, I realise the irony of that statement coming from someone in a wrestling federation.

I am Avant Garde. I'm always being ironic, you guys just don't realise the majority of the time.

Anyways, I find fighting gay. Male-to-male energy exchanges without money or knowledge involved. Training in preparation for it, with other guys just so you can be prepared when you meet the right guy to fight.

I get so paranoid – yesterday a Romanian man tried to fight me and said I should stop fucking his women?

I hate fighting. I hate training. I never go to the gym.


"Self-Improvement is masturbation. Now self-destruction..."


That was a quote of Tyler Durden's, but applies to me perfectly.

I am suicidal.

I am Avant Garde - That nickname actually originated because the Illustrious Face-Eater was grasping at his vocabulary to try and describe exactly how much like Tyler Durden The Skymonster is.

And just like Tyler Durden.

I am The Imaginary Man.

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.

Hahah.

And I'm the fucking Anti-Authority figure. The Anarchistic, Cult Icon.

I don't give a fuck who I'm wrestling tonight. I know my match is up next and I'm broadcasting this promo when my opponents are waiting by the gorilla position. I know they probably wanna beat me up really badly.

And I don't care.

Because I don't have to see them until they see me.

Oh, and big shout outs Tim Shipley and JUST Wrestling. Now That I'm in a PROPER fed look what I can do now!

…

THE LIGHTS IN THE ARENA GO DEAD. Blackness. Darkness. However you want put it, it persisted.

Until finally the lights return with a jolt of fulfilling illumination.

And standing in the ring ready for his match in that, oh-so-typical, crucifix pose of his is:

Skylar Montgomery.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Shawn Hart Vs Skylar Montgomery vs Castor V. Strife

All three competitors burst into the match with the objective of trying to get into the finals of the New Era bracket. Castor V Strife used his versatile ability to open up the contest on Shawn Hart, snapping off a very quick neckbreaker. Skylar delivered a kick to Castor's back and was shoved away. He wasn't having any of the shenanigans and landed a dropkick to the back of the head, which got Castor's attention. Skylar pulled Castor up and delivered a knee, spinning back fist and then a step up enzigiuri. A standing moonsault followed by an elbow drop signified Skylar's awkward offense. He went for a cover but Castor didn't give him the satisfaction of a two count.

Hart interjected himself into the contest but was the recipient of a wild Pele kick from Skylar followed by a cross body block over the ropes. Skylar alternated between punches and kicks while shouting at Hart until Castor soared over the cables and showed Skylar how to really execute a cross body. The crowd popped while Skylar was thrown back under the bottom rope. Skylar flailed about, backing himself into the corner, and received a shining wizard for his trouble. Castor perched himself on the second rope from the move and flawlessly connected with a second rope ace crusher. Castor couldn't pull off the pinfall victory.

Castor continued his offensive flurry with an overhead German suplex, although Skylar was able to use momentum to put himself on the second rope. Castor, a bit perplexed, charged forward and walked into the tornado DDT of Skylar. The Imaginary Man went for the pinfall but did not get a three. Skylar got up and clobbered Castor across the back and went for a gutwrench powerbomb, but Castor held onto the ropes and flipped Skylar onto his shoulders for a Death Valley Driver. Castor took some time to shake the cobwebs loose before sliding under the bottom rope and going up top. He knew the risk considering his opposition was quite erratic. Castor dove off the top and landed an elbow across the chest. He went for another cover, but was pulled out of the ring by Shawn Hart. Shawn went for a hurricanrana on the floor, but Castor powerbombed him into the barricade.

When Castor turned around, he was the recipient of a corkscrew plancha from a quick recovering Skylar Montgomery. Mr. Avant Guard threw Castor into the ring and clipped out the left leg of Castor, got up and ran into the ropes, landing a flipping neckbreaker. He rushed over for the cover but did not get a three count. Skylar went for more strikes on the back and landed a double ax handle on Castor before shoving him into the corner. Skylar rushed across the ring and went for a stinger splash, but got caught and thrown over in an Exploder suplex.

Both wrestlers stayed down for eight seconds before getting to their feet and slugging it out. Castor won the exchange and sent Skylar into the ropes. Skylar went for a leaping clothesline, but Castor caught Skylar in mid-air with a big time superkick and put The Imaginary Man on his back. Castor went for the cover but was unsuccessful in obtaining the three count. Shawn Hart looked to sneak in and landed a neckbreaker on Skylar, but did not get the pinfall either. Castor landed a front Russian leg sweep on Hart and focused his attention back on Skylar.

Skylar looked to grab the neck of Castor and land The Skunkbuzz, but Castor was able to thwart the attempt and hit The Director's Cut. Skylar rolled out underneath the bottom rope, leaving Shawn Hart available for The Director's Cut and a pinfall victory for Castor V. Strife.

Winner: Castor V. Strife

Armed with the knowledge of his pending vacation, the Intense Champion and PRIME Hall of Famer makes his way through the backstage corridors, Droid in hand, firing away a text in hopes of making plans for his unexpected night off. He isn’t really watching where he’s going, moving more by feel, glancing up on occasion.

In fact, he’s so engrossed with his phone/camera/internet/alarm clock/light saber that as he opens the door to his dressing room and heads over toward his locker, he doesn’t even notice the brand new gift that’s waiting for him, plopped down right on top of his gym bag.

Somewhat technologically impaired, it takes Tchu a few seconds to finish up his text, and it’s not till he’s selected to SEND, and dropped the Droid from his vision that he sees the gift.

Shiny red paper, adorned with hundreds of white rings, looking like a mess of targets and bulls-eyes. For a moment, The Inhuman Being just stares at the mysterious gift before finally reaching down and picking it up. Like a kid on Christmas morning, he gives the box a shake. Opening up the door to his locker room, Tchu sticks his head out into the hall, spotting a member of the ring-crew standing against the wall near some vending machines.

Tchu: Hey pal…

Crew Member: Joey.

Tchu: OK, Joey. You happen to know where the hell this package came from?

The Intense Champ holds up the gift and gives it another shake.

Joey: I dunno. I set up and tear down. Don’t deliver any mail, champ.

Tchu: You didn’t see anyone stop by and drop it off?

Joey: Nope.

Joe pushes himself off the wall and heads up the corridor toward Tchu, eying the gift as he approaches. Scratching the back of his neck, Joey looks up and raises an eyebrow.

Joey: What’s in it?

The Inhuman Being lets his arm drop in disgust, package hitting him in the side of the leg as he sighs.

Tchu: Typically, a guy has to unwrap a gift to know what’s inside.

Joey: Is it your birthday or something?

Tchu: No.

Joey: Then why are you getting presents?

Tchu: I don’t know, Joe.

Joey: Joey.

Tchu: Right.

The PRIME Hall of Famer lifts the box back up, holding it in both hands now, turning it over, looking at it from all sides. Suddenly, he holds the gift out, practically placing it Joey’s mitts.

Joey: You want me to have it?

Tchu: No. I want you to open it.

Joey contemplates this for a second, then remembers something quite important. He quickly takes a few steps back.

Joey: The hell I am. I saw what happened to Boda earlier. That's all yours, man.

Tchu: Point taken.

Content with the argument, and being slowly overcome by curiosity, Tchu finally starts to tear at the paper, making quick work of the wrap job. He turns and places the box on a nearby table, shoving cables and electronics equipment to the side. With both hands, he lifts the lid while Joey sneaks behind him and peers over his shoulder.

Tchu: What the hell?

Inside the box rests the Universal Championship, or, more accurately, a replica of the prestigious Universal Championship. But this replica isn’t quite a perfect copy of the real thing.

Tchu: Are those targets?

Joey: Two of ‘em looks like.

Sure enough, painted right on the shimmering surface of the belt are two series of white and red circles.

Tchu: Why would someone send me a Uni title with a couple of targets slapped on it?

Joey: You’re a former two-time Uni Champ, right? Aren’t many of those in PRIME’s history. Looks like someone is targeting you. Pun intended. I guess real question is… who?

Tchu: And you didn’t see anybody snoopin’ around my locker room?

Joey: Sorry, man.

Joe shrugs his shoulders before he turns and heads off down the hall, leaving The Inhuman Being alone with his ominous gift. Reaching into the box, Tchu lifts the Universal Title, holding it across his forearms just as he has done on so many nights before. But this time, there’s no glory. No achievement. This time, when he stares at his reflection in the surface, spotted by the bulls-eyes of two targets, he doesn’t sigh in relief and kiss the gold.

He just throws the title down, and walks away, carrying one more burden in place of ten pounds of gold.

Tracy nervously walks through the back looking around at the pitiful glances cast her way by the cast and crew of PRIME. Word traveled fast that Hessian was assaulted and taken out. Unfortunately the cameras weren’t around nor did Hessian mention of how he was attacked. All signs pointed to his nemesis Chainz, but without proof the monster was free to roam unimpeded.

They felt sorry for the tiny woman who seemed lost and scared with a maniac husband running around and her close friend, Hessian, being out of commission for an indefinite period of time. She lowered her eyes and stopped in front of a locker room door. It was a very dark and evil door that contained a remorseless monster.

With a sigh she knocked on the door. There was a scuffle inside before the door was opened, but instead of Sloan’s face sticking out Tracy was a bit taken back to see Elise Ares glaring at her.

Elise Ares: What do you want?

Tracy: I… um, is Michael there?

Elise Ares: Yeah he’s in here with me; he’s getting ready for his match.

The two women stared at each other as Elise looked the smaller girl up and down. She just didn’t see what Sloan saw in her. Elise did like the large ring glistening off her slender finger however.

Tracy: Well I can talk to him?

Elise Ares: You know I don’t think that’s such a good idea.

Tracy: Excuse me?

Elise smiled.

Elise Ares: Well look, he’s got an important match coming up and doesn’t need any distractions especially from a cheating lil bitch like you.

Tracy was a bit floored at the hostility of the words coming from the Havana Harlot.

Tracy: Distractions? I’m his wife, who do you think you are talking to me like that?

Elise Ares: Ha, his wife? Some wife you turned out to be.

Tracy: I know Michael and I have had problems, but I didn’t do what I do because I don’t love him. He’s my husband and I love him. I just needed some time apart for him to realize what he was doing. He was destroying everything.

Elise Ares: Personally I like a man who’s willing to do anything it takes.

In that moment Tracy saw the sinister smile of the woman in front of her and a sickening feeling began coursing through her body. All the feelings of fear and anger from earlier in the night were beginning to be replaced just like it looked like she was.

Chainz: Oh, it’s you.

Michael Sloan creeps up behind Elise Ares and towers over the two women. He looks down at Tracy without a hint of emotion.

Tracy: Michael, about earlier.

Chainz: We ain’t gonna talk about that. YOU ain’t gonna talk about that.

Tracy: I… I…

Chainz: I’ve gotta go do what I do.

He was cold. It was the norm for people, but not for her. Around her he was talkative and sweet, loving even. Now, it seemed like the small dormant feelings she had stirred within her were gone.

As the two disappeared away from her she spotted Chainz placing his hand on Elise’s lower back and leading her down the hallway. She couldn’t believe the rage that flowed through her body and in that instant knew what her husband must have felt.

Chainz has been looking for a crucial rebound ever since his match at Culture Shock with Hessian. Sure, he won the contest, but lost far more in terms of pride and his woman. Tonight, he showed no mercy on either The Flyin Hawaiian or The Ego from New England. It also helped that The Havana Harlot, Elise Ares was at ringside.

The contest started out with Chainz bolting toward Donnelly. The fearless Ego decided to engage Chainz in a stand-up battle, but the only thing generated was blood from Donnelly's forehead. Chainz was non-stop, balls to the wall aggressive against The High Class Ass. Referee Elvis Nixon tried to intervene, but Chainz was having none of it and dared Nixon to disqualify him. Bryan Dawkins decided to show some intestinal fortitude and leap into the match, but Chainz caught him on the springboard and flipped him over the ropes onto the floor with a belly to belly suplex. After a long crowd wince and double feature on the PRIME*View, Dawkins sought to get back in the ring while Chainz and Donnelly continued to battle.

Donnelly landed some forearms and kicks, even managing to get Chainz off his feet with a spinning windmill kick. However, he wasn't able to keep The Monster on his back for a substantial amount of time. Chainz rose to his feet and steamrolled Donnelly with a spear, before mounting and trying to choke the life out of Donnelly. Nitz scrambled, trying to get out from underneath the bulk of Michael Sloan on top of him. Nixon again threatened disqualification, but Chainz didn't seem to care about Nixon this time. He was too focused on trying to pound Donnelly into oblivion.

Dawkins involved himself in the contest again, and promptly got dealt with by Chainz. The Monster caught Dawkins around the throat and hoisted him into the air for a vicious chokeslam. Dawkins didn't get much respite on the ground, being yanked from the canvas and drilled back down with a DDT. Chainz rolled to his right and caught a shining wizard from Donnelly. The Ego went for a quick cover and possible victory, but Chainz managed to escape before the two count was registered. The Monster wasn't playing any games this evening.

Donnelly got Chainz up and delivered a series of lethal strikes to the forehead and jaw area, trying to further injure Chainz. The kicks only seemed to rile up The Monster and he paid Donnelly back in spades with an STO and armbar combination. The Ego seemed to be on the verge of submitting, but Bryan Dawkins interrupted the proceedings with a standing shooting star press. Dawkins went for a cover of his own, but Chainz managed to kick out before the three.

Dawkins and Donnelly looked at each other's predicament and made the decision to team up on Chainz rather than fight him individually. The two men managed to pick Chainz up and throw him into the ropes, landing stereo enzigirui's followed by a double snap suplex. Donnelly and Dawkins sprung off the ropes and did a high low combination, Donnelly with a stomp to the shins while Dawkins landed a somersault legdrop across the chest. The problem came when both men tried for a cover and got into an argument with one another.

The argument escalated into a shoving match, and before long both men were slugging it out to see who would get the chance to pin Chainz. Donnelly was shot into the ropes. Dawkins went for a boot to the forehead, but Elise Ares pulled down the top rope, sending Nitz tumbling to the floor outside instead. Unfortunately for Dawkins, a slight pause in surprise left him prey to The Monster and one Chain Reaction was enough to put Dawkins down for the count. Chainz advances into the semi-finals of Born Again.

Winner: Chainz

Nick: With an assist from Elise Ares, Chainz has just advanced on in the Born Again tournament!

Richard: Oh, please. Like he wouldn't have won anyway.

Nick: Chainz got out of dodge as soon as he scored that pinfall. Elise's only mistake was not letting Chainz finish off Nitz because now she has to deal with him herself.

Richard: She's fresher Nick, I like her chances.

After the dust clearns, Donnelly moves in a little closer to Ares but she doesn't flinch. A confident smirk crosses her face, realizing the beating Nitz just took from the match. He's in trouble and the crowd knows it, just when it seems like this is the end of the road for Nitz Donnelly...

Janus.

But it's not Eyesore. Instead, the unfamiliar sounds of "Six Letters Sent" invades the senses of everyone in the building and the spotlight settles on the stage. The slight smirk on the face of The Havana Harlot fades slowly and instead settles on the face of The Ego as the large figure steps through the curtain. The sleeveless hooded sweatshirt gives it all away. Cue a huge pop.

Richard: What the HELL is HE doing here?!

Nick: Vance Raymes! The other half of the dominant tag team is here just a few days after his rumored departure from the company!

Richard: Chainz! Get back out here! Elise needs you!

Richard's call goes unanswered for now as Raymes descends the ramp and climbs onto the apron as "Six Letters Sent" goes into overdrive. Unlike most big men, he slowly climbs through the ropes the traditional way and puts down his hood. He takes a few steps and stops right beside his tag team partner. The Spades are smiling brightly, ready to take some revenge right from The Swaggerific One. Janus fades out and the crowd is bubbling into a frenzy.

Elise backs into the ropes behind her. The worry is beginning to seep through her poker face as she glances up the ramp behind Change In Spades. No one is coming to help her.

Nick: Looks like Elise is getting bailed on. Chainz is no where to be found.

Richard: This isn't right!

Nick: You go help her then.

Richard: I... *yawn* look at the time! It's been a long night.

Ares is backed into a corner now, literally defenseless. She doesn't have time to slip under the ropes without getting caught and fighting would be a suicide wish. Nitz and Vance know this as they circle their prey. Nitz looks over to the big man who looks back.

Vance: You want the first shot?

Smiling, Donnelly shakes his head.

Nitz: Nah, you take it.

The Tortured Artist nods.

Vance: Figured you'd say that.

Like lightning, Nightmare's Symphony strikes.

And collectively, thousands of jaws hit the floor...

...




...



... Much like Nitz Donnelly.

Nick: Uhhhhh...

Richard: Holy shit.

Ares isn't on the ground. No, her smile is bright as ever and as soon as the crowd wakes up from their trance, the heat fest begins.

Nick: Vance Raymes just turned and coldcocked his friend!

Richard: Ok really, I didn't see that coming at all... which makes it even better!

The 5-Star Harlot bends down and slaps The Ego on the face to wake him up but at the same time is trying to embarrass him. Raymes stands close by and watches. Evident on his face is a little bit of shame and regret for doing what he's done.

Elise: Come on, get up you pansy!

Nick: This is nonsense! Look at Vance, he already regrets it. So what's his motivation for turning like this?

Richard: Who cares. He's done it and Elise is standing tall again, by any means necessary.

Nick: But look at him. He doesn't want to do this.

Ares slaps Nitz enough to urge The Ego to his knees. Vance walks over at the request of The Swaggerific One and stands in front of his fallen friend. Elise drags her thumb across her throat, ordering Vance to end it here and now.

Nick is right, Vance didn't want to do what he did. The crowd doesn't care as they rain down with hate on The Tortured Artist. But other motivations took over and now, he was standing alongside someone he didn't like very much.

He grabs Nitz by the hair and leans down a little bit, talking to his former partner.

Vance: Don't... give me a reason to take this further. Please...

The fire is evident in his eyes and the heat is equal in the eyes of Donnelly. He defiantly raises a hand and slaps Raymes right across the cheek.

Nick: Nitz showing the courage he showed in the Halo, winning the hearts of all wrestling fans at Culture Shock. But I'm afraid...

Richard: Of course it won't do him any good! Look at Vance.

Raymes shakes his head, dropping it in shame. With little effort, he wraps his huge hand around the neck of Donnelly and yanks him up. But he doesn't stop. The lifting continues as Vance completely extends Donnelly until his legs are vertical in the air almost like a stalling suplex. But instead of falling back, he tilts Nitz's legs forward and drops, slamming his neck directly into a canvas. Donnelly folds like and accordian and the blood curdling yell escapes his lips just as the audience groans.

Richard: That was something of a modified Fiery Red Hand V2.

Nick: You can talk about what type of move it was, but Donnelly is hurt!

The Ego is breathing heavily, not moving a muscle after his neck buckled under the pressure. Raymes stands tall, looking down at the canvas unsure of what to think about what he just did. The smile couldn't even be surgically removed from the face of the 5-Star Champion as she comes to realize the damage Vance Raymes has just done.

Nick: This is disgusting.

Richard: Ok, well... I didn't want to see something like this.

EMT's rush to the ring immediately, pushing Elise and Vance away from the fallen Halo Hero. Not much effort is put out to push back. They turn Nitz over carefully and immediately put a neck brace around his neck.

Preceeded with the familiar, piercing sound of a howling wolf Janus starts up again, but now something felt so wrong. Janus usually brings the fans to their feet, but after tonight, "Six Letters Sent" will win nothing but hate from sold out wrestling fans.

Elise raises her own hands and the arm of Vance high as she can given the height difference. She could see the headlines now. "Why Vance Why?"

Vance could see the same headlines but deep down his reasoning would be much more difficult to explain.

The Halo's Hero has fallen at the hands of his own friend.