Nick: Ladies and gentlemen welcome to the Rupp Arena here in Lexington, Kentucky, you’ve joined us just in time for our opening match of the evening which will see Adam, Vangelus Olsig and Damien Cruz square-off in a three-way "capture the flag" match that has a definite theme to it…

Richard: …THE THEME IS COUNTRIES!!!

Nick: Bravo, Richard… Bravo!

Richard: I WIN!!

Nick: The competitors are already more-or-less out here, Adam is the last to enter and he’s nearly reached the squared-circle… Wesley James is your match official and there’s three ladders positioned around the ring, each decorated in the colours of the flag of each man’s country… I think you can guess for yourself what needs to be done to win this match.

Richard: POUND, POUND, POUND! BASH, BASH, BASH!

Nick: Thank-you, Bam-Bam.

"Won’t get Fooled Again" by The Who begins to fade away as Adam slides into the squared-circle under the bottom-rope… straight into a solid right-hand from Vangelus Olsig!!

Nick: Olsig wasting no time here and giving no thanks to the man who helped to "save" him in the two-thousand-six Dual Halo!

Richard: Manners are for morons, Nick… Olsig is probably still mad about losing the Intense Title to that pot-smoking joke-a-thon Nova…

The Scotsman staggers back a little bit as Olsig reigns into him with some right hands, a quick change of approach from the Colombian sees chops becoming the offensive order of the day, but Adam’s near forty-pound weight advantage sees him manage to get a couple of solid forearm blocks to protect himself, before he grabs the "Ariel Diva" by his suitably girly hair and spins him back into the corner…

Nick: Adam turns the momentum full-circle and now HE’S the one on the offensive here… Olsig sucks in hard as one shot hits his mid-section, then another shot… he’s taking some serious punishment from our Scottish competitor here… but where the heck is Damien… ah!

Richard: Cruz the first man to show any kind of brains in this match-up, probably quite an unsurprising turn of events in all honesty, but he’s back in the ring with his Mexican ladder and he’s looking to take this one early!

Nick: Great thinking from Damien Cruz… with Colossus just ten days away it makes sense to me to want to stay as fresh as possible as there’s rumours of a HUGE opening match at the big one which could lead to a title shot for the winner…

The silver-haired fox (otherwise known as Adam) finishes pounding-away on the now-groggy Vangelus Olsig and immediately spins to scan the area for his other opponent… His eyes flash open a little wider as he sees Cruz placing the ladder underneath the Mexican flag and the military-esque superstar wastes no time in redressing the balance as he steams towards him…

Nick: WRATH FROM ADAM!!!

"OOOOOHHHHH!!!"

Richard: Already!?

Nick: Looks like all of these men in here want this match to be over as quickly as possible, Damien Cruz is pole-axed on the canvas and he’s struggling for air in there… Wesley James is down to check on him and Adam is making a beeline for his own ladder!!

Richard: Olsig, wake-up!!

Nick: He’s already awake, Rich… LOOK-OUT BELOW!!!

"OOOOOHHHHH!!!"

Nick: SLINGSHOT TO THE OUTSIDE BY VANGELUS OLSIG!!! WHAT A DAMN MOVE!!

Adam is struck on the back of the temple and his momentum carries him directly into the plexi-glass… the fans in the front row gasp as the Scotsman’s face smashes into the barrier in front of them, smearing blood from his now-broken lips across their viewing area. Olsig shakes his head out a little bit to remove a few cobwebs before turning his attention to the extremely pretty Colombian ladder and looking up to his native flag with more than a little intent in his eyes…

Richard: Let’s go Olsig… Nick, as long as Adam doesn’t win this match I’m going to be a happy man. Is there anyway that this could end with Cruz AND Olsig winning and Adam getting nothing?

Nick: Fortunately, I think there can be only one… and if Adam and Damien Cruz don’t gather their composure quickly then that one could very well be the longest-reigning Intense Champion PRIME has ever had… the man from Bogotá, Colombia, who is already halfway up the ladder…. OH MY GOD!!!

"HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!"

Nick: DAMIEN CRUZ JUST SUPERKICKED VANGELUS OLSIG OFF THE LADDER AND OVER THE TOP ROPE!!

Richard: DAMMIT CRUZ!! You and Olsig should be working together, not against each other! But man, that was perhaps the most awesome thing I’ve seen all night…

Nick: Well it is just the opening three minutes of the opening match you’ve seen so far…

Richard: Details…

Nick: The state of play is as follows, folks, although you can see for yourself… Adam and Vangelus Olsig are laid-out on the outside of the ring in two equally-painful-looking piles of body and a still-choked Damien Cruz is scrambling around with his ladder inside of the ring, desperate to get out of Lexington with another win to his PRIME record…

Richard: Nick, the interesting facts…

Nick: Oh yeah, in honour of the match-style… we…

Richard: I have one about Mexico!

Nick: …go ahead…

Richard: …Mexicans are a drain on the US economy and they’re taking all our jobs.

While Nick Stuart holds his head in his hands at the broadcast booth, Damien Cruz has just successfully erected (hehe) his Mexican-styled ladder underneath his Mexican-styled flag… particularly ambivalent to everyone in the match, the Kentuckians in the crowd aren’t exactly making their preferences well-known, there’s a mish-mash of encouragement for Adam and Olsig to recover as quickly as possible, but nothing truly decisive. Oblige they do, somehow… as they began to come to their senses and see just exactly what is going on.

Nick: …folks, I must apologise for my broadcast colleague’s earlier statement… but let’s all just forget about that and get back to the action! Damien Cruz is halfway up his ladder and halfway to glory, but Adam and Olsig have recovered…

Richard: I smell an impending train-wreck.

Nick: …I think you’re smelling might be correct!!!

"WOOOOOO!!!"

Adam is pursuing Damien Cruz from behind (what’s new there!? Muahahaha!) as the "Prince of Delusion" climbs the opposite side of the ladder… Cruz aims some Lucha-Libre kicks in the direction of the Scotsman, but he manages to dodge them and find himself into a rear-waistlock position. Olsig’s sheer speed sees him at the top of the ladder and with nowhere to go but down as he pounds away furiously on the "Latin Assassin’s" forehead…

Nick: Adam with a rear-waistlock, Damien Cruz is clinging onto that ladder for dear-life… it’s wobbling… it’s… OH MY!!!

"OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH!!!"

"HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!"

Nick: GERMAN SUPLEX FROM THE TOP OF THAT LADDER!!! CRUZ’ NECK COULD BE BROKEN!!

Richard: I think that might be the least of his worries… what the hell is Vangelus Olsig doing!? GRAB THE TITLE, MORON!

Nick: He can’t, Rich, that’s not his ladder! MY GOD!!!
"OOOOOOOHHHHHHH!!!"


Nick: MOONSAULT BY OLSIG!! ONTO BOTH OF HIS OPPONENTS!! FROM THE TOP OF A DAMN LADDER!!

Wesley James even gasps as Olsig lands on the Mexican and the Scotsman… the young official is quickly down to check on his three competitors and has no choice but to administer the dreaded ten-count…

"ONE!"

Nick: All three men laid-out in a crumpled heap in the corner of this wrestling ring and I am yet to find a moment to breathe in this match, what a contest!

"TWO!"

Richard: It can’t end like this! If it ends like this then Adam hasn’t lost… and I’m not gonna be a happy bunny if Adam doesn’t lose!

"THREE!"

Nick: None of the three competitors have even moved a muscle here, and I wish I could say I was surprised. We’ve only been going for six minutes but each man has risked life and limb to win this match… and with Colossus Three only ten days down the line, too!

"FOUR!"

Richard: Some would call it bravery; others would go so far as to call these men heroic… I prefer to call them all idiots.

"FIVE!"

Nick: That’s your prerogative, Rich, but these three guys have come out here with the intention of putting on one hell of a show for these PRIMEates in Kentucky and they’ve delivered so far… Olsig is stirring into life - this might not be over yet!

"SIX!"

Richard: He might be stirring, but he’s still not up… he needs to at least make it to his knees before that idiot Zebra is going to stop the count!

"SEVEN!"

Nick: Adam and Cruz have no right to even be mobile here after the punishment they’ve just taken, Olsig is unsurprisingly the first man to reach a seated-position… but still the count rolls on!

"EIGHT!"

Richard: Jesus Christ Olsig, will you just get up already!?

"NI-!"

"WOOOOOO!"

Nick: Olsig is up… and so is Adam… spear-takedown from the "Number One Son"!!

Adam drives Olsig down onto the canvas and unleashes a flurry of right hands to his left cheek; the Colombian yells out and spins the momentum so that he is in the dominant position… The Scotsman tries to cover up, but Olsig finds a way through as he unloads… Cruz shakes some cobwebs out of his head over on the other side of the ring and doesn’t take a moment to think before driving his body with exceptional force towards his two opponents…

Nick: Low dropkick to Vangelus Olsig from Damien Cruz!!

Cruz now takes the initiative as he crouches over Adam and begins wailing-down with shots of his own, the Scotsman groans and grunts loudly before gripping the ropes with his right hand and dragging himself towards them… he tries valiantly to ignore the shots he’s taken as he grips Cruz under the calves and heaves upwards…

Richard: How the hell!?

Nick: Adam is elevating Damien Cruz… OLSIG DROPKICKS HIM THROUGH THE ROPES!!!

Richard: Adam… Olsig… working together!?

Nick: I’m not sure if that was intentional teamwork there, Rich… I think it was just a case of being in the right place at the right time… and the two certainly don’t seem like best of buddies now.

Olsig snarls towards Adam, who motions for him to "come get some"… the fans rise up into a frenzy of anticipation as the Colombian motions to accept, but Adam turns tail and slides out underneath the bottom rope, headed impatiently for his blue-and-white ladder. Olsig grins a little and picks up his own ladder from the corner of the ring before positioning it perfectly underneath the Colombian flag…

Nick: I’m not sure what the hell Adam is thinking here… but he just slid out of the ring and allowed Vangelus Olsig a clear sight of victory here! OUCH! Adam drives his ladder into the temple of Damien Cruz… Olsig is starting up the ladder!!

Richard: INCOMING!!! TIMBERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!

CRUNCH

Adam drives his ladder into the knee of the "Prince of Delusion" who yells out in agony as his own ladder begins ever-so-slightly wobbling… the "Number One Son" takes a few steps back and drives forwards again into the Colombian… this time it’s one blow too many!!

"OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!!!"

Nick: He’s going… he’s… he’s HELD ON!! Adam didn’t see! How in God’s name!?

Richard: Vangelus Olsig may have just done the greatest thing I’ve seen all night! How on Earth did he do that!?

Nick: Simply amazing, truly brilliant… but Adam is climbing already!!! Olsig might be too far to make any difference from there… BUT CRUZ WON’T BE!!!

Cruz slides under the bottom rope and ripping speed, driving himself right towards Adam’s ladder… he jumps halfway up it and meets Adam at the very top, greeting him with some very stiff blows to the forehead. The Scotsman rolls backwards a little, stunned by Cruz’ athleticism and he has no answer as the Mexican somehow engineers himself into a sunset-flip position…

Nick: POWERBOMB FROM THE LADDER BY DAMIEN CRUZ!!!

"OOOOOHHHHH!!!"

Richard: Adam just nearly went through the canvas with that one… it’s a shame he didn’t, really!

Adam and Cruz are now down on the canvas, all three ladders are in the ring, and Vangelus Olsig is still valiantly clinging to the tip of his own, trying to engineer it back into an upright position…

Nick: Olsig is really putting on a show out here in Kentucky… he’s using his leverage to tip this ladder back up into a vertical position and he’s almost damn-near done it… the ladder is set-up!!!

Richard: Do it Olsig… can he even reach from there!?

Adam’s ladder-pounding antics of earlier have pushed the Colombian decidedly further away from his flag than he would have hoped, he stretches out his fingertips as far as possible, but the flag still remains over a foot away from his grasp… taking no more than a moment to ponder, Olsig changes tact and delicately positions himself on the very tip of the ladder… it wobbles to the left, and then to the right, as he outstretches his arms for extra balance… the fans begin a "Let’s Go Adam!" chant, but this is all about the former Intense Champion…

Nick: Vangelus Olsig has this match won if he could just SOMEHOW get himself onto that flag… he’s surely not gonna jump for it… if he misses he could totally end his say in this match entirely and he might even endanger his Colossus Three prospects!

Richard: Go for it, Olsig… you’ve got NOTHING to lose anymore! DO IT!

The Colombian flicks his hair out of his eyes and bends his knees as a collective "gasp" surges around the arena… he positions his arms down by his sides and goes to leap… but wobbles drastically as Damien Cruz lunges into the ladder below him!! Olsig desperately reaches out and clutches onto the nearest thing he can find…

Nick: Olsig’s ladder has just fallen by the wayside and he’s a sitting duck up there as he grabs onto the wire holding up Adam’s Scottish flag!!! I don’t know how Olsig is even doing this, the athleticism is purely awesome… but he looks in trouble now, Adam and Cruz are setting their ladders up…

Richard: Dilemma time… do you stay there and risk getting snapped in half by your opponents, or do you drop fifteen feet and risk breaking your ankle!?

Nick: Olsig has a decision to make here… Adam and Cruz are setting their ladders up either side of him, his eyes are wide…

Vangelus Olsig looks genuinely scared. He’s caught between a rock and a hard place as his two opponents begin to converge towards him… Cruz to his left and Adam to his right, suddenly, though, something twigs in Adam’s mind as he looks over to the position of Cruz’ ladder…

Nick: What has Adam realised here!? I think… I think he’s noticed that Cruz may not have Olsig as his intended target at all… the Mexican has positioned his ladder conveniently underneath his native flag!

Richard: Damien Cruz’ quick-thinking never ceases to amaze me - he’s truly a man after my own heart!

Nick: Now, what does Adam do!? Theoretically he could go for his flag… but Vangelus Olsig could prove to be something of an obstacle to him… he’s climbing up regardless!!! I don’t know what the hell the Scotsman is playing at here!

Adam looks up to Olsig and motions towards him in an appeasing fashion… Olsig yells at him about Cruz’ impending victory as the crowd look on, dumbstruck. The Scotsman reaches out to Olsig and pushes him with all of his might into the direction of the "Latin Assassin"… Cruz’ eyes grow wide as his view is sucked away from capturing his flag and towards an impending Olsig-shaped wrecking ball heading right in his direction…

Nick: What a genius! Adam has just swung Olsig like a demolition-ball towards Damien Cruz… HE COLLIDES!!!! CRUZ FALLS!!

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!!!"

"ADAM! ADAM! ADAM!"

Too busy to take-in the unusual praise from the PRIMEates; Adam is now looking towards the Olsig-shaped wrecking-ball that is swinging back in his direction… The Colombian is still blocking his route, but is basically a sitting duck… so all the Scotsman has to do is wait…

Richard: Olsig, PLEASE do something brilliant again here… PLEASE!

Nick: I’m not sure if Olsig can do anything other than swing towards Adam and hope for the best! He’s a real sitting duck up there… and Adam seems to have something in his mind… WRATH!!!!!!! OH MY GOD!!!

THUD!

Olsig drops to the mat like a lead-weight, clutching at his windpipe in desperation and spluttering like crazy… The fans are shocked into silence as the shaven-headed former Tag-Team Champion shakes out his now-aching right hand a little bit and turns his attention towards the still-swinging loop on which his native flag rests… He takes a moment to look down at the carnage on the mat below him and then turns to the fans and raises his arms triumphantly as a huge roar engulfs the Rupp Arena… these sorts of moments all too rare for the "Number One Son" and most definitely ones to savour…

Nick: Just listen to this reception for Adam here tonight in Kentucky!! He looks up towards the blue-and-white flag… he reaches up and grabs it… ADAM WINS! ADAM WINS!

WINNER: ADAM

DING, DING, DING!

Richard: Urgh!!!!!

Nick: What a damn match, what a match we have just witnessed to open up the final ReVolution before Colossus… Adam somehow overcomes Damien Cruz and a valiant Vangelus Olsig in the most insane ladder match I have seen for quite some time… look at what this means to the Scotsman. The perennial under-achiever with another win to his name, our longest-serving roster member has his moment in the spotlight…

"Won’t get Fooled Again" starts up over the loudspeakers as Adam drapes himself in his country’s flag and raises his arms to the crowd, pumping his fist along with the music, wrapped up in pure euphoria.

Worth: Man, did you see that opening match?

Alone, Chet Worth sits in his makeshift office, his desk a model of organization, with everything in it's place. Worth has a cell phone to his ear, a slight smile on his face.

Worth: Well, I'll tell you what, that kid's got talent. I mean, I've never even seen half those moves, let alone understand them. He's going to go places. I think I'll give him a match at Colossus. Tell him to be in Tampa and...

Suddenly, as it happens all the time, the door bursts open, and an out of breath Blaine Blair enters the room.

Worth: I'll get back to you...

Worth flips the phone closed and looks at Blair, who's panting.

Blair: Chet... Melton... Troy... not here...

With a scrunching of the face, Worth frowns, wondering what's going to happen to his main event for the evening, his return to the ring, which should be triumphant in all respects.

Worth: Damnit. I gave everyone else the night... Get Fiore. Tell him he's wrestling tonight.

Blair nods as he pants, still out of breath, now bending over, doing whatever he can to make sure he's not about to up and die in the middle of Worth's office. Because that would be bad.

Worth: I can't make it five on four, so, I'll have to drop out of the match. Damnit. I need to work with my partner this week, regardless. Damnit.

A voice from the hallway quickly changes his mind, and as the voice comes closer, Worth's eyes open wider.

Clint Poteet: Don't worry Chet. I'll be happy to fill in for them. I've got a bit of a score to settle with you anyways.

Worth stands up, moving to the doorway.

Worth: No, I fired your ass. Get out.

With a laugh, Clint Poteet reaches out and grabs Chet Worth by the collar, pulling him closer to him.

Poteet: No. You thought you fired me. But, I talked to Ty, and... let's just say that he thinks it's a good business decision for me to stay on board. Just so I can... watch over you. So, tonight, I'm going to take Joey Melton's place. Fiore can take Troy's. There'll be a whole lot of Business going on, but, I can assure you, you won't have much pleasure.

Worth pushes backward, freeing himself from Poteet's grip. Begrudgingly, he nods.

Worth: Fine, Clint. But, you better believe I'm calling Nelson.

Poteet: Oh, yeah. Nelson wants you to call him. Something about the books being off.

Worth: Fine. Leave. Now.

Clint Poteet smiles at Chet Worth, and nods.

Poteet: Nice talking to you, Chet.

Tonight on Revolution is a big night. The main event consists of The A-List, Chet Worth and Karina Wolfenden taking on the team of Ignatius Lisieux, Nova, Kyle Lamen, Silvio Fiore and Clint Poteet. Names that could headline a show and be an instant draw. On any other night, that match would be a story unto itself. However, there is one match that looks to be so hotly contested that they had to make it a co-main event.

And all for one superstar so great, the Internet was created just so people would be able to watch bootleg webcasts of him in action.

Ladies and gentlemen, the star of the night...

Tony Gamble.

Standing there with a grin so bright it could challenge Las Vegas and win, as the sillhouettes of two figures hop up from their seated position. It doesn't take long to figure out who they are, especially when the smaller figure speaks.

"Каково значение этого?"

Tony Gamble: Bless you.

Ivan Stanislav's eyes glare across the room at Gamble, as he shuts the locker room door behind him.

Ivan Stanislav: Have you come for more beating at hands of Ivan?

Tony throws his arms out to slow the big guy down... well, to try to at least.

Tony Gamble: Calm down big guy. I come here as a friend.

Alexei chimes in, his lips still twisted into a scowl from Gamble's earlier disrespect.

Alexei Ruslan: Friend!? After the way you cheated last week, how dare you--

Tony Gamble: Cheated... Hold on now. It wasn't my fault the big guy stumbled over his own feet and fell face first into my title. It was clearly an accident that I'm willing to forgive and forget. I won't even ask for an apology.

Ivan Stanislav: Enough! Tell me little man, why Ivan Sergeiovich not crush you now?

The grin on Gamble's face would make the Cheshire Cat jealous.

Tony Gamble: Because I have information that would be real useful to you. It pertains to a certain Universal Champion that wasn't too happy with something you did last week.

Ivan hesitates, taking a second to think about whether or not he should crush the life out of the smaller man with his bare hands.

Ivan Stanislav: What information?

Just the answer Gamble was looking for.

Tony Gamble: An ambush.

Ivan Stanislav: It would be foolish to try and ambush Ivan Sergeiovich, Ivan shall crush them all!

Gamble shakes his head as he gets closer to the larger foreigner.

Tony Gamble: You cannot compete with what he has waiting for you. Your best bet is to help me, so I can help you.

Alexei Ruslan: And what makes you think we will trust you?

Tony Gamble: The fact that he can snap my back like a twig if I steer him wrong.

Ivan begins to ponder the offer Gamble has placed on the table.

Ivan Stanislav: Let us continue this somewhere more private…

Ivan extends his hand to Gamble who shakes it with a firm grip, the smile never leaving his face.

For the first time, the fans of PRIME are treated to the sounds of "Walk on Water" (and we’re talking the demo version here, folks) by Ozzy Osbourne. The song tears through the arena and the fans jump to their feet, wondering what the music might bring. When they get their answer, their silence of anticipation gives way to a flood of boos.

The Universal Champion, Killean Sirrajin, steps out into view of all the fans, Charity right at his side, title on his left shoulder. His head is bandaged, as well as his right arm from shoulder to wrist, courtesy of the attack planned by The Inhuman Being, and carried out by the hands of The Russian Bear.

The pair make their way to the ring, still being booed to a deafening extent. Casually, Killean slides under the bottom rope. His entire nature seems calm and laid back. He sports his "PRIME Cut" t-shirt and a pair of black jeans. The smile on his face seems to say that he’s very much looking forward to sitting back and taking in the festivities. Charity, on the other hand, looks not so thrilled.

Wasting little time, The Supreme Machine gets a microphone from an errand boy at ringside, and as his brand spankin! new music dies down, his running of the mouth picks up.

Killean: Ladies and Gentlemen… the next contest is scheduled for one fall!

He stops and laughs at his own words, while the fans quickly contemplate whether or not they should finish their beverages before throwing their cups at the champion.

Killean: Ok, we all know why we’re here. Two weeks ago, my woman issued a challenge to the soon-to-be ex-wife of one Matt Ward. In fact, Charity flat out called her out on LIVE TeeVeeee!

More boos from the crowd.

Killean: And now, the time has come for that challenge to be answered. It’s time for…someone to finally come out here and stick up for that lowly piece of trash who’s been a thorn in my side ever since he joined the PRIME roster.

Killean: Of course, to all my fans out there…

The Supreme Machine pauses, letting the crowd voice their displeasure at his sarcastic tone. As the chorus of boos showers down on him, a smug grin spreads across his face. The jeers are music to his ears (+2 for rhyming)

Killean:… I really hope this doesn’t end up being a waste of your… precious time. I know Matt, sorry… I know The Inhuman Being!@! Keeps claiming that there is no way in hell Mary would ever show up here at ReVolution. And he’s probably right. While my woman supports me, (Killean reaches out his arm and wraps it around Charity’s waist, pulling her close to him) Matt’s woman walked out on him and their kid with her!

The PRIME Choice laughs and turns to kiss Charity on the cheek, though she doesn’t seem to find quite the humor in the situation that Sirrajin does. She forces a half smile as he kisser her, but nothing more.

As the crowd continues to boo, Killean looks around for a moment, then once again raises the microphone to speak.

Killean: Ya know what… forget it. This is all you need to see. All that matters is the image of myself, with Charity by my side, in the center of this ring, holding the Universal Championship. And you better get used to it… cuz its something you’re gonna see a lot of for a helluva long time to come. And…

In the middle of his sentence, in the middle of the crowds explosive booing… everything changes. The Untouchable Champion’s egotistical demeanor gives way to shock. The fans fall silent, then begin to work themselves into a few small cheers. Making her way, slowly, down to the ring… is Mary.

Killean: I’ll be damned…

Dressed simply in a white polo shirt and a pair of jeans, the six foot blonde climbs the steps and slides cautiously between the ropes and into the ring.

Killean: Mary Ward, everybody!

The Supreme Machine points to Mary, introducing the nervous looking woman on her behalf. Some of the fans cheer, while others start a "Killean Sucks!" chant courtesy of the champions pompous attitude.

Killean: Can we get her a mic, please?

Killean walks over to the far ropes and grabs another microphone, then in a gentlemen’s manner that no one is buying, hands her the mic.

Killean: Now, I’m sure there’s a lot you have to say Mary, and…

Mary: Shut up.

Now, the crowd roars in approval, enjoying every second of the shocked and appalled look that spreads across the champion’s face.

Mary: I didn’t come here to listen to you. I came here because of what Charity said two weeks ago. I came here because an invitation, more in the form of a challenge, was extended to me. So, now that I’m here, I’d like to say my piece and leave.

Killean holds up his hands, as if to say "fine, whatever you want" and shoves his microphone to Charity, who reluctantly accepts it.

Mary: Charity I think it’s damn pretentious of you to come out and act like you know anything about myself or my husband…

Killean: Estranged husband.

The PRIME Choice leans over to the mic in Charity’s possession and inserts that exact type of dickhead comment that has made him so very popular with the current PRIME audience. For her part, Mary just ignores the comment, and oddly enough, Charity pulls away the mic, shifting it to her opposite hand, out of reach of Killean’ mouth.

Mary: I don’t think, Charity, that you have any right or any reason to try and act like you know what things are like between Matthew and I, and why they are the way they are. It’s not any of your business, and it certainly isn’t something to come out here on national television and try to make some big deal about. And I’d appreciate it if we could just drop this and not mention it again.

There is no immediate response from Charity… only hesitation in the form of uneasiness.

Charity: Mary… I… (she turns briefly to look to Killean, then turns back to Mary) I really don’t give a damn what you think. I have the right and the ability to come out here and say whatever I want… and that’s just what I’ll do. If I want to call Matt a lousy husband… I will. And I I want to call you a pathetic…

Before she can finish the insult, Mary drops her microphone and slugs Charity. For real… no diva slap… slugs her. (That’s what happens when you call out a gal who took a few boxing lessons in college) The force of the blow sends Charity stumbling backwards, and it is only the presence of the turnbuckles that keep her from falling on her ass.

Frustrated, Charity explodes out of the corner and returns the favor, swinging a hard right towards Mary, connecting right on the cheek. Just when it looks like things are set to explode, several security guards hit the ring and get between the two ladies.

Neither one all too anxious to tear into each other, they both go rather willingly with security, causing Killean to have a complete "WTF" moment and frown, hoping to see more from his lady.

The disappointed champ stays in the ring with Charity, who turns and gives him a less than pleasant look to return his own.

Mary, escoted by security, makes her way back in the direction she had come from. As she slips behind the curtain and backstage, the security guards return to their posts, leaving her alone… or so she thought.

"What the hell was that? What the hell are you doing here?!"

The angered, almost frantic voice greets her as soon as she is through the curtain. Mary turns in its direction. Standing just inches away, waiting for her, was her husband.

Mary: Hi, Matthew.

Tchu: What in God’s name were you thinking?! There’s no reason to be here! You could have gotten hurt out there!

Their first words face to face aren’t what she might have expected, but they’re just what she needed to hear. Once again, she resumed her walk towards the parking garage, not looking back when she spoke.

Mary: Now, you know how I feel.

The show is off and running. And that’s good news for Chet Worth. The guy busts his balls at the Dual Halo and look what it gets him: the best wrestling company in the business. A guy like that can walk down the beautiful, shining, shimmery halls of the arena with a smile on his face. Let’s not forget that his security detail of six men also gives him some peace of mind.

Unfortunately, winning the Dual Halo also gave him the responsibility of having to deal with slightly deranged employees: enter the Model Citizen.

Chandler Tsonda: CHET! CHET WORTH!

The Ohio native looks up to see the very snappily dressed Tsonda; even more so than usual. Decked to the nines, the Sultan of Style approaches the new CEO calmly, with his beloved 5-Star slung over his shoulder and his eyes covered by shades in a pose that would remind many of Rocky Maivia (except skinnier, more metrosexual, and four hundred percent whinier). Security stands between the two of them, but Worth nods them off, allowing Tsonda to make his way unimpeded.

Chandler Tsonda: Chesterton, my ally and true friend, how the freakin’ freak are ya?

Chet Worth: It’s Chet.

Chandler Tsonda: Of course (elbow nudging) CEO Worth. I wanted to-

Chet Worth: It’s Chet.

Chandler Tsonda: Haha, good one, crazy. Don’t go all OCD and forget how to pay attention! But seriously, Chet, how’s life as the big cheese, the head honcho, the bee’s knees, the-?

Worth, barely able to control himself, puts a hand not-so-lightly on Tsonda’s chest to stop the eternal spewing of content.

Chet Worth: It’s fine, man. It’s a lot more business than I thought. On some stuff, I just revert to Blaine.

Chandler Tsonda: Can’t say I like that call, old chap. That Blair’s a terrorist sympathizer, I hear.

Chet Worth: What?

Chandler Tsonda: A holocaust denier, too. But I suppose we can’t be dwelling, now can we? I just wanted to ask my favorite CEO if he had any plans for me at the pay-per-view. I’ve read the blogs, I’ve watched the archive tapes: it’s kind of a big deal and I realize that. And to serve the company that I love, I wanna go out there and put on a show that makes the crowd swoon.

Chet Worth: I think the crowd would swoon if you gave Johnny Noble a shot.

And swoon the great PRIME fans do; they blow the eff off the roof for the notion that Tsonda could be forced into giving Johnny Noble his due shot.

Chet Worth: But I’m not Tyler Nelson. I’m not making your matches for you.

The Viet Viper looks slightly confused by the response from Worth. A CEO not speaking entirely in black or white terms is a new concept to him.

Chandler Tsonda: Wait…so you don’t care what I do at Colossus?

Chet Worth: Not particularly. You won…or at least obtained the belt by a manner that’s acceptable for the rest of the fed and you’ve got your special property ownership clause (see: the lost ReV 99 transcript), so you’re on your own.

Chandler Tsonda: So if I go sit on my ass in the A-List skybox and spend the entire night polishing the belt and admiring my ridiculously good locks in its sea of golden refraction?

Chet Worth: Your problem. You won’t be able to get mad if your belt ends up on the front end of ReV and you’re defending against less-established guys. No skin off my back and I don’t plan to punish you in any way.

Chandler Tsonda: My god, it’s a revolution in the realm of CEO’s! Chet, I want to thank you for your candor and flexibility.

The CEO, always a tad awkward when in the situation of receiving praise, just shrugs.

"Do you want to ask the CEO for an autograph, Chandler, or maybe a signed glossy? God knows you’re droolin’ over him."

You know who it is. The baddest mf’er to avoid curse words and kiss babies on the forehead in the solar system: Jonny "Chuck Norris < Me" Noble.

The security detail quickly steps up to Noble, but he waves them off. From behind the detail, Tsonda glowers at his archrival. The CEO tries to defuse the situation.

Chet Worth: Johnny, good to see you’re making an appearance despite not being booked. The fans love you.

Johnny Noble: That’s ‘cause I’ve made a habit of doin’ things in a respectable manner and always remembering that they’re the ones who make this place what it is. If it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t be able to support a family the way I do.

Despite the obvious point to get in a jab about Hayley, Tsonda resists. He’s clearly got something on his mind here that’s bigger than just the usual Noble humiliation.

Chet Worth: Now I’m not going to pull the security detail between you two, but I’m going to trust that neither of you will do anything stupid in this hallway. Right?

A grumble from Tsonda and a nod from Noble allow Worth to relax, only slightly.

Johnny Noble: Listen, Mr. Worth-

Chet Worth: Chet is fine.

Johnny Noble: Chet, I don’t care about win-loss records or my past. I don’t need to prove myself for anything in this company and the cheers every night will tell ya exactly that.

Chet Worth: Damn straight, Noble.

Johnny Noble: And I don’t care if you’re buddy-buddy with him or any of the folks he runs with. I think you’re a smart enough fella to realize the business implications for Colossus if I take him on in the ring. You’re lookin’ at a serious hike in buyrate if you let me tear him apart in the ring.

Here’s a new one: Chandler tries to get in a word, but Noble pre-emptively cuts him off.

Johnny Noble: Shut your mouth.

The crowd goes bananas.

Johnny Noble: We saw that Ferguson can stay quiet for forty-five seconds last week for Lamen; do what you’re told and follow suit. (Turning to Worth) I don’t need the belt on the line, I don’t need Vince Howard, or even a referee. Just give me a sanctioned fight.

Breaking his silence, the 5-Star Champ leers from behind the row of security men, finally adding in his two cents.

Chandler Tsonda: Your desperation is pitiful. You think people will pay money to watch a fossil stink up the ring?

And the crowd responds resoundingly that hell fuckin’ yes they would. The pops for Noble are roaring through the arena.

Chandler Tsonda: Besides, you can’t go adding matches to a pay-per-view a week in advance? That shit is bush league; it’ll look thrown together and people will know that it’s given out of pity.

Chet Worth: I’ve got no qualms about making last minute changes. Johnny?

Johnny Noble: Everyone who matters will know exactly why the match is happening. At first you were just a royal pain in the behind and then you became a gnat, always buzzing in my ear, but I kept swatting you away, beating you in the ring when it mattered. And then when you finally decided to man up and face me, you couldn’t go through with it. You had to throw it away because of your ego and your insecurity.

The old man takes a breath before continuing on his tirade. The crowd is surprisingly silent, taking in the full attack on the psyche of Chandler Tsonda.

Johnny Noble: And now, Tsonda…I don’t think you’ve even got a soul. Every second that you stand here with that pompous grin on your face makes me feel like I’ve got something left to accomplish. And if you can beat me fair and square, all the more power to you. But I’ve got a great feeling about my chances one-on-one against our fraud of a 5-Star Champion.

The end of that attack leaves both Worth, Tsonda, and the crowd speechless for a couple seconds, before Noble adds on.

Johnny Noble: So Chet, if the boy-prince doesn’t mind, I don’t care about the 5-Star Title, as much as I’d love to take it from around your twenty-four inch waist. I’m content to thrash him just for the fun of doing it.

Again, the crowd decides that they like this Noble fellow and they offer up a big ass round of cheers.

Chet Worth: That’s a pretty convincing argument, Chan. Noble’s made the concession of leaving the title out of the picture.

The Model Citizen looks completely flustered, licking his lips nervously and looking around. Finally, he bursts out at a high volume, using elaborate hand motions.

Chandler Tsonda: No, you know what?! Fuck this! I said I’ll walk and I goddamn well mean it. I’ve heard all these excuses from Noble and I already told everyone that he doesn’t deserve to share a ring with me, title shot or no. ReV 100 was just another choke job from Johnny Noble and it’s not worth my precious minutes to crush your ego even more.

Johnny Noble: I can’t believe what a coward you are.

And finally, Tsonda comes back with the retort that we all knew was coming. He gets as into Noble’s face as he can (he’s still two security body lengths away, but the glare cuts right to the face of Mr. Incredible).

Chandler Tsonda: Yeah, I can’t believe what a washed-up old fuck like you is still doing wrestling. I’ve beaten you in the ring, I’ve stolen your dignity, and I’ve sullied your virgin daughter. Why don’t you just fucking quit?!

The champ starts to walk away.

Johnny Noble: Because that’s exactly what you want me to. And it’s exactly what I’ve promised, to myself, to these fans, and to the gray mat out there…to never do.

Chet Worth, prepared to step in and stop a full-on brawl, just watches as the two enemies move away down opposite sides of the hallway. He watches Noble, then looks at Tsonda, and shakes his head.

If Jonathan Winters hears Buddy Kingfisher approach, he doesn’t react. He simply remains seated upon a wooden bench, at far end of the room, with his back pressed up against locker room wall and his eyes glazed over.

Winters: What the hell have I gotten myself into this time?

Kingfisher develops a confused expression and turns to look around, half expecting him to be talking to someone else. However, upon establishing that nobody else is around, he takes a seat next to the deeply troubled man.

Kingfisher: Are you okay, buddy?

Winters breaks his reverie and glares at Kingfisher coldly.

Winters: No.

Kingfisher: Why not? They only got fruit left in catering again?

Winters glares at, desperately trying to work out whether it’s a genuine guess from Kingfisher, or whether he is attempting the kind of humour that only always seems to leave Winters somewhat bewildered. After a couple of seconds Winters gives up, quickly coming to the realisation that he doesn’t much care either way.

Winters: This tag thing you organised...why the hell did you do that?

Kingfisher develops a shocked expression and stands from the bench.

Kingfisher: What are you talking about? We’re friends and...

Winters stands from his seat now.

Winters: Friends? What in the hell gave you that idea?

Kingfisher: Um...I...Um...we...um...we hugged...it was...a...special bond...

Winters: We hugged? You went to Blair on the basis we hugged?

Kingfisher: No...no...we discussed it last week! You told me it would be a good idea and I went away and arranged it all as a surprise. It was all your idea...oh…wait.

Winters eyes widen and face contorts in absolute confusion.

Winters: What the hell are you talking about? We didn’t talk about this!

This time it’s Kingfisher’s face that’s riddled with confusion.

Kingfisher: Or was that a dream...?

Winters face glows red with anger.

Winters: You did this based on a dream?

Kingfisher shrugs.

Kingfisher: I guess so...that happens sometimes...but look on the bright side! It’ll be fun!

Winters heads towards the exit, shaking his head. He knows the match has already been booked and there’s nothing he can do to get out of it at such a late stage. He will have to just grin and bear it.

Winters: Sure it will.

Winters leaves the rooms, leaving Kingfisher looking somewhat dejected.

Buddy: That guy really needs to get out more.

There's a knock at Chet Worth's door. He doesn't respond to it. There's a second knock, and he begins to think that maybe this is the first time since he became the CEO of a wrestling company that someone simply hasn't barged in. Just as he holds out hope for an unprecedented third knock, the door swings open to reveal Karina Wolfenden.

Shuffling the haphazard mess of paperwork into something resembling a pile, Worth relaxes back into his chair, the one perk of management he's been allowed to enjoy.

Chet Worth: I get the feeling you're not here to shoot some shit to pass the time, right?

She nods, knowingly.

Chet Worth: Well, check the calendar first, and think to yourself, "it's the week before the biggest show in PRIME's history, is this something I really need to bother Chet Worth with?"

Without even taking the time to humour his suggestion, the K-Wolf comes straight out with it.

Karina Wolfenden: I want out of my contract. Quote me a price.

Slumping forward with a laboured sigh, Chet shakes his head, before banging it against the desk... then sitting back up straight as if nothing happened.

Chet Worth: Take a seat.

Resting his elbows on the table, Chet waits for Wolfenden to spin the chair towards her and straddle it.

Chet Worth: First, I want you to know that in my head, at 10,000 words a minute, I'm repeating every anti-stress Mantra I've ever learned, and they're only just stopping this vein in my forehead bursting. Secondly, if you think I'm letting you pull a Vetra and retire only to pop up on one of our rival's rosters a week later, then I will sue you for everything you have, right down to the interest your last cent will earn you over the next 50 years. Thirdly... you'd better have a fucking good reason, preferably involving an untreatable medical condition, for coming in here with that shit.

Karina Wolfenden: If I really wanted to leave, you'd have gotten that request in a letter from my lawyer.

Chet Worth: Then let me take a guess... Lisieux?

Karina Wolfenden: Bingo, boss. It's me or him.

The PRIME CEO's eyes complete a circuit of their sockets.

Chet Worth: Ultimatums, this get better. At least give me your best shot here, Kari. Talk yourself up, bury his career, I'm all ears.

Karina Wolfenden: Or not.

Hopping up from the chair, Kari turns it back to face Worth, before finally sitting properly on it.

Karina Wolfenden: Gimme a sec to remember all this... Okay. I, Karina Marie Wolfenden on August 4th 2006, make it officially known to my employer, PRIME, via CEO Chester Whatevertherestis, that I do not feel PRIME is a safe work environment for me to carry out the duties that my contract of employment states.

He looks back at her as f she'd just kicked him in the balls.

Chet Worth: Tell me you're not sinkin-

Karina Wolfenden: Do what I have to, Chet.

In Worth's head, the calming mantras he's been reciting merge into one another, funnily enough sounding a little like "Diediediediediediedie..."

Karina Wolfenden: He may try to play the hero, but Iggy has anger issues, and has been walking around backstage without any security detail to protect us from him. Watch the tape of what happened to him at ReV 50, and tell me that you don't just waltz back into action when your body is healed without having any screws needing tightening up there.

Chet Worth: He was cleared medica-

Karina Wolfenden: This isn't just being recorded for posterity, Chet. This is a video record of me, coming to you as my superior, with an on-the-record grievance. Wanna know what'll happen if I walk out that door, and the last stitch holding his brain intact snaps? I'll give you a hint, Chet, it ends in a lot of zeros and has a dollar sign at the start.

Worth's teeth grind as he looks into the blank face of the K-Wolf, not a smug grin, or furrowed-brow of concern there to be seen. Swiping at the paperwork on his desk, the frustrated CEO sends a flurry of papers floating down to the floor before collecting himself.

Chet Worth: This is low, you do realise that, right? This is LOW.

Karina Wolfenden: It's business, Chet. You've two assets, and you have to pick the most valuable.

With her official complaint over, the K-Wolf hops up onto the chair, sitting on the top of its backrest.

Karina Wolfenden: At the start of the year, I wrestled on shows for four straight months. I wrestled with an eye infection that basically like putting on an eye patch, I wrestled the show after Baltasar put my head halfway through a wall, I wrestled the day after my brother's heart stopped for 2 minutes on an operating table, I fought against someone who wanted to end my career just an hour before the Dual Halo, and I've wrestled with a knee so swollen it looked like I was wearing 5 kneepads under my pants.

There isn't a word in reply from Worth. Well, an audible word, at least. He may have just created about 17 new profanities in his thoughts, however.

Karina Wolfenden: And while I was doing that, earning every cent of my contract, what was Iggy doing? Sitting around backstage playing super-bestfriends with the Highlander and a guy who looks like he barely survived an explosion at a tanning salon. Oh, and not to forget doing the orange one's daughter on the side.

Behind the calm persona, Chet knows she's loving every second of this.

Karina Wolfenden: His body's broken down, and his mind isn't that far behind it, Chet.

Chet Worth: You really are a piece of work... Deville really must've rubbed off on you. Insulting pun more than intended.

Knowing that he's trying to garner a reaction to hamper her cause, Kari shrugs the jibe off.

Karina Wolfenden: I'm coming through all the official channels, Chet. He may have said last week that he's going to play a game of Tchu/Killer and not lay a finger on me, but after what happened to him 18 months ago, and with the way he's been acting lately, can you take that risk? Because I can't. I have my health for the next 60-odd years to think about, and I'm not going to have PRIME gamble that against him not finally having the breakdown that's screaming to be let out... all because you couldn't seize the chance to truly change PRIME and cut the old, dead weight.

Chet Worth: I see you're declining to claim any responsibility for pushing him over the edge?

Karina Wolfenden: For all we know, a fan sneezing could send him postal... because we could really do with another case of fan interaction, couldn't we?

Chet Worth: I could really do with firing you both.

Karina Wolfenden: I'll call that bluff until my voice fails.

Chet Worth: Let me ask you a question, Kari. Did you see a secretary outside? Am I wearing a suit? Do you see a nice, decorative paperweight anywhere on this desk? No. PRIME can't be run like a normal business, because we're anything but normal. We're a mixture of egos, temper, ambition, and insanity. We don't clock in from 9 to 5, and none of you sit in a fucking cubicle.

Having risen from his seat during the speech, Worth drops back into it, releasing a calming breathe like an over-pressured steam-valve.

Chet Worth: But... the basics are the same. Make enough money to safeguard the company and its assets.

Karina Wolfenden: Of which I am one.

Chet Worth: No industrial tribunerals. No arbitration. No contract lawyers. No trawling through every last ambiguous line in long-discarded legal texts. You have a problem with Lisieux, he has many problems, of which you're one. At CIII, he still gets his one AND ONLY chance to do that. If he can't get things out of his system, and prove to me by beating you that he's worth the problems, then... then, one way or another, you'll get your wish.

Karina Wolfenden: I suggest a lobotomy. Personal preference.

The look he shoos her is cold enough to even tingle the frosty exterior of Wolfenden.

Chet Worth: You've may have just resigned me to cutting loose a PRIME Hall of Famer who helped build this place, and almost gave his life to protect it. You've lost joke privileges. Forever. And then about a hundred afterlives. At least.

Karina Wolfenden: Wasn't a joke.

Chet Worth: Get out of my sight.

"That makes you larger than life…"

Richard: I wonder if Buddy knows Lance Bass.

Nick: Why do you ask?

Richard: Because of his entrance music.

Nick: Silly, N*Sync doesn't sing this song, the Backstreet--

Nick stops short when he sees the suspicious glance from his colleague.

Nick: Buddy Kingfisher has been trying for weeks to get a little closer to his 'pal' Jonathan Winters, even going as far as setting this match up so that Winters can get his hands on Gamble.

Richard: I don't see why Winters has any issues with Gamble.

Nick: The man stole his title.

Richard: And Gamble didn't even press charges, surely Winters should be thanking him about now.

Nick: Gamble stole the title from Winters, who beat him soundly at Revolution One Hundred.

Richard: You're so bias.

Vince Howard: Introducing first… from Sunray, Oklahoma and weighing in at three-hundred-and-eighty-four pounds… he is the "Jolly One"… BUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDYYYY KINGFISHERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

The giant superstar waves to his right and left through the plexi-glass to his adoring public as he merrily hops down the ramp towards the squared-circle. Buddy climbs up onto the apron and steps over the ropes. The Backstreet Boys continue playing embarrassingly away in the background, as Kingfisher mounts the second rope and poses for some Polaroid’s…

"Larger than Life" begins to fade away into silence as the arena begins to prepare itself for the imminent arrival of the Jolly Ones partner of the night. The lights in the arena fade as "Aerials" by System of a Down slowly emits from the loudspeakers…

"Life is a waterfall, we're one in the river and one again after the fall."

Richard: And here comes the "Inanimate Being" Jonathan Winters.

Nick: Winters' personal choice of letting his actions speak louder than his words has been more than enough to get the man over with the crowd, who see him as a talented member of the roster. No one can deny his abilities in the ring.

Richard: He uses a superkick, that wasn't even popular in the eighties. When it was supposed to be cool.

Suddenly the arena lights shoot back on to show Jonathan Winters standing before the PRIME-a-TRON with a focused expression embedded onto his face. He briefly looks left and right at the security guards before marching down the ramp towards the ringside area…

Nick: While he doesn't look to be too thrilled about being in this match, Winters knows that he has a good chance at proving a point to the self-proclaimed Internet Champion.

Richard: Self-proclaimed... He is a true champion, and he proved it earlier tonight when he offered a match to Mr. Deadpan over there.

Vince Howard: …and his opponent… weighing in at two-hundred-and-thirty-pounds… JONATHAN… WINNNNNNNNNTERSSSSSSSSS!!!

Nick: The crowd is solidly behind these two tonight.

Richard: It wasn't too long ago that they were as quiet as Winters when he would come to the ring, now they like him... Lemmings.

"I-I-I've got the internet goin nuts"

Paul Wall's "Internet Goin' Nuts" blares through the loudspeakers as Tony Gamble walks out onto the ramp, grinning from ear to ear when he sees the look on Winters' face.

Nick: What a slap to the face of our champion.

Richard: I know, surely the fans should be cheering him on right now.

Nick: I was talking about the REAL champion.

Richard: So was I. Gamble.

Nick throws his arms up as Tony stands at the top of the ring, motioning for his music to be cut. It has done it's damage. Gamble pulls a microphone to his lips.

Tony: I looked far and wide for a partner that I felt would compliment me in that ring. Someone that I felt would be the ying to my yang... Complete me.

He pauses slightly, pressing his palm against his heart.

Tony: I found someone. Someone who showed me first hand that he had what it took to step into that ring with me tonight, in a match that was thrown together out of spite. Buddy, I know you don't like me. You think that somehow I've hurt your friend there, but you're wrong. I'm only trying to do the right thing and help him. Help him to become more than just the wallflower that only gets off the bench when his name is called, because no one ever liked those kids.

Tony nods his head, because in his mind... He's right.

Tony: So while you have the intention of hurting me inside that ring, I found someone that knows when an inustice has been done. He knows what you have done here tonight is wrong, and he is going to make sure that wrong is righted. I'm sure you remember him...

His smile doubles as the fist notes of the anthem of the Russian Federation blast out around the arena, as red and yellow pyro explodes on either side of the entranceway.

Through the smoke, a waving flag is seen emerging, followed by the emergence of Alexei Ruslan, braving the heat in a brown overcoat. Following him, slow in his menacing confidence, strides Ivan Stanislav, his 7 foot frame filling the entranceway. Flanked by PRIME security, the duo make their way down to the ring with Gamble leading the way with a confident stride. Ruslan waves the Soviet flag energetically, while Ivan soaks up the crowd's reaction.

Vince Howard: And their opponents, accompanied to the ring by Alexei Ruslan: Hailing from Russia, and weighing in at 400 pounds... IVANNNNN STANNNNNISLAVVVVV!!!" and his partner, hailing from Las Vegas, Nevada... weighing in at 187 pounds...

Noticing the look on Gamble's face, Howard decides to not press the issue.

Vince Howard: HE IS THE PRIME INTERNET CHAMPION... TONY "THE GRIN" GAMMMMMBLE!!!

As they reach ringside, Ruslan continues to wave the flag as Ivan and Gamble head up the steps. Ivan then enters the ring over the top rope as Gamble slides between the bottom and middle rope.

The first thing Tony does is point at Winters, then calls him out with a repeated bend of that finger. Ivan steps out, as does Buddy, as Gamble and Winters begin corcling each other in the middle of the ring. Both men looking for an opening to gain a quick advantage over the other.

Nick: And they lock up!

Richard: How exciting.

Tony and Winters struggle to get an advantage, deciding ultimately to break the hold. Gamble then slaps Ivan square on the chest to tag the giant in. The look on Winters' face never wavers, but if you were to look close enough you would have seen his Adam's Apple quiver.

Nick: What a coward. He didn't even last a minute in the ring.

Richard: If it was Winters doing it, you would be calling him a genius.

Ivan steps over the top rope and stalks toward Winters, who stands firm despite the size disadvantage.

Nick: And Winters refuses to back down, chopping Ivan across his chest.

Richard: Yeah, I don't think that was a good move.

Ivan Stanislav: DYAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Ivan delivers a hard shot to the gut of Winters, which sends him stumbling into the corner. Ivan takes his boot and starts to choke Winters. The referee tries to break Ivan’s hold, but to no use, the referee starts to count, 1... 2... 3... 4.. Ivan breaks the hold, pulling Winters away from the corner and lifting him up and tossing him off the ropes, Winters springs back and ducks a right arm from Ivan, leaps off the second rope and catches Ivan with a huge flying forearm to the face. Winters gets back up and sweeps Ivan's leg from beneath him with a chop block to the back of his knees. Winters waits for Ivan to get back to his feet from a kneeling position, before repeating the chop block to send Ivan back down on his left knee.

Nick: A quick offense here from Jonathan Winters.

Richard: These things also tend to end rather quickly too.

Winters takes himself off the ropes and hits a dropkick to the face of Ivan, who is still not dropped completely. Ivan attempts to shake the cobwebs out as Winters charges hits the ropes for another move.

Ivan gets back to his feet as Winters springs off the ropes and speeds toward Ivan, Ivan doesn’t move and takes Winters down with a hard shoulder tackle. Ivan then drops with a leg drop across the throat of the smaller man. Ivan lifts Winters up and places him in the corner. Ivan beats on him with some hard lefts and rights. Winters is half way down and grasping the ropes to stay on his feet. Ivan backs off and starts to run toward Winters, Winters leaps out from the corner and hits Ivan straight in the jaw with a super kick. Ivan staggers back but refuses to fall.

Richard: I told you that move was worthless!

Nick: It has taken down plenty of men before... Ask Gamble.

Winters takes a moment to catch his breath before charging in to exchange hard right hands with the Russian, Winters blocks a few of them but still gets knocked back from the hard chops to the chest. Winters folds, and Ivan breaks into a series of rights to the gut of Winters. Winters stumbles onto the ropes until Ivan whips Winters off the ropes, Winters comes back at Ivan, Ivan grabs Winters by the neck. Winters swiftly sweeps his legs with a kick to the knee. Ivan shrugs it off and dodges a clothesline attempt from Winters. He then grabs Winters and hits a front Russian leg sweep. Winters’ head slams off the mat, as Ivan rolls onto Winters for the pin.

1...

2...

Kick out!

Richard: How in the hell?

Nick: Winters somehow kicked out.

Winters is having some problems now, and Ivan seems to have full control of the match. Ivan stalks Winters until he is back to his feet, Winters is wandering toward his corner trying to make a tag when Ivan pulls Winters back and hits an Arabian Facebuster. Ivan pulls Winters away and goes toward Tony. He completes the tag and Tony climbs in through the middle rope. Tony lifts Winters up half way and drops him right back down with a hard right hand to the forehead of Winters. Tony lifts Winters up and sets him up for a suplex, Winters breaks the attempt by wrapping his leg around Tony’s leg. Winters resists the suplex again and attempts to build momentum. Winters then lifts Tony up and drops him down on his head with a brainbuster. Winters wastes no time in getting over to Kingfisher and making the tag. Kingfisher climbs through the ropes and waits for Tony to get to his feet. Winters helps lift Tony up as Kingfisher charges and nails Tony in the jaw with a flying clothesline. Winters leaves the ring before the referee even starts the count.

Nick: Kingfisher is the fresher of the two, and this gives Winters some ample time to catch his breath.

Richard: But Kingfisher weighs more in his second chin than Gamble does in his entire body.

With Kingfisher now in control of the match, he tries to whip Tony into the corner... but Tony reverses it and uses Kingfisher's own weight as momentum to send him into the turnbuckle so hard he flips over the top rope and hits his head off the guard rail. A huge cheer from the crowd starts up in amazement at what they just saw. Ivan lifts Kingfisher up and hits a hard right hand. Before tossing Kingfisher to the ring in wait for Tony.

Kingfisher stands and turns only for Tony to hit the clothesline from hell. Of course, all this does is cause Gamble to stumble back away from the dazed Kingfisher as he attempts to shake away the birds circling his head. Tony charges in again, but ducks a clothesline from Kingfisher to rush over to his corner. Tony makes the tag and Ivan comes into the ring and stomps down on Kingfisher, disregarding the fact that he was at the ropes.

Nick: Again, Gamble high tails it out of the ring.

Richard: He knows his limits. That's the sign of a great champion.

Nick: But he's not the champion.

While Ivan argues with the referee about getting in his way, Kingfisher hits a low blow to Ivan, and Rolls Ivan up, the referee counts,

1...

2...

Kick out, but this one was close. Both teams tired now, As Ivan and Kingfisher exchange more vicious rights.

Nick: Fatigue starting to kick in.

Richard: Well, when you're as overweight as these two are, it's expected.

Kingfisher delivers a knee to the gut of Ivan, Ivan drops to one knee. Kingfisher lifts Ivan up and slams him with a basic body slam, Ivan's back bends down on the mat as Ivan gives out a scream. Kingfisher lifts Ivan up and delivers a German Suplex, then another... and a third. Kingfisher celebrates as Ivan is down and not moving. Kingfisher sees the opportunity and goes for the cover...

1...

2...

Tony storms into the ring and kicks Kingfisher on the back of his neck. Tony then leaves the ring, with Kingfisher desperate to get at Tony.

Winters at ringside pulls the referee over to complain about Tony’s interference, and while Winters and the referee argue Tony comes back into the ring. Tony starts putting the boots to Kingfisher while Ivan gets back up. Tony grabs Kingfisher and kicks him below the belt!

Nick: OUCH!

Richard: I bet he missed.

Ivan grabs a dazed Kingfisher and hits a reverse DDT. Kingfisher lies broken in the ring as Tony steps back out. Winters furious at ringside watches on as Ivan covers Kingfisher...

1...

2...

Winters pulls the referee back! The referee stumbles and hits his head on the turnbuckle.

Nick: Winters is finally fed up with Gamble's cheating.

Richard: Yeah, but I doubt he intended to take out the ref.

Tony runs into the ring and spears Winters, following it up by slamming Winters' head into the mat. Ivan puts Kingfisher in the corner and chokes him with his boot. The referee is still down as Winters fights back with Tony, Winters pulls Tony out of the ring and they fight over the barriers and into the crowd.

Ivan: DYAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Ivan taunts in the ring over the downed Kingfisher, meanwhile in the crowd Tony ducks a clothesline from Winters and hits a tiger driver to Winters onto the concrete! Back in the ring Kingfisher hits a low blow on Ivan, Kingfisher then jumps and uses all the strength he has to clothesline Ivan down onto his back, Tony at ringside now picks up a steel chair. Kingfisher lifts himself with the aid of the ropes, he is exhausted. Tony runs up to Kingfisher and rattles a deadly chair shot to the head of Kingfisher! Kingfisher drops back and with that Ivan rolls onto Kingfisher, the referee is on one knee, he drops again and starts the count...

1...

2...

3.

Richard: Gamble and Ivan take the match.

Nick: How about stole the match?

Richard: There's never a silver lining with you, is there?

The referee calls for the bell as Ivan gets out of the ring and chases after his little stool pigeon. Gamble still needs to follow through with his side of the bargain.

In the following segment you'll see Johnny Noble stoop down and ask Ignatius Lisieux for his spot in the main event on tonight's ReVolution. In an impressively awkward conversation that empitomizes literary genius in it's author's writing prowess Iggy hands over the spot to Johnny. Johnny thanks him (because it's polite to do so) and leaves not wanting to discuss Hayley at all. But nevertheless the spot is changed. Johnny's now in the Main Event and he'll have a chance at Chandler Tsonda.

That's the jist of this segment, but I didn't have tie to write anything good or worth reading, but have mercy on me... at least now you know why things that will happen later in the show are happening.

The last thing Tony Gamble needs to see right about now, as he rounds the corner of some nondescript backstage corridor, is Jonathan Winters leaning against the wall, with a wide grin plastered across his face.

But he does see it, and it is too late to run away.

Winters: Gamble.

At first, the sight of Winters' sadistic eyes shocks him, so he takes a couple of steps backward. Noticing Winters’ smile widen even further with delusions of dominance, Gamble quickly checks himself and remains still, with a cocky defiance only he can produce.

Gamble: Hey, what's up Jonny boy? Been a while...how's life?

Winters uses his shoulder to push himself up from the corridor wall and draws closer to Gamble. Again, Gamble remains still, showing no signs of intimidation - clearly not the reaction Winters expected.

Winters: You have something that belongs to me and I want it back.

A wave of puzzlement washes over Gamble’s face.

Gamble: Hey, I didn't see any names on it. The way I see it, it was a gift from the tooth fairy. Except I didn't lose any teeth, and it was inside a locker instead of under a pillow.

A flash of anger flickers across Winters’ face, but he does not react. Yet.

Winters: Don’t play games with me, Gamble. We both know you stole my Internet title and I want you to give it back to me or I‘ll cave in the side of your head.

Gamble: Your title? I thought you were talking about that PSP I found.

Winters: No, I'm talking about my title. The one you happened to steal from me a few weeks ago.

Gamble: No...can't say that I remember stealing any titles. Are you sure you won one, I know sometimes amnesia patients tend to...

The rage in Winters’ eyes is transparent for all to see, but this time that anger manifests itself physically as Winters lunges forward, grabbing Gamble by the scruff of the neck and slamming him into the wall with force. The wince of pain across Gamble’s face is unmistakable, but he quickly masks it with a defiant grin.

Winters: I beat you. The title is mine. I want it NOW!

Gamble: Jonny...what's with all the hostility? Besides, do you see a title anywhere?

Winters: Where is it?

Gamble: Safe.

Winters: Safe?

Gamble: Sa... You know, I played this game last week and the joke just seemed to die out after the third time... So I'd rather not play it again, if that's okay with you.

Winters: You think this is funny, do you think I'm playing with you here? Perhaps beating the shit out of you will make you take me a little bit seriously.

Gamble: I liked it better when you didn't talk. At least then you'd be able to hear me when I told you that hurting me won't make me give you MY title. As a matter of fact...

Gamble looks down at the two hands clenching his shirt in their grasp.

Gamble: If you ever want to have another chance to fight for MY title, I'd suggest you back up.

The realisation of the situation sweeps across Winters' face and, reluctantly, he releases his grip on Gamble and takes a step backwards.

Gamble: Good. Glad to see you haven't forgotten your place.

Winters: Fuck you!

Gamble: Now, now. That kind of language won’t get you anywhere, Jonny.

Winters' face contorts into such anger it appears his head is all but ready to explode and it’s clearly taking every ounce of self-restraint just to hold back from breaking Gamble’s face.

Winters: Don’t. Push. Me. Gamble.

Gamble squints his eyes as he leans toward Gamble, staring at his neck.

Gamble: Did you know you had a vein in your neck that pulses every time you... Sorry.

Gamble shakes his head from side to side, using the Etch a Sketch method of wiping the sight from his mind.

Gamble: Look, being the World Wide Web Master, I go to all of the fan sites, I browse over the PRIME fan forums, and read up on all of the dream matches the fans would like to see. And seeing as how all of the good people on the list have matches set for Colossus except for me, I feel it would be wrong of me to deny them a chance of watching THE MOST DOWNLOADED MAN on the NET in action!

Gamble gives Winters the once over.

Gamble: So I guess you'll do.

Winters: I’ll play your game for now, Gamble, but make sure you subscribe to whatever delusions appeal to you the most. Come Colossus III, I will be bringing those delusions down around your ears. And this time, there won’t be a damned thing you can hide behind. See you in the ring.

Gamble maintains his smug grin as Winters storms away, muttering something inaudible under his breath.

Gamble: Damn, you act like I owe you something.

But, predictably, Winters doesn’t respond and Gamble’s grin widens with knowledge that he’s got further under Jonathan Winters' skin than most men can ever dream of.

I know we all take ‘em for granted around here, but these yellow-shirted CSC security guards don’t have any easy job, you know? You’ll see why in a minute…

But first: …*ahem*… there are many corridors backstage in most of the arenas that PRIME uses, and many paths you could cross – but right now there is one corridor you do not want to be standing in as it means you’re crossing a specific path you really do not want to cross - that path is the one Ignatius Lisieux is currently tearing down after witnessing Karina Wolfenden’s anti-"MVP" propaganda a few minutes ago. Ignatius looks pissed - his face full of thunder... his eyes full of fire.

Ignatius: I’M GONNA FUCKING KILL HER!

Uh-oh… looks like Lisieux was proving the K-Wolf right.

*CLANG*

The DeMarini baseball bat he had stolen from Killean Sirrajin weeks ago drops to the floor as the camera shot briefly strays from its target to observe the carnage in his wake… Behind the French-Canadian superstar lay a trail – a body-pile, if you will – six yellow shirts lay flat-out in a row at the exit of the "Hall of Fame Champion’s" locker room… good ol’ "tails" had returned.

Ignatius: THE FUCKING CUNT…

Such foul language! Anyway, back to the path stuff… Unfortunately there was someone in his path, someone that Ignatius loved dearly but just could not care less about right now – it was his oldest friend; Adam, standing with full-on military salute in progress. With nary more than a sneer and a shake of his head Ignatius disregards his buddy and shoulder-barges him out the way. Adam’s eyes widen a little bit, shock engulfs his face… but typically not taking the hint he immediately turns and then jogs to catch up with his running buddy – the Scotsman’s own CSC security task force had been abandoned (he’s gotten pretty good at that stealth stuff) - he was sick of his every movement being followed and more than ready to take his chances on his own, though at this current juncture that might not be the greatest plan he’d ever had…

Adam: Sir! Corporal Adam Weir reporting for any further duties, S-

Without any warning Lisieux turns and lunges at the delusional Scot, pinning him against the wall, holding him an inch or two off the ground… the French-Canadian breathes heavily and quickly through his nose and draws his eyes in close to Adam’s…

Ignatius: I am not your commanding officer, you are not a CIA agent "in disguise"… and I sure as hell am not in the fucking mood for your shit right now!

Over here in reality the Scotsman gulps – but in fantasy world he’s probably delighted to finally be getting a military-style dressing-down from his "commanding officer"…

Adam: Sir, I-

Lisieux slams Adam back against the wall again and snarls, his grip around the "Number One Son’s" neck growing tighter by the second.

Ignatius: Do not call me "Sir" - stand down, fall out, at ease – whatever the fuck it is you need to hear from me right now, Adam, whatever it is I have to say to make you just drop it.

With that said he slams the Scot against the wall again and storms off in the direction of Chet Worth’s office… However, the French-Canadian only gets a few strides away before Adam dives at him from behind, tackling him to the ground with the utmost precision. Ignatius yells out and snarls once again, but as he opens his mouth the Scotsman jams a rag into it and holds on tight. It doesn’t take long for this thrashing and struggling to die down until his body is limp and lifeless, at which point the rag is removed and returned to Adam’s pocket.

Chloroform – an essential item for all insane faux-military wrestlers.

The Scotsman exhaustedly rolls into a seated position and rests his right arm across the former Universal Champions’ back…

Adam: Well… I guess we’ll have to play it that way then, Sir.

Quickly scanning the corridor for any witnesses (or any signs of life, as he’d say), Adam drags himself upwards and then hikes up the two-fifty-pound sack of potatoes that just a few seconds ago constituted his "commanding officer"… He slings Lisieux over his shoulder with a pained grimace before heading to the end of the current stretch of corridor…

Adam: I can’t let you get to your target, Sir… I can’t let her beat you before the final battle.

Turning left and heading for the arena exit, Adam is startled slightly when a backstage technician walks out one of the corridor’s doors and freezes on the spot. He looks at Adam, then the body of Ignatius Lisieux slung over his shoulder, then back at Adam, eyes wide in the classic "deer in the headlights" situation - Quick as a flash his "training" kicks in and he starts barking orders;

Adam: Private! We need medics here, stat! I repeat, this is a code-red medical emergency, a top officer has collapsed and back-up is needed! Communications are down and you need to be a runner: go, go, go!

Totally confused, but somehow taken in by the shock tactics employed, the technician stops jittering and raises his hand to his head in a feeble attempt at a salute before half-running, half-stumbling away to his destination.

Adam: God-speed, son! God-speed!

Of course, as soon as the little weasel was around the corner he broke into a proper run and probably found the nearest security detail… Still, the command had bought Adam enough time… Carrying the carcass of the formerly-enraged, now unconscious, Ignatius Lisieux through the parking lot doors, he struggled in his left pocket to find something…

Adam: Gotcha!

Pulling keys out with considerable care, an electronic "bleep" burst out nearby as Adam begins hurrying towards his rental car… Breathing heavily and drenched in sweat, he opens the back-left door and bundles Lisieux inside. Not wanting to waste a moment, the Scotsman dives into the driver’s side, starts the car up and tears off out of the parking lot quicker than a flash, leaving the camera shot to observe the smoking rubber-tracks left engrained on the concrete in classic movie-style…

Somewhere inside of that arena, Karina Wolfenden is smiling.

Somewhere inside of that arena, Chet Worth had his head in his hands.

Somewhere outside of that arena, Ignatius Lisieux is a ticking time-bomb waiting to explode.

Location: A-List locker room. Persons present: Danny Ferguson, Illustrious Face-Eater, Chandler Tsonda, Eleanor Kannon-Hall, Reggie Delray, etc.

Danny Ferguson: So I’m just not sure I get it. You hate him but you refuse to fight him, even in a match with eight other people and no chance of you losing a title you never won?

Chandler Tsonda: (mocking) Oh, look at me: I’m Danny Ferguson and I’m so uber-cool that I pick on a guy with cancer.

Reggie Delray: Yer not Danneh Ferguson, boy! Yer name’s Flannery or somethin’ fruity and such.

The Extremely Extreme Champion looks up at the arguing pair.

Illustrious Face-Eater: Dudes, be cool.

Eleanor Kannon-Hall: Just be fetch, Chan! You too, ginger!

This garners a glare from Ferguson for the Prep Princess. Chandler Tsonda nervously plays with the 5-Star Title in his fingers.

Danny Ferguson: As piss-poor as you are at preparing for matches, you beat him at ReV 100, correct?

Chandler Tsonda: Correct.

Danny Ferguson: And you have never lost a one-on-one match to him, correct?

Chandler Tsonda: Correct.

Illustrious Face-Eater: And you love face fulls of cock, correct?

Chandler Tsonda: Corre…fuck you.

Illustrious Face-Eater: Dude. Gay.

The 5-Star Champ shakes his head while the other two A-List members brainstorm out loud exactly what can be done about the current sitch.

Danny Ferguson: So you still call the shots. Considering you somehow finagled your little "property ownership" clause, you’re all set.

Illustrious Face-Eater: If had that, I’d melt this shit down and make it into a four-finger ring and then punch that bitchtits Nova straight in his grill.

Chandler Tsonda: Yes, but-

Danny Ferguson: Listen, this is a chance for all of us to set an excellent precedent going into the pay-per-view. Plus, Chet’s formally on our team and if anyone dicks this up and he’s not absolutely cheery as sunshine for Colossus, we all get reamed.

Reggie Delray: All of us? Ya really mean it, Dan? Aww we’re the luckiest bunch o’ folks ‘round!

He gets the "everyone staring" treatment for a couple seconds, then they realize it’s better to just move on and ignore him.

Eleanor Kannon-Hall: Are you, like, a Sasquatch or something?

Danny Ferguson: (in full ignoring mode) So are you with me?

In Mighty Ducks-style, they put their hands in; each adding a tidbit as they do. The camera goes to an above shot of just the hands.

Danny Ferguson: Let’s do it, homies.

Illustrious Face-Eater: Chandler, don’t go putting your hand on top of mine.

Reggie Delray: One for all and four one one!

Eleanor Kannon-Hall: It’s like a cute little sports movie or something. Is the next part where we go out and see big scary black guys on the other side of the field?

Silence as the fifth hand waits. The camera cuts to Tsonda, who’s scratching his chin.

Danny Ferguson: Dude, what the fuck?

Chandler Tsonda: I want a good one; I’m thinking!

More silence.

Chandler Tsonda: Okay I got it! "We ride together, we die together. A-List for life."

Danny Ferguson: That’s from Bad Boys.

Chandler Tsonda: Nuh-uh. Hey, I didn’t second-guess your crappy coming-into-the-circle thing!

Back into the above shot and all the hands in the middle. And just like one of those awesome 80’s montages, everything goes into slow motion as the group brings their hands up and a Peter Gabriel song starts playing as everyone high-fives each other and walks out the door in the same stride.

"I'm really sorry that I wasn't much help out there, but that ring apron was slippery. I really think we need to talk to Chet and tell him that we need a few of those mop boys from the NBA."

Walking down a corridor, the huge shadow of Ivan Stanislav hanging over his head, Tony Gamble keeps chatting away.

Tony Gamble: Someone could get really hurt out there... I'm pretty sure I'm going to need to get X-Rays done.

Ivan Stanislav: Is it not hard to sneak around with someone talking so loudly?

Gamble stops short, almost getting run over by the sweat drenched chest that slaps him across the cheek.

Tony Gamble: Are you asking me, or are you telling me? Sometimes it gets a little hard to understand your broken English.

Ivan Stanislav: More difficult to hear if you have broken face, eh? Besides, quiet is better, da?

Gamble cocks an eyebrow at the last remark.

Tony Gamble: And now you're answering your own questions... This is weird.

Ivan grabs Gamble with a firm grip around his neck, pulling him closer with a low grumble building up inside his throat.

Ivan Stanislav: Be quiet now, or Ivan will have to hurt you.

With a nervous grin, Gamble nods his head.

Tony Gamble: Yeah... Yeah... Okay.

With Ivan's grip released, Gamble rubs his neck gently before cocking his head to his left; slightly over his shoulder.

Tony Gamble: It's this way.

Turning and walking down the corridor, Gamble still manages to get a few words in.

Tony Gamble: That's a pretty good grip you got there.

Ivan Stanislav: Back at the Motherland, we kill chickens with bare hands.

It's there, and you have to be stupid to not expect him to take it.

Tony Gamble: So you choke chickens.

Rimshot.

Ivan Stanislav: In way, yes. Most times we just snap neck. You must have really firm grip, and jerk up hard, sometimes you can rip head right off of little chicken.

Tony Gamble: Okay we're here. He's planning to ambush you later, so if you run in there and get the drop on himhe'll never know what hit him.

Ivan: No, he will know that Ivan Sergeiovich was man who hit him.

Tony Gamble: Just don't tell him who brought you here. He'll kill me, dead.

Ivan pats Gamble on the top of his head.

Ivan Stanislav: Ivan won't say.

Gamble just smiles.

Tony Gamble: Give him hell.

Ivan nods and pushes the door open, the sounds of plates crashing against the floor as someone yells out in surprise is heard as the door swings shut. Gamble not being able to help himself, pushes open the door to take a quick peak.

Tony Gamble: Holy crap.

There, standing barrel chest to food covered barrel chest is Ivan Stanislav and none other than...

Titan St. James.

Letting the door close once again, Tony turns heel to toe and walks off with an extra spring to his step.

"Is it done?"

Tony suddenly spins around in surprise as The Universal Champion steps out from a doorway. Complete with bandages on his forehead and his right arms wrapped up, he questions Gamble as to the state of affairs.

Tony Gamble: Sounds like it.

The sound of bodies smashing through tables and slamming against walls echoes through the halls, bringing a slight grin to the face of "The PRIME Choice."

A group of people is heard from down the hall. Spinning around the corner, security makes a beeline for the catering area that Ivan and Titan are battling in. 'The Grin' and 'The Supreme Machine' back away against the wall to make room. Once the last guard passes, Killean shakes his head.

Killean Sirrajin: If Titan can't finish off that Russian bastard, he'll have a little extra baggage on his flight home after I get my hands on him...

Tony Gamble: What's that?

Killean Sirrajin: ... a wheelchair.

A rather disturbing and angered look is plastered on Sirrajin's face as he looks down the hall towards the now destroyed catering room. He growls a little as he goes to hold his wrapped up arm, still suffering the effects of the attack last week.

Tony Gamble: That was pretty good. I would've gone with crutches myself, but I'm sure you can dish out a lot more damage than I could.

Gamble recieves a nod from the Universal Champion.

Tony Gamble: Unless I had a big truck... Ooh, the things I could do with a big truck.

The arena lights go down and the attention of the fans is drawn to the PRIME-A-Tron, where a fade-in shot of Ignatius Lisieux and Tony Rolo locking up in the ring is coming into focus.

Narrator (V/O): Colossus…the flagship Pay-Per-View event of arguably the biggest wrestling organization in the world today, PRIME. Every year, the event raises the bar for what the next three hundred sixty-five days will accomplish.

(CUT TO: Bodies flying everywhere as members of Los Diablos, Pranks With Attitude, Civil Disobedience, Teh Pwn, and other tag teams battle it out inside the Fallen Halo.)

Narrator (V/O): Above all else, Colossus is the showcase for the roster’s in-ring abilities. It is the ultimate proving ground.

(CUT TO: Angelo Deville and Karina Wolfenden standing in the ring, gazes boring into each other as the fans lose it in the background. The shot fades to black, and an enormous pot leaf immediately appears on screen, accompanied by a slamming noise.)

Narrator (V/O): And the credibility of this great event has just been shot to hell.

(CUT TO: A shot of an empty ring. Then a shot of the green glass bong hanging high above it. Then a shot of the face-plate of the Intense Title, hanging above the bong.)

Narrator (V/O): Colossus III…the first-ever "Grip It and Rip It" Challenge. When one competitor grabs the bong and takes a rip, the Intense Title will lower and that man will be able to claim it.

(CUT TO: A shot of Nova in the ring, grinning at the crowd as he holds a microphone up to his mouth.)

Narrator (V/O): Nova…the Rising Star…

(CUT TO: Nova power-bombing Vangelus Olsig through a flaming table on the outside of the ring. Then cut to a shot of Nova sitting on the ground outside the ring, caked in soot and extinguisher foam with blood running down the side of his face. He grins as he stares down at the Intense Title in his hands.)

Narrator (V/O): The champion…

Nova (V/O): I’ll always shrug off your lame assaults and dish up revenge where it hurts you most! And that’s how I win…that’s how I beat you, you laughable, pathetic son of a bitch!

(CUT TO: Facey swaggering down the ramp, jaw-jacking at the fans and holding his arms out.)

Narrator (V/O): Adam Dick…the Illustrious Face-Eater…

(CUT TO: Facey bashing his microphone into Nova’s head as he crouches over him at ringside. Then cut to a shot of Facey, standing over Nova in the ring at the end of ReVolution 102.)

Narrator (V/O): The challenger…

The Illustrious Face-Eater (V/O): I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU FREAKIN’ IDIOTS CHEER NOVA ON LIKE HE’S SOME KIND OF HERO!! HE’S A FUCKING LOSER! HE’S A FAKE, WORTHLESS RAT BASTARD OF A HUMAN BEING!!

(CUT TO: Side profiles of Facey and Nova’s faces, almost meeting at the nose. In the background is an empty ring with the bong and Intense Title suspended above it.)

Narrator (V/O): Nova vs. the Illustrious Face-Eater…Colossus III…the Intense Title…the "Grip It and Rip It" Challenge…

The screen fades to black, and then the pot leaf reappears, with the CIII logo glowing in front of it.

Narrator (V/O): …Colossus III just got stoned.

*GASP* - You get to read a segment that isn’t taking place inside of the arena! Aren’t you a lucky devil?

…Pulled up on the side of the I64-E is the very rental car that Adam made his "daring escape" in earlier on tonight. The Scotsman’s plan had been to get the ticking time-bomb (that’s Ignatius Lisieux, in case you didn’t guess) as far away from the arena as possible, so as to prevent him from ripping Karina Wolfenden’s head from her shoulders after her MVP-blackballing session with Chet Worth.

However, Adam’s "plan" had been abruptly diverted when a hand from the backseat of his car had found its way around his throat.

He’d been forced to pull to the side of the road rather hastily, and at that point had wondered why putting Lisieux in the trunk hadn’t occurred to him… Once pulled-up by the side of the road Ignatius’ grip was readjusted to have his full right arm round the Scot’s neck; inner elbow pulled tight to his windpipe… and we’re back in real-time…

Ignatius: Adam… I think we need to talk.

His words dripping with malice, the French-Canadian’s forehead is literally bulging… his eyes are bloodshot and streaming from the effects of the chloroform and his face is a crimson shade of fury. Adam struggles to speak, but he tries his damndest…

Adam: Yes, Si-

He chokes on the last word as Ignatius pulls back tight to shut him up…

Ignatius: I told you to stand the fuck down… I am not "Sir" to you, I am no ranking superior in your eyes – you are disillusioned and need to give this shit a rest. Are we agreed?

Speaking in a spookily calm tone and desperately trying to rise above the voices inside of his head telling him to tear the Scotsman apart he releases his grip a little to await a raspy-voiced response…

Adam: Aye… we’re agreed.

It is with more than a little relief that Lisieux hears a familiar Scottish accent finally pierce through the mid-Atlantic drift that Adam had perfected in the past few weeks of his military persona. The French-Canadian sighs deeply with relief and pats Adam on the back with his left-hand as the throat-hold with his right is then tentatively released.

Ignatius: Now… get out.

Adam nods and then duly obliges, clambering over the other front seat to climb out the passenger side of the car. Ignatius, with the clearer path over the backseat, is out a lot faster and is waiting for him when he exits… Before Adam has the chance to smile, offer his hand and shake on the misunderstanding between the pair of them Ignatius slugs him across the jaw and throws him roughly to the side of the road, straddling his chest and pinning the ex-Tag champ’s arms down into the dirt with his knees.

I guess that means that the crazy little voices inside of Ignatius’ head > sanity.

Ignatius: What the fuck are you doing?!

He snarls as he lands another punch on Adam’s defenceless face.

Ignatius: Karina Wolfenden has just nigh-on…

SMACK!

Ignatius: …blackballed me to high heaven to Chet Worth…

SMACK!

Ignatius: …and made my match with her at Colossus must-win…

SMACK!

Ignatius: …And I’m on a fucking highway in the middle of nowhere, groggy from chloroform with only a nut-bar Scottish bastard for company!

SMACK!

Lisieux stops speaking as another few blows reign down, but Adam simply takes them, after all - nobody knew "crazy" Ignatius better than PRIME’s longest-serving recruit. As soon as Ignatius lay off for a second to take a breather Adam grabbed the opportunity and flipped Lisieux right over him, rolling back to change the positions of the pinned and the pinner. The Scotsman played the possum like nobody else.

Adam: Now how about you listen to me…

His eyes were bloodied-over and his cheeks were swollen, but it was amazingly the "Number One Son" who had all of the composure in the altercation…

Adam: D’ye seriously think - "Commanding Officer" shite or not - that I could let you find Karina Wolfenden and tear her to shreds on live TV ten days before the biggest match of your career!? It’d finish you there and then, you’d prove her right.

Ignatius Lisieux spits a little bluster at the suggestion and desperately struggles for leverage, but the Scotsman’s height and weight advantage serves him well…

Adam: Aye, so she’s just went and put a metaphoric nail into your metaphoric PRIME coffin… but you’ve overcome bigger fucking obstacles than her on numerous occasions – ReVolution Fifty, Ozric Mortimer, Hoyt Williams, Tony Rolo, Joey Troy, Black Angel, Ian English, Tchu… Me… you seriously telling me you’ve beaten all those but you can’t beat fucking Wolfenden? She’s got fucking tits and ovaries, man!

The French-Canadian seems a little appeased, the logic of his Scottish saviour finally penetrating his thick skull and reigning down over the fury…

Adam: I know my measures were a little questionable – but needs fucking must, eh?

Once more, though, the demons overcome the logic and reason doesn’t seem to be Lisieux’s strongpoint – he struggles and squirms to be let out the Scot’s grip.

Adam: Right, now… I’m gonna let y’go, and I’m gonna drop the CIA shite for a bit…

Ignatius manages to break an arm free and tries to swing for Adam’s face, but the hand is held down again quickly.

Adam: Jesus… I need a fucking break from this sorta treatment.

He quickly releases his grip and bounds upwards, standing as far clear from the French-Canadian as humanly possible… The "MVP" scuffles to his feet in-turn, adopting a typically predatory stance.

Adam: You’re telling me that you’ve been back for nine fucking months and all it’s took to flip you cookie is some bint badmouthing you to the boss? Jesus, I wish I’d have known!

Still breathing heavily and more intense than perhaps ever before, Lisieux is quick to reply…

Ignatius: PRIME is my life… I won’t let anybody take it away from me.

He means it, as well. Adam nods solemnly - still at a "safe" distance… he looks up and tosses his car keys to Lisieux, an act of pure friendship through all the adversity…

Adam: … Here, take it – I understand what you have to do.

The French-Canadian doesn’t respond, he merely catches and turns away… Adam responds with the slightest of nods and starts walking down the edge of the interstate with his thumb out… while Ignatius angrily starts up the engine and speeds off back towards the arena.

There may be trouble ahead.

Nick: Ladies and gentlemen, it is my distinct pleasure to conduct a LIVE interview with the two men who are going to be involved in arguably the biggest Main Event in Colossus and quite possibly PRIME history. Sitting across from me is the challenger for the Universal Title Tchu.

The camera focuses in on the blank stare in the Inhuman Being’s eyes. The crowd pops at seeing their possible hero to be.

Nick: And beside him is the Universal Champion himself, Killean Sirrajin.

The feed then shows Killean sitting a mere foot or so away from Tchu. The crowd explodes in heat for possibly the most hated Champion ever in PRIME.

Nick: First, i'd like to thank both of you gentlemen for agreeing to take part in this interview. I hope that we can keep things civil this evening.

Neither man gives much of any acknowledgement, and so, after a brief and awkward pause, Nick continues with the interview, tossing out the first question

Nick: I’m gong the way of the challenger for this question to start. Tchu, it’s been four years that you have been waiting to get your hands on the man sitting beside you. Finally, one on one at Colossus, you get your wish. What is running through your mind as the days count down?

Tchu: Endless anticipation. You could say I'm anxious for the chance to finally get some revenge.

Nick: Could you tell us exactly what happened four years ago?

Tchu: After the N4O closed, I went to a new indy promotion that was opening on the west coast. My friend and tag team partner, Sephiroth, was also headed that way. Some differences between the two of us that came to the surface somewhere along the road between N4O and the Undgergound caused us to quickly find ourselves enemies.

Nick: What was the main conflict that had you and Seph butting heads after so much success as friends and tag partners?

Tchu: The main problem revolved around championships. Seph had collected quite a few of them in N4O... and he was expecting much of the same when he went to the Underground. Namely... he had his eye on the feds top title, The Immortality Championship. On the Road To Glory, I took out Seph, and went on to win the championshp. During our match, Seph was injured, and so he went out and developed a 'protegee'. A hired gun, with the specific task of taking me out and bringing Immortality home.

As Tchu finishes the sentence, he turns his head, and for the first time since entering the room, turns to look towards his nemesis.

Killean Sirrajin: And that's when I broke his ribs. He and his little buddy, the owner of the Underground, set up some sorta lame ass "ceremony" to crown Matt the first ever Immortality Champion. I crashed the party.

Tchu: The next week... he did the same. Back to back weeks of being speared through turnbuckles and tables... and I was out of commission with several broken ribs. Killean wanted the title, wanted to do Seph's bidding, so I told him he could have his shot. The match was booked for a summer supershow... but two weeks before the show, the Underground was forced to fold for financial reasons.

Despite the rage that can be heard fueling each word that spills from the mouths of both men, each superstar remains still as can be, sitting casually on the chairs like frat boys crashed in front of the TV for a lousy night of sitcoms.

Nick: After the Undergound, you two managed to patch up your differences. Killean, you were even a major reason why Tchu joined PRIME. You mentioned to him that he should think about joining?

Killean: I personally recruited him. I told him of the opportunity, I told him of the possibilities, put in a good word for him with PRIME management. I was the driving force behind getting Matt a spot in the JITC tournament. And this sonofabitch (Killean doesn't turn to look, he just thrusts his thumb in the direction of The Inhuman Being) thanked me by smashing my skull with a steel chair.

Nick: You could argue it was deserved. Just payback for the Un...

Killean: Payback? Fine, then it would have ended there. It's way more personal than that. This is ugly. This is bad blood. I started the battle... I admit it... but we could have moved passed that... hell, I thought we had. I started the war... but Matt brought it back from the past.

Tchu: And then you just wouldn't let it go. By the way, I'm right here... two feet from your ugly mug. You can drop the fucking cool guy act... pretending like you're all alone in the room.

Tchu, unlike his foe, burns a hole through the Universal Champion with his gaze. Quickly, each man's approach to the interview starts to distance itself from the other's.

Tchu: We could have called it even after the chair shot. Could have just had our match back in November. But that was too simple for you. You had to attack me from behind. Break open my skull with a baseball bat. Interfere in my personal life, paying visits to my wife.

Killean: Soon to be ex-wife.

The Inhuman Being pauses involuntarily, forced to take a deep breath after that one. But he shakes it off.

Tchu: You had to screw me out of a victory in the Dual Halo. You wouldn't let this die... and now it’s gonna kill ya.

Killean Sirrajin: I really hope you don’t believe that. The writing’s been on the wall ever since I met you. I’m destined to defeat you. From the Underground to PRIME, I have left you lying with broken ribs, crimson masks and even a Matt casserole… heh. Fact is Matt, you’ve been lucky thus far to never have a match with me and soon you will regret any move you have ever made against me.

Nick shifts uneasily in his chair, fearing that perhaps, things are nearing their breaking point.

Nick: Killean, you sound very confident that you'll walk out of Colossus in eleven days victorous... why do you feel that you've already got the match won? Matt has certainly accomplished enough to show what a grea competitor he is. He's won the Un...

Killean Sirrajin: Won it and lost it to Clyde Walkins, the walking proof that lobotomies exist. It was the shortest reign I’d ever seen and definitely the shortest in PRIME history. Of all the top titles that Matt won in the past, he has never defended successfully. PRIME was no different. He dropped the ball and disappointed everyone who had his back. I have defended successfully quite a few times and I will do it again.

Killean sniffs and rubs his chin. He sticks up his pointed finger.

Killean Sirrajin: I’m not gonna sugar coat this because I’ve no reason to lie. This is going to be the toughest match of my career. Matt has run roughshod over the fed since joining and almost no one has been able to stop him. No one… until Colossus. Mary knows it, Charity knows it, I know it and most importantly… YOU KNOW IT!

Sirrajin turns to Tchu for the first time throughout the interview and doesn’t really show any emotion.

Killean Sirrajin: Everyone including you knows that you shouldn’t be here. You should be home taking care of your family. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have to beat you to a pulp at Colossus. You are facing some unnecessary medical bills old friend.

Tchu: And once again, you can't make it through an interview without bringing my personal life into the conversation. Every time someone sticks a microphone or a camera in your face... you ramble on and on about Mary, and what a lousy husband I am, and what a pathetic father... what's the deal with that obsession? You afraid to just leave all that shit to the side and deal with this thing just between you and me?

Killean Sirrajin: That’s not the case at all. Actually I’m just embarrassed to step into the ring with what most would consider… half a man.

"The Supreme Machine" smirks at his former friend and then goes back to looking straight forward.

Nick: Matt... your response?

The Inhuman Being turns away from his nemesis, returning his direction of sight towards Nick, a rather cold look on his face.

Tchu: Don't have one.

Nick: You don't have one?

Tchu: Nothin’ to say. Let him think what he wants... I don't give a shit. Doesn't change what's gonna happen at CIII.

Killean Sirrajin: Of course he doesn’t have a response Nick. He knows he made a huge mistake in getting Ivan to help him last week. Tried to put me on the shelf. I’ll admit, I’m fuckin’ sore after the fall I took. But nothing is going to stop me from being at Colossus and retaining what has all along, been rightfully mine. My career will never be complete until I get good ol’ Matt here out of the picture.

Nick: Any last words Matt?

Tchu: Killean, you and I know the truth... You were brought into this business solely for one purpose... and it all centered around me. I've been your career in way or another from the start. You like to walk around this place, flashing your title, claiming that you're 'untouchable'... but you still haven't obtained the very thing you were brought into this industry for... immortality. But I guess that's what Colossus is all about.

Sirrajin stands and looks down at Tchu who stays seating, looking calm and cool as ever.

Killean Sirrajin: Don’t you get it Matt? It started with you but it sure as hell didn’t continue that way. I moved on and I came into PRIME and did what I did by myself. I beat Karina, Boda, Hoyt and many more on my own. Then you show up and hell, I thought it was all put behind us. We had talked for quite sometime beforehand. We became friends and I thought it was all water under the bridge. Then you go ahead and turn me into a fuckin’ chair rack. If you really had a problem with me after the Underground, why couldn’t you talk to me about it like a regular person would? I was PAID to do what I did in tU. That was it and I did not act on my own! So screw you Matt, I wanted to put everything behind us but you just couldn’t let it go. So at Colossus, you’ll pay with your career. That’s it… I’m done…

Killean rips the small mic off his shirt. He then gives one last angered stare to Tchu and then proceeds to move his chair out of the way, leaving Nick and Tchu.

Nick: Ladies and Gentlem… I... I don't...

Tchu: Funny... he'd make you think I'm the heel.

Nick: I certainly don't think you...

Tchu: Don't worry, Nick... in eleven days... there'll be no good guys. And I'm fine with that.

Overseer's "Velocity Shift" catches the ear of the crowd and reminds them that it's time for the main event. The accompanying light show/Wal-Tron spectacle/Mary Poppins paraphrase ushers Karina Wolfenden into the arena.

The reception for the K-Wolf is considerably more negative than it had been, say, months ago, or even weeks ago. The sudden sour turn of what had previously been an endearingly tart fan/Karina relationship could be traced to her spiteful dealings with Ignatius Lisieux. Although she would profess otherwise to her grave, there was no denying the possibility that the open wound between she and Iggy was salted by his overness. In a battle of face vs. face, it was Karina upon whom the fans turned. She would not lobby any complaints, but anyone in the ring knew that the kicks seemed to (somehow) come even harder and quicker when they were egged on by the jeers of an audience.

Karina slings herself into the ring and tests the ropes before retreating to the far corner for the ref to check her. The lights don't even come back up after her light show, as "Velocity Shift" is replaced by a song with considerably less aggression.

"Da Funk" by Daft Punk comes with lasers, strobes, and a dash of asshole. From the spotlight behind the entrance, they make their way out. First, the Team Ferguson bodyguards, each stepping to a side of the entrance and surveying the crowd. Then, Chandler Tsonda emerges, 5-Star Title around his waist, Eleanor Kannon-Hall at his side. Behind them, the Illustrious Face-Eater makes obscene gestures to the crowd while he comes out, so to the viewers just see a pixelated blur...well, a pixelated blur with a cape. Fourth is Reggie Delray, sporting his nine-iron and screaming intelligibly. Behind him comes Danny Ferguson, still rocking the Funk U gear as he limp-strides out. Before the silhouette moves into the light, you could swear that he was the real deal. Then he stops at the front, smirking his shit-eating smirk, and gestures back towards the entrance. Finally, Chet Worth, moving somewhat reluctantly, steps out onto the stage.

It looks, for a moment, like Worth would be regretting the deal with the devil he made last week, when he nearly begged Danny to let him be a tag champion, if only for one night. Worth exchanges some high fives around the group, and then the entire flock migrates to the ring. The guards stay around ringside along with Ellie and Reggie, and the A-List: Special Edition piles into the ring. Chandler preens, Facey curses and dr humps, Danny stretches and mutters to himself, and Chet shifts nervously. Karina surveys this team, supposedly the most feared grouping of wrestlers in PRIME at the moment...and just rolls her eyes.

So there are five dudes here. One of them, Clint Poteet, never had any theme music to begin with, unless you count Tyler Nelson's old theme, but since Tyler's demotion led to the downsizing that cost Clint his job and ultimately put him in this match to begin with...well, maybe it's best not to open those wounds.

Another guy on this team, Silvio Fiore, made a habit of NOT having entrance music to begin with, given his tweener status. And I don't mean tweener in the sense of whether fans like him or not. I mean tweener as in whether he's a wrestler or one of those dudes in Black Sabbath shirts who roll up all the cable when the final set of pyro has gone off and the roster goes home for the night.

So what you had was three guys - Johnny Noble, Nova and Kyle Lamen - with legit theme songs. There was no point in having two silent entrances, especially with a crowd all riled up like they were, on the eve of Colossus III. They needed music. Plus, they were all dudes (in the most heterosexual way possible), and they had a mutual understanding, at least to the extent that they were "the good guys" and were willing to look past other ideological differences to unite in their facedom. This, however, provided another conundrum.

Which theme do you, as a unit, choose as the soundtrack for your one and only introduction to the fans which you seek so hard to appease? Is it "Bloodclot," by Rancid, "Gonna Fly Now" by Bill Conti, or "Maggot Brain" by Funkadelic?

After a 38-game round-robin tournament in the back failed to yield a clean and mutually-agreed-upon winner, a new method of determination was explored: logic. You can thank Fiore for that one.

So by a method of seniority, Kyle's theme was knocked out immediately. Nothing against Rancid or Lamen, but even he knew that he didn't have the arguing position that either of his contemporaries did. But then there was another plateau - upon which aspect of seniority would the ultimate decison land? Nova had been in PRIME longer than just about anyone. Noble, on the other hand, was Johnny Noble, and carried a nickname - Father Wrestling - that was more than just a clever t-shirt idea. He was m-f'n old. Once again, the team of do-gooders found themselves at a stalemate.

The final attempt to determine a theme came down to Oh Shit Factor. Both Noble and Nova had nemeses awaiting them in the ring, particularly on the A-List side of things. Which of their songs would not only cause the crowd to flip their business, but likewise make their respective enemy's mouth go dry and his bowels go runny?

This criteria finally found an opening - not because either song stood head and shoulders above the other, but because of two separate conclusions to which the Faces came:

1) Chandler Tsonda is a vag. Like, seriously. Noble had him so worked up that he was probably wearing a diaper out there under his pleather pants. It was no secret to anyone backstage that he had mysteriously switched to all waterproof fabrics in the past 2-3 weeks.

2) The Illustrious Face-Eater is a retarded deaf child, and thus, couldn't hear the music to be afraid. This wasn't as solid as a conclusion as the previous one, but it was spearheaded primarily by Nova, who realized the cost side of this cost-benefit equation, and was willing to make that sacrifice.

"Gonna Fly Now" hit the speakers and the crowd, appropriately, flipped their business. Chandler Tsonda squirmed suddenly and bailed from the ring much faster than any of his teammates, but no one noticed that.

The Five Faces emerged from the back, fairly confident in their musical selection, especially the giant old dude up front, leading the charge. Johnny Noble spends a little bit of time playing to the crowd, but most of it staring a hole in the small parts of Chandler that are visible above the ring apron. On either side of him, Nova and Kyle Lamen do the same play-to-the-fans-but-spook-their-nemeses treatment to The Eater and The Ferg, respectively. And bringing up the rear, Silvio Fiore and Clint Poteet remain entirely business, their dueling stern looks being the makings of a mercenary-style hitman tag team, but everyone knows those never pan out, so they become the most short-lived dream team in history.

All five hit the ring, and the remaining do-badders remove themselves from it, letting the fan favorites get their precious moment in the sun before tha hurtins began.

After a moment, the AWolfWorth team climbs back into the ring, Wolfenden trailing behind the other four, staring at her feet, and bending down to tie her shoes. Worth turns, and ushers the rest of his AList pals to the outside, allowing him to start the match.

The faces wait, and as Worth starts to turn around, Clint Poteet smiles, and steps forward, allowing Noble, Nova, Fiore and Lamen to step through the ropes. The bell rings as Worth sneers and moves toward Poteet as well.

Nick: And we're underway here with Worth and Poteet going after each other.

Richard: Poteet's going to decimate Worth. He's angry.

Nick: Wouldn't you be if you had nothing to do anymore?

Richard: Yeah. Because talking in a booth is so much.

The two men face each other, yelling in the other's face, before Poteet reaches back, and slaps the CEO in the face. Worth stumbles backwards, more of shock than anything, before turning around and walking up to Poteet again, walking into another open handed slap that spins him around to his right. In disbelief, the CEO of PRIME steps forward once more, catching one more slap to the face. This time, Worth stands his ground, and his face turns red. Part from the slaps, but, mostly because he's mad.

Worth quickly fires a fist at Poteet, but, it's blocked and one of Poteet's own is thrown back at him. Worth stumbles backwards as Poteet reaches out and grabs a hand of the CEO and throws him into the ropes, right into the waiting kick of Kyle Lamen. The fans pop a bit, as Worth hits the mat and Lamen throws a hand into the air, as if to say "oops." Across the ring, Karina Wolfenden rolls her eyes so hard, they fall out of her head, and roll clear to Egypt. True story.

Richard: How's Karina going to wrestle without eyes?

Nick: What?

Richard: Don't you read what Pete writes?

Nick: Does anyone?

Richard: True...

Poteet charges in, and delivers a knee lift to Worth, taking him off his feet again. The big man reaches out and tags in Johnny Noble. The two lift Worth off the mat, with Poteet holding Worth's arms behind his back, as Noble lands a chop across the chest of the CEO that's still echoing through the warm Florida night.

Don't believe me? Listen.

SHH! I said listen. Turn off your MP3 player, and just sit in silence for a second.

Damnit! Tell that kid to shut up! LISTEN!

...

...

...

(slap)

See? Told you.

Nick: YOWZERS!

Richard: Yowzers?

Nick: Pete sucks.

Poteet lets go of Worth, who instantly clutches his chest, and falls to his knees. Noble wastes no movement, lifting Worth again, and pushing him into the face corner, unloading with another chop across his chest that caused the crowd to wince.

Suddenly, Lamen tags himself in, and moving Noble backwards a bit. Lamen rubs his hands together, reaches back, and KA-SLAP! right across the chest of Worth, even louder than Noble's shot. Noble nods in appreciation, as Silvio Fiore reaches out, and tags himself in as well.

Nick: Looks like we've got an old fashioned "Slap the CEO Contest" going here!

Richard: As opposed to a...

Nick: Shut it, Richard.

Richard: All I was...

Nick: Shut up.

Richard: But I...

Nick: SHUT UP!

Same thing. Fiore reaches back, and slaps Worth's chest, the fans wince, and the faces smile at each other. Without even bothering to tag, Nova comes into the ring. Worth tries to squirm out of it, but, no dice. Clint Poteet has his arm, and he's not letting go. Worth closes his eyes and winces as Nova puts a hand to his mouth and licks his palm. Lamen and Fiore motion to the crowd to keep it down, as Nova smiles a touch.

This is going to hurt. You might want to turn your head, kids. Just wait until you hear the slap, and it'll be okay.

...

...

SLLLLLLLAP!!!

Wow. That was vicious.

Having seen enough, the heels rush the ring to save their partner and friend... Well, partner at least. First comes Facey, though as soon as Nova turns around and spots him, he turns tail and runs to the outside. Tsonda followed quickly, going after Noble, but, the old man stepped left, and Tsonda missed and fell between the ropes. Ferg followed behind, charging after Lamen and taking him over the top rope, the two men crashing to the outside of the ring.

And Karina Wolfenden? She was busily inspecting her fingernails, trying to figure out which one was longer than the other, and possibly what shade she'd like to paint them, if she was into that kind of thing.

Chet Worth stands up from the mat, clutching his chest, five big hand prints decorating his skin, each in their own horrible shade of red. Nova grabs the left arm of Worth, and sends him into the ropes. Fiore and Poteet step to his side, and as Worth returns, he simply stops, falls to the mat, and rolls himself to the outside of the ring.

Finally, things start to organize themselves a bit more as the referee restores some order, with only Nova remaining in the ring. Worth moves over to his side of the ring, still on the outside, waiting for the rest of the faces to leave the ring. As soon as Poteet steps between the ropes, Worth rolls back into the ring, and tags in an unsuspecting Karina Wolfenden.

Karina looks at where Worth tagged her arm, back at Worth, and then down to the arm. She shrugs, enters the ring, looks at Clint Poteet, and tags in Tsonda.

Tsonda enters the ring as the gargantuan Poteet flexes and snorts, pointing at Chet Worth. Never one to deny a large man's request (in more ways than one (HA! GAY JOKE! +2 points)), Tsonda reaches out and tags in Worth, leaving the ring. Worth stares incredulously at the other two members of the team, and enters the ring again, to face certain doom.

Without waiting, Poteet rushes in toward Worth, rather stupidly. Worth simply sidesteps the attack, and kicks Clint on the outside of his left knee, buckling the big man's body into his corner. Poteet tried to rise, but, Worth was on him in a second, lashing out a series of punches to the back and side of Poteet's giant head.

The referee backs Worth off, chastising him for using a closed fist, while the other heels punch the crap out of Poteet, holding him in the corner. Worth nods and apologizes for his actions, and bows to the referee... stupidly exposing the triple team going on behind him. The referee rushed behind the CEO and yelled at the members of the AList for their part in the attack.

The AListers throw their hands up into the air, as Poteet turns around and takes a swing, hitting Facey, and knocking him off the apron to the ground. Another punch flies, hitting Karina in the side of the face, turning her around to deflect the blow. Worth steps in, crouching, and grabbing a leg of the former bodyguard for Tyler Nelson, and yanking his feet out from underneath him.

Poteet falls, face first, his head hitting the bottom turnbuckle. Worth yanks his leg backward, turning Poteet over, and putting a boot to the inside of his knee. From nowhere, a very pissed off Karina Wolfenden slaps Chet Worth on the back, jumps onto the top rope, springs upward, and comes down with all her weight, feet first into the chest of Clint Poteet, driving the oxygen out of his lungs.

With another boot to the inside of Poteet's leg, the KWolf grabs the other leg.

Karina Wolfenden: Make a wish.

Worth and Wolfenden both dive in opposite directions while holding the leg of the bodyguard, splitting him like a popsicle. Poteet sits up, holding his groin, as Karina Wolfenden rolls to a stand, comes off the opposite ropes, and hits Poteet with an excellent thrust dropkick, putting him into the corner once more.

Quickly, Worth is ushered out of the ring as Karina stands and again launches an assault onto Poteet, hitting him with kick after kick. Wolfenden reaches out and tags in Tsonda, who leaps the top rope, and lands on Poteet's chest with a bronco buster.

Danny Ferguson looks on in horror as Tsonda grinds his hips into the chest of Clint Poteet, jumping up and down on his prone body. Chet Worth turns away, his face turning whiter than usual. Tsonda stands up, and straightens himself out, before reaching out, and tagging in Ferg.

The two men lift Poteet, and pull him to the middle of the ring, throwing him off the ropes, and catching him with a beautiful double dropkick that sends Poteet crashing to the mat once more. Danny grabs Poteet and turns him over, reaching his hand out toward Kyle Lamen, taunting the Crown Prince of Punk Rock. Lamen takes the bait and runs into the ring, stopped by the referee. Chet Worth makes his way into the ring, amid the distraction, and levels a few boots to the face of Poteet, as Ferguson holds his head up, still using the arm to taunt Lamen.

Worth leaves the ring as Ferguson puts a boot to the back of Poteet's head. Lamen grabs the attention of his partners, and the four men have a bit of a huddle in private, while Ferguson pulls Poteet to his feet, and puts some Terry Funk like punches to the face of the bodyguard.

Once again, Ferguson reaches out, and taunts Lamen, holding the back of his own head, and rolling his eyes bac.

That does it.

Nova, Noble and Lamen both charge into the ring after Ferguson. Knowing the referee can't stop all three of them, the referee simply doesn't care. On the other side, Facey, Tsonda and Worth both charge in as well. Ferg and Lamen start trading punches, as Tsonda and Nova meet and try and take each other to the ring. Facey and Noble match up as well, trading punches with each other, neither one hurting the other much. Worth grabs Lamen, and tries to hold him for Ferguson.

Such a tight cluster of bodies...

Such an opportunity...

Fiore and the KWolf have the same idea at the same moment, as the two scale the turnbuckles, and wait for the perfect moment.

Wait for it...

Wait for it...

Wait...

Ready?

GO!

The KWolf leaps into the air the exact moment that Fiore does, Wolfenden spinning around in mid air and opening her body as much as possible to slow her momentum. Fiore, meanwhile, flips backwards, both competitors meeting in the center of the ring, landing on their opponents and partners.

Ferguson is sent into his corner, with Lamen falling under the weight of Fiore, and Worth going almost to the outside of the ring, his head hitting Fiore's.

Noble and Facey collapse under each attack.

Poteet had just started to stand, before being hit with one of Fiore's boots, and staggering onto a knee into his own corner.

Tsonda and Nova also fall victim, as the ring turns into carnage.

PRIME THAT SHIT! PRIME THAT SHIT! PRIME THAT SHIT!

Amidst the crowd of bodies rivaling only the kind of nasty scene from this year's Dual Halo competition, two men haul themselves up to their feet. On one side, Danny Ferguson uses the ropes to rise back up, slumping against the turnbuckle. Across the ring, Clint Poteet holds himself up on one knee, then pushes up to a standing position. He locks eyes with Danny across the ring, and Ferguson pushes out of his corner, stomping towards Poteet in the center of the ring.

Richard: Here we go! This is gonna be cool!

They meet and lock up. Well, it's not really a lockup, as neither is one for technique. It kinda looks like the fight from that episode of Deadwood earlier this year, where Dority and Captain Turner met in the thoroughfare for a sumo-esque clash. Danny makes the initial push, forcing the massive Poteet backwards to the startled surprise of the crowd, and even to Poteet himself. With a roar, Poteet surges back, and Danny, having taken more abuse over the course of the match, begins to buckle. Clint backs him out toward the middle of the ring again.

Nick: And Poteet regains his ground! Ferguson caught him off guard with that unnatural strength, but the biker mentality of Clint kept him in this one!

Richard: Whaddya mean, unnatural strength?

Nick: Let's just say French newspapers aren't fond of Danny.

With a shove, Danny is sent tumbling down onto his back. Poteet looms over him, readying for the Dan Dority death blow...when Chet Worth suddenly steps in.

Richard: Wahoo! Way to go, boss!

With a glancing blow that catches Clint across the jaw, Chet re-enters the picture. He stands between Poteet and Ferguson, protecting his soon-to-be tag partner from the immediate threat. Poteet surges back, and throws a hard overhand fist at Chet. Worth absorbs the blow and gives one of his own, and the two erupt into a battle worth of the heavyweight division of a local Toughman competition - ugly and painful.

Nick: Our CEO is going to war with a bodyguard for what? For some actor?!

Richard: You know damn well he's not just 'some actor!' He's the most vibrant superstar on the roster! He's the pride and joy of PRIME! And most importantly, he's the only shot Chet Worth will ever have at holding a title in this company!

Indeed, Worth throws them 'bows like a man with a purpose, staggering Poteet up against the ropes. He leans up against the equally-beefy man, then backs up and slings him across the ring for an Irish whip...except it becomes a conveniently-named move as Poteet is slung straight into the awaiting arms of Danny Ferguson!

Ferg whips Poteet over with a powerslam that rocks the ring, then immediately floats up and grabs the big guy's knee. He applies the spinning toe hold and motions for Chet to keep working the guy over. After hitting the ropes himself, Chet delivers a flattening fatboy senton that significantly reduces the amount of fight left in Tyler Nelson's former employee.

Richard: He's going to end it right here!

Nick: I must say, I'm pretty impressed by the teamwork between Worh and Ferguson!

Richard: Once you're on the List, Nick, you never come off it!

Nick: Is that really true? Because I - wait a second, look at this!

The crowd's noise level rises as Kyle Lamen appears on the apron. He springboards the top rope and leaps off, looking to connect with a cross-body press that would break up the submission attempt. He doesn't make it, though, because Chet Worth is there to catch him in a fallaway slam position!

Worth walks around a little bit, getting himself clear of his partner and Poteet, making sure to drop to a knee a few times for a backbreaker. He finally stops, then squats and throws Kyle backwards...except Kyle hangs on, flying over Chet's head but locking on in a crucifix position. The momentum plus the reversal sends Chet flying heels-over-head as he's slammed to the mat with Lamen's lightning-quick crucifix powerbomb variation! On impact, both men stay down and roll towards the apron.

Danny seems to be in the clear, but the crowd is still cheering. Before he can figure out what their "f'n deal" is, he's caught from behind by a missile dropkick.

Nick: Nice save there by Fiore!

Richard: He's not the legal man!

Nick: Do you even know who the legal man is?

Richard: No, but I know that it's not Fiore! He's like 17! He's not legal for ANYTHING!

Silvio is quick to roll Clint Poteet out of the ring while Danny recovers from the blindside attack. He backs up against a turnbuckle and charges at Fiore with a big lariat, but the young man ducks it and hooks the arm. Making things up as he goes along, Silvio whips his wiry body around the more bulky frame of Ferguson, almost swinging into a crucifix of his own before settling into a Russian leg sweep. Their spin continues as Silvio swings Danny down to the mat, completing the move with a fluidity that made it look almost like a-

Nick: Tornado Reverse Russian Leg Sweep! Where did he get that from?

Richard: I'm sure it could only come from years of intense training.

Silvio shrugs to himself as he makes the cover on Danny. That pin attempt, though? Never happens.

Chandler Tsonda reaches through the ropes from the outside to paintbrush Fiore and break up the pin. He slides in immediately and follows it up with a second slap. Silvio is back to his feet and readying himself to throttle the Viet Viper...but suddenly his testicles hurt.

The Illustrious Face-Eater: Puberty has arrived, cocklick! Time to become a man!

Facey holds his Chyna-style low blow position for a few seconds, his trembling fist raised towards the heavens as if he's trying to power up. Fiore tumbles out of the way, aided by Tsonda's shove towards the outside.

Richard: This is just an A-List kind of night!

Nick: You aren't kidding! I haven't seen a numbers advantage this bad since that video of your ex-wife surfaced!

Richard: I'm not allowed to discuss that until the hearings are over.

Nick: Thank God.

The other two A-Listers celebrate their achievements, but then they get the dual "Oh Shit" moments.

Nova and Johnny Noble hit the ring from opposite sides, leading Chandler and Facey to back up against each other. They charge at their respective enemy, but at the last second, both A-Listers opted to throw their partner to the wolves, and they duck. Noble and Nova cross overhead, whiff on the knockout blow, and turn around to find themselves facing the wrong men.

Still, anger gets the best of them, and pounding AN A-Lister instead of YOUR A-Lister is better than pounding no A-Lister at all. Just ask Kyle Lamen, who is taking out some frustration on his old running buddy Chet Worth on the outside. So Nova starts smacking Chandler, and Noble does the same to Facey. Each pair circles a little until Nova and Noble are now in the center. They stand back to back, rocking Facey and Tsonda, then they turn at the same time and line up correctly with their enemy of choice. This time, the heels duck again, and the do-si-do leads them to once again be cornered in the middle. As soon as they bump into each other, though, they both turn around and start throwing punches wildly, neither one realizing that they are assaulting their own teammate.

Nova and Johnny watch for a second, enjoying the scene as much as the crowd, and then with a nod, they pull the Listers apart and drag them to opposite corners.

As they are separated, Facey and Chandler slowly realize that they were hitting each other. More importantly, Chandler notices that Nova is holding Facey back, while Facey notices that Johnny Noble is holding Chandler back. And right there, right then and there, ladies and gentlemen, for the first time in the RECORDED HISTORY OF THE HISTORICAL WORLD, The Model Citizen and The Eater of Faces were both on the same page. In fact, they both had the exact same thought at the exact same time. It went a little something like this:

"Hey...if HE'S holding HIM...then that's means...the guy holding me...would have...to...be...*gulp*"

They both do the slow turn, get a smile and nod from their respective face, and then proceed to get whupped from pillar to post.

Nick: The A-List is finally getting what they deserve!

Richard: The much-rumored Hall of Fame spot?

Facey is put into a front facelock from Nova, who looks to be trying a vertical suplex. Meanwhile, Johnny Noble puts Tsonda onto his shoulders in a fireman's carry, hopefully looking to upgrade his offense into the early 90s to make it more modern.

Before either of them can see this part through, Karina Wolfenden reminds everyone that a) she's still in this match; b) she's bored because she thought Iggy would be here and she could kick him in the face; and c) she can do really fancy stuff in the ring.

Vaulting to the top turnbuckle nearest to Nova, K-Wolf bounds off, taking a step on Facey's exposed back before kicking Nova in the face in a shining-wizard-esque way. After using Nova's face as a launching pad, she does a quick somersault before catching Noble in the jaw with a pump dropkick. Both Nova and Noble fall backwards, dropping their heel foes. Facey just drops to the mat. Chandler, however, is thrown, and lands on top of Nova as he hits the mat. Karina, meanwhile, hits the mat and rolls out of harm's way, opting not to capitalize on her big sneak attack, but instead to declare herself fully warmed up and loosened and call it a night, at least in terms of activity.

The ref sees Tsonda covering a downed Nova and makes the count:

One!

Two!

T-NO!

Clint Poteet is there to break up the fall!

Richard: Dammit! I thought we were done with him!

PRIME THAT SHIT! PRIME THAT SHIT! PRIME THAT SHIT!

Moments fly by as the the ring starts to clear out. The two left are Tsonda and Johnny Noble. Rather than go after his opponent, Tsonda reaches out and asks for a microphone, confusing the crap out of the fans and Vince Howard. All would be known soon enough. Like... now.

Chandler Tsonda: Now Noble, I know that you sucked off half of PRIME for the chance to "get your shot" at me.

Richard: I heard that rumor, actually.

Crowd goes boo.

Chandler Tsonda: And I am, if nothing else, a man who appreciates the value of hard work. So since you’ve been such a trooper about this whole thing, I’ll give you your shot at Colossus III.

Nick: Where’s he going with this?

Crowd goes yay. Big time.

Chandler Tsonda: All you have to do is lay down for me in the ring right now.

Richard: Sounds simple enough to me.

The next sound on the microphone is its thud into the mat because Johnny Noble floors the Viet Viper was a vicious clothesline that brings a liberal chorus of cheers from the crowd.

Nick: There’s your answer!

Tsonda pops up with a hateful-as-balls look on his face. He charges his rival and flies at him with a cross body block, but the wily veteran has seen that too many times to be fooled. Noble catches the Model Citizen in mid-jump and lifts him over his head. Flashbulbs go off as Noble holds Tsonda in a military press, and then just steps forward and drops him, leaving Tsonda’s chest to absorb one hell of an impact.

Noble stays on the offensive, having his first shot at Tsonda since the controversial ReV 100 match and needing to get in some good licks. He pulls the Sultan of Style up by his pristine hair and throws him violently into the turnbuckle. Chandler tries to kick into Noble’s face, but the larger man simply throws up a paw and swats away the lightning-quick legs of Tsonda.

Nick: The 5-Star Champion looks badly overmatched against Noble!

Richard: He’s so upset that Noble’s in the match that he’s boycotting by not using any offensive moves.

Johnny Noble simply tosses the 195-pound package into the middle of the ring with ease and goes to continue his rampage, but he stumbles as a skinny wrist grabs him around the ankle. Glaring down, Noble knows he’s about to be staring into the face of Eleanor Kannon-Hall. She quickly retreats, but she’s given her beau enough time to scamper to his corner and tag in Karina Wolfenden, who matches up no better against Noble on paper, but also doesn’t have the mental handicap of being intimidated by Mr. Incredible.

K-Wolf hops over the top rope and surprises Noble with an immediate dropkick. The big man indeed goes down, more from the surprise than anything else. Wolfenden bounces off the ropes and pounces on Noble with a senton splash. As the K-Wolf rolls to her feet, though, Noble is back up and Karina can no longer use the element of surprise, putting her at a serious disadvantage. She fakes a shin kick, then hops up for a jump-swinging-DDT. Noble’s ready this time and he uses her own momentum against her, putting her to the mat with a tilt-a-whirl-slam.

Nick: Noble rarely strays from that strict, old school power offense, but he looks pretty sharp tonight, even against K-Wolf’s lethal combination of speed and aerial prowess!

Richard: He must be wearing his Superman Depends today.

Mr. Incredible, knowing that the aforementioned style of K-Wolf is a weakness of his own, decides to take this moment to tag out and get in a more suitable opponent. You may know him: his name is Silvio Fiore. One of the smallest and most nimble members on the PRIME roster may not have the in-ring credentials that K-Wolf has accumulated, but certainly the skills and desire are there.

And so, in perhaps the biggest moment of his PRIME career thus far, Silvio Fiore steps into the ring and doesn’t miss a beat. He starts things off with a lunging elbow strike that puts down the just-risen K-Wolf. And as the Negasonic Lupine rises again, Fiore, in the rare position of being bigger than his opponent, puts her right back on the mat with a Samoan Drop.

Nick: There’s almost one entire Killean Sirrajin in the ring between these two.

Richard: Where the hell do you get this stuff?

Wolfenden rolls to her side and then right up into the ready position and moves in close to Fiore, who tries to launch a flurry of hand strikes, but K-Wolf’s close proximity to him makes it child’s play for her to deflect the blows. She interrupts Fiore’s offense with a knee to the midsection, then sidesteps and delivers a ferociously stiff kick to the side of Fiore’s head.

Nick: Even if he can’t feel pain, that’s gonna put him down!

Indeed, the kick rattles Fiore’s cage enough that the youngster is sent to the mat and Wolfenden hits the ropes, then bounces off and rocks the ring (to one or two or a thousand flashbulbs) with her patented Asai Kneedrop, followed instantaneously by a pinfall attempt.

Nick: Goodnight Moon!

Richard: Memo to those attempting pinfalls: it’s a freaking 10-man match.

One…

Richard: Told ya.

Of course, our favorite color man is so smug because Nova just pulled Wolfenden off of the pin attempt, much to the chagrin of the Lupine. In fact, there might be showdown between the two except for one Illustrious Face-Eater coming off the top rope at Nova with a diving lariat. Nova notices him at the last second and half-catches IFE in his dive, sending the two of them tumbling, conveniently, under the bottom rope and out of the ring. Everyone just sort of ignores the two of them, realizing that not one person in the ring was going to stop them from tearing one another apart.

Nick: This is getting out of hand, methinks.

Richard: Meagrees.

In the commotion, Wolfenden decided to "tag in" Danny Ferguson. And by that, we mean that Danny Ferguson pulled the ol’ reach-over-the-ropes-as-far-as-possible to tap your partner on the shoulder move and made himself the legal man. So now, he’s matched up against the severely less-powerful Silvio Fiore, something that the brash young Hollywood type certainly seems to enjoy, from the shit-eating grin he displays.

Fiore rushes to try for another flurry, but D-Ferg don’t play that. He dodges left and then perfectly times an uppercut to push Fiore back a couple steps. This allows Ferguson the time to move in and put Fiore right on the mat with a spinebuster. Surprisingly, he goes for a quick tag to Chandler Tsonda, who is busy jawing at Johnny Noble from across the ring.
Nick: We know the A-List can be devastating tag team force in the ring, no matter their dysfunction out of it.

The two A-Listers lay the boots to Fiore for a sec, just to keep him weak enough for the desired plan of attack. Ferg lifts him and tosses him at the ropes, then gets on all fours a la Matt Hardy for that splash move that the Hardyz used to. Bouncing off the ropes, Fiore is forced to leap over the bent-down Ferg and therein lies the problem: displaying fantastic athleticism, Chandler Tsonda times his own jump perfectly and catches Fiore in mid-jump with a leg lariat so powerful that it flips him over before he crumples to the mat.

Richard: My GOD!

Nick: That looked brutal, agreed.

Richard: Brutal? It looked hilarious, more like.

The Sultan of Style goes for the pin on Fiore, with D-Ferg making the most of his last seconds in the ring by standing as bodyguard for the pinfall attempt.

One…

Two…

Kickout!

Richard: Fiore almost lost it for the geek squadron.

Nick: His team just had faith that he would kick out.

Fiore, as the legal man, needs a tag desperately to regain some wind in his chest, but the Viet Viper isn’t about to let Silvio gain a minute of respite. Tsonda pulls him up and offers two knees right into the midsection, following by a scissors kick. Within seconds, Fiore is back on the mat with yet another ringing in his ears.

Something interesting happens: Johnny Noble leans over the top rope and calls over to Chandler Tsonda, telling him to let Fiore tag him in. Of course, there is a fat chance of this happening. Strangely, Tsonda pulls Fiore up and marches towards Mr. Incredible; just out of the reach of the veteran’s outstretched arm.

Nick: More mind games from that manipulative Chandler Tsonda; not surprising.

Having enjoyed his fill of taunting Noble, Tsonda shoves Fiore back towards his team’s corner and, ignoring Chet Worth’s arm, tags Danny Ferguson back in.

Richard: Hah! If he wants to join Phi Beta A-List, he’s gotta go through the regular hazing process!

Ferguson and Tsonda chat for a second about exactly they should humiliate Silvio Fiore, but they forget an important point: mufugga can’t feel pain. So having his wind back, he’s completely fine to do something crazy, like offer up a sweep kick that takes down both A-List members not currently occupied by spitting at Nova.

Nick: The crowd loved that one!

Speaking of Nova, security rushes down towards the ring area and begins to untangle the Face and Nova. There’s going to be some goddamn order in this house.

Back in the ring, Ferg and Tsonda both get up, pissed as all hell. Standing above them, doing his best not to grin right in their faces, is Silvio Fiore. Barely up, Tsonda charges and takes down Fiore with a shoulder block that wouldn’t knock down any person in PRIME besides the 160-pound Fiore. The stagehand is up before Tsonda, though, which only further enflames the 5-Star Champion. Tsonda goes for a superkick, but Fiore ducks and issues a superkick of his own that knocks Tsonda over the top rope and out of the ring!

Richard: Dueling superkicks, boyee!

Nick: Fiore is putting on a clinic for all enemies of the A-List!

Danny Ferguson pulls Fiore from behind into a headlock and begins relentlessly hammering away on his skull. However, the deceptively athletic Fiore slips out and dropkicks Ferguson right in the back, leaving him stumbling. Without hesitation, Fiore climbs up to the top rope and just waits, his own teammates inches behind him and semi-awestruck at the turnaround by the youngster.

And Ferguson does turn and he receives a face full of Dragonrana.

Except not. He catches Fiore and pulls him back up into powerbomb position; an impressive feat of strength. Like the recipient of some strange telepathic message, Chandler Tsonda is already climbing the other turnbuckle. Ferguson spins slowly and then Tsonda comes flying off; it’s a pretty little exchange.

Richard: The Alley-Oop/Top-Rope Bulldog Combo from two of the best in the game!

Nick: Impossible to deny that it was an impressive maneuver.

Ferguson falls on Fiore and this time Tsonda is on sentry duty.

One…

Two…

No hand comes for three because Danny Ferguson is forcefully removed from his pinfall attempt by? None other then Johnny Noble, baby. Having saved his team, Noble makes his way back to his corner. Tsonda tries to follow after him, but Mr. Incredible swats him away with a massive backhand chop.

Having time thanks to Johnny Noble, Silvio Fiore dives at his own corner past the returning Noble and reaches the outstretched hand of Nova. The crowd goes bonkers as the former 5-Star Champ hits the ring and immediately puts Ferguson on the mat with a spinning elbow. Wanting no part of Nova, Ferguson looks to his corner for Facey, who has his back turned to the ring and is muttering curses. The only fresh set of legs is the CEO: Chet Worth.

Nick: Ferguson’s got to weigh this carefully. He doesn’t want to send his new tag partner into the clutches of Nova, considering the down-time Chet’s had since wrestling.

Richard: Chet’s got to prove his mettle! Make him fight!

Ferguson follows Richard’s advice and tags in Chet Worth, who steps through the ropes to a very strange, very mixed reaction. Nova doesn’t look twice, though, despite the fact that he’s taking on the new CEO. The two lock up and Nova uses his advantage in agility to slip around the back of Worth. He then promptly picks up his boss and gives him a ridiculous amount of testicle pain with an Atomic Drop.

The Worth falls to his knees as a result of the move, but Nova isn’t giving any special treatment. He pulls Worth back up by the head and trades left hands. The two continue to trade blows, but Worth finally blocks a right from Nova and tosses him across the ring with a belly-to-back suplex.

Richard: He’s the boss!

Nick: That wasn’t corny.

Worth drops a double elbow into Nova’s chest to keep him down and then pulls him by one leg, dragging him to the corner. He then grabs the other leg and slingshots Nova up and into the turnbuckle, but the nimble-for-his-size Nova catches himself on the second rope of the turnbuckle and immediately turns and springboards back to the rising Worth with a body splash that floor him.

Sensing the rust of the CEO, Face-Eater sneaks through the ropes but Clint Poteet is right there to meet him; pissed at losing his job, Poteet’s not about to let his pride be taken because the "Extreme Champ" wants to cheat. Thus, Poteet engages the Face-Eater with a clothesline that takes them both outside of the ring.

Richard: Poteet, you damn cheater! That’s why you’re unemployed, you scumbag!

Ignoring the other action, Nova slightly starts to stir, while Worth is still relatively motionless. He pulls himself to his feet and watches yet another duo tangle. Chandler Tsonda hops through the ropes and tries for a Yakuza Kick on Nova, but Nova ducks and off the ropes Tsonda gets caught by his archrival Johnny Noble, who grabs the tights for leverage and all there is left to do is lift.

Nick: He’s about to land the Incrediplex he’s been waiting weeks for!

But it’s not to be; Eleanor Kannon-Hall again interjects herself in the match, pulling on Noble’s ankle. Tsonda falls to his feet and the two 5-Star rivals begin to trade right hands while Nova just watches Worth climb to his feet.

As soon as Worth is standing, Nova goes in for the kill. He kicks the gut and then points out the crowd. He lifts in the awkward setup for his finisher, then maneuvers his arms, and falls backward for a pulling variation of the Blue Thunder finish. Worth hits the mat and crumples underneath Nova.

Richard: I command you save Worth if you wanna keep your job, Wolfenden!

Nick: Re-Mix To In-NOVA-Tion!

Ferguson and Wolfenden hit the ring in a last ditch effort to stop the pinfall from Nova, who’s just lying across the CEO. Lamen and Fiore are already through the ropes hoping to catch them.

One…

Ferguson catches Lamen with a kick right to the nuts, which send his rival to his knees. Things look pretty bad for Silvio Fiore, who must somehow stop two of PRIME’s biggest stars from getting by him.

Two…

Ferguson fakes left and goes right while Wolfenden dashes to the right as well and, as an instinct, Silvio Fiore throws his right hand out with a haymaker. It doesn’t put either to the mat, but it glances off Ferguson’s mouth and catches Wolfenden in the midsection. There’s just enough power behind it to stop the forward motion of both D-Ferg and K-Wolf.

Three!

Winner: Nova, Johnny Noble, Kyle Lamen, Silvio Fiore, & Clint Poteet

The bell rings and both Ferguson and Wolfenden are caught with looks of surprise while on the outside Clint Poteet and Illustrious Face-Eater are having a surprisingly even brawl. Somehow in the midst of the chaos, Chandler Tsonda, who has slipped away from Johnny Noble, gets a hold of a microphone…

Chandler Tsonda: Nice fucking job, Noble. I was ready to go back on my gold-standard word and actually give you your Colossus shot and all you had to was put your pride aside. And do you know what you did?

Mr. Incredible calls for a mic and it’s immediately thrown to him, considering that everyone in the arena is now going from rapt attention to the match to these two.

Johnny Noble: Well now, I believe we just won the match.

The crowd pops big for this win, while the other wrestlers begin to all realize that there are people who they don’t like in the near vicinity.

Chandler Tsonda: Exactly. I take my win-loss record very seriously and since I’ve just received an ill-begotten loss, I’m in a foul fucking mood. That means NO match at Colossus, no shot for you EVER. You know after the last three weeks that I’ll walk if it means keeping that promise

Johnny Noble: We all know you won’t walk, you pompous little cockroach! You think you got all the bases covered don't you,? Well, that's where you're wrong!

Suddenly the roaring of the crowd dies down. Johnny smiles and, for the first time in several weeks, the arrogance of the Sultan of Style fades - ever so slightly.

Chandler Tsonda: What the hell do you mean? You win this pitiful little battle and I’ve just won the war!

Johnny Noble: You fixed it so that I couldn't get a fair shot at the title. Then you worked your little angle so that you own the belt and you keep saying that if PRIME makes us square off you'll walk out. You say there's no way I'm gonna get my hands on you at Colossus III.

The crowd is nearly silent. The Viet Viper tries to be cool, but the sweat forming on his brow and upper lip are easy to spot. Everyone is hanging on every single word from the mouth of Mr. Morality.

Johnny Noble: But I found the loophole you missed, Tsonda, or more appropriately, Blaine Blair did.

The Viet Viper decides to call Noble’s bluff.

Chandler Tsonda: Would you please just your God-damned hole, you archaic ass rag! You aren't gonna sucker me into another match! I've beaten you! It's over! Let it go! Oh and Noble, FU-

With Johnny Noble's Incredi-Senses tingling wildly to inform him that profanity was coming he cuts Tsonda off mid-swear.

Johnny Noble: Shove it!

The crowd erupts at Noble's (relative) explosion of foul language! A small 'JOHN-NY JOHN-NY' chants breaks out and dies down rather quickly as Noble continues to unfold the story.

Johnny Noble: Just as your team's entrances were starting Blaine Blair approached me and pointed out that while PRIME does not own the 5 Star title because of a back-room deal you and Toshiaki Motoki (Insert huge boos from audience here) signed at ReVolution 99, PRIME DOES own you!

The crowd cheers, still unsure of where exactly this is going.

Johnny Noble: And you can threaten to take that 5 Star Title to AWC or XUW or even resurrect PCW, but you can't go with it! PRIME has you under contract for the next three years and unless you wanna spend that entire three years at home on your ass…

The crowd pops, knowing the proclamation that’s coming in mere seconds.

Johnny Noble: …it's gonna be Chandler Tsonda versus Johnny Noble for the FIVE STAR TITLE…

The PRIME favorite has to yell the next part because the crowd is already going bananas.

Johnny Noble: …AT COLOSSUS THREE!

What’s that massive thing flying through the atmosphere? OH IT’S THE ROOF THAT THE AUDIENCE JUST BLEW OFF WITH THEIR EFFING CHEERS, BOY-O.

Nick: We’re all the way out of time, but as we sign off, we’ve just confirmed a high-profile match to be added to the biggest pay-per-view of the year!

Richard: Noble will get what’s coming to him. So will Tchu and Nova and…(starts muttering other names)

Nick: Don’t miss us next Sunday when the face of PRIME may change forever!

With that, the feed begins to go out, but not before the camera shows the rest of the A-List reaching Chandler Tsonda’s position, while the 5-Star Champion just looks on shocked at Johnny Noble, who is garnering some small congratulations in the ring.