Titan's hungry.

Again.

And, oddly, his lockerroom is on the other side of the offices from catering, which means he gets to hear people demanding things and screaming about this or that.  What he didn't expect was to run into Chet Worth, who's standing right outside of Tyler Nelson's door. 

Worth didn't have a real great time last week, and right now, he's just standing there. Titan gives him a strange look, then looks at the door Worth is staring at.

Titan: Is there something wrong?

Worth: Fucking Nelson. Thinks he's going to get rid of me, just by locking the door. Of course, that'll make it harder for you to claim it, before I get back up and beat your ass.

Titan nods slowly.  There seems to be something that needs clarification.

Titan: Look, I don't care about your golden ticket, okay?  If I didn't earn it, I don't want it.  So, is there anything I can help you with?

Worth: Yeah, know a good locksmith?

Titan looks at Worth, then at the door.

Titan: Locksmith? Come on...

BAM!

The door cracks open, Tyler Nelson standing in the doorway, his eyes burning and his face contorted into an angry mask.

Nelson: What the?! HEY!

Titan looks at Worth, then Nelson...

Nelson: What are you doing? That's not PRIME Property!

...And grabs the door and yanks.  The hinges don't have a prayer and pop.  Titan takes the door in his hands and snaps it in half before dropping the pieces down on the floor.

Nelson: Damnit!

Titan: Have a good night, Chet.

Worth: Yeah... you too... Titan...

Incredulously, Nelson and Worth look at each other for a second and then toward St. James in utter awe.

Adam and The Grin.

The Grin and Adam.

Who will win the battle of the middle card superstars? Will Pete overcome his adult ADD to actually finish this match? Let's find out.

Okay. Here's Adam's music. Crowd's all yay.

Oh, there's Gamble's music. Crowd's all boo.

They get in the ring.

They fight.

Someone wins.

The end.

What? You wanted MORE? What do you want from me, you bloodthirsty bastards?

Oh, fine.

The Grin enters the ring as Adam waits for him. The Internet Champion holds the belt up in the face of Adam, despite this not being for the Internet title. Clearly unimpressed, Adam claps. Slowly. Gamble grins, as he always does, and hands the belt to referee Ham Patrick, who signals for the match to begin.

A quick tie up, and Adam sends Gamble into the ropes. On the return, Adam goes for a drop toe hold. Gamble jumps it, stops, and drops a quick elbow. Adam rolls out of the way as the Grin rolls on the mat in pain.

On the quick offensive, Adam drops a few heavy boots to the back of Gamble, as the crowd cheers him on. Something like this:

*Boot*

Crowd: Yay!

*boot*

Crowd: Yay!

Fun for the whole family, right?

Right.

Gamble rolled to the outside to avoid the attacks, and try and get a second. Adam was more than willing to give him the time. Referee Patrick made the count, got to 5 as Gamble rolled back in. Adam waited confidently, as Gamble stared him down for a second. And then, Gamble called for a test of strength.

Picture it: Gamble, at 5'9" and maybe 179lbs (soaking wet and wearing boots) wants to test strength with Adam, at 6'4" and well over 260 lb. Tell me, who's going to win?

Adam humors Gamble and the two lock fingers for the test. Gamble tries his best, but, as Adam sighs and yawns, he just can't turn his hands over.

And now, it's Adam's turn. His face goes all Emperor Palpatine as he pushes downward, causing Gamble to shriek, as a heel would. Another push, and another shriek. One more push, and Gamble extends his foot outward, and catches Adam in the thigh with a kick. Once again, another quick kick hits Adam in the outer thigh, and his grip loosens as Gamble takes him down to a knee. He threads a foot around the shoulder of Adam, and climbs onto his back.

With Adam's arms crossed around his own neck, he tries to stand to fight it, playing right into the hands of Gamble, who pulls backwards, sending Adam crashing to the mat.

Gamble gets a quick one count, but, Adam's strength throws him off easily, as he stands again. Once more, Gamble wants a test of strength, and Adam complies, lifting his arm in the air...

...only to get a kick in the side for his troubles. Adam winces as Gamble puts another kick to the side of the leg. Adam goes down to a knee and The Grin hits a quick kick to the back of the head.

A quick two count later, and Adam's back up, ready to go after Gamble. A quick thrust kick to the chest changes his mind as Adam falls into the corner. Gamble backs up, and starts to run toward Adam in the corner.

But, there's a problem.

Being a new referee, Ham Patrick isn't in position. As a matter of fact, the only position he's in, is one to get himself hit by Gamble. So, acting as the superface™ he is, Adam reaches out, and pushes Patrick out of the way, before catching a splash from Gamble.

Patrick hits the mats, as Gamble makes contact with Adam. Alertly, Adam grabs Gamble, spins him around, and sends him crashing into the mat.

Right in the center of the ring. Adam stands, and points at the far turnbuckle as the crowd goes mad.

With every step he took, it was one more step closer to victory.

He hits the top rope, and just as he was about to leap, the bell rings. Adam was confused, and Gamble rolled over, groggily as well, as Ham Patrick rolled out of the ring.

As soon as he finished talking to Vince Howard, Patrick started a dead sprint to the back. Howard shrugged, and looked to the fans.

Howard: Ladies and Gentleman, as the result of a disqualification, your winner is Tony "The Grin" Gamble.

With a burning in his eyes, Adam watched Patrick run to the back, and considered chasing him. But, karma would take care of Patrick, as he slipped, fell, and crashed head first into the arena decorations.

Nick: This is ridiculous! Adam tried to help Patrick, not hurt him!

Richard: I agree. Ham Patrick should be fired, without question.

Nick: Who even hired this guy, and has he ever had any wrestling experience whatsoever?

Richard: I doubt it, Nick. I really do.

Once again, we find Chet Worth, staring a hole through the back of Tyler Nelson's head. Annoyed that Worth has the audacity to rip his door off the hinges, Clint Poteet had turned Nelson's desk around so he didn't have to look at the interloper. Thoughts go through Worth's head, mostly about grabbing Nelson by the back of the head and slamming his face into the desk repeatedly, while Clint Poteet and Killean Sirrajin sit in a corner, crying like a bunch of babies that their leader is getting his ass handed to him.

Chet smiles, perversely, as a female voice sneaks up behind him.

"Not going with the whole ‘stealth approach’ this time, I see."

The Worth turns his head to the left, mildly shocked that Troy was not only standing next to him, but had managed to sneak up on him while visions of Tyler’s lopped-off limbs danced in his head.

Worth: Yeah. I couldn't hide anywhere last week. Figured this week, the best place to hide was right in front of THIS SORRY BASTARD. Which probably brings us to why you're here, I'd assume?

Troy: Well, now that depends.

Lindsay leans back against the wall, arms behind her back, and moves her shoulders about to get in a comfortable position. Then she looks back at Chet.

Worth: You know, I'm really... uhhh... I'm not... uhhh... that is I'm... word games frustrate me. So, uhhh... just like... uhm... what do you want, or something?

Worth looks everywhere he possibly could, except there. Unlike you perverts at home, who probably are looking there. Chet's a gentleman. Chet's chivalrous and kind... Okay. Chet just doesn't want to get smacked down for looking at a co-worker’s boobies.

Troy: Well, you probably think I’m here because of the Golden Ticket you’ve got. Riiiiight?

Worth: Would you want to be seen talking to me for any other reason than that?

Troy: Heh.

The corners of Troy’s mouth turned upwards into a little smile. The smile then grew into a teeth-baring grin, which probably would have freaked Chet out if Troy didn’t look away from him and into Tyler’s office.

Troy: Actually, I came here to tell Tyler WHAT A BIG DOUCHE HE IS for that crap last week. And, well, you happened to be here. (She looked around and noticed the unhinged door off to the side.) Nice job with that, by the way.

Worth: That wasn't me. That was Titan's work. Good guy. (Worth kept his gaze on Nelson.) Yeah. Shame that this company's run by a man without a backbone and a good pair of testicles, or else he'd be out here right now, answering to people who matter. YOU HEAR ME, NELSON? COME ON!

Nelson merely lifts a hand, waving Worth's comments away. Secretly, Chet Worth wished that every word stung him in his cold, black heart. That with each angry epithet thrown Nelson's way, that he'd simply weaken, wither, and finally die a slow, painful death. He'd have no such luck today.

Troy: It’s a little bit funny... (She remarks, before sauntering over to the office’s threshold.) Nelson wants the ticket back so badly, yet is doing a big fat pile of nothing to get it from you. (She looks inside the office, where Tyler is scribbling something down on a piece of paper.) It’s also a little bit funny that he sends some wet-behind-the-ears referee to screw Kyle and I out of a match because he doesn’t like the fact that I’m not afraid to tell him how it is and Kyle doesn’t like his other fatted calf Danny Ferguson.

Nelson...puts down the pen and gives Troy a look.

Troy: I’m not stupid, Nelson, if that’s what you’re thinking. A forty-two second match? You really think I wouldn’t have known you had something to do with it? (She scowls, fiercely.) I could probably take Chet if I wanted to, if I wanted that ticket, but that means that I’d have to give it to you. And having something given to you just because you want it isn’t going to happen if I can help it.

Once again, Nelson waves his hand dismissively. Worth shifts his gaze from Nelson to Troy, looking her dead in the eyes as she walked back to stand next to him.

Worth: You don't want this ticket. It's supposed to get you everything you've ever wanted. All it's gotten me is questioning why the hell I'm a wrestler to begin with. Funny, isn't it? Biggest surprise win of the year, and all I can think about is how I wish I would have lost. So, go ahead, Lindz. You want it bad enough, you can have it. It's in my wallet...

Nelson finally perks up as Worth reaches into his back pocket and pulls it out. Chet held the wallet out, tantalizingly close to Lindsay Troy, ready to open the it for her. All she has to do is say the right word.

Troy: Nahhh.

That wasn’t the word Tyler Nelson wanted to hear.

Troy: What I want is something that the ticket can’t give, and even if it could, I wouldn’t want it this way.

Chet studies her, then nods and returns the wallet to its rightful place.

Worth: That’s rather admirable.

Troy (smiling): I can be, when I want to be.

Just when the crew is about to shut off its equipment from the previous segment they’re intrigued by the sound of heated voices mid-argument and they move forward to investigate. As we round the corner we’re confronted with two men in a heated debate with a PRIME tech staffer trying to quiet them.

Tech Staffer: Just hold on for a minute, there has to be a middle ground here! Jake, you tell me what you’re envisioning and then Travis you tell me your vision and we will work out the perfect way to bring Generation Gap into PRIME!

Both men seem to accept this more ‘civilized’ method of ironing out the details of their on-air debut and Jake begins to pitch his idea. As Jake begins to speak we get a moment to take in his appearance, average height, messy short hair, workout pants and a athletic grey ‘Blue Ridge Wrestling’ shirt cap off his clean shaven look.

Jake: Alright, one week you should run a promo that talks about our dad. Make it all about the great wrestling tradition he stood for and say something about Blue Ridge Wrestling. The next week you show some clips of us hitting moves, our best stuff. Finally you cap it off by a sit down interview with us where we talk all about who we are and why we’re here.

Travis: Bullshit! That’s a bunch of drawn out crap!

Jake: Like you’re boring ass idea is any better!

The staffer again steps in…

Tech Staffer: Calm down! Jake got his chance, now Travis you can have his… this is how adults discuss things!

Jake cuts Travis a mean look but Travis just smirks and strokes his rugged face before beginning to speak. As Travis starts talking we now take a moment to focus a bit more on him. Travis is noticeably older than Jake, long hair hangs just past shoulder length and cascades down over a leather jacket. Travis’ look is rounded out with faded jeans (legitimately faded, not like the pre-faded jeans these kids today wear) and a plain black shirt.

Travis: I ain’t gonna do no stupid ass little movies and then some interview in some damn plush chairs. If you want to get people’s attention then you go out and you grab it, you don’t tease like stuck up bitch. What we do is simple… we walk our asses right out to that ring, we say our names and we dare anyone in this building to come out there and mess with us. It’s plain, it’s simple and it’s—


Jake: STUPID!

Travis pushes past the staffer, knocking him aside, and grabs Jake by the shirt.

Travis: Listen Princess, you can make little ‘vignettes’ in your own time! This is wrestling, these people want action!

Jake pushes Travis off him and retorts.

Jake: They want to be entertained! People expect more out of wrestling these days Travis, and if you’d get your head out of the 80’s maybe you’d see that!

Travis leaps forward and the two men begin to jostle back and forth in a grappling match. The tech staffer beats a hasty retreat and it’s right about now that he sees the crew filming the whole incident. Meanwhile Travis and Jake continue to brawl, and argue at the same time, in the background.

Jake: If you think these people want action then why don’t you ever go to the top rope?! The only time you come off your feet is when you get knocked on your ass!

Travis: Well maybe if you’d learn a few real holds then you’d realize that all that jumping and flipping you do is just a crutch for those who can’t really wrestle!

Jake grabs Travis in a headlock.

Jake: You take that back!

Travis squeaks out a response despite the constriction of the headlock…

Travis: Screw… you… Princess!

Tech Staffer: Guys, I think you might want to--

Travis: Shut up nerd, we’re having a family discussion!

Travis breaks out of the headlock and swings around, grabbing Jake in a side headlock of his own!

Travis: There you go ‘New School’ a simple headlock counter right outta the 80’s! Maybe if you’d spend more time grappling and less time jumping out of the ring you could actually keep someone in a side headlock!

Travis starts to give his younger brother noogies as the staffer again tries to intervene.

Tech Staffer: GUYS!

Travis looks up…

Travis: Damn, what do you want? Can’t you see I’m busy?

The staffer just scowls and points at the camera crew.

Travis: Damn it!

Jake: What?

Travis releases Jake and points his brother in the direction of the camera.

Travis: Goddamn it Jake, look what you did!

Jake: Me?

Travis: This is almost worst than your dumbass vignette debut!

Jake: Hey! Screw you old man!

Travis wipes a bit of sweat from his brow and then storms off, obviously angry about the team’s botched debut. Jake just shrugs it off and follows closely behind his brother, leaving the staffer, who had been working with these two on a debut for what seemed like hours, in near tears. After another moment we cut out to our familiar commentators.

Nick: Well fans apparently we just witnessed the debut of PRIME’s newest tag team, Travis and Jake Reed aka ‘Generation Gap’.

Richard: That was, without a doubt, the absolute worst debut I have ever seen. Those two couldn’t even pick a debut without getting into a fight so how exactly do they expect to cooperate in a wrestling ring?

Nick: From what I understand they’re both great competitors. They’re the sons of North Carolina wrestling legend ‘Big’ Bill Reed and he trained them so that alone tells me that they should be great competitors. But you’re right Richard, whether or not they can cooperate in a ring together is yet to be seen. Perhaps we’ll get a chance to find out next week.

Nick: Lord I hope not!

Post-meeting with Chet and Tyler, Lindsay Troy walks back to her locker room to collect Joey for their tag match against The Forsaken. The particular hallway she happened to be striding down is empty, save for a few inanimate objects here and there: a large trash barrel, a stack of tables and the shattered hopes and dreams of Clyde Walkins.

Except you can’t see those. But they’re there. Oh yes...they’re there...

An intersection looms ahead and as she approaches two bodies appear from the right, blocking her from proceeding forward. Of course, Troy’s much too busy condemning Tyler Nelson’s apathetic existence in her head to notice and she ends up walking right into one of the men.

"The key, my good Alexei, was the fact that the interruption and destruction of imperialism in Leninistic thought would…" says Ivan Stanislav as he thumps down the hallway, looking at his age-old comrade, Alexei Ruslan, who plods on at his right. The Russian Bear and Ruslan, too engrossed in the discussion of Marxist-Leninist ideological philosophy, are totally oblivious to anything else around them while they walk.

Of course, a beautiful young girl walking straight into the veritable brick wall which was Stanislav is a simple way to garner his attention. With a bewildered trio of blinks and a sudden wide, warm smile, Ivan Stanislav grips his suspenders in his hands and gazes down at Troy.

Stanislav: Ah! Little woman, you had better be watching out where you are walking, or else Ivan Sergeiovich may have trampled you!

Exchanging a look with Ruslan for a moment, the Bear continues.

Stanislav: How ever did you get lost backstage here, little girl? Come… Ivan will tell you where the audience area is. It is dangerous to be wandering around aimlessly with such roughage as Tyler Nelson slithering about.

With a chuckle and a grin, Stanislav nods sagely.

Troy: Little girl?

Her hazel eyes dangerously narrow into slits as she regards Ivan with a look of death saved especially for Russians. Lindsay...doesn’t like Russians. At all. Not even a little itty bitty bit. If it were possible, she’d drive the hammer and sickle right through their big, dumb, oafish heads and then maybe even decapitate it for laughs. But Ivan doesn’t know this...at least, not yet.

Troy: Listen, Commie, I know that the Siberian winters might freeze whatever little brain cells you were born with, but I am not lost, nor am I little since I’ve got about four inches on your buddy here.

The two Russians exchange stunned, if not annoyed looks, before Ruslan chimes in.

Ruslan: Mind your tongue, whelp! I won’t stand here and have this little upstart badmouthing Alexei Gregoro—

Stanislav places his hand on Ruslan’s shoulder and grumbles, quieting his smaller friend and conjuring up a wry smile.

Stanislav: You… are wrestler?

He winks at Lindsay jokingly.

Troy (her reply dripping with sarcasm): No, I go around wearing boots and arm tape for the hell of it and I show up here because I have nothing better to do.

A stillness blankets the air for a moment, like the calm before a gathering storm. Standing at his full height, Stanislav stares down at Troy for a long moment, before shrugging and looking over at Alexei.

Stanislav: I do not understand these women and their ‘trendy’ outfits. Even before Ivan went to Siberia, they always wished to be something they were not.

Ruslan: Scandalous…and useless. (He crosses his arms over his chest and stares at her.) Miss, if you are a wrestler in the PRIME, then clearly our tenure here will be full of destruction and success. (Ruslan pauses for a moment, before continuing) And you would prove to be one of the crowning examples of a signee of that fool Nelson. You might be tall, but it would appear all you have is a big mouth!

The smaller Russian snaps and glares up at Troy, but Stanislav, amazingly enough, seems to operate as the peacemaker in this exchange.

Stanislav: Take it easy, Alex, the girl could very well be wrestler. Remember, we’ve had our run-ins with other females who have proven to be more than they are ‘cracked up to be’ nyet?

Ruslan: Perhaps…

The two continue to look at one another, seemingly oblivious to Troy’s presence for a moment.

Troy: Big mouth...yeah, I’ve got one. Tell me something I don’t already know. (With a devilish grin, Lindsay folds her arms across her chest.) Trendy clothes? It’s just a t-shirt and pants, Ive. And if you think Nelson’s got a head for talent, you’ve got another thing comin’. He had nothing to do with my being here, mainly because his head is stuck too far up his ass to have any insight into the world around him.

A sudden surge of sound rushes out of Ivan’s mouth as he laughs.

Stanislav: DYAAHAAHAA!! My dear, you are correct in that assessment!

Even Ruslan cannot help but smile slightly at her negativity towards Nelson. The Russian Bear leans forward, still clutching his suspenders.

Stanislav: So, you are not a friend of Tyler Nelson, eh? Well then, perhaps you’re not as annoying and idiotic as Ivan first thought!

Stanislav smiles, totally unaware of his accidental insult.

Troy: And perhaps you’re not as naive, bumbling and dim-witted as I first thought. (Beat.) No, chances are you’re still all of the above. But hey, (Troy slaps Ivan’s upper arm) we can’t have it all, all the time.

Stanislav (staring down at Lindsay quietly): Hmm… I’ve flattened pretty girls who were far better looking and better spoken than you, little girl. Consider yourself lucky tonight, since Ivan has better things to do than exchange stupid banter with want-to-be wrestler girl. (He looks over at Ruslan, his mood soured.) Now, Ruslan and myself were speaking on Marxism-Leninism. We will be leaving you now, so that you may powder your nose.

Ivan stifles a chuckle as Ruslan walks past Troy, giggling incessantly and covering his mouth. The Russian Bear lurches forward to walk as well, paying no heed to Troy, who stands in his way.

The two remain there in icy silence before Lindsay steps out of the way to let Ivan pass. As he walks past her, Troy sticks her foot out and causes Ivan to stumble forward. There’s a pause before Ivan turns, every so slowly, to face Troy again but she merely gives him a mocking salute before continuing on her way.

Ivan stares her down, letting her step along the hallway with her back to him for a few beats. In one swift motion, he reaches to the side and grabs the nearby steel trash barrel and heaves it with one arm down the hallway, sending the object careening just over Lindsay’s head. The object slams into a wall up ahead and imbeds itself in the plaster.

Stanislav (roaring): HAH!

He winks at her and turns on his heel.

Troy (yelling back over her shoulder): Young man, Tyler will be VERY UPSET when he hears you’ve been making a mess!

She wags a finger in admonishment before vanishing around a corner. Ivan and Alexei merely look at one another, before shrugging in unison.

"Now...where were we?"

Ignatius Lisieux and Tchu are in a locker room talking, but you haven't missed anything up to this point. Both men are standing up. That's pretty much all you need to know.

Ignatius Lisieux: Look man, I'm sorry about last-

Tchu cuts him off at the pass with a shake of the head a raised "stop sign" hand…

Tchu: Hey… (Iggy tries to continue)… shit happens. It's not like I think you guys had it all planned out.

The French-Canadian breathes a sigh of relief as his whole body relaxes a little with Tchu's understanding approach.

Ignatius Lisieux: That's music to my ears man, really. You want a "real" rematch ever and I'd be more than happy to oblige.

The Tchuminator simply nods, slightly appreciative of the olive branch being handed in his direction.

Ignatius Lisieux: …But I guess we have bigger fish to fry tonight anyway, huh?

Tchu: Most definitely.

Ignatius Lisieux: I think it's safe to say we need to talk about Karina, first and foremost…

The "Anti-PRIME" cocks his head sideways a bit to explore the situation a little more.

Tchu: Is this a problem we have, or one that you have.

Ignatius Lisieux: Tonight my problems are your problems, (he grins) So… both.

Tchu nods a little, his suspicions being confirmed.

Ignatius Lisieux: Me and you went toe-to-toe last week and neither of us held back one bit… and this week we have each other's backs. I haven't laid a finger on Karina and I find myself trusting her far less… She's selfish, reckless, and do you think she's going to listen to a word we say out there?

The "Inhuman Being" shrugs a little, realizing the nature of the problem - but also seeing it as not so much of a big deal.

Tchu: Iggy, out there is where she doesn't have any real need for words.

Lisieux nods. He doesn't need to be told how good Kari is, he witnessed it first-hand at Culture Shock.

Ignatius Lisieux: But it isn't an exhibition match out there, Matt. It's Killean, Olsig, and the Face-Eater. Be honest with me here - could you stand losing to those guys?

Tchu shakes his head, his right hand resting against the tip of his jaw as he thinks.

Ignatius Lisieux: Figured as much. As a best-case-scenario, we're looking at Karina miraculously behaving like team player and being on the top of her game, the kind of game that has given her all those precious wins. Worst-case-scenario, she acts like a spoilt brat, forgets that this match needs unity and trust, and then one of us gets dropped on our head for the three count.

The "Inhuman Being" nods along with Lisieux, seemingly agreeing, he then slowly takes a seat on a bench while responding…

Tchu: Look, I know that you two have certain "philosophical differences" - about some things in PRIME, but when she's good, she's good. She nearly kicked my head into the new year before I beat her at King of Kings, and I practically had to rip a limb clean off to eliminate her from the Halo…

The French-Canadian becomes the listener as Tchu valiantly continues defending Karina's in-ring abilities…

Tchu: When it comes down to it, if I could have picked my team for tonight, she'd still be on it with us.

Ignatius Lisieux: I'm not questioning how good she is, Matt…

Tchu: I understand that, but let me talk to her, we're a little closer to the same wavelength than the two of you are.

Lisieux nods appreciatively, while Tchu, with more things to worry about than just appeasing the "MVP", heads off towards whatever dank, abandoned Janitor's closet Tyler Nelson has deemed to be his office tonight. But, as he goes to leave, Lisieux reveals his final concern…

Ignatius Lisieux: And Matt... we both know what kind of man Tyler Nelson is. Now he's put us on the same team because he's hoping that we won't have gotten over last week. But did he put Karina on our team just because he knows that we don't get along... or because he has a nice little spot ready just for her in his collection between Killean and Poteet?

Tchu's head drops a little bit, this was not a revelation that he hadn't already considered - he had attempted to banish the thought, though.

Tchu: I didn't see it coming the first time, and I couldn't stop it... but I ain't about to let it happen twice. Like I said, I'll talk to her.

Ignatius Lisieux: Yeah, I hear you. Might want to give her another hour to get here though - showing up on time would almost be like giving a damn.

The "Inhuman Being" shares a short chuckle with the French-Canadian as he stands up to head off with him to the dreaded backstage area. The two men share a brief handshake before departing in opposite directions of the corridors' T-junction.

"Me? A fly in the ointment? How could he!?"

/sarcasm

The door the two former Universal Champions were standing in front of slowly swings open, revealing none other than the K-Wolf herself, Karina Wolfenden. The slightest of smiles warps her lips as she chews on some trademark gum. Letting her hair fall loose from its ponytail, Kari slithers out through the door, looking left then right to watch both of her team-mates depart... before walking straight ahead, following after neither of them

As we return to ringside, "Accidents" by Alexisonfire blasts out of the speakers, accompanied by a red lightshow through the darkened arena. As the Forsaken's video-reel brings the PRIMA-a-Tron back to life, Clyde Walkins bursts out through the curtain, followed by the more low-key arrival of James Farwell.

Vince Howard: The following tag team contest is scheduled for one fall...

As Clyde slaps the hands of the fans down the aisle, Farwell keeps his attention only on the ring, sliding in under the bottom rope while Clyde is still posing.

Vince Howard: Introducing first, at a combined weight of 480 pounds... CLYDE WALKINS & JAMES FARWELL... THE FORSAKEN!!!

With Clyde finally sliding into the ting, the air-raid siren of the Gap Band's "You Dropped A Bomb On Me" sounds out around the arena. As a deafening flash of pyro goes off around the stage, the rhythmic drumming of the songs into emerges through the smoke.

Through the thick cloud emerge Lindsay Troy and Joey Melton, the latter acting the showman in using the theme's lyrics to serenade his partner on the way to the ring.

Vince Howard: And their opponents... at a combined weight of 388 pounds... THE TEAM OF LINDSAY TROY & JOEY MELTON... BUSINESS AND PLEASURE!!!

Troy springs up onto the apron as Joey steps through the ropes, knowing almost by instinct where to look to aim his smug grin straight down the hard camera.

As Max Newell calls for the bell, Farwell and Melton meet in the middle of the ring with a collar-and-elbow tie-up. Making the most of his raw power advantage, James forces the Vegas Merlin into a neutral corner, but, refusing to be shown up, Melton digs his heels in and reverses Farwell's forward momentum. Both men straining as they hope their boots don't slip, Farwell calls on his height for leverage, deciding that if he can't push Melton back, he'll push him down.

Thinking fast, Melton drops to his knees under Farwell's pressure, taking the bigger man down with a Fireman's carry. With James down on the mat, Melton slides along next to him and applies a side headlock, grinding his forearm across the temple. Again taking advantage of his size and strength, Farwell forces his way back to his feet, only for Melton to reach his right leg back and trip the former PRIME tag team champion, taking him over and down to the mat once again.

Rather than trying to push Melton up once again, Farwell works on prising his grip apart, then spins through into a Hammerlock. Liking his chances better on his feet, Farwell uses the hold to pull Melton up, before goes for a Hammerlock Suplex. But, before he can duck his head under to lift, Farwell is caught in the mouth by an elbow from Melton, weakening his grip. Spinning free of the Hammerlock, Melton tries to slice the upper-portion of Farwell's body off with a Knife-edged Chop that makes some around ringside screw their faces up in a sympathetic wince.

Before Farwell can grab his stinging chest, Melton un leads a second, then a third, much to the delight of the sadistic fans. Not letting the traffic all got in is direction, Farwell fires back with a string of hard rights, before pulling Melton's head down into the path of a brutal European Uppercut. After checking all his teeth are still there, Melton reminds Farwell just how those chops felt, and cops another European Uppercut in reply.

The PRIME fans urge both men to continue their back and forth onslaught, until Melton breaks the cycle with a knee to Farwell's ribs.

A Kneelift connects with the doubled-over Farwell, straightening him up for Melton to show off his sprightly side by scoring with a Dropkick. Upping his tempo, Melton goes to follow it up with an Elbow Drop, only for Farwell to just roll out of harm's way. As Joey shakes his arm, Farwell grabs the wrist and spins through into an arm-wringer, before making the tag to Walkins.

As Clyde hops in, the Forsaken seamlessly pass Melton over between them. Keeping the pressure on, Walkins spins through to intensify the torque on the arm's joints, before he walks up the ropes, drops seated onto the top cable, before flying off to send Melton down with an Armdrag. Walkins hops back to his feet, happy with the little show-off, while Melton shakes his arm loose, then tags in Troy.

Grabbing the top rope, Troy springs into the ring, only for Walkins to try and rush her right away with a Lariat. Hitting the deck, she lets him hop over her and into the ropes, before spinning through on the canvas to send Clyde over with a Monkey Toss. Using his momentum to his favour, Walkins lands on his feet, and follows through into the opposite set, only to find Troy waiting as he rebounds with a Spinning Roundhouse Heel Kick.

As Clyde is knocked down flat, Troy lands on her feet, already in perfect position to follow up with a Somersault Legdrop. Not going for a cover, the Queen of the Ring instead ensnares Walkins with a Headscissors, crossing her feet tightly at the ankles to grind a shin across the ex-Universal champion's temple. Shuffling straight-on to Troy, Clyde pushes himself up, then flips over onto Troy, holding both legs for a cover.

"ONE!

TW-NO!"

Using all the power she can muster, Troy bridges up, then spins through, managing to secure a double underhook on Clyde. Straitening his body, Walkins tries to backdrop out of the hold, only for Troy to anchor herself with a bodyscissors, then shift momentum back her way by planting Clyde with the Butterfly DDT. Keeping the arms locked, Troy pulls the dazed Walkins up, then heaves him over for a Butterfly Suplex, before rolling through into a Butterfly Lock.

Leaning back hard on the move, Troy gives her all to get the submission, before the pressure breaks her own grip.

Keeping on the neck, Troy secures a chancery on the groggy Walkins, forcing him up, then over with a Snapmare. Building speed off the ropes, a Dropkick connects to the back of Clyde's neck, before she tags out to Melton. Using her 5 seconds, Troy pulls Walkins up, then delivers a hard forearm to the back of the head, sending him staggering forward so that Melton can latch onto him with a Bulldog.

Following on from Troy's focussed attack, Melton pulls himself up, then scores with an Elbow Drop to the back of the neck, then, taking a little more time, a high, leaping Kneedrop. Rolling Walkins over, Melton grinds Clyde's head into the canvas as he covers.

"ONE!

TWO!

TH-NO!"

After making sure it strains Walkin's neck to kick out, Melton rolls Clyde onto his front, before applying a Camel Clutch. Seated high up Clyde's back, Melton leans back on the hold, like Troy, straining his own grip. Pounding on the turnbuckle cover, Farwell tries to whip the crowd up in support of his partner.

Feeding from the crowd, Clyde shuffles his knees forward, beginning to push Melton up, which he counters by seamlessly switching to a Full Nelson. Using the hold to push Walkins towards his corner, Melton makes the tag to Troy, nodding for her to go aerial. The fans rise from their seats as Melton sends Walkins overhead with a Dragon Suplex, landing him face-first, before Troy flies off with a twisting somersault Senton, crashing down across Clyde's upper-back and neck.

Immediately, she rolls the ex-Universal champion over, hooking the leg tightly.

"ONE!

TWO!

THRE-NO!"

A disbelieving Troy stares at Max Newell, who points out Clyde's foot sitting on the bottom rope.

Pulling the pained Clyde up, Troy synchs in a Cobra Clutch, before grapevining the leg and throwing them both down to the mat. Shifting her weight across Clyde, she manages to force both his shoulders onto the canvas.

c

Again, Clyde cuts it fine in breaking the pinfall.

Troy tags in Melton, then pulls Walkins up into a front facelock. Setting him for a Suplex, Troy uses all her strength to lift Walkins, before pushing him off into a Gutbuster Drop. Walkins bounces up off the canvas, allowing Melton to step forward and trap him in a standing-headscissors. Sensing what's coming, the crowd rise to their feet as Melton locks his hands around Walkins' waist.

As Joey pulls the ex-Universal champion up for the Piledriver, Clyde kicks his legs back and forth, not letting the Vegas Merlin hold him in place. Then, as Melton is forced to drop him, Clyde uses the momentum to send the older man over with a Backdrop. Collapsing to his knees, Clyde grabs the back of his neck. Melton bounces back up, quickly closing the distance between him and Walkins, only to see the Forsaken member spring up in front of him, then snap backwards to score the Clydercanrana.

Flipping Melton over, Clyde again jars his neck, and has to take a moment to grab the injured body part before he crawls towards Farwell's out-stretched hand.

Quickly clearing his head, Melton goes to cut off Clyde's exit, grapevining his leg and hoping it will anchor him just short of the tag. Reaching out as far as he can, Walkins is halted a few inches short of his partner's fingers, only to use his free foot to push down on Melton's knee, loosening the grip just enough to make the tag.

Finally released back upon the match, Farwell rushes the ring as Joey springs back up, immediately welcoming his opponent with yet another of his brutal Knife-edged Chops. Adrenaline countering the sting, Farwell replies with a volley of forearms, backing Melton against the ropes, before whipping the Vegas Merlin across the ring. As Joey rebounds, Farwell lifts him high overhead with a Military Press, holding him up for all to see.

After taking a few paces back towards the middle of the ring, Farwell finally slams Melton down.

Arching his back off the mat, the pained Melton is set upon again by Farwell, who pulls him straight back up. Onto Farwell's shoulder Joey is scooped, before taking an express trip across the ring, where he's send crashing to earth with a Powerslam. As Farwell goes for the pin, he sees a resurgent Walkins up on the apron, calling for a tag, and obliges.

With Melton grabbing his lower back, Farwell grabs him in a front facelock, before hoisting him up for a Vertical Suplex, while Clyde springboards in with a flying crossbody, collapsing the tower. As they crash down, Clyde manages to stay on top of Melton, hooking the leg tightly.

"ONE!

TWO!

THRE-NO!"

Just as everyone is about to find out whether Melton can kick out, Troy's body crashes down upon them both with a Corkscrew Moonsault.

Rolling out under the ropes, Troy then scrambles back to the top, lining up Farwell as he rises. Thrilling the crowd further with her high-flying abilities, Troy leaps off into a front-flip, landing on James' shoulders, before snapping back into the All Hail The Queen Huricanrana. Reaching back, Troy hooks the legs out of instinct, only for Newell to refuse to make the count.

Kicking out, Farwell pushes Lindsay off into Walkins, who is more than happy to catch her in the Clyde Effect, drilling the Queen of the Ring down into the canvas. Springing back up, Walkins thrusts both arms up to the popping crowd... only for Melton to drag him down to the mat with a Crossface Chickenwing. Locking the bodyscissors in tight, Melton has Clyde stranded in the middle of the ring, while Troy follows Farwell to the outside with a Baseball Slide, taking him down in Headscissors.

Doing his best to look around him as his face is screwed tight in pain, Walkins sees no hope of getting to the ropes, and as Melton find a sadistic way of synching the hold in ever tighter, the ex-Universal champion is forced to tap.

Waiting to hear the bell before he breaks, a smirking Melton finally releases his victim, before calling for Lindsay to join him back in the ring, where Max Newell holds their arms aloft in victory.

Vince Howard: The winners of the match... THE TEAM OF LINDSAY TROY & JOEY MELTON... BUSINESS AND PLEASURE!!!

We return to a familiar scenario: our agent in a covert location within enemy territory. This time, he’s tucked round the corner from where Chet Worth is staking his guard outside Tyler Nelson’s office. It’s a tough position for an undercover operative to be in, but Agent 138 was more than up to the challenge. With such ingenious camouflage techniques, those he was already more than a master of, this simple sneak-&-steal procedure would easily procure him the coveted Golden Ticket. Under his breath he whispers into the walkie-talkie he’s keeping contact with Agency HQ through:

Agent 138: Target is sighted, repeat; target is sighted. Recon. over, do you copy?

He releases his finger from the button and awaits a reply. Nothing.

Agent 138: I repeat; target is sighted and I’m going in to collect the Golden Ticker, do you copy?

Again he waits on any word from his superiors, but it appears he’s on his own. Contemplating the implications of this our agent considers his choices carefully, he could turn back and bail out...

Agent 138: No, I must continue with the mission! They’re counting on me back at base, I must get that ticket – that wish is the only chance we have of infiltrating the Pentagon.

He reports one last time to the walkie-talkie, ensuring any late-coming reply doesn’t interrupt his stealthy assault on the ticket-holder.

Agent 138: If you can hear me at HQ; I’m initiating radio silence, a further report shall follow once the ticket has been procured. Over and out.

He drops and rolls out round the corner, his entire body and clothing painted the colour of the cold, grey concrete that makes up the backstage floor. Keeping his head tucked down, to avoid detection from the whites of his eyes, he begins the slow army-crawl along the floor to the enemy.

Meanwhile, back in the real world, Chet Worth is looking on (with great curiosity) as what has possibly been the dumbest attempt to obtain his Golden Ticket – Adam, head newly shaved and covered in grey paint, was writhing along the floor toward him, apparently oblivious as to how far from inconspicuous he was. Suddenly there’s a crackling sound and a voice sounds loud and clear over a walkie-talkie:

Voice #1: Hey, Bryan... did you just hear a kinda whispering on this a minute ago?

Voice #2: Nah, probably just static. Ignore it.

Voice #1: Ah, alright. Hey, check camera 4, blonde MILF.

Voice #2: Jesus, man – look at that ass!

Chet Worth has a quick check over his shoulder in case this is part of an elaborate scheme for someone to run up and cold-clock him from behind, but there’s no-one anywhere down the corridor behind him. He acts nonchalant and doesn’t look directly at Adam, who’s pulled the walkie-talkie out and is trying to bash it off the floor to silence it as discreetly as is possible.

Worth: Ahem.

Chet manages to stifle a laugh as a cough, and keeps his gaze looking up and down to corridor, a good few feet above Adam. The disillusioned Scot mumbles to himself as he tucks the (now broken) walkie-talkie back in his pocket and continues his crawl, glad to still be undetected after HQ’s communications slip-up. As he reaches the final few feet Worth can’t contain himself any longer and has to laugh. Seeing this as an opportunity Adam leaps to his feet and attempts a lunge at Worth, but this is quickly turned to the ticket-holder’s advantage as he slams the ‘brainwashed’ Scot into the wall and holds him in a hammerlock.

Worth: What the hell is going on?

He looks round, just in case a sneak-attack is coming.... it isn’t. He pulls on the arm-wrench more to get something from the ‘agent’.

Adam: Oww, oww! No, it’s just me! HQ sent me... no! No! Umm, it’s for me! I just want the ticket myself. It’s me, my own greed, me!

Worth loosens the hold a little in his confusion but quickly rights this before Adam can take advantage and wriggle away.

Adam: Honestly, I want it for myself, but you’ve beaten me now. Let me go and I swear I won’t try it again, just please don’t tell HQ I messed up, please?

Worth: HQ? Huh? What the hell are you talking about, Adam?

He pulls Adam’s arm up further, the Scot standing on the tips of his toes now, face pressed against the wall.

Adam: Must... take... cyanide capsule!

As Adam manages to pull a necklace out from around his neck Worth shoves him to the floor, snatching the necklace from round his neck as he goes.

Worth:

With his tail between his legs Adam scuttles off and Chet inspects the ‘cyanide capsule’ that Adam was so desperate to take; a ‘Jelly Belly’ jellybean in a small plastic vial.

Worth: I don’t even wanna think about it...

He tucks the necklace into his back pocket and resumes his station directly outside the door of Tyler Nelson.

A wizard ate it.

Seriously. With fava beans and a nice chianti. Said it needed salt.

We're baking more.

Stay tuned.

Kevin Sandusky took a few steps off the stairs from the entrance and shook his knee out. It had been a little while; that felt good. Of course, it only felt good while he was alone in that open space just behind the stage. Once Danny Ferguson came barreling through the curtain...not so much.

Danny Ferguson: Where is he? WHERE IS HE?

He flies down the stairs and looks down the hallways, nearly running over Kevin while he started the search.

Danny Ferguson: YOU. I...

He pauses before he gets himself in trouble, then retreats over to some security personnel standing nearby.

Danny Ferguson: I want this man ejected! I want him out of the building!

Kevin Sandusky: What?

Danny Ferguson: That's right, I want him out. Tchu this jerkwad!

The guards look at each other, then at Danny.

Danny Ferguson: No, don't CHEW him. You did enough CHEWING at the food services table earlier. TCHU him, you stupid bastards! Throw him out and bar him from the joint!

He makes especially sure to remain behind the guards as they advance towards Sandusky. Unfortunately, that advancement is cut off by another man joining the party. Kyle Lamen, dressed in street clothes as he's unbooked tonight, flies into this area of backstage, looking like he'd seen a ghost.

Kyle Lamen: Kevin? Kev, that you? Ho-ly shi-

And we work with the censors a little as the two men shake and embrace, the kind of gesture you'd expect from two old friends reuniting. But just as he does in nearly ever scene he's involved in...Danny spoils the moment. As they separate, he locks a glare on KVL.

Danny Ferguson: I should've known your bitch ass would be behind this.

Kyle Lamen: Please, Danny, I-

Danny Ferguson: No. You bitch me out and give me the cancer boy guilt trip last week, asking me to leave you alone and let you die in peace and all that other sh*t. You act like you don't even care...and yet you go and get your buddy to come here and try to embarass me on my own movie set.

Kevin Sandusky: Look, dick, he didn't-

Danny Ferguson: Oh, I'm done with you, has-been. You're lucky that these goons haven't shown you the outside of our security door yet. This has to do with me and him.

He gestures at Kyle with the last part, and steps up towards him.

Danny Ferguson: If you want to screw with me, then do it to my face. You know damn well that you can't have me out of your face. I'm the only reason people care about Kyle Lamen anymore. Think about that the next time you try to get preachy. You want to be left alone? Find your way to the door. I'll give you a hint - it's the one your boy here is about to get tossed through.

Kyle, knowing full well that he DIDN'T call Kevin, and he didn't even know his former partner would be here tonight, doesn't dignify Danny with a response. The guards move towards Kevin yet again, but he stops them.

Kevin Sandusky: Come on, now, boys - what kind of hell would your boss give you if you accidentally threw out PRIME's newest roster member?

The guards halt, a cheer rises up from the arena crowd and a gleam appears in Kyle's eye. All eyes fall on Sandusky.

Danny Ferguson: What?

Kevin Sandusky: I talked to a guy named Motoki before I flew in. Gave him the resume, told him I was looking to hook back up with Velocity one more time while we still can. I think the contract should be crossing Tyler Nelson's desk right about...five minutes ago. So you boys (gesturing at the guards) can stand down. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone what you almost did. And Ferg...You know you don't scare me. So tell Channy that one tag-match in PWC doesn't make someone a friend of mine. You and your ass-humping Hollywood buddies better take note that your three-on-one attacks on Kyle just became three-on-two.

A smile has cracked Lamen's face as he takes the news. Danny isn't as receptive, surprisingly. Instead of blowing up, he quietly begins to back away.

Danny Ferguson: We'll see what Tyler has to say about this...

Sandusky gives him a "later" wave as he disappears down the hallway, temporarily foiled.

Kyle Lamen: Kev... I mean, damn.. It's been awhile. How've you been?

Kevin Sandusky: Clean for 8 months, if that's what you mean.

An awkward silence passes between the two men, like someone just told some kind of inside joke that wasn't funny at all. After moment, Kevin laughs and flashes a cat who ate the canary smile.

Kevin Sandusky: Enough of that, it's time to celebrate. So I'll go get cleaned up and we'll go find a teppanyaki place and some Sapporo's and catch up. We're going out partying tonight, even if I have to end up in some karaoke bar before it's over.

Kyle starts to think about protesting, but the beginning of a grin at the corner of his mouth shows his heart isn't in to being the responsible one this time.

Kyle Lamen: So you're actually going to sing this time?

Kevin Sandusky: Damn straight, I'll sing any Kelly Clarkson song you line up for me.

Kyle reaches out and slugs Kevin right in the arm for that one.

Kyle Lamen: Ass! Go get changed, I'll call the cab.

Kevin smacks his hands together and throws up the goat horns briefly.

Kevin Sandusky: YEAH!! Now that's what I'm talking about.

Kevin turns and heads down the hall in more of a jubilant bounce than a walk. Kyle shakes his head incredulously but the smile on his face remains, having the feeling it was going to be one of those nights; but in a good way.

The music could be heard in the hallway leading up to the Universal Champions private skybox. This wasn’t some bland elevator music or some classy restaurant mood setting garbage either. Rock music was Killean’s favorite and he’d be damned if he couldn’t play the music he wanted to at his party.

Plus, there were no dried out, tired old men in monkey suits trying to talk business with him either. That was definitely a plus.

"The Supreme Machine" was just getting ready to polish off another pint of beer when he felt someone latch on to his arm. He wasn’t startled out of his skybox seat however as his raven haired beauty Charity stood by his side. She was sipping from a half full glass of wine.

Charity Manale: Looks as if Tessa can’t make it tonight. Travel problems and other arrangements.

Killean Sirrajin: That’s ok. I have invited a few people to drop by for some food and drink. Hopefully they all pay me the respect of showing up.

Charity Manale: Matt?

Killean laughed a little, but his face clearly contorted into one of emotional despair. He was handling the entire situation with Matt Ward with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He grabbed the Universal Title that was lying across his lap and slung it gently over his shoulder.

Killean Sirrajin: Nah, I wanted to avoid that at all costs tonight. After last week, it would be best that way. It’s enough that I need to look into his beady eyes from across the ring tonight.

The door to the suite cracked open and Killean hoped Tyler would be showing up soon. He was already a little later than Killean expected him. But when the figure stepped through the door, all Killean saw was a constant streak of blue with a little bit of pink. She closed the door behind her and not really any of the guests turned to greet her. All except for one person that is.

Killean Sirrajin: (mumbling to himself) Holy shit, she actually showed up…

He proceeds to hand Charity his mug asking politely for a refill. Charity went about her business, talking to a few people along the way. Killean however, made a beeline for the door.

Karina didn’t pay much attention to those around her. Instead she looked at the paper in her hand, checking the plaque on the wall to ensure she had come to the right skybox. She adjusted the ear buds from her I-Pod as Killean came into view. He put a smile on his face and to his surprise, he received one back, albeit briefly. He couldn’t remember though, had he ever seen The K-Wolf smile? She then removed the ear buds and tucked them in her pocket.

Killean Sirrajin: You know, out of the few people I invited, I had you pegged as an almost definite no show. I won’t even mention the fact that ReV has barely started and yet you are already here.

Karina Wolfenden: Well I honestly had nothing better to do. Not a shot to your "lovely" party or you, but I was invited. So I showed. To what do I owe the invite?

Sirrajin smiled again, glad that Karina wasn’t in one of her "one word answer" moods.

Killean Sirrajin: See that’s a little more in depth.

Karina Wolfenden: Surely you can cut to the chase…

Killean Sirrajin: Surely… you and I have never really had any issues with each other. I mean we had a block buster match last year and since then we have both come into our own so to speak. I respect your talent and I am positive you respect mine. So what harm could it do? A show of respect to you is all it was.

Karina nodded.

Killean Sirrajin: Plus I know you and Iggy had a few problems and Matt is just being an ass to everyone recently. I just thought you’d like to enjoy some good music and food instead of sitting in a dried up ol’ locker room hearing Matt talk more shit about me.

Karina Wolfenden: Well there is that. And Killean…

Karina steps forward, getting rather close. Sirrajin meanwhile doesn’t know what to think. Karina then looks at him and then around him.

Karina Wolfenden: These skybox seats are so comfortable. You practically sink into them.

Karina strides by Killean, grabs something quick to drink and makes a beeline for an open seat. Meanwhile, Charity comes to Killean and starts laughing. Killean turns, not noticing Charity’s approach.

Killean Sirrajin: What?

Charity: You just got owned by Kari. Heh.

Killean grunts and goes about his business in the bumping skybox party.

Richard: Have you heard?

Nick: Huh?

Richard: Heard about those dirty sex knights in Paris? They really tore the place up. Many a womb was defiled. In their defense, the French managed to go a full 2 weeks before surrendering.

........

Nick: By now you're probably wondering what the hell is going on with the color commentary. I can't help you there. Sorry.

Good, it wasn't just me. And you, I suppose.

Nick: In the meantime, welcome back to PRIME action! We've got our fourth scheduled match about to get underway here.

Richard: And it'll work out great. One person will be exposed as a fluke, and the other can get a 'W' marked down without being awarded a pity win like this was the frickin' Special Olympics.

Parker would never know that Titan could make him disappear; just never uses the resources.

Vince Howard: Ladies and gentlemen, the next contest is a one-fall exhibition match set for one fall!

The opening to "What To Believe" by D.S. brings out PRIME's newest singles debutee (we'd say debutant but, you know, what with him being male and all...). That's right, he's got an entrance this week. After defeating Kenjiro Ito in singles competition (we're still waiting for official word on whether or not it's the first time that's happened since going pro), it's the least we can do to let him get some entrance music.

Vince Howard: Introducing first, from Kansas City, Missouri; he weighs 162 pounds... Silvio Fiore!

He had nicknames amongst his fans. "The Cutting Edge." "Quicksilver." "The Kansas Wunderkind." "Kid Amazing." But nicknames hadn't caught on for the boy in PRIME. Not yet, even with a clean pinfall victory over a wrestler the caliber of Kenjiro Ito.

Nick: Listen to these fans. They've taken a liking to this young man already.

Richard: It'll pass.

It's not the biggest pop in the world, far from it. Silvio Fiore is nowhere near scratching the popularity level of the major players in PRIME. He couldn't, and didn't, expect that his second week in. However, there is a decent amount of crowd support that he's getting upfront. Guess they saw the show last week. Fiore gives out high-fives to anyone who wants them, and isn't quick about getting to the ring. One could mistake it for overconfidence, but worrying before a match isn't Fiore's thing.

Nick: Silvio Fiore displayed a lot of heart in his debut against the self-proclaimed Future of Wrestling, Kenjiro Ito. But even that might not be enough against this man....

"Invincible" by Skillet begins. People have had a chance to get accustomed to it now; they know what it means, and they like who it's for. The loud cheers are evidence enough of that.

Vince Howard: And from Jerusalem, Israel; weighing 396 pounds... TITAN ST. JAMES!

When I say that people were absolutely thrilled to see him in person, it's not an understatement. The Good Giant was on the side of right, bigger than Johnny Noble and well-versed in several forms of combat. Formerly a military operative, now a wrestler, he'd made the transition almost seamlessly. In a way, one would look upon Titan St. James and see a younger, less agenda-driven Ivan Stanislav. He's not apolitical, but isn't wrapped up in politics. He brings his years of field experience into the wrestling world with him, without making out the sport into a cold and cleancut military operation. And for being so large and so in control of his own body, one had to fear what he could do in any kind of fight, let alone something that involved rules and a ring (which could only serve to the benefit of the versatile big man).

Nick: Titan St. James nearly had the Five-Star Title won last week. But the once again the rampant cheating that The A-List has been known for cost him a title.

Richard: You'd think a guy who's supposed to profile people in a heartbeat would be able to keep himself from falling for the same tricks. Guess that's why he's no longer in IDF or the FBI; the terrorists got smarter, but he stayed the same.

Titan stomps down the ramp. It's not like he's trying; he's Titan. Just kinda happens. Hard to take light steps when you're that big. That's why the Big Show never completed his ninja training. Oh, you didn't know? Yeah, he studied up in the mountains of Nepal with Chris Jericho.

Nick: Titan's reaching the ring now. Titan St. James is seven-one. Silvio Fiore is five-eight. The youngster gives up 17 inches and 233 pounds. It won't be an easy task to overcome Titan, but Fiore will have to do it somehow.

Richard: It would've been better to see another early murder like Kenjiro Ito put on the kid last week for trying something so silly as to ask for a handshake.

Nick: I think it's refreshing to see such sportsmanship from the newer generation.

Richard: Refreshing? What is he, a soft drink now?

Bernie Roberts is covering the officiating duties for this match. He signals to the timekeeper that the match should begin. On this advisement, the timekeeper forms a committee to study the potential benefits and hazards of initiating an attempt to pull the cord that rings the bell. Or, you know, they just do their jobs and the contest starts.

Nick: Silvio Fiore is tentative, not sure how to approach this big man.

Richard: Lesson One -- you don't.

Just about every big man would stand up straight to emphasize their height difference. Puffing out the chest and holding the shoulders rigid to put the focus on the gret contrast in size. But Titan St. James is a special kind of fighter. And that's what he is, really; a fighter who has made the transition to wrestling. So, being that Fiore is so low compared to him, Titan widens his stance. Feet set apart six inches past the shoulders, lowering on his haunches and leaning forward slightly, St. James is now at a "ready" height of six-six. While he suffers in the area of speed, his effective reach is improved; with his shoulders lower, Titan is now in a better stance to get his hands on Silvio.

Nick: Interesting strategy there, Titan St. James is lowering himself so Silvio's small size won't give him as much of an advantage.

Silvio Fiore knows that he still has a disadvantage in reach. He can't go anywhere, really. Left, right, front; Titan's got it locked up tight. Excellent defensive technique. Silvio Fiore seems to step forward, but then backs up and puts his hands down. He's standing at full height (not much), completely open to attack, but just a foot out of reach. But Titan will have to approach. Therein lies the problem. Titan was expecting Fiore to try something, anything, to attack first. Smaller wrestlers have to; they've got to attack fast, attack first, attack furiously to keep the bigger opponents from getting anything going. Fiore, though, has no problem sitting back and waiting for Titan to come to him.

Richard: We don't pay you people to stand around... do something!

But Parker can't appreciate what's going on here. Titan has assumed a defensive stance, rather than an offensive one. Silvio Fiore is, in effect, baiting St. James to attack him. It is a standoff of wills -- the one who moves first is the one who fully makes himself vulnerable to attack. If Silvio comes in first, he's surrendering himself to Titan. If St. James moves first, he's got to shift his weight and a momentary preoccupation can give the speedy Fiore the necessary opening to go on the offense. It's a matter of who will make the first move.

Suddenly, Fiore dashes to his left. Titan moves to follow, just barely blocking an Enzuigiri attempt. Silvio on all fours, St. James drops to his knees to get a hold of Fiore but the kid rolls out of the way too quickly, somersaulting to his feet by setting his head and hands on the mat. Running off of the ropes, Silvio charges directly at the rising Titan St. James. His stance is still low, he attempts a three-point shoulder block.

Nick: Fiore's opting for a suicide charge.

Richard: Suicide is right.

Fiore jumps up and throws his far shoulder into the attack; this makes him spin around and land on his feet behind his massive opponent. Being right-handed, Titan St. James instinctively throws a back elbow with his right arm as he turns around while still at his lowered stance. Being faster, and anticipating it (by probability, it was much more likely that St. James would be right-handed so he was already intending to go that way), Silvio ducks low and shuffles himself off in the same direction as the back elbow. Titan turns around to find himself looking at nothing, until a Gamengiri swings up at his face from underneath and to the side of his field of vision.

Richard: Guy's jaw must be made of rock.

Nick: Titan St. James goes down to a knee after the surprise attack from Silvio Fiore!

Shadow Mountain holds his chin after the direct hit. Silvio goes out to the ropes on the side again; this time he goes all the way for the rebound. The Cutting Edge returns, jumping up on St. James's leg and flipping over with a neckbreaker. Titan still doesn't go down, his weight on his bent leg and leaning backward. Silvio stands with his back to Titan and backflips in place to use a moonsault to put St. James on his back.

Nick: I can't believe that Fiore has Titan down so quickly!

1....

2....

Richard: And he flies halfway across the ring because of kickout.

Silvio charges Titan St. James, performing a standing forward backflip as an evasion. He didn't know what Titan would do, but the acrobatic move voided all conventional methods of attack and put Fiore just past Titan and on his feet. The much bigger man has to swing his body to compensate, Fiore planting his hands on the mat. St. James does hit with a back elbow, but on the rear of Silvio's legs, pushing him over and further away from the big man. Shadow Mountain gets his positioning back the right way when Silvio heads to the ropes once more. Fiore comes back and Titan surprises him with a standing sidekick! The correction for height means that it's almost horizontal, but the extension is such that Silvio even standing a distance away he can hit the kid and put him down on the mat.

Richard: That was probably the biggest Superkick ever.

Nick: Titan St. James delivers a strong kick to the side of Silvio Fiore's head.

Richard: Ever!

The giant from Israel goes to his knees, putting all of his weight onto the chest of Silvio Fiore. One can see the young man flailing, kicking, whatever he can. It's not enough; too great of a size difference, not enough muscle mass.

One!

Two!

Three!

Richard: In quick order, Silvio Fiore gets pinned. As an aging Punisher extra would say; "Size DOES matter!"

Titan St. James wins off of a single move, but what a move. Far from a one-trick pony, the big man was a thinking man's fighter. He noted the situation -- Silvio's speed, his own maneuverability, and what would be expected for someone his size. Titan tactically-executed his Superkick, and it was enough for the win. The boy who feels no pain can still be defeated, as clearly shown for all to see in a PRIME ring.

Silvio Fiore stands up, Titan's weight off of him. The match was over pretty quickly, but it wasn't nearly the upset that Troy/Lamen was. Fiore, no ill feelings over what happened, thanked Titan for the match. St. James nodded to Silvio in kind.

Winner via Pinfall -- Titan St. James (Superkick)

Vangelus Olsig stepped quietly into the skybox party that didn’t look like it was about to let up. Killean turned and saw him there. But he also has a look of confusion on his face as he approached the Intense Champion.

Killean Sirrajin: Ummmm, I know who I invited. How come you’re here?

Squinching his eyes while surveying his surroundings, Vangelus addresses Killean in a sense that suggests that he's about as confused as the Universal Champion is.

Vangelus Olsig: First off...where the hell am I? And who are all these people?

Killean smiles.

Killean Sirrajin: I’m fuckin’ yankin’ you man! How’s it?

Sirrajin shakes hands with Olsig, a person who he has respected since last year after their much talked about Chairs match for the Universal Championship.

Olsig yanks his hand from that of Killean's, smiling in an exagerrated manner.

Vangelus Olsig: I don't shake hands anymore...people don't wash their hands these days.

With that being said, Vangelus brushes past Killean and steps into the skyboy to grant himself a greater view of the party at hand.

Vangelus Olsig: This is...Nice. In the midst of all this excitement, however, I hope you haven't forgotten that our match is up soon. I don't take kindly to losses, especially those caused by a tag partner's negligence.

Killean throws his hands up in a mock innocent stance.

Killean Sirrajin: So damn serious Vange. Yeesh, what happened to the care free guy I wrestled a year ago? You of all people should know that I don’t lose.

Vangelus Olsig: That care free guy you wrestled last year is the reason why I'm not the Universal Champion. And you... winning all the time? Briches growing a little too big for your o-...

Suddenly, Vangelus pauses as a sexually clad woman breezes by him, catching his attention and forcing his eyes to follow her all the way to the other side of the skybox.

Vangelus Olsig: Egh...I guess I could make an exception after all. Plus, I've beaten Ignatius already, and I took Tchu and Karina so far beyond their limits that they practically fear me. Everything's cool.

Killean Sirrajin: Ahhhh see, that’s much better. There’s plenty more T & A around here for you to feast your eyes on. In the meantime, go grab some grub and a drink. It’s all on me.

Killean pauses and then remembers who was in the skybox with him earlier in the night.

Killean Sirrajin: Dude I gotta ask. Why put the fear of god in Karina? She may be a girl, but them kicks hurt.

Vangelus takes a moment to glance at Killean as if he was out of his mind.

Vangelus Olsig: Are you kidding? Did you see what she did to me at Ultra Violence? That chick is supposed to be this "Fearless Daredevil" and all, and she had all of you believing she was. Why? Because all of you were afraid to slap the fear out of her. I did just that and that's why right now, she's as vulnerable as she'll ever be.

With that said, Vangelus takes a moment to pick up a drink off of the table, taking a sip before spitting it all out on the chest of Killean Sirrajin at the sight of seeing yet another beautiful, sexually clad woman breeze by, who even bothered to wink at the tequila drenched Vangelus Olsig.

Vangelus Olsig: Sorry about that Bro...but did you see that chick? These few minutes alone are enough to make me place aside any hate I've had towards you.

Killean Sirrajin: Normally I’d throttle anyone who spits good booze all over me, but eh, it’s a party! Enjoy the scenery man. And just to correct you, I slapped the fear out of her long before you did. That’s how I got this in the first place.

Killean proceeds to pat the Universal Title that is hanging neatly over his shoulder.

Vangelus Olsig: Ah well...this is a party, as you said. Why waste our time discussing Skankarina. I mean after all, we all know how easy beating her came for you...you were in a regular match. I, however, had to deal with her in an Intense Division Match...and, sorry if this hurts you feelings big Kill, but the Intense Division is FAR more advanced than what it was when you were fighting in it.

With a small chuckle, Vangelus repositions the belt back on his shoulders before taking another sip of the tequila.

Killean Sirrajin: (smirking) Well, something needed to be done to keep the division a float after that bitch Eve stripped me of the title. Hey by the way, you hear about Mr. Facey Adam Dick?

Feeling a bit edgy from the Tequila and also focusing way more on the honey across the sky box than he is on Killean, Vangelus gets the words twisted.

Vangelus Olsig: Nah I didn't hear. What happened to Adam's Dick?

Killean Sirrajin: Man that’s just wrong, I didn’t say that. Here we are at this bumpin’ party and there are all these beautiful women around and all I hear is stuff about Adam’s Dick coming out of your mouth?

Vince Howard: The following match is for one fall. Introducing first, the PRIME 5-Star Champion (cue crowd jeers ad booing) and PRIME Tag Team Champion, the Model Citizen, the Viet Viper, CHANDLER TSONDA!!!

Tsonda’s music hits hard and *almost* drowns out the boos from the crowd as he and Ellie~! step out onto the stage. They walk down to the ring, Tsonda in his usual unprepared, ‘cold turkey’ mode still hasn’t given the match a second thought. Ellie is encouraging him as he is just now turning off his Sidekick (a different one than the one Noble busted last week).

Richard: Look at Chandler Tsonda!

Nick: What?

Richard: He’s got another Sidekick out!

Nick: I know it’s disgraceful--

Richard: Amazing is what it is! He managed to put last week’s encounter with that blonde money behind him!

After Tsonda is in the ring the entire arena erupts with cheers as the theme from Rocky, Gonna Fly Now, busts through the place! A stereo chant of JOHN-NY and NO-BLE starts up. Mr. Incredible poses on the stage for photos as the still awestruck Vince Howard begins his due introduction.

Vince Howard: And his opponent, from Tacoma Washington, weighing in at over 300 pounds, Father Wrestling, Mr. Incredible, JOHNNY NOOOOOOOOOOBLE!

Cue more cheers. Noble is again wearing his new "Father Wrestling" shirt and finds a young bald girl with aisle seats. She probably has Cancer… her and Lamen should hang out… anyway, Noble pulls off his t-shirt and offers it to the little girl, who can now die happy. Then he poses for some pics and jogs over to the ring… still jogging… almost there… hold on… he’s old okay?? There.

Nick: Alright, I think we’re about ready to get this match started!

Referee Tommy Giles calls for the bell *DING DING* and the match is officially underway. As with any good wrestling match it begins with a Collar-And-Elbow Tie-Up at centre ring. Noble, who is a mountain compared to the 5’11" 200lb. Tsonda, easily overpowers the smaller man and moves into Hammerlock position. Once there Noble pulls in under Chandler and lifts him up with all the relief momentum and gravity pulling the Viet Viper’s arm clean out of the socket.

Nick: Great offence by Noble here! You know that has to be painful!

Richard: But Tsonda still hasn’t tapped! That says a lot for the 5-Star Champ!

Tsonda is in a lot of pain, Noble doesn’t seem to be letting up at all and Tsonda, being in the air, is in no position to reach the ropes and the crippling pain doesn’t allow him opportunity to think of a good counter. But Ellie is nearby and intends to make herself useful. She jumps up on the apron calling for the hold to be broken and the Zebra goes over to keep her out and Noble gets the standard Mule Crotch Kick from Tsonda - Noble hits the mat. Hard.

Nick: You can’t deny that was a dirty move, Richard!

Richard: What’s wrong with a little teamwork? They’re like Bush and Cheney!

The Model Citizen is now seriously favouring his right shoulder and it’s only 3 minutes into the match. Undaunted Tsonda sees and opportunity to gain some momentum and slides out onto the apron and pulls himself over the ropes with an Eddie Guerrero-style plancha. But Noble spots it ten miles away and rolls into the ropes, leaving Tsonda with nothing but cold, hard mat to attack, and it usually attacks back. Not only that, but Chandler lands the move awkwardly and his shoulder shifts, he almost yells out in pain, but contains it. His eyes tell the story to the camera anyhow.

Richard: Well, Noble has the upper hand and now, of course, he’s gonna pose for the crowd.

Nick: I don’t see how y--

Richard: Wait for it.

Noble, seeing he has the upper hand on this punk kid takes some time to hop up on the second rope and put in some extra posing time for the fans. After a short while of this Tsonda is back up and charging at Noble, perhaps with some kind of suplex in mind?

Richard: HERE COMES THE PAIN!

But Noble has other plans, he jumps down off that second rope with a Double Axe-Handle! He aims for that arm again. Continuing to wear down his opponent by working one part over and over.

Nick: Tsonda is getting pwned!

Richard: Did you just say ‘pwned’?

Nick: What?

Richard: Some of us grew up, Nick. Not you.

For some reason the Model Citizen cannot seem to get his head in the game. Noble helps him off the mat by his hair and pulls his right arm sending him with an Irish Whip into the ropes. Quickly the Fan Favourite plants Tsonda in the face with a Big Boot.

Nick: This whole match looks like a wash for Tsonda. We’re nearing the 5 minute mark and I haven’t seen any offence from the Viet Viper yet.

Richard: Of course, now that you’ve said that, Tsonda’s going to go on an offensive spree.

Nick: Like when you open you’re mouth?

Richard: HAHAHAHAH! Hey Nick, I’ve got a spare EAT IT if you want.

With Tsonda on the ground Noble backs up into the far ropes and comes jogging out and hits a BIG SPLASH!

Nick: Noble with a Big Splash Pin!

Richard: No one pins people with the Big Splash anymore! Haven’t I said that before…?

Tommy Giles: ONE!

TWO!

Crowd: TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: That was a long, long two count, Richard.

Richard: perhaps, but who was right?

Nick: You were.

Richard: Could you say that a little louder?

Nick: No.

Noble, disappointed, but not entirely surprised at Tsonda’s kick out of the Big Splash Pin, rises to a vertical base and hoists Tsonda up, while rising Tsonda sneaks a thumb to the eye of the larger man while the Ref’s view was obstructed by the back of the big man’s head. Noble pulls away and Tsonda leaps onto and back off of the ropes with a Springboard Crossbody, but Noble, sharp as a tack, snatches him out of the air and SLAMS him hard into the mat!

Nick: It’s becoming pretty evident that Noble’s research into the match and preparation are paying off in spades! As opposed to Tsonda’s ‘cold turkey’ approach to his matches.

Richard: Well, Tsonda knows enough to take a break!

Nick: A break from what? Getting beat?

Richard: No! He’s putting the fans first, God knows why, because they are probably exhausted from watching him lull that moth-eaten timeworm into a false sense of security, awiting the perfect moment to STRIKE! Releasing the venom of--

Nick: Baseball Slide reversed!

Richard: SEE!? SEE!?

Johnny Noble slid in for a devastating baseball slide, but Tsonda side-stepped it and used Noble’s own momentum to pull him out to the ringside mats. Noble back is clearly hurt as he is favouring it at the moment. Tsonda leaps at the opportunity with a flurry of kicks to the back of Mr. Invincible. After several kicks Noble finds himself stomach down and Tsonda sits on the man’s lower back and grabs around his face and pulls backward in a Camel Clutch variant. But the pain in Tsonda’s right shoulder is too much to bear, so he leans in further and tightens his grip with a one-arm headlock using his left, allowing his right to rest up.

After several attempts to call the match back inside the ring Tommy Giles starts the count.

Referee: ONE!

Nick: Tsonda knows he’s got a 10 count to get back in the ring.

TWO!

Richard: Yeah, he’s gonan take his time.

THREE!

The pain on Noble face is obvious. He’s red-faced and it looks almost like he’s crying from the pain.

FOUR!

Nick: I don’t know if Noble will make it here, if he passes out, then Tsonda will win by count out.

FIVE!

Richard: Wait a sec! Is Noble gonna get out here??

SIX!

Noble almost wriggles his face out, but Tsonda tightens his grip harder and leans back for all he’s worth!

SEVEN!

Richard: He’s tapping! Noble’s tapping, Chandler Tsonda wins!

Nick: No, the move is illegal outside the ring! It doesn’t count. If Tsonda had been in the ring this whole match would be over!

EIGHT!

Richard: See how quickly Tsonda turned the tables on Noble? Lying in wait! Now, GET IN THE RING!

NINE!

Tsonda leaps to his feet to get in the ring, but Noble grabs his ankle and pulls him down. Ellie sees the impending count-out and quickly distracts the ref by coming near the two men with a chair. While the ref is arguing with Ellie~! Noble gets into the ring holding his lower back and Tsonda follows shortly after, with both men in the ring Ellie drops the chair and resumes her ringside spot.

Nick: Clever of Ellie to distract the ref and give the two men the extra few second needed to get in the ring, like that.

Richard: Brains and beauty!

Nick: Is it just me, or was that the longest 10-count in PRIME history?

Richard: It was definitely for than ten seconds…

Both men are standing in the ring, circling each other. One favouring his back, the other his right shoulder.

Nick: This has really been a slowly-paced, methodical match up. We’re at just over 12 minutes and these two men look like they’ve just come out of the Halo!

Noble grabs Tsonda and fires him at the turnbuckle with a fierce Irish Whip, Tsonda hits hard and Noble runs in like a truck, but Tsonda grins the pain and pushes himself up over Noble and then jumps up with a High Flipping Dropkick as Noble turns around. Noble backs into the corner and then receives three rushing Reverse Elbows from Tsonda followed up by an RVD-Type VanDaminator kick to the face. Noble’s recoils and slumps down to a semi-sitting position on the second rope. Noble grabs his jaw and licks a small trickle of blood off his lip. Rage in his eyes he looks at his foe and stands up quickly.

Crowd: NO-BLE! NO-BLE! NO-BLE! NO-BLE! NO-BLE! NO-BLE! NO-BLE!

Noble walks in, no-selling several kicks and an elbow or two from his foe and hits several big right hands across the jaw of the smaller man and then tosses him into a Short Arm Clothesline - nearly turning Tsonda inside out! The impact of the Clothesline, in fact, was enough that the Model Citizen is up on his feet immediately. Where he wanders right into a stiff kick to the gut from Johnny Noble!

Nick: Looks like Tsonda’s done!

Richard: No! He’s blocking it!

Tsonda blocks Noble attempt at an IncrediPlex 4 times before finally reversing it with--

Nick: OH MY GOD! Tsonda, someway, somehow, managed to lift up the 320 pound Noble with a Suplex!

Richard: w00t w00t!

But The Viet Viper is just as worse for the wear as Mr. Incredible is. Tsonda is writhing about the ring, having hoisted Noble’s whole body weight on his injured shoulder and Noble, of course, landing square on his back, is also pounding the mat and biting his lip to deal with the pain in his own way.

Tsonda is the first to suck it up and rise to his feet, coming after Noble with an axe-handle. Hardly the high-flying style we’re accustomed to with Tsonda, but clearly all he can manage in his weakened condition. Noble fights to his feet and swipes at Tsonda, who ducks the mammoth claw of Noble and fires back with a hard chop to Noble’s bear chest. Noble covers up and staggers away, Tsonda follows after him, Noble winds up with his left hand and then kicks Tsonda in the gut - didn’t see that coming, eh? Then Noble rips open Tsonda’s shirt and breaths into his fist before delivering a shattering slap to the chest, leaving a red hand print clear as day on the younger man.

Tsonda’s face tells the story as he walks away, then turns and charges at Noble who side-steps him and launches him back over the ropes and outside again. Noble wastes no time now, following his opponent out straight away. Tsonda walks into the arms of the bigger man and Noble lifts him up with a Military Press, but even under the stress of only 200 pounds his back can’t stand up and he drops his foe quite ungracefully into the barricade. Tsonda hits it hard as all hell, though and it busts him wide open, there’s blood everywhere. Rage and Pain are the two things in Tsonda’s eyes as he looks through his new crimson mask, courtesy Johnny Noble.

Nick: Wow! That was a brutal move from Johnny Noble there!

Richard: It was cold! Imagine if Tsonda hadn’t worked Noble’s back earlier! What that beast would have done!

Tsonda gives Ellie~! ‘the look’ and she heads for the Ref, putting the moves on him and the ref, being male, is powerless to resist her charms and while Giles is distracted The Model Citizen gives Noble not one, not two, but THREE soccer kicks to the groin. Then he reaches under the ring, grabs a chair and ploughs Noble twice across the face to make the big man fall. Then he hits Noble across the back and head with the chair until it breaks… Ellie is *very* distracting.

Nick: You wanna talk about brutal? Chandler Tsonda probably just sent Noble to the hospital! Maybe even ended his career there!

Richard: You’re so dramatic, Nick. Besides, Noble started it!

Noble can’t even think he’s in so much pain, he can’t decide whether to wipe the blood out of his eyes, since he bleeds like Ric Flair, or to hold his back in hopes of subsiding the pain there.

Nick: In any case, we’re quickly approaching 30 minutes and this match was only scheduled for 25! This is a war zone, make no mistake, folks… a warzone.

Richard: Both men really want the win. But Tsonda’s definitely at a disadvantage.

Nick: How’s that?

Richard: How do you hurt someone so old that his entire body is composed of sand?

Nick: Biology major, Richard?

The crowd, wanting to support Noble chant against Tsonda…

Crowd: TSONDA SUCKS! TSONDA SUCKS! TSONDA SUCKS! TSONDA SUCKS! TSONDA SUCKS! TSONDA SUCKS! TSONDA SUCKS! TSONDA SUCKS!

But that’s not doing it for Noble, he’s just been decimated but the man holding a busted chair leg and leaning on the barricade revelling in the jeers from the crowd. Noble starts pounding his right hand on the mat. Slowly the crowd gets behind him. The clapping spreads like a wildfire, quickly drowning out Tsonda’s heat!

CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP

Noble starts stirring…

CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP

He’s getting up~!

CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP

Nick: I can’t believe it! Noble actually getting up!

CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP

Noble, shaking it off, stands up quickly, only to collapse to one knee right away. Chandler comes in with a couple kicks to the shoulder of Noble who responds with a Street Fighter uppercut, sending Tsonda to the mats. Then Noble picks him up and whips him into the turnbuckle post and then on into the ring. The Viet Viper rolls to his feet and Noble lumbers into the ring, trading blows, very slowly, with Tsonda.

Nick: This is unlike Tsonda to resort to blows. But both men look drained. The blood loss surely isn’t helping at all.

Tsonda goes to Irish Whip Noble, but Noble stops him and, instead, fires Tsonda in between the ropes, shoulder-first, into the turnbuckle post. Tsonda starts convulsing with pain and Noble falls to one knee again. He’s done.

Richard: Stick a fork in Noble! He’s--

Nick: Yeah, we covered that.

Tsonda falls out from between the ropes, also drained. The blood seem to have stopped flowing off Tsonda’s brow and some is caking around his face. He stares at Noble, both hardly able to stand and waves him on, much to the approval of the crowd.

Richard: Oh, you want some!? COME GET SOM--

Nick: You’re gonna gets us sued, Richard!

Tsonda and Nobel get to their feet and slowly, again, circle the ring. Noble’s looking out of just one eye and Tsonda is the one-armed man. Barely able to hold their balance Tsonda is the first into the fray faking a kick to draw an arm from Noble Tsonda grabs the arm of the huge man and whips in behind for a hammerlock, then shifts it into a Dragon Sleeper!

Nick: The Spinal Tap!

Tsonda’s got it locked in, tight. Noble is screaming for all he’s worth, the pain is unbearable for any human being… but Noble calls for help with a wave of his arm and the IncrediBuddies are not far away.

Crowd: NO-BLE! NO-BLE!

He tries to fight it, but he can’t get out. Tommy Giles lifts Noble hand once. And once it fall to the mat. The PRIME official lifts the veteran’s hand a second time and a second time it falls to the mat.

Nick: This could be it!

The crowd starts, "NO-BLE! NO-BLE!" and The Zebra lifts Mr. Incredible’s hand a third time and a third time it fall-- NO!

The crowd sees that he’s stopped the third fall and the chant gains momentum faster than Condoleeza Rice can say something stupid.

Crowd: NO-BLE! NO-BLE! NO-BLE! NO-BLE! NO-BLE! NO-BLE! NO-BLE! NO-BLE!

Johnny fights back hard and manages to get out of the hold and to his feet, only to stumble backwards and fall into the ropes. Tsonda takes a knee as well. Noble closes his eyes and sucks up the energy to finish this punk kid off, but when he opens them Tsonda is on top of him! The Viet Viper falls backwards with a Spike DDT. Noble leaves a face-print on the canvass. Noble sits up then falls on his back. Tsonda hoist the man’s tree-trunk-like leg for the pin.

Referee: ONE!

TWO!

THRE-- NO~!~!

Nick: I thought it was done there, but Noble managed to kick out.

Richard: Tsonda’s really proved that he is the better man!

Nick: Better? Ha! Equal, maybe, but let’s not forget all the help from Ellie and that shrapnel that used to be a piped steel chair!

Richard: pfft!

Noble kicks out and both he and Tsonda start up to their feet, but both men fall over again.

Tommy Giles: ONE!

Nick: The countout starts!

TWO!

The crowd is cheering for Noble, with a small following cheering on Tsonda.

THREE!

FOUR!

FIVE!

Noble grabs the ropes and Tsonda gets hold of the turnbuckle.

SIX!

Tsonda lifts himself up and stumbles away from the ropes, everyone’s eyes are on Noble.

SEVEN!

Noble pulls himself up to the second rope.

EIGHT!

He’s leaning on the ropes across from the ones Chandler’s leaning on. It’s good enough for Giles. Tsonda stumbles over to Noble and receives a HUGE MASSIVE~!! Chop to the right shoulder. Tsonda lets out a small yelp as Noble bears the pain to deliver an INSANE IncrediPlex (Reverse Suplex)!!

Nick: INCREDIPLEX! INCREDIPLEX FROM JOHNNY NOBLE!

Noble falls beside Tsonda holding his back. He’s trying to roll over and make the cover, but that took a lot out of him.

Nick: Clearly a desperation manoeuvre from Johnny Noble there! Trying to keep his opponent at bay with some offence.

Johnny Noble, after almost a full minute laid out on the mat, looking at the lights, rolls over and pins Tsonda facing the ropes. Tommy Giles gets down to look for both shoulders touching and starts the pin.

Ref: ONE!

TWO!

Ellie, however will not allow this to happen and break out the hairspray and empties half the can into Noble’s eyes. Noble rolls off Tsonda and sits up wiping the blood and hairspray out of his eyes. He’s a mess, to say the least. But at this point The Model Citizen is no prize himself. Noble fights to get to a vertical base, telling referee about the shenanigans of Ellie, but as he is Tsonda has also gotten up and taps Noble on the shoulder. Noble spins around with a big right hand clubbing blow, but misses by a mile, still half blind, and finds himself in a reverse Russian Leg Sweep (think Grandmasta Sexay) but Noble, in mid fall, grabs Tsonda’s hair and drives the San Deigo native’s face into the mat hard. Both men roll out and make a Rock-lie star on their backs with a nice spattering of blood that Jean-Claude would be proud of!

Tommy Giles stands back and signals that he’s about to start the second count-out of the match.

Ref: ONE!

Noble tries to sit up, but every part of his body aches.

TWO!

Tsonda is smiling, oddly, as he tries to roll over. The two men only 12 inches apart on the canvas. Not even worried about offence or defence, but simply reaching their feet.

THREE!

Nick: They’re exhausted! At three and neither one has moved at all.

Richard: It’s been a real slobberknocker!

Nick: What… did you just say?

Richard: It’s been on HELL of a fight!

Nick: That’s NOT what you said!

FOUR!

Noble is rolled over onto his hands and knees and Tsonda has found his way to the ropes also.

FIVE!

Noble gets one foot flat on the mat. And grabs the rope with his free right hand, blood and sweat dripping down and staining the canvass.

SIX!

Tsonda’s leaning into the turnbuckle, holding onto the top rope for dear life.

SEVEN!

Johnny Noble gets hold of the third rope finally and tries to pull himself up, but loses his grip.

EIGHT!

Tsonda is still clinging to that rope, but he hasn’t made any further progress.


NINE!

Both men look at each other from across the ring, blood, sweat and tears and vow that it won’t end there, they make one last pull for a vertical base.

TEN!

Both men fall! Noble to the mat and Tsonda into the turnbuckle!

WINNER: NO CONTEST!

The fans erupt in boos for the outcome! But neither man can muster enough strength to go on. Both find themselves sitting up against the ropes simply trying to breathe.

Richard: A double-countout?

Vince Howard: Ladies and gentlemen. Due to a double count out this match is a NO CONTEST. There is no winner!

Another eruption!

Crowd: WE WANT A REF! WE WANT A REF!

Nick: Thomas Giles is getting some flack over this one! He called it right down the centre!

Richard: He was Noble-biased!

The fans are still booing the no decision of the match, but Johnny Noble, tired and upset, has to accept it. He starts limping up the ramp, but just like in a movie when the record scratches and things screech to halt, he hears an unexpected voice.

Chandler Tsonda: Just wait a goddamn second!

Richard: YEAH!

What’s that crowd? Oh, boo, you say? Yes, very well-said. Meanwhile, the Model Citizen is still wheezing, basically draped over the top rope with a microphone in hand. Vince Howard is shrugging his shoulders, realizing that the ring needs to be cleared and prepared for the main event.

Nick: Hasn’t he done enough tonight?

Chandler Tsonda: You…you can’t beat me! I’m…that wasn’t good enough!

Indeed, in between Tsonda’s decrying of the math, there are measured gasps as he tries to suck in air. Up towards the top of the ramp, someone tosses Johnny Noble a microphone and the crowd pops their collective ass off.

Johnny Noble: Tsonda, I just took you to the limits. I showed these fine people here in Richmond, Virginia…

Helloooooooo Mick Foley pop.

Johnny Noble: …that you can’t beat me in the ring. Even at my age, I still take little punks like you out to the woodshed routinely.

Chandler Tsonda: Yeah, well, what you and "little punks" choose to do in your woodshed is…your own business, but I’m not wasting breath on pedophilia; I challenge you to a match!

Johnny Noble: Is that hair gel goin’ to your brain, dude? We just had a match and I came this close to revealing the Five-Star Fool as a fraud of a champion.

The crowd likes this one a lot. An "A-List sucks" chant is gaining momentum as Tsonda gets right back on the microphone.

Chandler Tsonda: No, you geriatric nincompoop! What I meant to say is…the A-List challenges you to a match.

A pained look hits Noble’s face for a second, but he’s a stoic old dude. He looks back at Tsonda, still not speaking, but catches the Viet Viper’s eye and stares him down.

Nick: I hate to say it…but Johnny Noble may have to say no to this challenge. How can he accept the challenge when his union with Ignatius Lisieux and Adam is on very thin ice?

Chandler Tsonda: What’s the matter? Oh, that’s right; TeamSmileyHappySunshine is no more, ever since your best buddy and the pole-smoker rightfully left you in the dust.

LOTS of fans in the crowd take offense to this, throwing up middle fingers and shouting profanities at Tsonda and Ellie, who, in this time, has gotten into the ring, standing right behind Tsonda.

Chandler Tsonda: It’s alright, Johnny, you can accept that I’m the better wrestler and-

Johnny Noble: You know what, brother? No matter what the condition of my stable, all I need are my IncrediBuddies!

HUGE POP!

Johnny Noble: What say you, RICHMOND VIRGINIA??

HUGER POP!

Johnny Noble: 20,000 IncrediBuddies can’t be wrong! You’re on, dude!

Nick: WHAT?!

Chandler Tsonda: You don’t even have partners, you crackpot. But it will delight me to no end, being the one to finally bring Johnny Noble’s pathetic saga to an end.

Johnny Noble: Dude, you sure can run your mouth. Especially for a feller who was most excellently beaten to within an inch of your life! You laid down like a--

Tsonda, sensing a cheap shot at Ellie pipes up.

Chandler Tsonda: You shut you’re mouth about this lady here.

Johnny Noble: I was going to said you laid down like a dog, but you weren’t far off.

Richard: HOW DARE YOU!

The Sultan of Style looks back at Ellie and says something to her, but Noble doesn’t end his tirade there…

Johnny Noble: And tell Ferguson if he brings that same C-game I saw last week that winning the match will be a cinch.

And with one last pop, Noble drops the microphone, to the sound of "Gonna Fly Now." The crowd is cheering, but in the ring, Chandler Tsonda wears a grin that would make the Cheshire Cat jealous.

Nick: Well, we’re set for a pseudo-rematch next week, but I don’t know how Johnny Noble plans on beating three men if he, indeed, has to fight on his own.

Lately it seems that Adam isn’t the only member of the struggling (and mis-titled) Superface Alliance who has taken up an interest in reconnaissance missions, oh no. Ignatius Lisieux, fresh from a surprise "victory" over Tchu last week, is currently acting incredibly suspiciously - he’s even wearing a stick-on moustache, Janitor’s clothes and a wig – no joke.

Why? (You might ask)

Well, Ignatius is hovering around outside of Killean Sirrajin and Tyler Nelson’s "Skybox Party" – surprisingly he wasn’t invited – waiting for a chance to sneak in there and test Killean’s resolve. Tchu’s words of warning from last week have not gone unheeded, as the French-Canadian realises he needs to make sure he can trust his fellow countryman.

Bumbling around a little bit with his trusty mop in order to avoid suspicion, Ignatius’ attention is caught as the Clint Poteet-guarded door to the skybox swings open and a fairly elderly couple stumble outwards into the carpeted corridor. Their words are just about audible from our distant standpoint…

Older Gentleman: Ah, Clint, it’s good to see you… where could an old guy find the lavatories in this big old place?

Clint Poteet: (pointing) Take a left at the bottom of this corridor, then a right… then you’ll find it.

The gent slyly slips Poteet a bill as the big man nods in appreciation, Lisieux rolls his eyes a little towards the screen at the contrived nature of the dialogue and carries on with his duties. Poteet begins whistling a little as music from within the party becomes audible - something about "lady lumps" most definitely gets a mention as the whole atmosphere inside of the box seems to pick-up a little bit. Just when you think not much is happening, the most hated man in PRIME appears from the door and ushers for Poteet to follow him… opportunity knocks. The CEO looks up and down the hallway, looking somewhat perturbed.

Tyler Nelson: Someone clogged up the damn bathroom in the suite, and it's time to break the seal. You'd better come with and stand guard next to the public restroom. I don't want a repeat of what happened last time. You never know what kind of wierdo's are creeping around.

Clint Poteet: Sure thing boss.

Waiting just enough time so that the two men are out of sight and out of mind, Lisieux strips off his grey overalls and wig, but leaves the moustache on for effect (or maybe he just forgot about it.) Unwilling to waste a moment, he jogs towards the door and swings it open, causing another belch of atmosphere to flood out into the hallway.

Ignatius Lisieux: (observing) Now, THIS is a damn party!

He swiftly grabs a chicken-wing from a passing waiter as he surveys the scene, looking for the Universal Champion. The party is absolutely buzzing. You wouldn’t recognise anyone in particular from PRIME, but there are a few faces from the sports and entertainment industries present, it’s mainly just random cling-ons, though. Standing out like a sore-thumb in his messy jeans and scruffy tee shirt, it’s amazing nobody pays the French-Canadian any heed, but they don’t. They’re all too self-involved to even notice his presence.

Ignatius Lisieux: Ah! There you are…

Spotting the huge figure of the "Supreme Machine" out on the balcony, the French-Canadian makes an immediate beeline for him, his plan ready to be put into full effect. Totally oblivious to the whole situation behind him, Killean is merrily chatting away with Charity and two worthless somebodies… until Charity looks back towards Lisieux and hastily taps him on the shoulder…

Killean Sirrajin: Oh, shit… I’ll deal with this- excuse me just a minute… Iggy, man, what the hell are you doing here!?

Ignatius Lisieux grins back towards him - the reaction was exactly what he expected.

Ignatius Lisieux: I heard there was a party with free food, where else am I gonna be?

Killean Sirrajin: (distressed) But you can’t be here man, if Tyler sees you he’ll kill you…

Ignatius Lisieux: I’m more worried about Poteet, in all honesty… but what do I have to worry about, right? You won’t let those guys lay a finger on your old buddy, will you?

The tense pause was most definitely noticeable, but Sirrajin swiftly brushes it off as he places a diplomatic hand on Ignatius’ shoulder.

Killean Sirrajin: Look, you know me and you are cool here right… you know that tonight in that ring it’s going to be nothing personal, I promise to do my best to avoid you… and ReVolution One-Hundred, same deal there, no tricks, no nothing… just me and you, one-on-one, best man wins…

Ignatius is revelling in Killean’s panic, on one hand he knew it meant that Sirrajin was still intent on protecting him, on the other it also showed that perhaps he wouldn’t be prepared to do so in front of Tyler Nelson. He needed to push it further; he needed Nelson to show up.

Ignatius Lisieux: Well about that… I want to say I appreciate you trying to stop Noble from refereeing that match last week, but I guess it worked out alright for me in the end… It’s just I was speaking with Tchu and, I’ll be honest, he made me doubt you a little bit.

Killean Sirrajin: Stuff between me and Matt is completely different to stuff between me and you, trust me on that one… but please man, you have to leave before Tyler gets here… if you were any kind of friend you wouldn’t put me in that situation.

Sirrajin had his number right there. Here was Iggy trying to test Killean into proving himself, completely oblivious to the damage that he could do the "Supreme Machine" by simply being there. He figured that Nelson wouldn’t be over the Halo stuff yet and he knew Poteet wasn’t his biggest fan. He knew he had to go.

Clint Poteet: What the fuck is he doing here!?

Uh-oh, too late. Ignatius quickly looked at Killean as though to say "I’m sorry"…

Killean Sirrajin: Clint, wait, I can-

Before Sirrajin could even speak, it was too late… Clint Poteet strides forward in one swift motion and grips Ignatius Lisieux aggressively by the scruff of his neck… dangling the French-Canadian over the skybox balcony the whole arena completely grinds to a halt… the image is projected onto the PRIME-a-TRON and the party’s guests all turn to face the scene…

Killean Sirrajin: Clint, let him go… now!

Tyler Nelson: Just what the hell is going on here!?

If the party hadn’t have already stopped, it would have done right there. Nelson was shouting, he was enraged, he was furious… his eyes were damn-well almost bursting free of his face. Before him Killean Sirrajin was struggling with Clint Poteet, who in-turn was struggling with Ignatius Lisieux, Nelson’s party had been turned into a farce.

Tyler Nelson: Clint, hold him there for a second …

Nelson turns his furious gaze to the Universal Champion.

Tyler Nelson: Killean, did you invite him here?

Sirrajin isn’t quick to respond, the French-Canadian had put him in an impossible situation.

Ignatius Lisieux: No, he didn’t invite me… I came to see him, but I was just leaving…

Lisieux struggles to get himself back over the railing and break free of Poteet’s hold, finally doing so, and giving the big man an evil eye as he dusts himself down…

Ignatius Lisieux: Sorry if I’ve spoiled anything here, I just came to see Killean about something…

Tyler Nelson: Not. Good. Enough. Killean – toss him over the balcony.

GASP! (That’s what the whole crowd/party goers do right now.)

Killean Sirrajin: No, I mean… come on Tyler, that’s too much…

The megalomaniac is seething.

Tyler Nelson: DO IT!

Killean Sirrajin: No Tyler, I won’t.

Tyler Nelson: Clint, do it!

Sirrajin steps up to the plate for Lisieux big time as he steps in between him and the approaching monster.

Killean Sirrajin: Look, I know this is difficult for you to understand right now… I know you’ve had issues with Lisieux, but now is not the time or the place. He’ll learn his lesson later tonight and then at One-Hundred. I need to do this in the ring.

Lisieux’s eyes grow wide upon hearing that, but he quickly realises Sirrajin is merely saying what he has to in order to appease his host.

Killean Sirrajin: Iggy, get the hell out of here man. I’ll catch up with you some other time.

Sighing with relief, the "MVP" nods appreciatively towards the "Supreme Machine" and begins to make his exit, but he’s completely unable to refrain from delivering a cheeky smile towards Nelson and Poteet as he goes.

Tyler Nelson: Don’t push your luck, Lisieux… you’re on bided time. If you step out of line one more time I'm going to handle you personally.

Poteet snarls in agreement as the former Universal Champion heads out through the gawping crowd in the skybox, Nelson flicks his wrist and "clicks" the party back into life as the PRIME-a-TRON broadcast ceases. Charity rushes to Killean and quickly links arms with him, soothingly as Nelson turns back to face him.

Tyler Nelson: Killean, Killean, Killean… I hope you know what you’re doing here. Lest you forget what that French-fried faggot did to me at Culture Shock, or what he did to Clint here a month or so back…

Killean goes to speak, but Nelson isn’t yet finished…

Tyler Nelson: …I cannot allow actions like those to go unpunished.

Killean Sirrajin: (nodding reluctantly) I agree with you, I understand what you’re saying… but trust me. Let me handle tonight my way and by next week I’ll have something concrete for us in regards to this "problem".

Tyler Nelson: You’d better have… and you’d better not go easy on him tonight, either. I'm giving you an inch of wiggle room. Don't be stupid and try to take a mile.

Still aggrieved with his protégé, the CEO turns away from the Universal Champion and ushers for Clint Poteet to follow him, leaving Sirrajin staring into Charity’s eyes, sharing a worried expression apiece.

For the retreating Lisieux, though, (who we now follow heading towards the main lobby of the arena) worry was now far from his mind. It was most definitely "mission complete" - his friend Killean Sirrajin had passed the test.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?"

Sensing even more activity nearby, the camera peels away. As we swing around towards the sound and away from the disappearing French-Canadian, we see Danny Ferguson, clad in his Terry Funk ring attire, poking a finger in the chest of a sound tech. In his free hand, he holds a CD jewel case.

Danny Ferguson: Who told you to play this?

Tech: The guy did. Your opponent guy.

Danny Ferguson: Who the...unless you want to be working back in public access, you’d better put some THOUGHT into your job from now on.

His finger poke turns into a shove as he whirls around...coming face-to-face with his opponent for the night, Kevin Sandusky.

Danny Ferguson: Who the hell are you?

Kevin Sandusky: Oh, hey, my name is Kevin, I’m-

Danny Ferguson: You’re the guy! Tell me something, Kev...who the hell do you think you are?

He gets the finger poke treatment, too, but he quickly knocks it away. Knowing that he can’t intimidate Sandusky as easily as he did the tech, Danny doesn’t push it. Instead, he holds up a music CD.

Danny Ferguson: Entrance music? Who are you that you deserve entrance music? Do you even have a PRIME contract? Did we not bring you in specifically for this match?

Kevin Sandusky: Sorry. Force of habit.

Flabbergasted (yeah, I used that word), Danny looks at the CD.

Danny Ferguson: "Infected"? Bad Religion? Seriously? Why don’t you just choose some garbage like Rancid?

Kevin Sandusky: It has historical significa-

Danny Ferguson: Alright, I’m done here. It’s time to shoot, jackoff. You make another mistake like this in out there, and you’ll be regretting it for a while.

Kevin Sandusky: 10-4.

With a paused glare, Danny finally turns and heads up to the entrance. Sandusky gives him a few moments before following him up. Before Kevin disappears through the curtain, Reggie Delray, Danny’s manager who only makes appearances when I remember to write him in, comes flying through the backstage area.

Reggie Delray: Wait! Waaaaaaiiiiit!

He stops at the bottom of the stairs, his face pale, save for reddening cheeks.

Reggie Delray: Are you him?

Sandusky looks down at Reggie and innocently points to himself.

Reggie Delray: Yes, you! Are YOU HIM?!?

The innocent point turns into a finger on the lips as Kevin half-heartedly tries to quiet Reggie down. Then, he disappears through the curtain, headed for the ring. Reggie, still beside himself, runs up the steps to the entrance, but is held back by security.

Guard: We’ve got a movie filming out there, man, can’t you read the signs?

Defeated, Reggie slinks back down the steps. He removes a crumpled roll of paper from his jacket and straightens it out, staring at a picture clipped to the top. As we lean over his shoulder, we get a good look as well. The file is all the info that Reggie found on Kevin Sandusky, as per Danny’s request. The photo, however...

The photo is a snapshot from another time, another fed, another life. It’s a promo shot from RUSH Wrestling, a picture of Danny Ferguson and Kevin Sandusky squaring off. Except Danny, at the time, was known as El Spiffy! ...and Kevin Sandusky was known as Ebola III.

We enter the locker room shared by our much-loved, fan-friendly favourites... and Adam. Currently there’s another one of the awkward silences that have recently plagued this particular room, whichever arena it happens to be located in. Ignatius is nowhere to be found, and Johnny Noble’s still totally shattered after his match. Amazingly he declines to comment on the odd colour that Adam’s entire body is painted, deciding that’s probably ‘just another little quirk’, of which the Scot was certainly not lacking in numbers.

Noble: Listen... we have... a match next week.

The old-time legend struggles to keep his breath after the veritable battle he’d just endured.

Noble: All of us... and the A-List... we-

He’s cut off as Adam perks up his ears, peeling away from the wall he was desperately trying to improve his concealment skills with.

Adam: The A-List?! Those traitorous, self-indulgent, drug-trafficking, pretty-boy, deceitful... umm...

The incensed, if slightly deluded, Scot runs out of adjectives and struggles to wind up.

Adam: ...umm... scoundrels!

Noble: Yeah, them... We need Iggy... we need Iggy in on it. Can you... talk to him? He needs to know...

Adam salutes his aging partner, drops and covertly rolls to the door.

Adam: Affirmative, mission to proceed as a basic locate-and-deliver-message assignment. There is little sign of insurgent activity to block my path, but still, alertness is key in all aspects...

He continues to mumble to himself as he sets off on his assigned task, leaving Johnny Noble, who most other days would have been somewhat bemused by all this, to simply accept it and collapse on the sofa, exhausted.

Following his clandestine meeting with "Mr. Incredible" Johnny Noble, (where Noble pleaded with Adam to persuade Ignatius Lisieux to help him against the A-List, in case you didn’t read it) the "Number One Son" appears once again on the PRIME-a-TRON; pacing through the backstage area, most definitely on the hunt for his running buddy, Ignatius Lisieux. The PRIMEates greet the appearance of the disillusion Scotsman (still painted grey, but in a slightly saner frame of mind) with a warm "pop" and then settle down to watch his journey, the main event not far from beginning.

The Scotsman scans his vicinity for a useful source of information in regards to the French-Canadian’s whereabouts, but his choice proves not to be the greatest…

Adam: Excuse me miss, have you seen Ignatius Lisieux – most certainly not a Communist sympathiser, even with that name – around here anywhere tonight?

The female stage-hand (complete with delightful lime green blazer!) looks back at him blankly. Adam pauses for a moment, tentatively awaiting any reply with an expectant expression, then shakes his head a little and returns to the question…

Adam: Hello? Do… you… speak… English?

Should have really mentioned that the stage-hand is of the "ethnic" variety. She merely stares blankly back towards the former Tag Team Champion and shrugs her shoulders.

Adam: Wow… that was less helpful than I could ever have expected. Thanks SO much for your time…

He nods apologetically and swiftly brushes past her member in order to seek a better informant. His eyes constantly dart around at super-human velocity (you can’t see it properly on TV, but trust me – it’s super-human) in order to seek out his French-Canadian amigo as he goes…

Adam: (to himself) I have been given a special renaissance meeting by Captain Noble, I must find Counter-Terrorist Investigator Lisieux and deliver him a desperate peace treaty plea…

His inane and unexplainable babblings continue for a few more paces until he FINALLY spots the "MVP" heading towards the curtain (well it had to happen, for the sake of this segment).

Adam: Special Operative Lisieux!!

Another in-arena "pop" buzzes around as Adam’s shout echoes around the area and he immediately feels the cold, accusing stare dozens of sets of eyes that turn to observe him (a quick note to himself is made – change out of camo once used & don’t shout full operative titles in public). Lisieux swiftly turns around and issues a short wave to his buddy through the crowd of people, before ushering him to "hurry up" and come towards him. As the scot makes the short walk across he actives the mind-chip switch from ‘Agent’ to ‘Friendly’ mode and tries his best sociable grin.

Adam: (approaching) Ah man, mission complete… I’m glad I found you! (Looking at Iggy’s taped wrists) Oh, you’re match is up now, eh?

The French-Canadian nods, he does not say a word - he’s already entered the "zone" and unfortunately for this scene that means it’s not gonna get any better very quickly(!). Adam immediately senses the tension in the air…

Adam: Well, I guess this is a bad time… but we can catch-up after your match, yeah?

Ignatius nods again, delivers a small smile and then pats Adam appreciatively on the shoulder before turning to head off towards the arena – still oblivious to the odd grey colour of his buddy’s skin and clothes, guess he’s pretty "zoned".

Adam: That’s great. Good luck out there… and, oh… By the way - you should really forgive Johnny…

The Scotsman leans back a little bit, sort of cowering, he knows what’s coming. Iggy turns dramatically and narrows his eyes towards him, definitely not appreciating the little comment that Adam just slipped into the thrilling exchange. He holds the glare intact and raises a middle finger salute by his side, in homage to "The Specialist" Tony Rolo (and that little kid off South Park.)

Adam: Okay, okay, I get it - bad time… we’ll talk later. Go get ‘em tiger!

As if the "encouraging" words weren’t disturbing enough, Adam follows them up with a swift tiger sound effect. Lisieux rolls his eyes a little once more and turns to make his eventual exit. Adam remains fixat on the spot, his right hand brushing against his chin while he contemplates…

Adam: Hmmm, methinks this mission may be a lot more difficult than previously anticipated. Better return to base to draw up a contingency plan.

Numerous bodies begin filtering by and into the shot, surrounding the Scotsman in their presence, he merely attempts to lose himself in the crowd (blending in is a lot easier when you’re not trying to look like the floor, though) as the scene fades to black.

We shift out attention back to the corridor outside skybox where Killean Sirrajin’s party is taking place. A few of the party goers have spilled into the hallway and mingle amongst themselves, their conversations inaudible. After a few moments the door to the skybox opens so that Tyler Nelson, followed closely by Clint Poteet, can exit the party. The CEO pauses by the small group of people talking in the corridor.

Tyler: What the matter? The party not good enough for you?

The people in the group look at each other and all mutter at the same time that they just stepped out for a moment. Nelson listens with a blank, uninterested expression, then waves his hand toward the door.

Tyler: Get back in there, already! I don’t need you people out here loitering around and ending up getting hurt somehow. I’m not going to be dealing with those lawsuits.

The massive bodyguard opens the door and ushers the party guests back inside as Nelson charges off down the hallway in a huff.

Tyler: Friggin’ people! Throw a Goddamn party in a luxury skybox and they want to stand out in the hallway and talk! Idiots!

The CEO shakes his head in disbelief as Poteet begins to follow his boss down the hall after closing the door to the skybox behind the guests. Nelson reaches the end of the corridor and makes a left.

Tyler: You know what, Clint? I’m thinking that we’re going to have to beef up security around here now that the Russian goon is hanging around. I want him kept in check at all times until the time is right to take his ass out. The last thing I need is Ivan Stanislav running rampant here in PRIME like he did in PCW.

Nelsons waits for the usual ‘OK boss’ from Clint, but all he hears is silence.

Tyler: Jesus Christ! Am I talking to a Goddamn….

The CEO spins around to face his bodyguard, and give him a stern talking to about his failure to respond properly, but instead comes face to chest with the aforementioned Russian Bear.

Tyler: …wall?

Ivan Stanislav stands brooding over Tyler Nelson, his more-salt-than-pepper beard shifting over his tensed jaw. The Russian Bear’s eyes pierce a hole right through Nelson, who swallows nervously.

Tyler: You’re…not…Clint.

A voice emanates from around Stanislav, a voice familiar to Nelson. The CEO nearly cringes at the sound of Alexei Ruslan as he steps out from behind the Russian Bear.

Alexei: Ha…Ivan Sergeiovich is certainly not fat bodyguard. He is currently taking little nap around corner, thanks to Russian Bear.

Nelson looks up at Ivan, who only snarls down at his hated enemy.

Tyler: I see. And what exactly is the purpose of this little rendezvous? Didn’t things get taken care of last week?

Alexei: Ahhh…you mean big contract for Ivan meant to try and buy yourself some time? Da, Alexei and Ivan have put money to good use already in Mother Russia. But as Ivan warned you last week, he is not here for money. Ivan Sergeiovich is here to finish job he started long ago.

Nelson looks at Alexei and then back at Ivan, wondering if this is going to be his Waterloo. The CEO needed to think quickly on his feet, really quickly.

Tyler: Yes, I do recall that conversation about wanting to finish me off and destroy me. And if you will also recall, I told Ivan that after he signed the contract with PRIME I would get the ball rolling.

Ruslan takes a step forward, almost getting right in Tyler’s face if it weren’t for Ivan’s massive chest.

Alexei: So, where is this ball now?

Tyler: These things take time, you know? I have to talk things over with the network, work out any scheduling conflicts, I’m a busy man!

The Russian Bear growls, somewhat akin to his namesake, and grabs Nelson by his suit. Ivan easily lifts Nelson off the ground and slams him into the wall, making an indentation in the drywall.

Alexei: You’re not stalling, are you? Ivan does not particularly care for stalling.

Tyler: No, no, no! I…I just got word a few moments ago, as a matter of fact…

The King of the Nicaraguan Death Match pauses to take a breath and try to collect himself….and trying not to piss his pants.

Tyler: …and next week I’ll be making an announcement regarding when Ivan can meet me in the ring.

Ruslan chuckles.

Alexei: When Ivan can meet you in ring? Who says Ivan wants to meet you in ring? This isn’t about wins and losses, Nelson. This is about ridding world of disease. This is about eliminating plague from existence. This is about curing cancer of wrestling world. Ivan Sergeiovich Stanislav doesn’t need square circle to obliterate you!

Nelson does the best he can to produce a vile smirk.

Tyler: Well, that’s the only way it’s going to happen. Any other way, and Ivan knows the consequences. He’ll think the Russian gulag was paradise compared to where I can have him taken here in the States. I’m willing to give Ivan a shot at taking me out, simply because the ratings will be huge, but it’ll be on my terms.

Stanislav leans forward and presses his head against Nelson’s, speaking for the first time in this confrontation.

Ivan: Don’t try to weasel out of this, Nelson. There is nowhere you can hide from Russian Bear. Alexei and I will be waiting for next week to hear what your forked tongue has to say.

With that, Ivan unceremoniously drops Nelson to the floor. The CEO nearly crumbles but is able to catch himself and stay on his feet. Stanislav and Ruslan slowly walk off as Tyler adjusts his suit. A devious, much less forced, grin spreads across the face of the CEO as Ivan and Alexei disappear around another corner.

Tyler: Yeah, you just wait for next week. I call the shots around here, and you boys are going to find that out first hand.

Nelson backtracks to the corridor which he walked down, peering around the corner to see Clint Poteet just getting to his feet while clutching his head in agony.

Tyler: Get your sorry ass up already! Do you realize what I’ve just been through?!

Clint: O…K…boss…

Poteet staggers down the hallway, still groggy from Ivan’s attack.

The rasping violins of "Faint" by Linkin Park screech out over the arena loudspeakers as the arena is basked in darkness for the penultimate time this evening and jeers ring out around the building.

Nick: Ladies and gentlemen welcome back to the Richmond Coliseum in Vancouver, you’re just in time for our main event of the evening…

A snare drum enters the musical fray as Vince Howard takes up position in the centre of the ring.

Nick: …tonight on ReVolution, Ignatius Lisieux teams with Tchu and Karina Wolfenden to face Killean Sirrajin, The Illustrious Face-Eater and Vangelus Olsig!

Crunching distortion guitar bursts into life, soon joined by drums and bass as Vangelus Olsig’s entrance video starts up on the PRIME-a-TRON…

Richard: Out first is none other than our longest reigning Intense Champion - ever…

Before the lyrics of Chester Bennington and Mike Shinoda can burst into life, however, "White Man’z World" by 2Pac fades in over the loudspeakers, drawing even more disapproval from the Vancouver PRIMEates.

Nick: …Well, it looks like at least one of our teams tonight is presenting a united front… a combined entrance here from the team of Sirrajin, Olsig and the Face-Eater…

The Illustrious Face-Eater’s entrance video crawls onto the PRIME-a-TRON as 2Pac’s lyrics echo around the Coliseum…

"Dear sister - got me twisted up in prison, I miss yah. Crying, looking at my nieces and nephew’s picture…"

Richard: Facey! Oh man, this night just keeps getting better and better… by my watch, our reigning Universal Champion’s theme tune is up next!

With no physical appearance from any of the team members yet, red and silver pyrotechnics explode off as spotlights scan the arena when "Passive" by a Perfect Circle takes over the airwaves…

Nick: Literally speaking of the devil himself, there he is right on cue… the man who sold out the PRIMEates in order to line his own pockets… and just listen to the disrespect for him…

"Wake up (we'll catch you) and face me (come one now), don’t play dead (don't play dead), ‘cause maybe (because maybe) someday I’ll (someday I'll) walk away and say, ‘you disappoint me’ - maybe you’re better off this way."

Richard: There they are!!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Vince Howard: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to our main event…

Nick: Would you just listen to that reaction for these three men? Pure, deserved venom for the emergence of these three champions of PRIME…

Vince Howard: …the match is scheduled for one-fall and has a twenty-minute time limit!

Killean walks out and takes centre-stage, Universal Title strapped firmly and fittingly around his waist, trademark sunglasses around his head… Vangelus Olsig and the Illustrious Face-Eater flank him at either side…

Vince Howard: …Introducing first… from Bogotá, Colombia and weighing in at two-hundred-and-twenty-three pounds… he is the longest ever reigning Intense Champion… the "Prince of Delusion"… VANGELLLLLLLLUSSSSSSSSSSS OLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSIGGGGGGGGGG!!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Vangelus takes up stage-left with his ever-present Intense Championship flung over his right shoulder, his face-paint illuminated by the spotlight that basks his body in a cold white glow. He sneers around at the reaction from the Richmond crowd as Vince Howard continues…

Vince Howard: …and his first partner… from "the ass-crack of Satan" and weighing in at… "flipping ounces of pounds"… one half of PRIME’s Tag-Team Championships and part-5-Star Champion… THE ILLLLLLLLLLLUSTRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIOOOOOUSSSSSSSS FACE EATTTTTTTTTTTERRRRRRRRR!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Nick: Damn! These people hate the Face-Eater even more than they do Olsig!

Richard: These people are a damn disgrace to this company!

As usual, Facey is too pre-occupied with himself to realise the reaction he’s receiving… somehow deciding that waving his arms in appreciation is the best course of action to take. What do PRIMEates matter when you’re so covered in gold, though?

Vince Howard: and their partner…

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Nick: My, oh my listen to this!

Howard is barely audible over the deafening reception for the Universal Champion, who is grinning at the expected response…

Vince Howard: …from Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada…

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Richard: BLASPHEMY!

Vince Howard: …and weighing in at two-hundred-and-ninety-seven pounds…

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Vince Howard: …the two-time Universal Champion…

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Vince Howard: …the "Supreme Machine"… KILLLLLLEAAAAANNNNNNNN SIRRRRRRRRRRRRRAJINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Nick: I’ve never heard anything like this before - these Richmond PRIMEates are rabid and they detest the ground that Sirrajin walks on… what’s he doing?

He’s mock-waving to his appreciative audience, that’s what he’s doing… he then turns back to Olsig and Facey and motions for them to follow him down the ramp. His two far smaller partners oblige as the heeldom triumvirate begin making their way to where Bernie Roberts and Vince Howard are at – the squared circle.

Richard: Nick, every week I say the same… but I never fail to be disappointed by our fans… these three men are CHAMPIONS of PRIME, dammit, they’re better than most anyone else here… yet the disrespect-

Nick: -Yeah, yeah… we’ve heard it all before, Richard…

Mocking and goading the ravenous crowd at every opportunity, the Sirrajin-spearheaded team of three approach the bottom of the ramp, spotlights following them all the way, the intensely poor reaction continuing with every step that they take.

Nick: …there is a reason why these men are so unpopular with our fanbase – because they lie, they cheat and they do anything they can to win matches… our fans do not appreciate those characteristics in wrestlers.

Richard: But it’s okay for Johnny Noble to miss calls in important matches, yeah?

Nick: That was a damned mistake and you know it!

Vangelus Olsig whips off his white tee-shirt and tosses it *at* the crowd, rather than to it, as Facey takes a big gulp of Gatorade and does the same with the bottle… Sirrajin merely climbs up onto the apron and turns to sneer at the fans before removing his sunglasses and stepping through the ropes.

Nick: Look at the behaviour – it’s sickening…

The Universal Champion makes a beeline for the turnbuckle in order to push some more of Vancouver’s buttons as Facey begins dishing out some dual-middle finger salutes to his "admiring" public… Olsig instead prefers to take a seat on the nearest turnbuckle, to bask in the atmosphere of the occasion.

Richard: What a team, what a team of men! Three champions versus… how many titles do their opponents have, Nick? None?

Nick: That is correct.

Richard: Ha! This is gonna be a walk in the park! Not to mention the fact that there’s a girl on the other team…

"Passive" begins to fade out as the arena lights slowly come back into effect, a warm buzz of anticipation simmers around the arena as various chants of, "KAR-IN-A", "IGGY" and "TCHUUUUUUUUUU" echo around…

Nick: This atmosphere could be cut with a knife, while these three men prance around that ring like they own the place the real heroes are about to make their entrance… has there ever been a more dominant team assembled? Sixty-two PRIME wins between them, eight PRIME titles between them, one Dual Halo win, one Dual Halo runner-up, they placed sixth, third and second at Culture Shock this year… they are the three most popular superstars in this company…

Richard: Whoa, whoa, whoa! …I can read stats off a page too, y’know? My team has… like fifty wins between them or something, eight separate title reigns between them too, they currently have three championships, they placed like very well in the Dual Halo, too… they’re just so awesome it’s unreal…

The typically biased announce team is shut-up a little bit as the houselights again fade to black, causing the now-traditional PRIMEate response…

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

The mega-heavy introduction to "Pressure" by Staind is the perfect fan-response-aphrodisiac and so that is where we start, as Tchu’s entrance video rolls-up on the PRIME-a-TRON to an almost-deafening reaction from the Vancouver crowd…

TCHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!

Nick: Look at that expression on Killean Sirrajin’s face as the reaction for the "Inhuman Being" echoes around this place, he misses the adulation… he has to miss that respect…

Richard: BS man, Killean doesn’t care… who has the damn Uni Title?

"Pressure" continues until right before the lyrics kick-in and a pick-slide later, the upbeat funky guitar to "Surfing with the Alien" is occupying our eardrums… The music of Ignatius Lisieux is greeted with an exceptionally warm reaction as the previously blue lighting blends into a far camper shade of pink…

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Nick: Another huge reaction for the man who only last week technically "beat" his team-mate, Tchu, in order to gain number one contendership to the Universal Title… this team actually has far more fractions within it that Killean’s, which is a great surprise…

Joe Satriani’s guitar wails for a little while longer, but everything just stops before the classic line sends the Richmond faithful into raptures…

"SUPERCALIFRAGIALISTICWHENWEDROPWEGOBALLISTIC!"

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Nick: Will you listen to this!? Listen to the noise for the K-Wolf! I hope you can hear me at home folks, this place is LOUD… AND THERE THEY ARE!

Vince Howard: …and their opponents… first, from Dayton, Ohio and weighing in at two-hundred-and-forty-one pounds… the "Inhuman Being"… TCHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Richard: Booooooooooooooooo!!

The three faces appear side-by-side from under the PRIME-a-TRON, Tchu as the "glue-that-binds" in between his bickering partners, Karina to his right and Ignatius to his left… they all look extremely focused and surprisingly comfortable, considering what they are about to face.

Nick: Tchu taking centre-stage there, he probably is going to have to do his best to keep this team on the same wavelength tonight, to say there have been "issues" lately between Wolfenden and Lisieux would be an understatement…

Vince Howard: …his first partner… from Ville-Marie, Quebec, Canada and weighing in at two-hundred-and-thirty-nine pounds… the "MachiaVellian Protagonist"… "Eternal Sunrise"… IGNATIUSSSSSSSSSS LISSSSSSSSSIIIIEEEEEEEEEEUUUUUUUUUUUUUXXXXXXXXXX!!

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!


Stopping at the peak of the ramp, the three fan-favourites pause to wait for Karina’s announcement before making their way down towards the ring as "Pressure" by Staind returns to the loudspeakers to accompany them…

Nick: So are we going to do this, Richard? We’re drawing our lines in the sand on this one?

Richard: When do we ever not? I’m backing Team Sirrajin all the way!

Nick: Fine, as much as I like to remain impartial… *ahem*… I’ll be flying a flag for Team Wolfenden.

The "baddies" seem to be getting increasingly agitated at the extended entrance of their opponents, Killean stands stone-dead in the centre of the ring, staring down the aisle… Olsig is stretching himself out a little on the ropes… and Facey is, well… he’s "readjusting" his privates…

Vince Howard: …and their partner… from Albany, New York and weighing in at one-hundred-and-fifty-seven-pounds… she is the "K-Wolf"… KARRRRRRRINNNNNNNNAAAAAAAAAAA WOLFENNNNNNNNNNNDENNNNNNNNNN!!!

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Kari raises her arms in typically exuberant fashion as the tidal wave of appreciation sweeps her way, then without warning begins marching down the aisle… Tchu and Lisieux are a little slow to react, the French-Canadian scowling a little as he bursts into a light jog to catch up with her…

Richard: Oooh! Did you see that? A little bit of tension already in your little goody-goody team! I smell trouble for you!

Nick: I’ll be damned if those three superstars can co-exist less than the three egomaniacal idiots you’ve decided to back…

Banishing the thoughts of slapping Kari from his mind, Ignatius pulls off his pink tee-shirt and tosses it into the crowd as Tchu leads the team down by the ringside… not wasting a second, the "Inhuman Being" (stare locked solely on the "Supreme Machine") grips the bottom rope and drags himself up onto the apron as Lisieux and Wolfenden athletically spring-up there on either side of him.

Nick: Listen to the reaction to this stare down… these six men stand across from each other, locked in glares with each other… Olsig in front of Lisieux, Sirrajin in front of Tchu and Facey over from Karina… boy Bernie Roberts is gonna be a busy man tonight, that’s for sure!

"Pressure" begins fading away as the houselights return to full-beam and the PRIMEates are left trying to decide which member of the Wolfenden-Tchu-Lisieux team to offer their support to… Unable to decide, a "Killean Sucks" chant seems to be the sensible choice…

Richard: How dare they!!

Nick: What a scene we have here folks… Bernie Roberts is backing Sirrajin and co. up and it looks like Vangelus Olsig has been designated the starting role in this contest… but who is gonna take the lead for their opponents?

As Sirrajin and the Face-Eater make their respective exits from the ring, Olsig paces around the canvas hurriedly, mentally preparing himself for whoever he’s going to start the match off with… Over on the other side of the ring, Tchu seems to already be having to diffuse a minor quibble between Wolfenden and Lisieux as they disagree over who should start proceedings off…

Richard: More trouble in paradise, eh Nick? The ego on that team is going to destroy it… Sirrajin, Facey and Olsig are going to wipe the floor with those creeps…

Sirrajin turns to scowl at the crowd (who are still telling him he sucks) as Tchu convinces Lisieux to step-back onto the apron in order to allow Karina to start the match off… The French-Canadian duly obliges as the K-Wolf grips the top rope and does some impressive "bends" in order to limber up for the man she fought at Ultra Violence, two short weeks ago…

Nick: Something of an Ultra Violence repeat here for you folks, that controversial Intense Title match between these two was a huge talking point after that event and they’re about to get reacquainted here tonight on ReVolution Ninety-Five, live on FX when we come back!

I hope you just imagined a commercial break because we are back LIVE in Richmond, VA…

Nick: Ouch! Another hard snap kick by the K-Wolf and Vangelus Olsig is down to one knee… lookout! HANDSTAND 619!!

OOOOOOOOHHH!!

Nick: …quick cover, Roberts is in there!

One!

Richard: Nooooo!!

Two!

Nick: Broken by the Face-Eater! Get him out of there ref!

Seizing the advantage while Bernie Roberts cajoles the Tag Champion to exit the ring, Wolfenden slams another triple-shot of snap kicks into the ribcage of the rising Olsig… The Intense Champion fights them off and catapults himself back in the ropes, but Kari hits the deck…

Nick: Olsig back off the ropes… looking for a diving clothesline… Karina ducks it… spins… step-up enziguri and Olsig hits the mat once more!

"KAR-I-NA! KAR-I-NA!"

Killean pounds on the turnbuckle in frustration at the K-Wolf’s early dominance as Ignatius Lisieux nods to Tchu with an impressed smirk on his face, Karina shoots a quick glance towards her corner and stretches out a right arm, the French-Canadian eagerly obliges and tags into the match…

WOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

As the K-Wolf steps back through the ropes to take a short breather and chinwag with Tchu, Lisieux stomps down on the Intense Champion with some stiff right boots, Olsig attempts to crawl towards his corner, but the French-Canadian grips his boot and drags him back into the centre of the canvas…

Richard: Cheater! Olsig wanted to make a damn tag!

Nick: …falling elbow drop there by Ignatius Lisieux… and another one! And another one! Man, Olsig needs to tag out and give himself some breathing time!

He can’t right now, though, as Ignatius Lisieux has him by the hair and is dragging him over to his side of the ring… a few right hands are necessary in order to neutralise the wiggling of the Intense Champion, but Lisieux immediately lays out a hand for the "Inhuman Being" to smack…

TCHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!

Nick: Here comes the "Tchuminator"!! HARD right boot to the bread-basket…

As Ignatius Lisieux steps out to take his place alongside his least favourite former female Universal Champion, Tchu goes to town on the "Prince of Delusion"… He hooks him in a front face-lock…

Nick: Snap suplex from the former Universal Champion! Cover!!

One!

Richard: Help him out Facey!!

Two!!

Richard: HELP HIM!!

Nick: Easy kickout from Vangelus Olsig!! I think Tchu was trying to be a little too opportune with that one! The Intense Champion is still isolated on the wrong side of the- OH!!! He just raked Tchu’s eyes, dammit! He’s scrambling for the tag…

Killean and the Face-Eater both have their arms eagerly outstretched, facing a temporarily-blinded Tchu is probably the only time either would want to get into a ring with him - Olsig makes it over to them and slaps down on Facey’s right hand…

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

Richard: Business is about to pick up, King! –I mean, Nick…

The quick and nimble Tag Champion wastes absolutely no time as he dives across the canvas and sticks sliding dropkick into the left knee of the "Inhuman Being"… Tchu stumbles a little bit as Facey fires back across the ring and hits him in the knee one more time… Lisieux bashes on the turnbuckle to drum up some support for his partner, but Face-Eater hits another sliding dropkick, knocking the "Anti-PRIME" down to one knee!

Nick: An impressive entry by the Face-Eater here, he’s relentlessly attacking that left knee of Tchu! OH! Big slap to the face by the Tag-Team Champion… that has to be a big mistake… OH! Another one!

Richard: This man has balls of solid rock, Nick – balls of solid rock!

Nick: FLYING HEADSCISSORS FROM FACEY!! COVER!!

One!

Richard: Yess! He’s got him!!

Two!!

Nick: Kickout by Tchu!!

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

The Face-Eater looks a little worried as Tchu lets out a loud "growl" and slams his right fist down on the mat… the Tag-Champion immediately looks up towards his partners, but neither want any part of the "Inhuman Being" right now…

Nick: Facey better turn around here because Tchu is up and he does not look happy!

Richard: Run Facey, run!!! Don’t turn- no don’t… ARGH!

Nick: HUGE SPINEBUSTER FROM TCHU!!

Facey is right back up, though, more out of rebound adrenaline than anything else…

Nick: Another one!!! No way is Facey getting up from that one!!

One!

Richard: Aargh! Why did you turn around!? I told you not to!

Two!!

Nick: God-dammit, Killean breaks the fall with a hard shot to the back of Tchu’s head!

Sirrajin backs out of the ring with a smile on his face, pleased to have got an unreturned shot on his old nemesis, both men inside of the ring are now down… but Tchu is considerably closer to his corner than the Face-Eater is…

Nick: Karina and Lisieux both have outstretched arms… Wolfenden tags in!

WOOOOOOOO!!

Lisieux mutters under his breath a little bit as Karina springs majestically over the ropes…

Nick: Springboard crescent kick from Wolfenden!!

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHH!!

Richard: God-dammit, this is NOT going well so far… we need some more team unity out here!

Nick: I’m amazed at how well Tchu, Lisieux and Wolfenden have been working together so far… we’ve barely seen anything of Sirrajin in this match, you think he’s trying to keep a low profile!?

Bernie Roberts checks on the fallen Tag Champion, but Wolfenden slightly pushes him away as she prepares another attack… this action riles the French-Canadian up a little bit and he shouts *something* in her general direction, but she surprisingly chooses to ignore it…

Nick: Uh-oh… Karina taking a risk here!!

Ignatius Lisieux looks on with a worried expression as Vangelus Olsig hovers dangerously in the vicinity of the K-Wolf… Kari, though, decides to ignore the warnings and mount the turnbuckle anyway…

Nick: Watch out Kari- OHHHH!! Olsig just pushed Karina Wolfenden down to the outside!!!

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Richard: Ouch! Did you see that landing!? She landed right on her left wrist!

Nick: Look at the expression on Ignatius’ face, he’s worried and he’s angry… that landing looked bad for the K-Wolf, Tchu is out there checking on her… what’s Lisieux doing!?

Realising that he can’t afford to give the Face-Eater any breathing time, and seeing that Bernie Roberts is occupied with berating Vangelus Olsig, the French-Canadian dives over the top rope with a catapult senton bomb onto the Tag-Team Champion!!

Richard: HE’S CHEATING AGAIN! SHENANIGANS!!!

With Roberts still occupied the "MVP" slams some unforgiving right boots into the ribcage of the Face-Eater (mainly out of frustration with a certain someone) and then retreats back over to his corner… to cheers, amazingly.

Richard: Oh I do not believe this… if that was Olsig or Killean then these idiots would be booing them like there was no tomorrow!

Nick: Well as much as we’re used to seeing Lisieux follow the rules, I guess he realised something had to be done there in order to keep the Face-Eater grounded…

With Wolfenden back up now on the outside and shaking out her wrist a little bit (while looking in agony, it must be said) Tchu gives her a leg-up back into the ring and then beckons her over to tag in the French-Canadian…

Nick: …well it seems like Karina Wolfenden thinks she’s good to continue in there, but Ignatius Lisieux is desperate to be tagged-in…

The French-Canadian shakes the ropes in frustration as Tchu tries to calm him down a little bit; meanwhile Karina is reacquainting herself with the man who eats faces…

"KAR-I-NA! KAR-I-NA!"

The K-Wolf shakes her wrist a little bit once more with an agonised scowl on her face, before slamming some snap-kicks off into the ribs of the Face-Eater… Vangelus Olsig yells out to try and encourage the Tag-Team Champion to recompose himself, but the "Negasonic Lupine" is relentless!

Nick: Incredible fortitude on display here by the K-Wolf, that wrist is most definitely damaged… but she’s battling onwards… wait a second… GET OLSIG OUT OF THERE, DAMMIT!!

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHH!!!

Nick: DAMMIT! Vangelus Olsig just swung a boot right into that wrist!!

Karina yells out in agony as Bernie Roberts interjects as quickly as he possibly can to remove the Intense Champion from the equation…

Richard: How about that for some leverage? Olsig is a genius… and look who’s back up now, too!!

Nick: Ohhh! Bulldog to Karina Wolfenden by the Face-Eater! He’s not done yet, though…

He certainly isn’t, as he keeps a tight hold on the K-Wolf’s face and drags her back up to her feet…

Nick: Here he goes again… another bulldog to Karina!!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Nick: …He’s still holding on… OUCH! Third bulldog by the Tag-Champion! Hooks the leg!

One!

Richard: This man is amazing!!

Two!!

Nick: Ignatius Lisieux breaks the fall!

The French-Canadian scowls a little bit at the situation and makes his enforced exit from the ring, allowing the Face-Eater to remain on the offensive…

Nick: Reverse face-lock from Facey… OHHHH! HUGE elevated reverse DDT from the Tag-Team Champion! He’s ready to tag… Olsig is already halfway up the turnbuckle… MY, OH MY! Senton Bomb from Vangelus Olsig!!

BOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Nick: Hooks the legs!!

ONE!!!

Richard: Facey is blocking Ignatius’ route!!

TWO!!!


Nick: Tchu enters the ring!!!

THR-NO!!!

Nick: He breaks the fall! Look at Lisieux and the Face-Eater… they’re staring each other down, the Tag-Team Champion is goading the "MVP" here… did he just mention something about Johnny Noble!? Bernie Roberts is in between them… but Facey lands a damn slap on Ignatius Lisieux anyway!!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

The French-Canadian scowls at the former Internet Champion, who laughs all the way back to his corner, but Bernie Roberts ushers both he and Tchu back to their corner as Vangelus Olsig is allowed the time to keep Karina Wolfenden in a grounded position.

Richard: Seems to me like ego has gotten the better of your little team out there, Nick… Karina should have tagged out as soon as she took that awkward fall.

Nick: Who can really say, Rich? Lisieux wanted her to tag out, but it was Karina’s prerogative to continue… only she knew how bad the pain was.

Frustration is evident on the face of the K-Wolf’s illustrious partners, but she’s a little to pre-occupied at the moment to even be given that an ounce of thought as Vangelus Olsig has an unrelenting wrist-lock tapped-in on her currently weakest area… She screams out a little bit in agony and tries to swoop some acrobatic right boots in the vague direction of the Intense Champion, but he’s quick and alert enough to duck them… before rolling over and tightening the hold further!

"KAR-I-NA! KAR-I-NA! KAR-I-NA!"

Nick: The K-Wolf is all kind of trouble here, she’s on the wrong side of the ring and Olsig is relentlessly attacking that injured left wrist… Ignatius Lisieux and Tchu are trying to encourage support from the Richmond crowd but I think it’s gonna take more than that…

Richard: Squeeze on it Olsig, squeeze on it… just look at how composed and relaxed our Universal Champion is in this match, Nick… what a picture of brilliance.

Nick: Well I beg to differ, but whatever…

Still screaming a little bit as Olsig puts more torque onto the wrist, Wolfenden avidly shakes her head as Bernie Roberts asks her if she "submits", Olsig lets out a sadistic little grin as Killean Sirrajin breaks new ground by legitimately offering his right hand for the tag…

Nick: Oh would you look at that… he’s done nothing for the entire match and now when Karina Wolfenden is at her lowest ebb our "brilliant" Universal Champion wants to get in there with her…

Richard: The intelligence of this man is unrivalled, what a true asset to this company!

With Olsig not seeing the offer immediately, the Canadian yells out towards him and the Intense Champion duly obliges in dragging the hurting K-Wolf to the corner in order to make the big tag to the big dog…

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Nick: Well that reaction tells you everything you need to know, folks… Killean Sirrajin has just entered into this match and he has an almost-disabled K-Wolf to play with…

The huge Universal Champion lifts up the K-Wolf and smiles at her…

Nick: …oh this doesn’t look good…

Richard: Taxi for Wolfenden!

Nick: MAN, OH MAN! HUGE POWERBOMB FROM SIRRAJIN!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Tchu and Lisieux look on with worried expressions as Sirrajin drops down for the cover… Facey and Olsig burst through the ropes in order to block any potential pinfall break-ups…

ONE!!!

Richard: This has to be it, Lisieux and Tchu are slugging it out with Facey and Olsig… they can’t make it!!

TWO!!!!!


Nick: Dammit Karina, kickout!!!

THREE!!!!! NO!!!!

Nick: YESSSS! FOOT ON THE ROPES!!

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

Nick: Karina stays alive, but chaos reigns supreme in Richmond!!

The crowd are brought to their feet as Tchu and the Face-Eater slug it out relentlessly with one another and the same goes for Ignatius Lisieux and Vangelus Olsig, Killean Sirrajin is left with the hurting Karina Wolfenden…

Nick: It was bound to happen sooner or later, but Bernie Roberts has officially just lost control of this match… it’s pandemonium out there!!! OHHHH!! Huge knife-edge chop by Lisieux…

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

Tchu follows suit…

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

Nick: Face-Eater and Vangelus Olsig are in trouble now… Tchu and Lisieux grip hands… DOUBLE CLOTHESLINE! LOOK AT KILLEAN!

Realising that it has suddenly just become three-on-one, the Universal Champion ducks out under the bottom rope and rolls to the outside in order to take a breather.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Nick: What a damn coward that man has become! Is this what Tyler Nelson wants!? A damn coward as our champion!?

Bernie Roberts begins ushering Tchu and Ignatius out of the ring as Sirrajin paces around on the outside a little bit, once the "Inhuman Being" and the "MVP" are backed-up he rolls right back into the ring in order to continue victimising the K-Wolf…

Nick: I’m worried for Karina here- WAIT A SECOND! ROLL-UP!!

ONE!!!

Richard: For the love of Hoyt, no!!

TWO!!!


Nick: She’s got him!!!

THR-NO!!!

Richard: No!!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

Nick: Sirrajin powers out!!

Tchu applauds the audacity of the K-Wolf from the apron and the French-Canadian beside him can’t help but look impressed, too… Both men begin calling on the Dual Halo winner to make the tag, but she has three opponents in her way before she can even think about doing so…

Nick: Karina Wolfenden is surrounded in the middle of the ring here; she needs some back-up in there… Roberts, get some control of this… she’s a sitting duck…

Still heavily favouring the swollen left wrist, Kari looks up defiantly and motions "come get some" to the three champions that surround her…

"KAR-I-NA! KAR-I-NA! KAR-I-NA!"

Lisieux shakes his head with a wry smile as Kari dives forward and slams her shoulders into Olsig’s stomach… Facey and Sirrajin round on her from behind, though, as Roberts blocks Tchu and the French-Canadian from offering any kind of support…

Nick: Bernie Roberts is struggling in there… it’s a big ask to keep two PRIME superstars under control by yourself, never mind six! Karina is paying the price of that in there… OH!! DOUBLE POWERBOMB ON KARINA!!

Tchu’s head drops as the K-Wolf is yet again dropped to the canvas with a high-impact move, glee spreads over the face of the Tag-Team Champion as Sirrajin sends him out onto the apron and then tags him in…

Nick: Sirrajin with a tag to the Face-Eater and once again Karina has found herself in trouble here… I don’t know how she’s still going after the punishment she’s been subjected to here.

Richard: And to think Ignatius Lisieux was calling her the weakest link of the chain!

With Olsig joining Sirrajin back on the outside of the ropes, Tchu and Lisieux wear helpless expressions as Facey rains down on the "Negasonic Lupine" with some stiff shots… The Richmond crowd offers up some more futile support for the K-Wolf as Tchu and Lisieux enter into a dialogue about a potential plan…

Nick: Looks like those two men are trying to think their way out of this one, but it’s basically down to Karina Wolfenden in there… she’s the legal competitor…

Richard: And they’d never break the sacred tag rules now would they, Nick?

Nick: Heck no!

Sweating a bit and looking decidedly ruffled, Karina Wolfenden was getting a little bit tired of being the lone target, she knew she needed to pull a rabbit out of a hat – and soon… that, however was a little easier thought than done as she’d taken something of a beating and she currently had the man who eats faces stomping away on her…

Nick: Olsig and Sirrajin are still relatively fresh out there, same goes for Tchu and Iggy… it’s really the two competitors in the ring who have done most of the work out there tonight!

Richard: The two smallest people in the match are forced to take all the heat… what a surprise!

Nick: KARINA HOOKS A LEG!! Where did that come from!?

"KAR-I-NA! KAR-I-NA!"

Nick: Facey is trying to struggle free, but she’s wrapped her legs around his… MY GOD! WHAT ATHLETICISM! She just sprung up off her elbows and drove her head into Facey’s jaw!!

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH!!

Richard: Roberts get in there, that cannot be legal!!

Nick: Both competitors down on the canvas! We’re in the classic straight-shootout now… who can make it to their corner first!? Is that… is Facey’s mouth bleeding!?

It sure is… his lower lip has been busted open by the vicious K-Wolf headbutt… it was a desperate measure for a desperate time and she’s now in there with a fighting chance…

"KAR-I-NA! KAR-I-NA!"

Nick: Look at Tchu and Lisieux stretching out for a tag, both of these men want to get in there so badly… Killean Sirrajin certainly doesn’t share the enthusiasm, but Olsig is ready for the tag!! They’re almost… almost… there… YES!! LISIEUX TAGS IN! OLSIG’S IN TOO!

BOOM! Both men meet full-on in the centre of the ring, face-power dictating that Ignatius Lisieux decks the Intense Champion to the mat with a strong clothesline… Olsig bounces right back up and ducks the second clothesline attempt… Lisieux dodges an attempted spinning heel kick and FLIES into the "Prince of Delusion" with a superkick!

Nick: GOOD LORD! Olsig just got his lights put out!

Karina and Face-Eater are still both down, winded on the mat… While Lisieux is left standing in a face-off with the "Supreme Machine", his old friend, Killean Sirrajin… the French-Canadian tips his fellow countryman a nod and a wink and invites him into the ring as Tchu yells out for the tag… Lisieux ignores the request and takes a couple of steps back for Sirrajin to enter the ring as Bernie Roberts dives over to block the incoming "Inhuman Being".

Nick: Lisieux is offering Sirrajin in there for a fair right… remember these two men will go one-on-one for the Universal Title at ReVolution One-Hundred and these PRIMEates are rabid to see them go at it here!!

"IGGY! IGGY! IGGY!"

Sirrajin returns the smile to the French-Canadian and slowly steps through the ropes, shaking his head out a little bit to loosen up and remove the cobwebs… He enters the ring and paces around a little bit - with Bernie Roberts still holding the rabid "Tchuminator" back…

Nick: The Universal Champion and the number one contender to his title… lock-up in the centre of the ring!!

Richard: Kill him, Killean!!

A sound explosion shakes the arena as the two titans of the industry lock horns in the centre of the ring, Killean’s sixty pound weight advantage giving him the immediate strength advantage… he backs Lisieux up into the corner of the ring and slowly releases the hold, taking a couple of steps back and inviting the French-Canadian back towards him…

Nick: I can’t believe this… Killean is… he’s actually playing fair!

Richard: He’s under strict orders not to!

…Tchu snarls at the "Supreme Machine" as Lisieux heads right back in for a second lock-up, he fakes and spins around the back of Sirrajin, immediately trying to lift him for a German… Sirrajin’s power allows him to block the attempt and he swings his upper-body around, attempting to escape the grip, but Lisieux clings on in there…

Nick: Ignatius Lisieux trying to get the leverage… he’s… he’s got it… wrestling takedown from the French-Canadian… but wait, Olsig is back up… OH MAN! Piledriver to Ignatius Lisieux by the Intense Champion!! COVER!!

ONE!!!

Richard: Lisieux isn’t moving… this is it… this is it!!

TWO!!!


Nick: Tchu enters the ring!!!

THRE-NO!!!

Nick: Falling headbutt to Olsig! He breaks the fall! Look at Tchu… he wants a piece of the champion! He’s calling him into the ring!!

Sirrajin’s eyes widen as only Bernie Roberts stands between him and his nemesis, the fans rise to a crescendo of noise as the two men lock eyesight with one another… the atmosphere could be cut with a knife.

Nick: Oh man Tchu is rabid here, he has a chance to get his hands on Killean Sirrajin inside of the PRIME ring and he wants some… What!? Sirrajin is actually entering the ring! Wait a second!

Richard: GENIUS!

Nick: Killean is entering the ring - Tchu is ready… but FACEY, FACEY!! ARGH! SPIKE DDT TO TCHU!!

Carnage reigns supreme in Richmond! Karina is down on the apron, Lisieux is down in the corner of the ring and is the legal man - Tchu has now joined him on the canvas…

Richard: Team Sirrajin are dominating here!!

Nick: Olsig and Lisieux are the legal men… but Facey and Sirrajin aren’t going anywhere… they’re going to work on the "Inhuman Being" while Olsig makes a move for Lisieux!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

The crowd responds accordingly to the heel-domination as Tchu is beaten from pillar-to-post by his nemesis and the Face-Eater, while Vangelus Olsig stomps away on the French-Canadian…

Nick: What did Karina just do there… did she just tag herself in!? Bernie Roberts makes the signal, Karina is in there!! I don’t think anyone else saw it… where the hell is she going!?

Richard: OLSIG! FACEY! KILLEAN!? LOOKOUT!!!

A wave of anticipation sweeps the arena as the valiant K-Wolf drags herself onto the turnbuckle, target: Vangelus Olsig…

"KAR-I-NA! KAR-I-NA!"

Nick: GOOD GOD ALMIGHTY!! GOOD GOD ALMIGHTY!!

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHH!!

Nick: Dragonrana by the K-Wolf… Sirrajin and the Face-Eater are still occupied… Olsig is the legal man… she somehow hooks the legs in…

ONE!!!

Richard: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

TWO!!!


Nick: KARINA WOLFENDEN…

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

Nick: …HAS DONE IT!!!

WINNERS: IGNATIUS LISIEUX, KARINA WOLFENDEN & TCHU

"Velocity Shift" by Overseer starts up on the loudspeakers and Vince Howard stands up on the outside with a microphone to his lips… Killean Sirrajin and The Face-Eater stand, stunned and look up to see Bernie Roberts raising Karina’s hand…

Vince Howard: Here are your winners… the team of Karina Wolfenden… Ignatius Lisieux… and Tchuuuuu!!

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Celebrations erupt in Richmond as the K-Wolf flops down to her knees beside the recovering Ignatius Lisieux… he looks at her with an impressed smirk, but then is forced into action as Sirrajin and the Face-Eater continue to go for Tchu… upon seeing the impending arrival of the K-Wolf and the "MVP", the two champions high-tail it through the ropes to collect their respective championships from the timekeeper’s table as Olsig recovers in the corner of the ring…

Nick: Through it all, Karina Wolfenden has pulled out a win for her team… beside me sits a speechless and crestfallen Richard Parker, I have been Nick Stuart and we’ll see you next week, same time, same network… for ReVolution Ninety-Six! Goodnight folks!

Our final image is one of Karina Wolfenden and Ignatius Lisieux dragging the "Inhuman Being" up to his feet in between the two of them, he turns to both and grins a little bit before dragging their arms upwards triumphantly into the air, the fans respond accordingly with a huge reception for the three heroes as the shot fades to black.

For an hour and fifty three minutes, Chet Worth was the model of attention. His gaze rarely left that of Tyler Nelson's office, and more specifically, the body of Tyler Nelson itself.

And yet, as soon as he realized his shoe was untied, it gave Nelson and Poteet all the time they needed. As Worth bent down, Poteet launched into action, grabbing Worth by the back of the head, and throwing him face first on the concrete floor. From around the corner, the personal bodyguards of Danny Ferguson, Jim Pibb and Dimetreus Fuqueiawytas emerged, and joined in the fray, hitting Worth with heavy boots to the back of his head and shoulders.

Worth never knew what hit him.

Nelson: Get him up!

Poteet and Fuqueiawytas lifted Worth off the cement, the corner of his mouth bleeding. Worth glared at Nelson with contempt in his eyes as Nelson launched a fist to the site of Worth's head. Worth oofed as another fist met his chest, knocking the wind out of him

Nelson: Where's the ticket, Chet? You - search him.

Tyler Nelson pointed at Jim Pibb who moved in quickly, frisking Chet Worth. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, handing it to Nelson. A sly grin came across Nelson's face as he reached into the billfold, expecting to pull the golden ticket himself. Instead, a five dollar bill was in his hand, and nothing else.

Nelson tore the wallet apart, throwing credit cards, identification, and a picture of Chet Worth as a child with his mother from just before she passed away.

Nelson: Where is it, Chet? Don't tell me you rolled it up and you're carrying it like a drug mule.

Worth shook his head.

Worth: I... never brought it... with me.

Uh oh. Nelson went absolutely ballistic. His eyes, had this been a cartoon, would have had mushroom clouds explode in his pupils as smoke poured out of his ears. A quick uppercut from the CEO knocked his head back, and Poteet and Fu...u...Fuckthisname, went to work, kicking and punching the Dual Halo Winner.

Nelson: So, let me get this straight. All these wrestlers thought they had a chance to get your ticket, and you didn't even bother bringing it with you?

Worth couldn't answer. He was too busy being beaten down. Still incensed, Tyler Nelson grabbed the camera from the cameraman and pointed it at the bleeding face of Chet Worth.

Nelson: Chet Worth, you've decided to play games with Tyler Nelson. You should have learned weeks ago that there's one thing you don't do, and that's screw with me. I ordered you to defend your Golden Ticket here in PRIME and throughout the world, and you haven't done so. But, all isn't lost, Chet. Because I'm determined to prove that this company doesn't need someone like you anymore.

And then, it started. Nelson's rage had built past the boiling point. He was about to take action.

Nelson:Two weeks ago, I made the decision that any PRIME superstar could take the ticket from Chet. Well, now I'm expanding that. If you're a fan of PRIME, and you've ever dreamt about being in his place, now is your chance. All you need to do is enter Chet Worth's home, and take that ticket. And if this is another one of Chet's tricks, then I want each and every one of you fans to hound him until he's just a broken...

A kick from Tyler Nelson met the chest of Chet Worth with an "oof"

Nelson: ...battered...

Another kick.

Nelson: ...shell...

Kick:

Nelson: ...of what...

Kick

Nelson: ...he used to be. How are you going to find him?

Tyler reaches into his jacket pocket, and pulls out a small peice of paper.

Well, Chet Worth lives in Parma, Ohio. His address...

Chet Worth roared to life, trying to get at Nelson, but was well secured by the long named bodyguard and Clint Poteet.

Nelson: His address, is 2605 Lincoln Ave. So, Cleveland Area fans, you'd better hurry before the Toledo and Columbus fans get there. All you have to do, is bring me the ticket next week at the Mellon Arena in Pittsburgh. That's it. Do that, you're the newest PRIMEate.

With a chuckle, Nelson looked behind his shoulder, and grinned.

Nelson: Oh, and say hello to his father while you're there.

Poteet and The Bodyguard With The Insane Last Name That's Too Long To Type Even Though This Is Longer And I'm Trying To Prove A Point threw the defeated, dejected Worth to the ground, where Nelson laid one more kick to Worth's chest, before abandoning him and the camera.

Worth slid down the wall, his face a mere 18 inches from the camera. His finger went into his mouth, and he coughed hard. He opened his hand, and there, folded neatly, was a golden square that was just under his tongue.

Worth: I... lied...