It’s Colossus, baby. What the fuck do you want?

You know what you want.

You want the Face-Eater?

You want Nova?

Nope. You want DANZA.

The Illustrious Face-Eater: I’m telling you, Tone, there’s no better time than PRIMEtime.

Tony Danza: Tell me again what PRIMEtime is? Is it just some stupid hype-phrase your ad agents thought up?

The Illustrious Face-Eater: NO, fool, it’s what I call "The Corpse of Hin See Buying My Good Time." GIVE ME THE DEEP-FRIED, CHOCOLATE COVERED BOTTLE OF CRYSTAL STUFFED WITH LOBSTER! MY EXPENSIVE TASTES NEED TO BE SATISFIED!

Tony Danza: Hey, isn’t that the guy you’re facing tonight? The guy who called you gay and tried to molest you, you said?

Facey peeks his head up from their private table (Private because no one wants to sit near Facey or Danza) in the Catering Area, and sure enough, it’s Nova. And boy, is it ever Nova. Apparently he had dialysis replace his blood with 18 pints of Pimp Juice because he is rocking the coolest pair of Prada sunglasses and trench-coat with matching pine cane.

On his arm? Bitches. MAD bitches. HOT bitches. BIG TITTIED bitches. Because THAT is how Nova rolls.

Nova: Mind if I rest my platter of chocolate truffles on your massive chest? Of course you don’t, babe.

As Nova sets a plate on a girl’s tits, he turns to see Facey and subsequently Tony Danza marching towards him. He sighs a bit, but then prepares for the necessary interaction.

The Illustrious Face-Eater: Sup, bitch.

Nova: Sup yourself, bitch.

The Illustrious Face-Eater: Don’t be mean, I just came over here to say ‘hi’!

Nova: Hi.

Nova turns back to the bitches and begins to eat a truffle, only Facey pulls at the ends of his fur coat.

The Illustrious Face-Eater: I JUST WANTED TO TELL YOU.

He screams in Nova’s ear.

The Illustrious Face-Eater: Just telling you, that even though I hate your guts and think you smoke shitty weed and can’t even hang with a real stoner because you’re a poser, that you’re kind of cool. And these past few months have been sort of fun.

Nova: EXCUSE ME?

Nova is in disbelief. So is Danza.

Nova: Is this a trick? Are you kidding or something?

The Illustrious Face-Eater: No, dude, I just wanted to tell you that I’ll miss hanging out with you. Because I am so going to destroy you, tonight, we probably won’t be seeing much of each other after this. Just wanted to say, "peace the fuck out, dude."

Nova nods slightly.

Nova: Well, thanks, I guess. I don’t have glue in my pockets, do I?

Facey shakes his head.

Nova: Well, I guess good luck to you too, then. Even though I’m going to kick your ass.

The Illustrious Face-Eater: Fuck you!

Nova: No, fuck you.

The Illustrious Face-Eater: SEE YOU TONIGHT, BITCH!

Facey storms off, with a confused Danza quick to stay on his tail.

Tony Danza: WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! You don’t wish your opponent luck before the match! That, like, shows that you have integrity and stuff!

Facey begins to cackle maniacally.

The Illustrious Face-Eater: Danza, when this is over, you will realize that there is NO SUCH THING as integrity... Not with me around...

COLOSSUS – JULY 11, 2004

IGNATIUS LISIEUX vs. TONY ROLO

Nick: Lisieux is back up... come on Rolo, you've got to come back around!

Richard: Stop showing bias Nick! That's just grossly unprofessional!

As Rolo lies vulnerable on the mat, Lisieux grabs both of his legs and steps through with his own right leg for a sharpshooter.

Richard: This is going to be it, he's going to make Rolo tap out infront of 70'000 odd people and hundreds of thousands watching at home!

Nick: The champion is going for his patented Maple Leaf Lock... all he has to do is turn Tony Rolo over...

Suddenly Rolo comes to with a second... stratch that, FORTH wind. He sits up and wraps his arm around Lisieux's head while using their tangle of legs to his advantage, rolling the champion up with a small-package. Lisieux is squirming, taken completely by surprise as the referee hits the mat to count.

Nick: Wait! Small Package! Small Package!

Richard: What the...

Referee: One!

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.

.

.

Two!

.

.

.

.

THREE!!!

Boom! It sounds like a bomb just went off in Louisianna as the crowd erupt. Lisieux flaps out ahis leg, but it's all too late, he realises that somehow he has been undone by one of the oldest maneuvres in wrestling.

Nick: YES! I DON'T BELIEVE IT! TONY ROLO HAS DONE IT! TONY ROLO HAS DEFEATED IGNATIUS LISIEUX TO BECOME THE GLOBAL CHAMPION FOR A SECOND TIME... RIGHT HERE ON COLOSSUS!

COLOSSUS II – JULY 24, 2005

KILLEAN SIRRAJIN vs. HOYT WILLIAMS

Hoyt is just able to roll his shoulder up and out from under the pin. The fatigue and pain clearly setting in for both men. The champion gets to his feet and lifts Hoyt up from the mat once more grabbing him and hoisting him up and over for a sambo suplex. Hoyt crashes into the mat again. Only this time he did so with Killeans head under his arm as he reversed the move into a spinning DDT. Both men are down. Both men seem to be out. Hoyt just gets his right arm over the chest of the champion.

1...

Nick: Another cover.

2...

Richard: This has to be it.

3..

KICKOUT!

Nick: It ain't over yet!

Richard: I don't know what ot say Nick. I can't believe my eyes. I mean I know how Hoyt is kicking out he is great. But I can't begin to describe what is keeping Killean going.

Nick: Do I detect a little bit of respect in your voice for Killean?

Richard: What...me? NEVER!

Once more the champion kicks out. But it is almost like its all he has. Both men roll over and struggle to their feet. Killean gets up a second faster and quickly grabs Hoyt up and slams him into the mat with The Arrow. Killean flops over and puts his arms over the chest of Hoyt.

1...

Nick: The Arrow takes Hoyt down to the mat again.

2...

Richard: I don't believe this. This sinner just might retain here tonight.

3..

KICKOUT!

Hoyt kicks out once more. The fans rain down a huge shower of boos but that quickly turns to cheers as it appears Killean has caught his nine thousandth wind and hops to his feet. He waits for Hoyt to get to his feet, in position to land the Supreme Justice. Hollering for Hoyt to get up. Hoyt, however, simply pulls the ref over to him like he is using him to get to his feet as Los Diablos climb into the ring.

Nick: No not again! Damn it!

Richard: YES! PRAISE MEXICO!

They spin the champion around and Angelus shoots him into the ropes, backbody drops him into the air, and Baltasar catches him and drops him to the mat with a vile sit out powerbomb. Los Diablos quickly slide out of the ring and head back up toward the top of the ramp. Hoyt finally lets the referee go before walking over, pulling Killean up, and then dropping him to the mat with his finisher the Crucified and Saved. With all the energy he has left in his body he drops down to the mat and covers the champion, hooking his leg.

1...

Nick: No not like this. Please God no.

2...

Richard: Save it Nick you idiot sinner. God is on the side of Hoyt.

3....

DING! DING! DING!

The fans begin to rain down boos as "Personal Jesus" begins to play into the arena again. Los Diablos hits the ring to help their fellow Imperium member to his feet as the ref gets the Universal title and hands it to Hoyt just as the announcer makes the offical call.

Vince Howard: The winner and NEEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWW UNIVERSAL CHAMPION...HOYT WILLIAMS!!!!

In the ring the two members of Los Diablos lift Hoyt up onto their shoulders and begin to parade him around the ring as Vetra and Morales stumble their way out of the back to help in the celebration. In the ring Killean is being attended to after the exhausting match up that saw the former champion give it everything he had only to be out numbered in the end.

COLOSSUS III – TONIGHT

A match 4 years in the making.

Killean Sirrajin takes on Tchu.

Universal Championship on the line.

Can Sirrajin break the curse and defend the belt at the biggest show of the year?

Will Tchu follow the footsteps of Hoyt Williams, the man he lost the Universal Championship to and Tony Rolo?

Also...

Will Ignatius Lisieux breakthrough, finally, and take one from Karina Wolfenden? Will the KWolf even show up, after trying to break her contract?

Can Danny Ferguson wrestle two matches, first with the CEO of PRIME, defending the Tag Team Championships against Business and Pleasure? Can he defeat Kyle Lamen in Lamen's final match in PRIME?

Can Nova defeat the Illustrious Face Eater?

Can Chandler Tsonda hold on to the 5-Star Championship?

Who will win the WATCH MATCH?

Can Jonathan Winters take back his rightful title?

We're about to find out...

...now.

Silence ran through the arena, as the lights quickly went out. In the warm Florida darkness, a strange sound began to pick up, seemingly in the distance at first, then coming ever closer. The sound of water splashing against wood was amazingly clear, and seemed amazingly close.

A single spotlight lit up the night, illuminating the Pirate Ship in Buccaneer's Cove. Two figures stood on the bow (It's called a bow, Matt.) as a strange, ethereal music began to play, again, fairly softly. The first man looked as if he didn't belong on a pirate ship. A white bandana on his forehead, with a ripped white T-Shirt, and black and red striped pants made him stick out like a sore thumb.

The second man, however...

It was as if he'd found his life's calling, to be a blatantly homosexual pirate captain, holding his cutlass aloft in the air, motionless, a pencil thin mustache painted on his face. The crowd gasped as they recognized him.

Chet Worth. Captain Queerbeard Fruitbat.

More light shines on the deck of the pirate ship, with girls dressed as pirate wenches milling about. The ship rocked back and forth, sailing through the concrete seas it was attached to. The pirate wenches grabbed a few items, and loaded them into the cannons. Chet Worth dropped his sword, and literally hundreds of t-shirts flew into the crowd, all hitting different areas of the crowd.

The fans in attendance went absolutely ballistic, as Worth ordered a change in course, and a change in firing direction. The women on board turned a few wheels, and once again, his sword came up into the air. He screamed his command, and once again, the shirts flew into the crowd again. A good 1% of the fans in attendance had just received a free shirt, and Chet had more to give away. He barked orders at the wenches again, as the ship bounced in place, the music still playing quietly.

Suddenly, a scream from the ship, and a woman points to the skies and screams. The music changes suddenly, to something more ominous. Something more dangerous. Something... scary. More screams follow as they point to the sky. Somehow, in this mishmash of 17th century piracy, someone felt the need to add 21st century technology, as the Blue Angels flew overhead, passing by low to the ground, and causing the entire arena to shake.

Worth watched them go by, and then waited, as the music simply cut.

There, the unmistakeable whistling of an impending bomb filled the arena, as over on the opposite side of the arena, unseen by the rest of the people in attendance, Antonio Robello was set to make history once more.

As the whistling got closer, Robello lifted his bow off his shoulder, and grabbed his flaming arrow, as he had in 1992 in Barcelona. He lifted slightly, adjusted for wind direction, and let fly.

The arrow seemed to move in slow motion, as Chet Worth and Danny Ferguson watched it come in. The women jumped off the boat, into some safety mats below, but, Ferguson and Worth were the captains. They had to go down with the ship. The two looked at each other, nodded, and crouched down as the arrow hit the deck of the ship.

BA-BOOOOM! BOOM! BOOOM! BA-BA-BA-BA-BA BOOM!

BOOM! KABLAM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

BANG! BOOM! RAT-A-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!

Explosions littered the deck of the pirate ship as the ammo hold was hit, sending fireworks into the skies, lighting up the Tampa night for miles around. Ferguson and Worth had been thrown from the deck on impact of the flaming arrow, but, it wasn't clear where they'd landed.

As the fireworks shot off, A marching band filled the entire entryway to the ring.

After a minute, the fireworks stopped, and the band's drumline started to play. Boom-chicka boom boom boom chicka boom boom boom chicka BAM BAM BAM Boom chicka boom boom boom chicka locka chicka ba ba ba ba ba, ba ba ba ba ba, ba ba ba ba ba CRASH CRASH CRASH!

And then the horns kicked in.

The familiar sounds of Kanye West's "Touch The Sky" came from the horn section of the marching band, as the members moved in sync with each other, each one a little Kanye West, moving their instruments up and down, left and right, circle and left.

The hook kept recycling, as another section of horns came in, joining on the melody, but higher. The fans got into it, dancing in place as the drumline danced up the entryway. If you saw Drumline (and if you did, I'm sorry), you'd know what I mean.

And then, from a stage set up in section 140, The spotlights centered as three men emerged from the stage, turning around on the upbeat.

Danny Ferguson.

Chet Worth.

Kanye West.

Kanye started into "Touch The Sky" instantly, reaching out and grabbing Danny Ferguson in one of those hug/handshake hybrids, before doing the same to the now distinctly unpiratelike Chet Worth.

The girls from earlier, now dressed in black and red outfits, with flame styled graphics all over, flanked all three men, each dancing like crazy as they made their way to the ring.

I gotta testify, come up in the spot looking extra fly
For the day I die, I'mma touch the sky
Gotta testify, come up in the spot looking extra fly
For the day I die, I'mma touch the sky

The three men made their way down to the ring area, Worth and West slapping hands with some fans at ringside, while Ferguson simply walked slowly to the ring, enjoying the song, and intensity, but at the same time, wanting to get this overwith.

Back when they thought pink polo's would hurt the Roc,
Before Cam got the shit to pop, the doors was closed.
I felt like Bad Boy's street team, I couldn't work the Lox (locks).
Now let's go.

Chet Worth started to dance as Ferg's posse joined them. Reggie Del Ray hugged Kanye, and shouted into the microphone, becoming an instant Hype man for West.

Take 'em back to the plan...
Me and my momma hopped in the U-Haul van.
Any pessimists I ain't talked to them,
Plus, I ain't have no phone in my apartment.

Danny Ferguson turned around for a moment, Chet Worth's dancing catching his eye. Ferg tapped Reggie on the shoulder, and motioned over to him for a second.

Let's take 'em back to the club.
Least about an hour I would stand on line,
I just wanted to dance.
I went to Jacob an hour after I got my advance.
I just wanted to shine.

Reggie moved back, as Chet Worth suddenly, shockingly, and amazingly almost started to lead the dancers behind him. They moved in perfect sync, and the fans ate it up. Chet Worth, pop and locking is funny as shit. Trust me, dude. It's hilarious.

Jay's favorite line: "Dog, in due time"
Now he look at me, like "Damn, dog, you where I am"
A hip hop legend.
I think I died in an accident, cause this must be heaven.

Reggie had enough. The music stopped as Reggie pushed Chet backwards, causing Ferguson and West to turn around and look at what was going on. Chet stood with his arms out, as Reggie pulled off his jacket, and went to work.

With a quick little two step, Reggie put his arm out to Chet. Chet yawned, two stepped and added a little something to show Reggie up.

Angry, Reggie hit another little dance that Worth answered and then some, causing the fans to give an "ooooh".

The music kicked in again from the band, but all attention was on Reggie and Chet, trading moves back and forth.

Now let's take 'em high-igh-igh-igh-igh-igh la la la la la la la
(Top of the world, baby. T-Top of the world)
Now let's take 'em high-igh-igh-igh-igh-igh la la la la la la la
(Top of the world, baby. T-Top of the world)

And now, the dance contest broke down to an insane "You Got Served" style dance off, half the women behind Reggie, dancing along with him, the other half with Chet, dancing behind him. Every move was answered, and one upped. Chet Worth pulled out a really nice standing backflip into a round over pop and lock ass shaking fucking whatever move, which was answered with an extremely difficult "OMGWTFUSUKIWIN" from Reggie Delray that involved a turkey sandwich, a glob of crude oil and a chiropractor.

Needless to say, I don't need to explain that one.

That was it. Dance off done. Chet Worth smiled as they all walked to the ring again, and Kanye finished the song.

Back when Gucci was the shit to rock,
Back when Slick Rick got the shit to pop,
I'd do anything to say "I got it".
Damn, them new loafers hurt my pocket.

A ruckus rose from the crowd, as a few people moved closer to the entryway, as the marching band started to file toward the back.

Before anybody wanted K-West beats,
Me and my girl split the buffet at KFC.
Dog, I was having nervous breakdowns,
Like "Damn, these niggas that much better than me?"

A female fan rushed the marching band, and made her way to Danny Ferguson, throwing herself around him, and kissing him. Security pried her off quickly, but Ferg called her back, and asked for one more kiss.

He put a hand out and grabbed her ass as she kissed him on the cheek, and as she turned around to get removed from the arena, Danny got himself a handful of her ample breasts.

Mister McCracken would be proud.

Baby, I'm going on an airplane,
And I don't know if I'll be back again.
Sure enough, I sent the plane tickets,
But when she came to kick it, things became different.
Any girl I cheated on, sheets I skeeted on.
I couldn't keep it home, I thought I needed a Nia Long.
I'm trying to write my wrongs,
But it's funny these same wrongs helped me write this song.
Now,

Finally the three men got into the ring, Kanye doing his usual high energy shit, Ferguson just being the Funker, and Worth beaming with joy, as he looked at the crowd and saw nothing but smiling faces.

I gotta testify, come up in the spot looking extra fly
For the day you die, You gonna touch the sky
(You gonna touch the sky babygirl!) Testify, come up in the spot
Looking extra fly
For the day you die, You gonna touch the sky

(We back at home, baby)
Sky high
I'm, I'm sky high
I'm, I'm sky high
I'm, I'm sky high
I'm, I'm sky high
I'm, I'm sky high
Sky, Sky high
I'm, I'm sky high
Yeah! (Keep it rollin)
(Feels good to be home, baby! Feels good to be home!)

Entrance over. Silence filled the arena.

Until the roar came, louder than a jet airplane. The fans loved it. Fuck heel, fuck face. You entertain, you're going to get cheered, and the AList? They enter-fucking-tain, bitches. Recognize, fool.


But even through all the entertaining by the A-List, if you thought that the roar for them was loud, it will be nothing compared to the ovation that Tampa was about to give its surrogate son and hometown daughter. And it'll start right about...

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

NOW, with the playing of "Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite!" by the
Beatles.

For the benefit of Mr. Kite
There will be a show tonight on trampoline
The Hendersons will all be there
Late of Pablo Fanques'fair, what a scene!
Over men and horses hoops and garters
And lastly through a hogshead of real fire,
In this way Mr. K will challenge the world!

From the entranceway emerge the MELTON GOLD DANCERS!, scantily clad as Ringmistresses, lion-tamers, and acrobats. Gymnists, jugglers and
hulahoopists from the Big Apple Circus all pour out into the the aisleway while confetti and streamers rain down from out of nowhere. The dancers, now armed with hand-cannons, shoot more confetti into the crowd, who are more excited now that they get to see more mostly-naked woman in a fifteen minute span than they would watching a gangbang porno flick.

And this is LIVE TOO!

Finally the man himself, JOEY MELTON, comes forth atop an elephant, wearing a top hat and a ringmaster's jacket over his black wrestling trunks and boots. Standing on the elephant's shoulders, Melton surveys the crowd while the music switches to "Love is a Battlefield" by Pat Benatar, which cause the Melton Gold Dancers to break out into a dance number inspired by the music video. Melton nudges the elephant with his boot to kneel down and he slides down to the ground via the trunk to join his entourage in dance all the way to the ring while a barrage of fireworks go off from the stage.

Joey enters the ring while the Big Apple Circus performers exit the arena, elephant in tow and a protest by PETA in the works for the next day at PRIME headquarters. He tosses his attire into the crowd and gives Ferguson and Worth a glare-over.

"Where's the Head Wench?" Ferguson mouths, while Joey just grins and points to the sky where, in the distance, the faint sound of helicopter choppers can be heard. Spotlights from atop Raymond James Stadium blaze forth into the night, illuminating three Sikorsky MH53J Pave Low helicopters cutting through the sunset sky from MacDill Airforce Base. They hover well above the pirate ship and the spotlights move to the opened door to reveal Lindsay Troy standing on the threshold between machine and air, wearing dark green Army camo and jump boots. The crowd below screams as she steps away from the door, back into the shadows of the aircraft, before taking two steps and leaping into space.

Her free-fall is slowed down by the opening of a parachute which guides her down to the arena. Positioning herself over the staging area, she releases the harness from her shoulders and drops the remaining ten or so feet to the stage, disappearing into an opened trap-door.

There's a long silence before the following is heard from the speakers:

You turned me out
And then you dropped me to the ground
You dropped a bomb on me...

The slow wail of air-raid sirens filled the arena as "You Dropped a Bomb on Me" by the Gap Band began to play. The high-pitched screams of synthesized bombs accompanied the funky drum beats and cymbal crashes. From the center of the stage, an elaborate throne rises upwards with Troy standing on the arms, having shed the fatigues for her normal attire underneath. The throne itself sits on a platform, four long poles protruding from the sides and each one manned by Mike Alstott, Derrick Brooks, Simeon Rice and Ronde Barber of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. Mushroom cloud-like pyro erupts from all parts of Ray Jay and fireworks from adorning Legends Field pop in the background in an elaborate Grand Finale fashion. The members of the Bucs defense walk the throne down to the ring as the crowd starts a 'WELCOME HOME! WELCOME HOME! WELCOME HOME!' chant.

Both teams in the ring, it was now time to make the official introductions for each team.

Vince Howard: Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, WELCOME TO THE BIGGEST EVENT OF THE YEAR... COLOSSUS THREE! Our first match this evening will be one fall and is for the PRIME Tag Team Championships. Introducing first on my left, the challengers, representing the team of Business and Pleasure: He stands six foot one inches tall and weights two hundered and eighteen pounds and hails from New York City. She stands six foot three inches, and weights one hundred and seventy pounds. They are JOEY MELTON AND LINDSAY TROY!

Troy and Melton get a huge ovation from the crowd, who've grown to love them. Troy glares a bit at Howard, before reaching out and grabbing the microphone.

Troy: You forgot to tell them where I'm from, Vince.

Lindsay looked right into the eyes of Chet Worth as Vince Howard raised the microphone once more.

Vince Howard: Lindsay Troy hails from Tampa Bay, Florida.

KABOOM! Yeah, it's a cheap pop, but, so what? Troy held her arms high, and turned around raising the double fist to the fans.

Vince Howard: And their opponents... They are the Tag Team Champions, representing the A-List. First, he stands six foot three inches tall, and weighs in at two hundred and eighty one pounds. He is the CEO OF PRIME, and YOUR 2006 DUAL HALO WINNER... CHET WORTH!

Mild pop, mild boos. Add one part vermouth, shake, don't stir. Pour over ice for optimal indifference.

Vince Howard: Standing SIX FOOT ONE and weighing in at TWO HUNDRED AND TWENTY POUNDS. HE IS DANNY... FERRRRRRRRRGUSON!

Hello, boos.

Vince Howard: Your referee for this matchup will be Sam "Ham" Patrick! Gentlemen and Lady, GOOD LUCK, and WELCOME TO COLOSSUS!

Nick: We're here, ladies and gentlemen, and WOW! How about those entrances? Along side Richard, I'm Nick!

Richard: What a night this is going to be, huh? Sirrajin and Tchu, Lisieux and Wolfenden, Noble and Tsonda and Nova vs. the Face Eater? What a night, Nick!

Nick: And we start it all off tonight with The Alist of Worth and Ferguson against Business and Pleasure. Can Danny Ferguson trust the CEO?

Richard: I think so. Worth and Ferguson may not be tight, but, the two of them have really worked together well in the past. And I think Worth owes Ferg a victory after the screwjob at Culture Shock back in March.

Nick: We're about to find out as we go to the ring for the start of this match, presented to you by Kellogg's!

Richard: What the hell was that?

Nick: What?

Richard: Presented by Kellogg's? Seriously?

Nick: That's who's sponsoring this match.

Richard: Wow. That sucks.

Nick: The opinions of Richard are not those of PRIME, it's fans, or it's sponsors!

Richard: Fuck you.

The bell rings, and Ferguson and Worth decide to play Rock, Paper Scissors to see who starts the match. The fists go up three times each, before coming down the fourth time, both men taking "scissors". Once again, they lift their fists up, and bring them down, this time, both men taking "rock". This time, as the fists go up, Troy and Melton decide to play "Who the Fuck Cares? Let's Kick Them In the Face"

And so, they do. Both of them run into the AList corner, and launch a double dropkick to each one, sending the two careening to the outside as the bell rings. Worth is up first, and is met with a sliding Lindsay Troy set of boots to the face, sending him against the steel barrier, back first. Ferguson grabs her boots, and pulls her to the outside, trying to slam her head first. Confidently, Troy simply grabs the middle rope, and yanks her feet away from Ferguson, before grabbing him around the head with her feet, and throwing him backwards into Chet Worth.

Melton, not one to take a supreme risk, dives at the two AListers from the second step, taking them down with a cross body block. As devistating as a pillow from two feet.

Troy, however, was ready to take a risk. As Worth stands, with Ferguson on top of him, she flies into the air, twisting around once, and landing on top of the three of them.

Bodies pile outside the ring, as the fans pop huge for the start of the show.

Nick: If this is how it's going to be, just two minutes into this match, I want to see the rest of Colossus!

Richard: Why, who's sponsoring the rest?

Nick: Richard!

Richard: Oh, it's all bullshit, Nick.

Troy is the first one up, grabbing Worth by the back of the head, and pulling him to his feet. A quick thumb to the eye sends her reeling backwards, into the ring apron, covering her face. Worth quickly throws her into the ring, and drops a heavy boot to the back of her head as she begins to stand.

Worth is on her quickly, letting her stand under his control, grabbing her around the neck from behind and taking her down with a back cracker. Troy hits the mat, knees first, and then falls onto her hands and knees. The CEO of PRIME stands again, and kicks Troy, right in the ass, sending her sprawling on the mat, infuriated.

As Troy started to get off the mat, Worth sinks another kick into her ribs, sending her spinning away from the attack onto her backside. Worth backs into the corner, and flips over her, grabbing her head, and ricocheting her backwards, making her hit her head on the canvas after the snap mare.

Nick: Excellent series of moves by our CEO there, Richard.

Richard: And those moves were sponsored by Pepto Bismol, because this shit is making me sick.

Nick: Stop it!

Richard: NO!

The CEO stands up, and smiles, grabbing Troy by her long hair, and pulling her up into a rear chinlock. The fans boo, as the local girl is in trouble, as she gets her wits about her, and tries to stand. Worth holds the chinlock for as long as he can, but, an elbow to the gut makes sure he doesn't do it for long. One more, and Troy is free, and heading into the ropes with a tremendous amount of speed.

She returns, and slams into Worth with a shoulder block, that Worth simply absorbs. Troy heads off the ropes again, as Worth turns into the new direction, and absorbs another attempted shoulder tackle with a laugh. This time, Troy goes off the ropes, the opposite way, and wants to do something else.

Only Danny Ferguson decided he'd had enough of her running, and trips her leg out from under her, crashing her to the mat face first. Worth simply pulls an elbow up, and drops it across the back of The Queen of PRIME.

Standing again, Worth put another arm up, and dropped another elbow, this one to the small of her back. The CEO reached back and tagged in Texas Terry Ferguson, before hitting the canvas, so he could fishhook crossface Lindsay Troy. And by fishhook crossface, I mean, he actually put her in a crossface position, but, put his pudgy fingers into her mouth, yanking her head back. Ferguson fell to his knees, and reared back, throwing a slap across the face of Lindsay Troy. Joey Melton tried to make the save, but, Ham Patrick cut him off, pushing him into his corner.

Once more, Ferg slapped Troy in the face, not to hurt her, but, more or less to embarrass her. Worth let go of the crossface, and exited the ring, leaving Ferg and Troy to battle it out.

Nick: There's no need for that.

Richard: Hey, all's fair in the ring. Troy's proven in the 10 years she's been wrestling that she's just one of the guys. She'll take and give as much punishment as everyone else.

Nick: You're probably right.

Richard: And that punishment will be brought to you by Square Enix who...

Nick: STOP IT!

Uncharacteristically, Ferg pulls Troy off the canvas and throws her into her corner, calling Melton into the ring instead. Melton tags in, and goes after Ferguson, a bit too fast, as Ferg hits the mat, and drop toe holds Melton across the top rope.

Chet Worth takes cue, and as Melton sits stunned across the second rope, he drops a thick leg on the back of Melton's head, bouncing him back into Danny Ferguson's clutches. The FergFunker put a knee into the back of Melton, sending him into the ropes, bouncing him back and forth, weakening the back of the challenger for his tag gold.

Melton tries to turn around and throw a punch, but, Ferg ducks it, spinning Melton around, and lifting him for an atomic drop. Melton, being the wily vet he is, wiggles free, and takes Ferg over with a head toss instead. Ferg, angry at the reversal, came after Melton, who quickly took him down with a hip toss. Ferg rolls through, and again, charges Melton, taking another hip toss.

Ferg acted like he was going to charge, but stopped short...

...right into a dropkick from Melton.

Nick: Beautiful dropkick by Melton there!

Richard: And that dropkick was sponsored by...

Nick: STOP IT!

The body of Danny Ferguson comes to rest in the corner of Business and Pleasure, and Lindsay Troy goes to work, grabbing Ferguson's shirt, and holding him in the corner, inconspicuously. Joey Melton reaches back, and punches Ferguson across the face once.

Twice.

Three times.

Chet Worth tries to come into the ring to make the save, but is cut off by Ham Patrick. Reggie Delray moves to the apron, and the large Patrick cuts both men off from the ring.

Four times.

By now, Lindsay Troy is joining in the festivities, throwing punches to the head of Ferguson, and as soon as Worth and Delray move away, Troy turns around, acting like she'd done nothing. The fans love it. Ferguson comes out of the corner, and throws three punches that would have landed on the head of Melton... had he been about six feet closer.

Richard: Looks like they're getting some of that business out of the way here.

Nick: Indeed they are, Richard.

Richard: And you know, when a company needs to do business...

Nick: Richard, I'm going to kill you. SHUT. UP.

On the third punch, Ferguson hits the mat, face first and lies there for a second, fully getting into the Terry Funk Character. Melton lifts Ferg off the mat, and sends him into the ropes, coming back, hitting a beautiful dropkick to the Funkerson. Ferguson sold it like he'd been shot, falling back between the first and second ropes, looking like he was going to fall to the outside with a spectacular crash. Instead, Ferg lands on the apron, and rolls himself under the bottom rope, back into the ring.

Melton reaches back as Ferg goes through his theatrics and tagged in Lindsay Troy. Troy runs across the ring, and pushes the CEO off the apron, directly into Ferg's bodyguards and Reggie Delray as Melton throws Ferg off the ropes. Troy waited for just a second, as Melton lifts Ferg into the air on the comeback, delivering unto him a spinebuster in the center of the ring. A second before he makes impact, The Queen of the Ring runs at the two, and drops a leg across the throat of Ferguson, before dropping with a lateral press across the prone ALister. Melton stood, and counted with the referee, as he made the count.

One.

Two..

Richard: Near fall there by Melton.

Nick: Indeed it was, Richard.

Richard: I like the way Troy's going here. She's going to be a star here in PRIME.

Nick: Some think she already is, Richard.

Richard: Oh, no. She's too new to be a legit star.

Worth reaches into the ring, grabbing the ankle of Troy, yanking her out of the ring interupting the cover. Worth pulled the shocked Troy outside lifting her leg, and causing her to hit the mats head first. Melton, looking at this like a slap in his own face rushed to the outside, at Worth. The CEO ran behind Ferguson's bodyguards with a smile, daring Melton to come after him.

And so, that's what Melton does. He ran at the three, used the second step outside the ring as a leaping point, and took off into the three bodies, knocking them over like bowling pins. Melton leaped onto the chest of the CEO, and used his head for punching practice, pulling a fist up, and hitting in the same spot, over and over, trying to bust Chet Worth wide open.

It worked.

An angry gash opened above Chet Worth's left eye, as Melton hammered away, now on his fifteenth punch. Melton stood, and gave a bit of a "Hoooo!" before turning around, and taking a punch to the face of his own from a diving Danny Ferguson.

If you've ever seen the Flair/Funk match from Bash at the Beach, where Funk throws Flair to the outside, and is about to piledrive him on the outside, but, instead climbs up onto the apron, and drops a somewhat weak fist to Flair, that's what happened. Melton didn't exactly go down like a ton of bricks, but, that wasn't Ferg's intent.

The punch created enough space between Melton and Ferguson that the Ferger stood up first, and leveled Melton with a nasty clothesline. Worth stood up next, blood streaming from the cut on his head, and the two pushed past Melton, and set their eyes on Troy...

...who wasn't where she had been. Worth looked around, as Ferguson lifted the ring apron to see if she'd crawled under the ring. In hindsight, he should have looked over it. The two men looked up with enough time to see Lindsay Troy coming over the top rope, and landing on both of them, after flipping backwards, but, hitting her own head on the floor for the second time in three minutes.

The bodies littered the outside of the ring, and the fans began their familiar chant.

Nick: If this is what we have to look forward to for all of Colossus, then we're going to have the show of the year!

Richard: Don't we have the show of the year every time?

Nick: Well, yes...

Richard: Then shut up.

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

Worth's eyes looked glazed as he sat at ringside, looking around. Danny Ferguson laid underneath the legs of Lindsay Troy, as the two took a moment to catch their breaths. Melton had started to rise again, holding his neck, and walking around to his corner.

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

Suddenly, the fans began to count along with referee Ham Patrick.

SEVEN!

Worth looked up as Ham Patrick stared at him, probably wondering if he could continue in this match. Danny Ferguson grabbed the leg of Lindsay Troy, as she tried to struggle into the ring, being the legal... ermmm... person in the match.

EIGHT!

Worth looked to his left, and called over Vince Howard with a wave of the arm. Ferguson wrapped his legs and arms around Troy's leg, holding on, knowing he was just two seconds away from retaining over these two once more.

NINE!

Ham Patrick was just about to motion for the bell when the voice of Vince Howard spoke.

Vince Howard: Ladies and Gentlemen, by unprecidented order of Chet Worth, this match CANNOT end on a count out or disqualification. Therefore, Ham Patrick, you are ORDERED to stop your count, now.

The fans at ringside booed for a second, but, then realized that Worth was actually screwing his own team, and cheered at the decision. Ferguson looked at Worth, who looked back at Ferguson, his eyes weary from the beating taken at the hands of Melton, blood still streaming down his face. Ferg threw the leg of Lindsay Troy to the side and stood up, pulling Worth to his feet.

Danny Ferguson: What the hell, Chet?

Reggie Delray: Yeah, what the hell, Chet?

Chet Worth: If we don't pin them... they're going to bitch for a rematch... And I've had enough of them. When we beat... their asses in the ring, I want to... make sure they never, ever... try to come... back for a title shot again.

Ferguson looked down, and nodded. He was right. He'd had enough of the two of them. And maybe this was the way to get it done...

...And maybe it was time to show Chet Worth who the real boss was. Ferguson reached back, and slapped Worth across the face, sending the CEO down onto the mats in front of him. Ferguson stood over his partner and screamed in the inimitable Terry Funk way, that this was HIS night.

He grabbed Troy by the back of the head, and sent her face first into the ring mats. Ferguson stood up, and had bad intentions in his eyes, as he reached down, and pulled the mats up off the floor, peeling them backwards, before setting his eyes on Lindsay Troy.

The ALister pulled Troy up, and put her head between his legs, getting ready to piledrive her onto the concrete below. He pulled backwards and Troy resisted. Once more he tried, and once more Troy resisted. A clubbing forearm to the back of The Queen of the Ring ended her resistance, as the fans became restless.

Luckily, they weren't going to see Ferguson victimize Troy.

Chet Worth, seething from the attack by his own partner, leveled Ferguson with a clothesline, sending Ferguson crashing down to the very concrete he'd intended for Troy. Worth mounted the prone Ferguson, and threw punches at his head, as the fans went wild. Referee Ham Patrick tried to make the save, but Worth punched him too, knocking him out of the way, making Ferguson his personal Scut Farkas.

Danny tried to cover up, but, it was no use. Worth was bigger and stronger than he was, and the punches made their way through.

Worth stood, as the fans cheered him, kicking Ferguson one more time, before lifting him off the concrete, and sending him into the ring. He pulled Troy to her feet and sent her into the ring as well. Worth rolled the somewhat groggy Lindsay Troy on top of Ferguson and made the cover.

No Ham Patrick meant no "official" referee. Luckily, Chet Worth was as official as they came, being the CEO of the company. He reached down, and hit the mat, checking Ferguson's shoulders, while making the count.

One.

Two.

Kickout.

Worth stood up, and kicked Ferguson again, as Lindsay Troy fought to get her bearings for a moment. Joey Melton entered the ring, and not having seen the previous few moment's action, figured that Worth was the one that had beaten down Troy, especially with the way she sat there. Melton went into action, dropkicking Worth into the ropes.

As Worth came back, Melton hit him with a drop toe hold, sending him to the mat face first. Melton rolled him over quickly, and locked the CEO into his figure four leglock.

Chet Worth struggled.

Lindsay Troy looked on, and shrugged.

Worth struggled more, his head right next to Danny Ferguson's prone body. And when he saw Ham Patrick come into the ring, he knew what he had to do.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Sure, he could have battled out. Sure, he could have just lifted his hand and grabbed the ropes, but, it wasn't about that. He wanted Ferguson to remember who was in charge.

Vince Howard spoke next as the fans went ballistic.

VH: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN... YOUR NEW PRIME TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS OF THE WORLD... LINDSAY TROY AND JOEY MELTON... BUSINESS AND PLEASURE!

Danny Ferguson winced as Howard spoke those words. Melton and Troy were up and celebrating as Worth rolled out of the ring, staring at Danny. The two glared at each other, as Worth simply smiled, flipped Ferg a bird, and walked to the back, leaving the new champions to celebrate their title win.

"WOOOOOO!"

The curtain that separates the backstage area from the arena proper is parted with dramatic flair as Joey Melton sweeps the fabric away to allow Lindsay Troy to enter the behind-the-scene domain first. She gives Joey a grin while he takes her by the hand and spins her around, the leather strap of his PRIME Tag Title skimming the surface of the floor while hers remains placed carefully over her shoulder. In mid-spin, something purposefully bumps Troy from behind causing her to take a step forward and then whirling around in surprise.

The imposing, tattooed visage of Bruce 'Violence Jack' Shanahan greets the flamboyant female star, his expression marked with disdain. In tow are the pair known collectively as The Covenant, the ever-stoic Horace Tully and 'The Infinite' Ethan Knight. The latter two cast Troy and Melton nary a glance before spreading out to encircle the duo, a pack of wolves walling in the kill. Shanahan's minions eye up the tag titles as the mastermind smirks maliciously at Melton. The champions may not know that these three have no qualms about assaulting them here and now, the Sect of Black Wisdom's ethics are too twisted to give a damn about honor or fairness, but that knowledge wouldn't prevent them from not backing down.

Violence Jack reaches out, caressing the strap adorning Troy's shoulder.

VJ: Precious. Tell me, my dear madam...how far are you willing to go to keep those?

His voice is marked with malevolence, a twisted challenge from a man arguably gone mad. Lindsay gives Jack's hand a half-second glance before swatting it off the title.

Troy: Didn't your mother ever tell you to look and not touch?

Melton: If the cretin even had a mother that is. I can see her shipping him off to an orphanage for being a bed wetter.

If Shanahan is unamused, his chuckle belies that notion. He flashes a look at each of his comrades, neither reacting as Melton and Troy glower at both in turn.

Tully: Nothing personal you understand. It's simply the way things have to be.

Knight: It's the will of the Old Ones. And they cannot be disobeyed.

VJ: Surely not. Not that you jackals could comprehend such a thing. You live meaningless, empty lives. You couldn't hope to know the wonders we've come to know so well, or the glory associated with that kind of knowledge.

Troy: Y'know something Joey? (She turns to look at him.) I'm getting the strangest feeling that we've just been cast in the next installment of Hellboy and someone forgot to tell us.

Melton: Well, you know that Evans is shit when it comes to remembering things while Grey's Anatomy is on. Once Ellen Pompeo is on screen, he's in a zone.

Lindsay nods then looks back to the trio, her eyes sweeping over Tully and Knight before settling back, and down, on Jack.

Troy: I never knew you from a hole in the wall until you swept into this company straight from the set of an episode of Miami Ink and the crowd at Ozzfest. I'm sure that in that narrow-minded, deluded head of yours, you and your two chained monkeys really buy into these nonsensical ramblings about Old Ones and Elder Gods and whathaveyou. But I'll tell ya one thing, Jackie boy: your dark magic, voodoo, cultist shit (she jabs him hard in the chest) doesn't phase me in the slightest.

Melton: In the distance...do you hear that? (Joey cups a hand over his ear.) I think it's (beat) Cthulu calling.

Violence Jack sneers, absently running a hand through his goatee but saying nothing. Tully and Knight look toward him, almost as if expecting some attack signal. But Shanahan seems to have no desire to sic his dogs on the outspoken pair. Instead it's Ethan that seems taken aback.

Knight: You pathetic, heathen curs. How dare you defile...

VJ: Silence, Brother Knight. Let the pups bark as they wish. It's inconsequential.

Knight backs down as Shanahan locks eyes with Lindsay Troy. The fury unrevealed through his body language is more readily visible in his eyes; the eyes of a man bordering on madness.

VJ: You upstarts surely make for an entertaining sideshow. But that's the extent of your value to me: you're a minor inconvenience, a trivial little song-and-dance act sent out to prepare the masses for the horrors we come to deliver. The fact we don't know us is irrelevant, you little worms. I was main-eventing PCW, running roughshod through tournaments and winning RPW/tSC crossover competitions long before you ever snuck through the backdoor into any promotion of any pertinence. And Mickey Mouse Land doesn't count, my lady. Me and my associates wouldn't touch that cesspool with a 10-foot pole.

Troy: You want to whip your dick out and compare sizes too while you're at it? I'm ill-equipped, but I'm sure Joey wouldn't mind getting my back on this.

Melton: I thought you said we were going from the side tonig...oof!

Troy's elbow had reintroduced itself to Joey's ribcage.

Troy: Did you get all the wax nostalgia out of your system? Get your payday from the retirees who are dropping bills just to get that one last name-drop of companies long since dead and buried out of you? Yeah? (Pause.) Good, because I'd really hate to be put to sleep over history stories that I don't give a shit about, especially when Joey and I have a victory party to be the hosts of. Come talk to me again when you've done something relevant in 2006.

She deftly brushes past the Covenant and VJ with Melton two steps behind her. The Vegas Merlin then turns around to address the three as he continues walking backwards.

Melton: Oh, and if Nergal makes a wrong turn, I'll make sure to send him down your way.

The Sect of Black Wisdom stands motionless for a moment, watching the happy pair waltz away. Tully nods at Shanahan, the latter seemingly distant with thought.

Tully: What of them? Surely that level of blasphemy won't be tolerated...

VJ: Leave them. For now. Our paths shall cross again.

He turns to look at both of his charges, the men who would be his instruments of destruction in PRIME. It was time for another re-awakening.

VJ: Come. We have more pressing matters to attend to. Give the children some recess time before school really starts.

"WHAT?!"

The booming voice of Ivan Stanislav echoes down the hallway as a cameraman peers around the corner to see a truly enraged Ivan Stanislav speaking on a cell phone that should have been put to rest back in the early 90s.

Next to the hulking Stanislav stands Alexei Ruslan, totally confused by the sudden explosion of his larger Comrade.

"What is it, Ivan Sergeiovich?" came the question from Ruslan. Stanislav uncharacteristically waves Ruslan off as he continues to listen on the large phone.

"You tell them to find him and get his carcass here!" Stanislav bellows once again, "This is some cover up, I assure you. Ivan has trained for this and now he wants what he deserves!"

The reply on the phone isn’t what Stanislav wants to hear, and he shakes his head angrily in response and bites his lower lip. His jaw slowly pushes out from his skull, enhancing his rage.

"Nyet! Nyet! Nyet! Ivan does not care about Lebanon or the Hezbollah! He just wants Titan St. James, and he wants him now!!"

Again, a response on the line that Stanislav doesn’t want to hear. With a roar, the Bear slams the phone down on the floor and stomps it to pieces, and then screams, "WHAT GOOD ARE YOU!?"

"Ivan! What is it?" Ruslan screams, exasperated.

"St. James! He is trapped in Israel during this entire mess down there and cannot make it to venue!"

"WHAT?!"

The two Russians stare at each other, before simultaneously proclaiming, "Capitalist conspiracy!"

Then, they both place their hands on their hips in unison and turn their heads to the cameraman.

"Well… might as well take Ivan’s rage out on this fellow, eh? Someone needs crushed tonight…"

The two Russians, with hunger in their eyes, slowly move towards the camearman who screams, drops the camera, and scampers off. A "DYAAHAAHAA!!" reverberates in the background as Ruslan and Stanislav break off in a run, but the entire picture is destroyed as Stanislav’s massive boot crashes down on the camera during the pursuit.

Vince Howard: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN... THE FOLLOWING MATCH HAS BEEN CHANGED! Due to travel conflicts, the following match will be a singles match to decide the #1 contender to two belts. The winner will be the first one to face the winner of Nova and the Illustrious Face Eater for the Intense Championship. The loser will face Tony Gamble or Jonathon Winters for the Internet Championship. Introducing first...

The unmistakable hook of "Won't Get Fooled Again" plays as the spotlights flash through Raymond James Stadium. The spotlights are looking for one man: Adam.

Is he on the ramp? No.

Is he anywhere in the crowd? No, though, there's a guy that looks like Gallagher out there which is both funny and sad.

Is he... WAIT! THERE HE IS!

PRIME's secret agent is standing on top of the scoreboard, just beyond the pirate ship. He's dressed in all black, his white hair blowing in the night breeze. He leaps from the scoreboard, and begins a slow trek into the ring, via a zip line.

The fans love it, as Adam speeds up, cutting the zipline just before making it to the ring, flipping once, and landing on his feet, as the chorus hits.

Spectacular.

Vince Howard: He stands SIX FOOT FOUR INCHES. HE WEIGHS TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY FOUR POUNDS... HE IS ADAM!! AND HIS OPPONENT!

'Hexagram'. The Deftones.

Whereas everyone else to this point had been flashy, Damien Cruz was anything but. He walks to the ring with purpose, barely stopping to acknowledge the crowd.

Vince Howard: He stands SIX FOOT TWO INCHES TALL. HE WEIGHS TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN POUNDS... HE IS THE LAST SON OF LUCHA LIBRE... DAMIEN CRUZ!!!

Again, the fans cheer for Cruz, albeit not as loudly as they had for Adam, but, still rather loudly.

Cruz makes his way into the ring, and stands opposite Adam, the two staring each other down for a moment before referee Gerald Wallace calls for the bell.

Nick: And we're underway here, Richard.

Richard: I can see that, thank you.

The two wrestlers move cautiously toward each other, Adam putting out a hand, and shaking Damien Cruz's as the two begin to wrestle.

A quick collar and elbow tie up, and Adam takes charge, pulling Cruz in for a side headlock, before getting fired off the ropes. Cruz waits with a shoulder block, but falls onto his back when the much larger Adam knocks him down with one of his own.

Adam moves into the ropes, intent on capitalizing on it, as Cruz rolls into his path, and stays on the mat. Adam floats over, and comes off the opposite ropes, Cruz waiting for him with a crossbody. Adam catches him and tries to throw him, but Cruz holds on, and takes Adam to the canvas with a spectacular tornado bulldog.

Fired up, Cruz stands up, and celebrates the move for a moment, before going on the offensive again, coming off the ropes, and flipping backwards, with a standing shooting star press. Adam's had enough and rolls himself to the outside to catch his breath.

Cruz won't give him a second to breathe however, as he runs off the ropes again, vaults himself over the top rope, and comes after Adam, flipping once, and landing directly across the shoulder of Adam.

Adam catches him, and absorbs the impact, as he turns and tries to use Cruz as a human lawn dart, tossing him into the corner ringpost. The quicker Cruz pushed backwards, and caused Adam to hit the ringpost before he could, forcing Adam into the post shoulder first.

Ouch.

Without much wasted movement, Cruz jumps to the apron, and backs off a few steps, before coming off the apron and hitting a legdrop to the back of Adam's neck, putting both men to the mats outside the ring, as the fans go ballistic from the output by the Last Son of Lucha Libre.

Nick: What a series of moves by Cruz!

Richard: He's one of the most underrated members of the PRIME roster. Hell, he even beat Chet Worth right after his Dual Halo Victory!

Nick: Some attribute that to Worth being tired still.

Richard: Those are just excuses. Cruz was phenominal in that match, and he really gave Worth a beating we hadn't seen before then.

Cruz stands again, and pulls Adam up by his ponytail, rolling him into the ring, smelling victory.

He enters the ring as well, and throws Adam off the ropes. As Adam comes back Cruz lifts his leg, going for his DragonFire kick. Adam, however, had different ideas as he grabs the leg of the smaller Cruz, and suplexes the crap out of him, sending him out of the ring, and onto the floor.

Nick: WHAT A REVERSAL!

Richard: WOW. Look at the power by Adam there. He literally threw Damien Cruz like a rag doll.

The fans at home see a replay of Adam avoiding the sidekick, grabbing the leg of Damien Cruz, and then throwing him backwards with a belly to belly suplex. Cruz literally sailed out of the ring, between the top and bottom ropes, before hitting the floor.

Nick: That looked terrible! I hope Cruz is alright.

Richard: I do too. Adam's on the outside now. Maybe he's going to check on him.

Adam indeed followed Cruz to the outside, but, not to check on him. Unless you coun't putting a boot to the back of Damien Cruz's head medical attention. Which, I wouldn't.

The Reluctant Face pulls Cruz to his weary feet, tossing him back into the ring. Cruz stumbles in, and ends up in the corner, trying to catch his breath. Adam walks over, gingerly, and pushes Cruz back over the top rope, dropping a fierce European Uppercut across the jaw of the smaller Cruz.

Nick: WOW!

Richard: I'll say! That's echoing all the way to Orlando!

Again, Adam lifted Cruz's face, and hit a European uppercut. In despiration, Cruz lifted a foot to try and kick Adam, but, Adam caught it, and pulled him out of the corner, while Cruz hopped on one foot.

Damien tried for an Enziguri, but, Adam had it well scouted and ducked the attempt, and took Cruz to the mat with a Dragon Screw Legwhip. From there, Adam wrapped himself around Cruz's leg, taking the legs away from the speedier Cruz with a knee lock.

Cruz writhes on the ground, trying to reach for the ropes, or do what he can to struggle out of the painful move. Adam wouldn't have it on to hurt Cruz, only to incapacitate, and try for a submission victory.

No dice. The slippery Luchadore made it to the ropes, and nearly instantly, Adam made the break. As Cruz tried to pull himself to his feet by the ropes, Adam put a quick kick to the back of Cruz, stopping any comeback he was attempting. Adam put a knee into the small of Cruz's back, and pushed down, using the ropes to pull some of the breath out of the body of Cruz.

With a leap, Adam crashes down across the back of Damien Cruz, knocking the breath out of his body. Adam quickly goes for the cover, and gets a two count, before Cruz kicks out.

Adam throws Cruz's head down to the mat, and covers him again, getting another two count. With a glare at Gerald Wallace, Adam lifts Cruz off the mat again, and gets a fist to the gut for his troubles. One more doubles him over, as Cruz comes off the ropes again.

On the rebound, Adam pushes Cruz into the air, at least 9 feet up, as Cruz flails for a moment, before realizing where he's going. He calms down, and lands feet first on the top rope, before springing backwards, taking himself and Adam out with a moonsault.

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

...the fans chanted.

Nick: WHAT A REVERSAL BY CRUZ!

Richard: This match could steal the show, Nick!

Nick: No, Pete's writing it, rememeber?

Richard: Shit. Sorry, Cruz and Adam. Pete sucks!

Nick: YEAH! WHO'S PETE? FUCK PETE!

Richard: YEAH!

Gerald Wallace began his count, as usual when both men are on the canvas. At the five count, Adam was in the corner, shaking out the cobwebs, almost standing. Damien Cruz was on his feet as well, launching a dropkick to the back of Adam, sending him crashing through the ropes, hitting his shoulder on the corner post for the second time.

Cruz yanked backwards, rolling Adam into a ball, going for a pinfall.

Two count, and kickout.

Adam tried to catch his breath, but, Cruz was having none of that, this time trying a Magistral cradle, with Adam, and getting another two count. Once more, Adam sat up, and once more, Cruz went for a cover, this time, going for a simple small package.

Another two count, and this time, Adam was ready, standing up at the same speed Cruz did, firing a punch to Cruz...

...who grabbed the arm, flipped up onto Adam's back, and locked his other arm, taking him off balance into a Crucifix pinfall attempt.

One!

Two!

Three!!!!!!

...no. Nevermind. Almost though.

Adam stood again, as Cruz came off the ropes with a Sunset flip attempt. Adam, however, was a bit too strong, and just sat down onto the chest of Cruz for a two count.

Cruz lifted his legs and pulled Adam down for a two count of his own, and Adam reversed it to another two count of his own.

Now, we could go back and forth like this forever, but, I'll bet you'd like to see something else, eh?

Me too.

Adam throws Cruz off the ropes, and as the Last Son of Lucha Libre comes off, he ducks his head. Bad idea. Really bad. Cruz capitalizes by putting a kick to his face, and DDTing the OMGWTFBBQ?!! out of Adam.

One Heaven's Fire Splash later, and we had a new #1 contender to the Intense belt.

Jonathan Winters is sitting by his lonesome in a dimly lit corner where his bags and other personal effects are. Everyone in the area has seemingly left, most likely to go watch the matches being performed in the ring. There isn’t one at the moment, but I think you get the picture that I am painting.

Winters currently is slouched on the bench, resting his head against the cold steel of the lockers. A white towel drapes across his face, obscuring his features. A black t-shirt covers his upper body, but you can tell that he is already in his full ring attire.

The sound of feet against cold concrete gathers our attention from off-screen. The noise is coming from behind us so the camera turns to face it. What we pick up is Tony Gamble. The Grin is now standing in front of Winters, who has sat up a little bit and skootched the towel up a little to look Gamble in the eye.

Tony Gamble: Well, don't you look all eager and ready to wrestle.

Winters gives a sneering smile at Gamble. He isn’t totally in the mood for Gamble to be parading the Internet Title -- which happens to be wrapped around his waist -- in front of him at the moment. With this being his first real pay-per-view match here in PRIME, Winters is too focused right now to let Gamble knock him out of it.

Jonathan Winters: Well, if it isn’t the Former PRIME Internet Champion…

Gamble frowns as much as he can, as he takes a quick glance toward the title firmly fastened around his waist. Winters is being very resentful right now.

Tony Gamble: In case you haven't noticed... That's the title right there.

Winters drops the towel in front of his face -- rolling his eyes behind it as he does so -- as Gamble thrusts his hips in the direction of Winters' face.

Jonathan Winters: I'm going to let you hold onto that for a little while longer, Gamble. But I'll be taking it home with me later.

An evil smile curls onto the lips of The Grin…

Tony Gamble: That's why I'm here, really. To give you one last chance to back out of the match, because tonight It's going to take more than just some superkick to put me away. It's going to take more than what you're capable of... So I'm willing to let you walk away, no questions asked.

That awkward silence was probably due to Winters’ heart stopping for a beat. Not that this is really all that shocking to him, but it still catches him off guard. He thinks for a moment, the towel obscuring Gamble’s vision of what mannerisms might be crossing across the facial features of Jonathan Winters right now.

Tony Gamble: Think about it for a while.

Winters pulls the towel down off his head to give Gamble his response, but The Grin has already disappeared. Winters searches around the lockerroom with his eyes, trying to see if Gamble possibly just darted off to a different area, but he has left the room completely.

You are watching, quite simply, a black screen - interesting huh?

Maybe not, but things are sure to pick up... you see? Right on cue, just as I said that there appears the "Hall of Fame Champion", standing in his wrestling attire with his arms folded, staring intently ahead of him - right into your eyes!! (Feel the love!) The Tampa Bay crowd pop instantly as he appears on the multiple screens in the Raymond James Stadium, because Tampa Bay loves Lisieux...

In front of him, on the centre of the screen appears a graphic offering-up everything you need to know about the French-Canadian legend:

"The MVP" Ignatius Lisieux
6'3"
250 lbs
Ville-Marie, Quebec, Canada
"The Sunset Legacy"
27-7-0
Universal Champion, Intense Champion, Tag-Team Champion
2004 Wrestler of the Year, Global Curse Killer, Hall of Fame Inductee

The shot swiftly fades away into one of Karina Wolfenden, who is greeted far-less appreciatively than her opponent was. She stands with orange-and-black hair, dressed in all-black with folded arms and a wry smile. Her vital statistics also appear centre-screen:

"The K-Wolf" Karina Wolfenden
6'0"
161 lbs
Albany, New York
"The C4"
31-7-1
Universal Champion, Tag-Team Champion, Alias Champion
2005 Wrestler of the Year, 2005 Dual Halo Winner, Longest Winning Streak

The statistics fade away to Ignatius Lisieux sitting on a folded chair, a golden "Colossus Three" promotional poster directly behind him displaying all of the competing superstars of the PPV, before a question flashes up onto the screen in bold white writing, how can he see said question? Well, obviously an interviewer will be asking him this before we see his answer, it’s pre-taped, dummy:

"How confident are you heading into your match with Karina Wolfenden at Colossus?"

"How confident?" he immediately asks back like a well-trained parrot, sighing a little as he scratches nervously at the back of his temple, "...I find over-confidence to be more of a hindrance than a help, unlike my opponent..." a small chuckle later and the French-Canadian continues, "But seriously, I'm probably as confident as I'll ever be... I've kept myself protected since the beating I took at ReVolution One-Hundred and I've been in the gym every single day since being released from hospital... I think I'm better prepared for this match than any since returning to PRIME last November. Expect to see me give and take more than you've perhaps ever seen before..."

The pop for Ignatius' statement of intent slowly fades away to anticipatory silence as a frustrated-looking Karina Wolfenden fades into shot, the question proposed to her flashes onto the screen as she looks directly forwards with a completely blank stare:

"How confident are you heading into your match with Ignatius Lisieux at Colossus?"

She continues to stare at the screen before simply shrugging her shoulders and blowing a pink gum-bubble from her lips. Mild jeers fill the air in Tampa Bay before Ignatius appears back in the seated position, with another question to attend to, silencing the fans back into anticipation mode:

"What will the future hold for Ignatius Lisieux if he loses?"

"Man..." the impact of the question is not lost on the Hall of Famer as his face immediately drains of all colour, "...well, I can't say I haven't thought about it, but I was sorta hoping to avoid having to speak about it." He fidgets nervously in his seat once again before finally dealing with the issue head on, "I really don't know, honestly... I've never wrestled anywhere else; I've never had any other jobs... I don't have any other qualifications. If I lose, we all know what it means for me... I'll most likely get fired. Basically, I can't lose... and I pray to God that I don't."

We switch back to the increasingly-bored Karina Wolfenden, as her version of the question fades into the centre of the scene (you see, they’re both being asked the same question and giving exceptionally different answers! Ooooh, contrast!):

"What will the future hold for Karina Wolfenden if she loses?"

"I dunno..." she mutters, sighing, "Haven't thought about it."

The fans in the stadium jeer again, this time a little louder, at another non-committal response from the "K-Wolf", but are soon appeased as Lisieux once again becomes the focus:

"…And if you win?"

The grin now etched on the face of the "Eternal Sunrise" tells the whole story before he even says anything, "If I win, then damn..." he again nervously scratches at the back of his blonde hair, "...it will restore my faith in humanity, seriously. Since coming back my bread-and-butter has been that good will always prevail over evil, and save for ReVolution One-Hundred that has generally been the case: I beat Ozric Mortimer and I beat Hoyt Williams - I eliminated Tyler Nelson from the Dual Halo... I have to admit that the loss to Killean shook my faith a little bit, but if I can beat Kari then who knows? Maybe another Universal shot might be in the pipeline?"

The same question remains on the screen as Wolfenden retakes her place as the protagonist, the Tampa Bay PRIMEates are probably hoping for a far more expansive answer than they have had out of the "Negasonic Lupine" so far, but they’re bound to be totally disappointed, right?

"When I win?" smiles Wolfenden, "Dunno... probably go win the Uni..."

The usage of "when I win" and the nonchalant ease at which she expects to win PRIME's main title again rubs Florida the wrong way as the jeers and hissing gets louder and louder, luckily Ignatius is there once again to make the unintentional pre-taped save:

"Any major ambitions post-Colossus?"

"Of course..." nods the French-Canadian, "I always have ambition, but my first thought is just keeping my damn job. If that happens then I have to be looking at getting another Universal Title run... I need to finish higher than sixth in the next Dual Halo and winning the Grandslam before anyone else is probably the greatest thing I could ever achieve in PRIME." Ignatius laughs again, before concluding, "Oh yeah, and maybe next year I could try and stay out of trouble a little more... I'd prefer to get back to wrestling, rather than fighting all of the time!"

When issued with exactly the same question, the K-Wolf is unsurprisingly less vociferous about her intentions, "Errr..." she pauses, blowing another gum-bubble, "...Grandslam, probably."

Just about getting fed-up with Wolfenden's lack of entertainment, the majority of the PRIMEates in the stadium begin a now-pleasingly unisex chant of "Asshole!" towards her, it only subsides as the French-Canadian returns to their screens:

"What do you have to say about Karina Wolfenden, your opponent for tonight?"

"A lot..." smirks the "MVP", "but I guess a lot of what I could say wouldn't really be all-too-suitable to broadcast at this time of the night..." He takes another moment to compose his train of thought before delivering the best response he can muster, "First, I will say that I still respect her as an athlete and as a performer, I don't think there are many better... That being said, she's all-but lost my respect for her as a human being. Some of the things that Kari has done, some of the stuff she has said... it has really just opened my eyes to what PRIME is these days, you know? I mean, it's always been dog-eat-dog, but for someone as popular as Karina to do the things she does, it just defies belief... I would love it if I beat her - love it."

"What do you have to say about Ignatius Lisieux, your opponent for tonight?"

Wolfenden shrugs again, "I don't like him", she snarls... "I really don't like him."

Her words are the final instalment in the hype segment, but not before she spits her gum towards the screen, leaving the fans inside of the Raymond James Stadium with an incredibly bitter taste in their mouths. A defiant chant of "Iggy" breaks out from the rafters down to the front row as the camera zooms in on the most vocal Lisieux supporters that it can find, a quick, Iggy-biased scan of the signs is also evident, some classics including:

"Wolfenden FEARS Lisieux!"

"Let's Go Iggy!"

"Ka-weiner Wolf-em-down!"

"MVP-4-Life"

Maybe "classics" was a bit strong a word in this case, huh? However, it's probably an understatement when used to describe what we can expect later when Ignatius Lisieux steps through the ropes to defend his "Hall of Fame Championship" against Karina Wolfenden. It'll be a classic alright... and then some.

Backstage, we find a man in a hooded sweatshirt with the hood pulled up. The eyes are covered, but the rest of the face is recognizable enough. If not, the big blue KVL across the front of the shirt should give it away.

Kyle Lamen: I picked out my urn last week.

He doesn’t look up, and lets the hood shield his eyes and most of his face from the camera.

Kyle Lamen: I decided that I couldn’t be buried. Makes me uncomfortable. I’m not sure If I’m doing the ash-scattering thing, but I figured I should leave this world in flames, in the hopes that all those stories and analogies about the Phoenix are true. I always had a thing for Jean Gray anyway.

He smiles at his own joke.

Kyle Lamen: Tonight is it. Goodbye. Sayonara. No more Foley or Funk fake retirements. You will never see my face in PRIME again...or anywhere else in a wrestling ring, for that matter. I guess you never say ‘never,’ though.

He pauses, thinking things through.

Kyle Lamen: I’ve done a lot and crossed a lot of people in my day. A lot of people have crossed me. I have more than one enemy. Danny Ferguson is neither the best nor the worst of them. When they write my bio one day, maybe it’ll shake out that he was. Maybe, one day, people will look back on this night fondly. But what I’m saying is that while Kyle Lamen seems to be the end-all, be-all for Danny Ferguson, that feeling is not mutual.

He raises his head just a little, and enough light snakes in to catch a glint off of his piercing eyes.

Kyle Lamen: You are not my finale, Danny. Beating you does not make me die happy. But everyone else I’ve come up against in my life - parents, bandmates, ex-girlfriends, bosses, meter maids, waiters, EVERYONE...I’m ok leaving them in the place I am. I can end those relationships or lack thereof and be fine. With you...I’m not done yet. I’m not satisfied with our ending. Tonight, I correct a mistake that I allowed to exist for almost a year. Tonight, I finish my business. Because as much as you’ve tried to make it personal, Danny, that’s all you are to me: business.

Calming slightly, he looks away, then lowers his head and eases his speech.

Kyle Lamen: To everyone who has ever watched my matches, taped my matches, skimmed through my matches, gone to get popcorn during my matches, participated in my matches, studied my matches, loved my matches, hated my matches, or respected my matches...Thank you. I couldn’t have made it here without you. All of you. Thanks.

He nods slowly to himself, then walks away down the hall, before we cut away.

Nick: We’re back here at ringside in preparation for our first singles title match of the night, though who exactly is ‘defending’ the title is a matter of contention as much as the match itself will be! Over the past few weeks T-

Richard: Yadda yadda yadda – if you don’t know the story then it’s your loss, you should watch ReVolution more. Oh and drink Gatorade: the refreshing but tangy drink that comes with my personal seal of approval.

Nick: You don’t need to smile and wink when you say that, you’re not on screen. In fact, right now we’re getting a fantastic view of the incredible Mexican Wave that’s started its way round the stadium as the final preparations for our next set of entrances are set in motion!

Indeed an impressive wave it is, rolling right round from section 147 to 239, nearly every PRIMEate in attendance happy to join in to see their face on the gigantic screens that have been erected on either side of the stadium.

Richard: I have exclusive word in my ear that the one true Lord Of The Internet himself is making his way to the entranceway now!

The camera peels away from the fans and focuses intently on the darkened entrance ramp as the immortal stutter booms over the loudspeaker system;

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

There’s a massive explosion of pyrotechnics as the self-proclaimed Internet Champion makes his no-expenses-spared entrance, the Internet Championship proudly displayed round his waist as his beautiful valet accompanies him.

Richard: Here he is, PRIME’s Internet Champion!

Nick: Except he’s not.

Richard: Explain the belt then.

Nick: (Sigh)

He stops at the end of the stage as a gigantic burst of pyrotechnics goes off from behind him. Huge plumes of sparks light his path down to the ring as fireworks intermittently fire, usually coinciding with yet another grinning pose from Gamble. At the bottom of the ramp, as he starts to cross the walkway across the field he stops and points both hands at the belt round his waist to another massive explosion of fireworks. With a satisfied nod Gamble continues to the ring, rolling in and holding his belt above his head, much to the fans’ rather vocal resentment.

Vince Howard: Weighing in at one-hundred and eighty-seven pounds and hailing from Las Vegas, Nevada… Tony "The Grin" Gammmmmmmmmble!

Nick: Well, Tony Gamble has handed the belt to Vince Howard and is looking expectantly at him for an announcement of his Internet Champion status, but it’s not forthcoming!

Richard: What’s the problem? Our Internet Champion is standing in the ring, why isn’t he being properly acknowledged?!

Rhetorical as the question was there’s still no time for an answer to it as System Of A Down’s "Aerials" fills the packed stadium to rapturous applause. If the fan reaction startles the staunch and stoic Jonathan Winters as he struts out across the stage he certainly doesn’t show it.

Vince Howard: Aaaaaaaaaaand his opponent, making his way the ring and weighing in at two-hundred and thirty pounds, Jonathan… Winterrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrs!

We’re treated to a swooping camera shot that follows his entrance right the way down the long ramp and across the field, zooming in on the intense look plastered on his face, jaw set and eyes fiery with determination.

Nick: Now that is the face of a man who knows what he deserves and is hell-bent on getting it back, personally I would not want to be Tony Gamble right now; the prospect of stepping into the ring with Winters in this frame of mind is not a thought to take lightly!

Richard: Gamble’ll show him exactly why he’s the one, only and true Internet Champion and this guy is just a wannabe chump with a chip on his shoulder.

Nick: I suppose we’ll see soon enough, as Winters slides himself into the ring and looks every bit ready to finally take on Tony Gamble one-on-one for the Internet title!

A CGI graphic of the belt launches itself onto the screen, as if you weren’t certain this was for the Internet Championship already, as Vince Howard displays the title then hands it out to the timekeeper.

Vince Howard: This match is scheduled for one fall and is for the PRIME Internet Championshiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip!

After the standard referee frisk both competitors square up in the middle of the ring, eye to eye and a mere inch and a half, at most, apart. Gamble extends his hand behind him and indicates the wish for a microphone. He gets it handed to him and, grin slowly extending as he raises it to his lips, attempts to get inside Winters’ head with a long string of trash talking that would make a docker blush. Thankfully he forgets to flip the switch to ‘On’ and only Winters is treated to this diatribe, probably saving PRIME a good few tens of thousand dollars in indecency fines. Winters remains absolutely calm as he snatches the mic from Gamble’s hand. He flips the switch on and points at the Internet Title belt, sitting with the timekeeper, his words now echoing around the capacity crowd.

Winters: That’s mine and we both know it.

Gamble loses it and immediately hurls a punch at Winters, connecting with the bigger man’s jaw, causing the mic to drop from his hand. Winters’ head rocks back, but he immediately retaliates with a big right hand of his own and that’s it; it descends into chaos with punches flying everywhere.

Nick: After a few words from the normally silent Jonathan Winters, this one’s underway!

As soon as the ref. has kicked the errant microphone out from under the bottom rope he waves his hand to the timekeeper, the bell promptly rings and the match is now official.

Richard: Ah… it looks like Gamble’s playing the old trick of letting the goofball opponent think he has the upper hand before mercilessly crushing him.

Nick: You think? To me it looks like Jonathan Winters is unloading a few weeks’ pent-up frustration on Tony Gamble, and Gamble is definitely on the back foot!

Richard: Allllll part of his cunning plan. Trust me.

Winters is reigning forearms, heavy punches and mixing in a few chops in his assault on the smaller man

Nick: Both may be light and agile, but Winters is taking every advantage he has in height and weight to out-brawl Tony Gamble here. I don’t think the Las Vegan saw this approach coming!

Richard: Las Vegan? Like Las Vegetarian?

Nick: It’s true, apparently.

Back in the ring Winters throws Gamble into the turnbuckle with force, but Gamble finally gets some momentum of his own rolling and manages to use all his agility to leap up onto the top rope and propel himself backward, looking for a vicious back elbow.

Nick: Nice work there from Gamble...

Richard: Yeah, kick this miserable bastard’s ass, Tony!

However, Winters has all the time in the world to see it coming and he ducks in, grabbing Gamble around the waist and, using his opponent’s impetus to his own advantage, hits a mean belly to back suplex.

Nick: Ouch, I thought Gamble had turned the tide a little there, but Winters is unrelenting in his domination so far in this match – he’s dead-set on walking out this ring tonight with the Internet Championship in his hands!

Richard: The filthy thief!

Taking the first chance he has to get a breather Gamble rolls out the ring and is attended to by the lovely Violet while Winters stretches his shoulder and burns a hole in the side of Gamble’s head with his gaze.

Richard: Looks like Gamble’s receiving a "Go get ’im, Champ!" pep-talk there. I wouldn’t mind if Violet gave me one, actually…

Nick: Oh, please!

As the ref nears the five count Gamble rolls back in and quickly hops to his feet before Winters can take any advantage. The two slowly circle each other, occasionally faking a duck in, before the tow finally lock up. With a swift knee to the gut Gamble takes control, doubling Winters over with a follow-up of the same variety. He locks on a headlock and starts grinding away, leaning in to hurl abuse as he does so.

Nick: It definitely looks like Tony Gamble is trying to get a psychological advantage over Jonathan Winters here; at every chance he has he’s attempting to get inside Winters’ head and distract him.

After wrenching away on the headlock for long enough Gamble slowly turns round the have the ropes closer to him. With nary a second’s hesitation he starts the brief run towards them, kicks off the second, then the top and comes crashing down with an oddly-done but highly effective Tornado Bulldog!

Richard: Now that is why this man is our Internet Champion!

Nick: Even if he was before, he’s still got a long way to go in this match before he can claim to be the champion again!

With a grin creeping across his face Gamble takes to the far ropes while Winters gets to one knee, starting to stand. Coming back with some fair speed behind him Gamble kicks off Winters’ knee but avoids the obvious Shining Wizard, instead opting to continue in the step-up tradition and boost himself off Winters’ shoulder.

Nick: This looks precarious! Tony Gamble is showing off his nimble balance here, taking the one-two-three step off Winters’ knee, shoulder and now he’s perched on the top rope!

Winters stands to see where Gamble has gone.

Richard: ‘The Grin’ bounces off the top rope, twisting back and catching the turning Winters with a twisting cross-body! Astounding work by the Saviour Of The Internet! Hoyt be praised!

Gamble hooks the leg as soon as the two hit the ground, the ref drops and starts the count:

One!

Tw-

Nick: Too early; Winters will take more than a quick offensive spree to put away.

Richard: Bah, Gamble’s just letting him off with it.

As Winters tries to stand Gamble is relentless in putting the boot in, again sending a cacophony of insults flying at the bigger man. Winters catches Gamble’s right foot at one point and twists, taking Tony by complete surprise and sending him crashing to the mat where Winters holds tight and follows up with an ankle lock.

Nick: Great reactions from Winters, Gamble did not see that coming at all!

Richard: Of cou-

Nick: He didn’t, Richard.

However, the awkward position Winters was in to lock the hold on is apparent as Gamble easily manages to roll over out of it. But by this stage Winters is on his feet and lands a few sharp kicks to Gamble’s inner thigh. He adjusts his hold on Gamble’s foot, lands another kick for good measure, then wraps Gamble up in a perfect Figure Four.

Richard: Okay Champ, time to stop letting the boring guy have his fun and kick his ass. C’mon.

Nick: Gamble looked to be in trouble, but he had the foresight to drag himself away a few feet while Winters was locking on the hold, he’s within inches of the bottom rope!

Richard: These hick fans obviously don’t have the Internet and are very easily amused, they’re cheering against our Internet Champion and for the world’s most boring wrestler!

Nick: I think Winters would be just as confused as you Richard – that is if he were to pay attention to the fans; he’s much too involved in putting Tony Gamble away just now. Rope break!

Gamble has just managed to grip a hand round the bottom rope and is holding on for dear life as the ref counts the hold to be broken. Winters stares emotionlessly at Gamble until the count reaches four then breaks it. He rubs his knee as the referee chastises his lateness in breaking it up while Gamble rolls out the ring and sits, back against the apron, stretching his painful limbs.

Nick: I think I speak for us all, bar Richard, when I say that Jonathan Winters is most definitely in control here and is interested in just one thing – getting back the belt that is rightfully his.

Richard: Whereas anyone in their right mind can see that Anthony Gambellini, being a kind man, is letting Jonathan Winters play out a fantasy of having any kind of claim to the Internet Championship. Then he’ll destroy him.

Wanting safe passage back into the ring Gamble pleads with the ref to keep Winters from attacking until he is firmly back inside. Grudgingly the ref agrees and turns to Winters, during the second-long distraction that Winters has from the referee Gamble takes full advantage, jumping first to the apron then to the top turnbuckle. As soon as Winters sees what’s happening he shoves the referee aside.

Richard: That’s an awful way to treat a PRIME official; he should be fired on the spot for that!

Nick: It was a brave thing to do, but it’s cost Winters; he just received a pinpoint flying dropkick to the chest from Tony Gamble there.

It’s followed up with a series of super-quick elbow drops and the second pin attempt of the match. The referee, having stumbled away, slides back in and counts:

One!

Nick: Shoulder up by Jonathan Winters! Gamble needs to mount more offence than that to put this man away!

To Gamble’s amazement he’s the one cautioned by the referee, who isn’t as dumb as he look and saw straight through Gamble’s "safe passage" tactics. ‘The Grin’ can only look on furiously as Winters gets to his feet, the first sign of a smile breaking his stony features as he takes to the opposite ropes. His run is timed almost perfectly as the referee finishes his lecture and steps away, just as Winters charges in at Gamble. But Gamble, stood by the ropes, ducks and propels the PRIME Internet champion clean over the top ropes and out onto the floor.

Nick: Great awareness by Tony Gamble there, Winters thought he had the advtage all wrapped up.

As Winters slowly gets back to his feet outside the ring, Gamble quickly slips through the ropes and stands on the apron, still facing in the ring, before quickly jumping up on the second ropes and leaping off with an Asai Moonsault.

Richard: Damn... that was good.

Nick: It was a technically astounding manoeuvre there from Tony Gamble, taking down the prone Jonathan Winters.

Winters is dragged to his feet and rolled back in the ring, where Gamble immediately tries to pin again.

Nick: Another pin attempt after a brief offensive run, another one count.

Richard: It’s just Gambellini’s mental intimidation manifesting itself in a physical register, his potential targeting mechanism is working in an under-estimation campaign to ensnare his opponent’s inference of him is inadequately evaluated.

Nick: What?

Richard: What?

Nick: I think that flash of brilliance from Richard was that Gamble is attempting to take his trash-talking to Winters to another level by trying a lot of quick pins, to frustrate the bigger man into under-estimating him and making a mistake.

Richard: Yeah… that sounds good. That’s what I meant.

Back in the ring Gamble is wrenching on a half-crab for all his worth while the referee counts the rope break. At the four Gamble nonchalantly lets Winters’ leg ‘drop’.

Nick: Vicious knee smash to end the half-crab there; neither man wants to give up the least advantage in this match, keeping every hold locked on as long as possible.

Richard: In Winters’ case he really needs to take the slightest advantage he can muster.

Winters slowly gets to his feet again while Gamble yawns through another complaint from the referee about rope breaks. As soon as the ref steps aside Gamble rushes in at Winters’ back, but is met with a stiff back elbow for his troubles.

Nick: Amazing! Jonathan Winters wasn’t even looking in the right direction to hit Tony Gamble with that elbow to the jaw!

With Gamble stumbling away, stunned, Winters climbs the turnbuckles. Seeing his opponent perched up top Gamble launches in, standing on the bottom rope to try and dislodge Winters before he can become airborne. However, Winters’ grip on the top ropes is too strong and he’s easily able to fend Gamble off with a potent uppercut-style elbow. Gamble slips off the rope and rolls back across the floor. Winters now stands atop the uppermost turnbuckle and sets his sights.

Nick: Oh God, he could do anything here!

Richard: I don’t like the look of this! Tony, stop playing possum and roll out the ring! Quick!

Winters comes flying off the top ropes with a tremendous tumbleweed leg drop.

Nick: "The Decision Maker" by Winters!

Winters manages to roll over to drape an arm over Gamble’s body and the ref drops to count Winters’ first pin attempt of the match.

One!

Two!

Thr-

Richard: So close! Gamble got his shoulder up at the last possible second there!

Nick: While Gamble has squandered pin attempt after pin attempt trying to intimidate Jonathan Winters here, Winters has saved his for when he really needs them – that one there very nearly was the Decision Maker in this match!

Winters calmly stands up, breathing heavily, and awaits his foe. As soon as Gamble sits upright he collapses straight back to the mat after Winters’ foot connects with a brutal low martial arts kick to the face.

Nick: The words ‘potatoes’ and ‘sack of’ spring to mind; Gamble’s lights must be out after that one!

Winters covers again, hooking the leg and leaning his bodyweight on his arm across Gamble’s chest.

Nick: Again, unlike his opponent, Winters is taking every precaution against a kick out here – his game is not a psychological one, it’s plain and simple outwrestling!

One!

Two!

Thr-

Richard: Too close! Somebody stop this, our champion needs a rest break, or some water, or something…

Nick: Even if he was entitled to one I don’t think you could stop the steamroller that is Jonathan Winters long enough for Gamble to get it!

Calm and collected again, Winters picks Gamble up and knees him in the gut. Now doubled over Gamble’s the (un)lucky recipient of another visit form Winters’ elbow, this time to the back of his head.

Nick: This is becoming a clinic, after Gamble’s run at ruling this match Winters is firmly back in the driver’s seat!

Richard: Gamble’s just decided to play along with this a little longer. I’m sure it’s just to scare me a little before he pulls off the win.

Gamble is pulled back to a vertical base again, looking decidedly groggy, he catches the kick to the guy that’s sent his way then quickly realises he was meant to.

Nick: Winters looking for an Enziguri!

Richard: Ha! Gamble saw that one coming!

Nick: Indeed he did! He waited until Winters leapt off his other foot then threw the man by the foot he still had hold off!

Lucky for Gamble, but unlucky for the referee, as the errant kick from Winters was sent spiralling through the air to land squarely on the side of the official’s skull. With Winters checking on the referee Gamble returns to his usual ‘Zebra Down’ tactics, taking a run up behind Winters, flipping over his back and grabbing Winters by the head on his way down for a face plant.

Nick: I don’t approve of the tactics, but Gamble and his valet have them nailed; I could swear that Violet had a chair ready to slide in for that move before the referee even went down!

Richard: It’s a mental link thing, telepathy, y’know?

Winters just tasted cold steel as the chair slid into perfect positioning just in time for his face to slam into it. His nose bursts open upon impact and his head bounces off the chair, out for the count. Gamble’s already wide smile stretches even further as he mounts the turnbuckle and sets Winters in his sights. He takes a deep breath and takes to the skies, taking in massive air on his Shooting Star Press leap.

Richard: Bam! That’s how it’s meant to be!

Nick: Dirty play to get there, but even I have to say that was a damn-near flawless flip there, though the impact has taken its toll on Gamble as well!

He manages to crawl back to the lifeless body of Winters and drapes an arm across his chest. He lies, panting and waiting for the count. When it doesn’t come he looks up angrily. He catches Violet’s eye who’s busy pointing alternately at the bloody chair lying in the ring beside them and the still out-cold referee. Gamble half walks, half staggers across to the bloody chair and is about to kick it out the ring when he decides against it, instead picking the chair up.

Nick: Oh, come on! Hasn’t he subjected Winters to enough already?

Gamble smirks and struts across to Winters’ slowly-stirring form, he goads both the crowd and Winters as he stands, ready to pounce, just waiting for Winters to get back on his feet again. When Winters finally reaches one knee, Gamble decides he can't wait any longer and brings the chair down with a sadistic smile.

Nick: Not like this...

However, before the blow can be struck, Winters grabs the chair in both hands, mere inches from the top of his head and tugs it clean out of Gamble’s hands.

Richard: That’s not fair!

Gamble takes a couple of steps backward in shock, pleading with Winters as he returns to a standing position, still dripping blood from his nose over the mat. Winters takes a step towards Gamble, chair ready to swing but then throws the chair into his opponent’s hands.

Nick: What the hell is he doing?

Richard: Throwing his damned career away by the looks of it!

Gamble is as taken aback as the rest of us, but before his trademark grin can return to his face Winters shuffles forward and hits his Indifference Maker superkick to the chair, slamming the metal contraption into the side of Gamble’s head, full-force.

Nick: The tables have turned on Gamble here!

Gamble simply flops to the floor, motionless. Winters kicks the chair under the ropes and slumps down on top of him, exhausted, as the ref stirs into life.

Richard: Get up, get up, get up!

Nick: Winters has stolen it!

One!

Two!

Three!

WINNER: JONATHAN WINTERS

Nick: Yes! Tony Gamble’s cheating tactics have been turned back on him, costing him the match! The Internet Champion retains and finally gets his belt!

Richard: You mean we have a new Internet Champion?

Winters is handed his Internet Championship strap and a smile properly grows on his face as he proudly holds it aloft to an explosive crowd reaction.

Nick: Now there is a shot to remember.

The shot in question being one of the ecstatic Jonathan Winters holding his belt proudly above his head, thousands of screaming fans cheering him in the background, with a hugely blown-up image of him on the giant screen.

We head backstage to a locker room, where one of the newest members of the interview team, Faith Rodriguez, is readying for her chance in the spotlight. The pressure of cutting your teeth on the biggest show on PRIME's calendar is bad enough, but it's only made worse by the interview subject. Inside this private locker area, Faith stands next to what looks like one of those dressing curtains, the kind divas always change into before swimsuit/lingerie/pasties-on-a-pole matches. Except there's no sexy silhouette, and the curtain actually serves a more practical purpose - dividing a female interviewer from a male competitior. And if you weren't able to guess which roster member went to all this trouble, maybe you should take note of the well-dressed bodyguards standing at either end of the curtain.

Faith Rodriguez: Like the byline says, I'm Faith Rodriguez, back here in the locker room of Danny Fergsuon. Danny, the A-List's tag team title reign came to a screeching halt earlier tonight, thanks to Chet Worth. What do you have to say about that?

Danny Ferguson: Nothing.

A piece of black clothing flops over the top of the curtain. Faith clears her throat, not expecting that answer. She smiles into the camera.

Faith Rodriguez: Nothing? After Worth conspired to work his way into your team and then cost you the belts against your sworn enemies, Business & Pleasure? You have no comment?

Danny Ferguson: Making "sworn enemies" (he did the finger quotes over the barrier, because he's a tool) of the only other team on the roster hardly seems like good planning. If you want me to talk about Chet Worth, you're going to have to wait until the next ReVolution.

A smaller, red piece of clothing flops next to the black one. It's a bandanna. Soon, it's followed by a pair of red, black and white striped tights.

Danny Ferguson: You want to talk about sworn enemies? Let's talk about Kyle Lamen.

A lightbulb goes off over Faith's head.

Faith Rodriguez: Ok then. Tonight has absolutely been pegged as the final showdown between yourself and Lamen. After months of conflict and harassment between the two of you, it will all finally be settled in the steel cage.

Danny Ferguson: Thanks for the recap, I almost forgot. Was there supposed to be a question in there?

Faith Rodriguez: I...well...what I meant, was-

Danny Ferguson: Save it. You know, this is a very special occasion. The end of the chapter. The final segment on the DVD compilation. So you have to put a little more into it.

Behind the curtain, there's a flash of green fabric.

Danny Ferguson: Months - hell, weeks from now, when Kyle is laid up in the local Memorial Hospital, he's going to have nightmares about what I did to him tonight. He's going to see himself re-living the pain and the torture, and he's going to wake up in cold sweats. That's important to remember. Because when he does...I want to make sure that he doesn't remember seeing Terry Funk kick his ass...

Danny steps out from behind the standing curtain. He's dressed in his own gear, not the Funk copies he'd been wearing for the past month. Green and gold tights, white boots, and a green boxing robe with white and gold trim. The perennial Funk stubble is gone, apparently shaved off after the tag loss. And the long, reddish-brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail. Suddenly, Danny looks more like, say, Petey Williams than Terry Funk.

Danny Ferguson: ...I want him to remember that it was Danny Ferguson that beat him from one side of that cage to the other and back. I want him to remember that I had the last laugh, that I ended our spat, and that I was the one who finally, absolutely, unecquivocally, put him on ice. Reggie?

His manager, Reggie Delray, forces his way into the picture, between Ferg and Faith. He grabs for the mic, but Faith hangs onto it, and they have a brief tug-of-war before Reggie palms Faith's face and shoves her out of the picture. Pretty happy with his work, he flips the mic from one hand to the other...then drops it.

Danny struggles to keep up his intense look while Reggie digs for the mic. Finally, he finds it, and starts talking before he even emerges back onscreen.

Reggie Delray: Kyyyyle LAAAmen! You mustthink yer' the Jack Bauer a PRIME, what with how you always pop up when we think you done gone for good! That might be a bit of a stretch, given how you probably ain't got much more than 24 days to live anyway! But seeeeee, Ah see you as more've a Sly Stallone movie franchise. You is the "Rocky" of PRIME. And Ah ain't talkin' bout your whole, "Ah'm the underdog, root for me forever" bowl-shit. Ah'm talkin' bout how ev'ry time Ah think it's over, ev'ry time it seems you done taken yer last ride round the carousel, you come back around and say you wanna go again! For all mah boy here talks and walks like the re-in-car-nation of the Funker, Gawd rest his soul, ye'r the one who does tha best impression, on account of you don't know when to retire and stay retired!

Danny Ferguson: So here's what I'm going to do...

Reggie hands the mic back to Danny.

Danny Ferguson: I'm not just going to win tonight, Kylie. I'm going to break a bone. I'm going to tear a ligament. I'm going to open up a wound that needs triple-digit stitches. I'm going to make goddamn sure you stay on the shelf. You won't have time to heal before you finally leave this world behind. That way, when I walk out of this arena tonight - knowing full well that you'll need to be wheeled out - I will know for sure that Kyle Lamen is finally GONE.

He pushes past Reggie and exits, camera left. Delray mugs for a second, but the mic is ripped from his hands and he's felled by a knee to the groin. Straightening her hair, Faith Rodriguez returns to face the camera.

Faith Rodriguez: This is Faith Rodriguez, reporting live from backstage here on Colossus.

Nick: Fans, welcome back to ringside. This next match has to be one of PRIME’s most highly anticipated encounters of 2006.

Richard: Eh, it’s just a sequel.

Nick: Trust me when I tell you that few people here in PRIME share Richard’s feigned apathy. This match is huge, and that’s why we’ve added a third member to our broadcast team for it.

The camera cuts to the table at ringside, where Nick and Richard are joined by a semi-familiar face. Kevin Sandusky, sporting a traditional neck brace, takes in some cheers from the ringside crowd before sitting down and putting on his headset.

Kevin: Thanks, guys. It’s great to be here tonight. I would’ve preferred to be wrestling - and truth be told, I was THIS close to getting myself put in that WATCH match - but getting a front-row seat for this match is a great consolation prize.

Richard: Are you going to have to leave when your boy is taking his beatdown?

Kevin: Are you going to wet yourself when I try to give you yours?

Nick: Folks, the tensions here would break any knife you tried to cut them with. It’s time to stop speaking in generalities and throw it to the ring. It’s the final battle. It’s Kyle Lamen vs. Danny Ferguson. And its’ right NOW.

The lights go down in the stadium, leaving only the Tampa moonlight across the six-figure crowd in attendance. It glimmered off the corners of the steel cage around the ring, and reflected off the edges to create a crude disco ball effect on the fans sitting in the steel chairs on the field area. The simple darkness was enough to rile the crowd, leaving them at a dull murmur, waiting to explode.

It’s the biggest show of the year. It’s your last match. You want something big. Everyone has fireworks and light shows and choreography. You need to go out with a bang. Maybe an orchestra, or a live band performance, or a zip-line ride around the whole damn place. Something huge.

Or not.

"Bloodclot" by Rancid rips through the near-stillness of the moment, abandoning any grandiose ideas. When you’re about to go up against a guy who puts 70% of his match preparation into an entrance, you shouldn’t even compete. All you need to do is let things write themselves.

Blue spotlights hit the stage, and there stands Kyle "Velocity" Lamen, the Evolution of ReVolution, the Crown Prince of Punk Rock, and by most accounts, The Man Who Would Have Been King of PRIME. He’s wearing a hoody version of his "KVL Farewell Tour ’06" shirt, the one with the dates of PRIME’s schedule since January or so. The hood is up over his head, just like it was during his interview earlier tonight. He just stands there, with the music blasting and the crowd screaming all around him.

Then, the curtains behind him part, and a small child, no more than 7, walks out. Another one, slightly older, follows, and then a third who’s about the median of the two. This continues until there are about 15 young children, ranging from 5 to 16, standing on the stage around Kyle. Each one is wearing the "KVL Farewell Tour" shirt, and each one is completely devoid of hair. Girls and boys alike are missing eyebrows as well as the hair on their head. It’s the most recognizable and universal sign of cancer - hair loss as a result of chemotherapy - and although some of these children look sicker than others, it’s quite clear who they are. Make A Wish, American Cancer Society, whatever. You know who they are and why they’re here: to accompany their newfound friend Kyle to the ring on one of the biggest nights in his life.

As the kids gather around Kyle, and some of the younger ones cover their ears from all the noise, Lamen reaches up and pulls back the hood of his sweatshirt, adding a pinch of shock to the happiness/sadness combo that’s blanketing this crowd. Kyle’s blue hair, his trademark above all trademarks in this world...was gone. He was just as bald as the children around him.

He hadn’t undergone the chemo - the decision made way back when was that he would forego any therapy in favor of the dangerous surgery that triggered his farewell tour. When he reached the point of no return - ie, do something about it or let it kill you - he would go under the knife to remove the tumor from his spine. The odds of surviving that were as good or worse than his odds of living if he’d done nothing. Chemotherapy never even entered his mind. He would take it down to the wire.

The hair thing, though...it’s just what people knew of the disease. He knew how that visual image resonated, and he knew that appearing, completely shaven in a show of solidarity for his baker’s dozen of miniature managers and valets tonight, was the first time that his situation became REAL in the eyes of many. You could see it in the faces of the crowd here in Tampa.

"Oh shit, Kyle has cancer."

"Oh shit, this is his last match."

"Oh shit."

The cheers continued for KVL, but you could see tears welling up everywhere when the camera cut to crowd reactions. Scooping up his youngest friend with one arm and taking the hand of a young girl with the other, he began the trek toward the ring.

"KY-LE LA-MEN"
"PLEASE DON’T GO!"
"KY-LE LA-MEN"
"PLEASE DON’T GO!"
"KY-LE LA-MEN"
"PLEASE DON’T GO!"

Kyle & Ko. walk the aisle, with the kids all giving enthusiastic high-fives to fans leaning over the rail. Lamen himself just smiles at the attention they receive. In his mind, the night is already a success.

They reach the ring finally, and Kyle herds the children into the cage, remaining on the floor outside. He says something to the oldest one, a teenage boy, as the boy leans through the open door. They exchange a nod, and then the kid maintains order among his peers.

Kyle, meanwhile, breaks into a sprint, running AAAAALL the way back up to the entrance ramp. "I couldn’t forget about you guys," he says, just loud enough for the ramp camera to pick up. With that, he starts making his way BACK to the ring, at a slow jog, hugging the right side of the aisleway and high-fiving Every Single Fan on the way back. He slows down to catch some of the stragglers, but eventually catches everyone by the time he reaches the ring...then continues all the way around the ring...then back up the aisle, making it his mission that no hand within arm’s reach goes un-high-fived. He even stops to give a few hugs along the way.

A good eight minutes or so after "Bloodclot" first began (we’re about to finish our third runthrough, BTW), Kyle ends on the stage once again, and begins his third approach to the ring. The little Lamenites are enjoying themselves in the ring, climbing the ropes and showing off for the crowd while Kyle slowly trots back to the ring. He approaches the door to the cage and starts up the stairs...then thinks better of it.

Jumping from the stars to the adjacent cage wall, Kyle gets a warm-up for the match ahead (as if the running and hand-slapping hadn’t been enough) and scales the wall of the cage, slinging himself over the top and landing gingerly next to his juvenile compatriots. "Bloodclot" finishes for the third time, and doesn’t loop back through. Instead, it leaves us in silence, or as close to silence as you can get when one of the sport’s most popular superstars just tore the house down by simply coming out for his last match.

The lights dim again, but there’s hardly darkness around the Pirate Ship. Spotlights wave around from all corners of the stadium. Packed in sets of four, there has to be at least twenty of them circling the capacity crowd. The giant video screens blink back to life, and suddenly...

With that initial flash, the stage E-FUCKING-RUPTS with gold pyro. 12-foot-high spires of yellow fireworks blast straight up around the stage. It’s like the demon spawn of Goldust and Kane as the flames lick higher and higher.

Then, with a *BOOM*, the pyro takes off down the aisleway (within a safe distance from the fans, of course), blasting its way down the ramp and the aisle all the way to the ring, where Lamen holds his young guests back, and then back up, a new obelisk of giant yellow terror exploding towards the heavens every five feet. When the winding path of the pyro reaches the stage once again, it all makes one final surge...then dies.

There, on the stage, with all twenty spotlights focused on him, Danny Ferguson cracks his neck and bounces back and forth. He opts against using the hood gimmick on his robe, since KVL already did it. Instead, he keeps his eyes focused on the ring, ready for action - or at least trying to fake it.

While "Remember The Name" continues pumping through the speakers, the spotlights detach from Danny and circle the stadium once more, before finally coming to a stop at a predetermined position all along the aisle to the ring. Just like the towers of pyro, they are all evenly spaced, and almost give off the feel of metropolitan streetlights as they guide the path for the Superstar. As if he didn’t already know where he was going, he is soon joined by three familiar faces. The first is Reggie Delray, who comes storming out like a house of fire, still a little jazzed up from his Chet Worth dance-off earlier. Soon, though, we learn that the extra hitch in his giddyup is because the cuff of his jacket is on fire thanks to Danny’s light show. He runs around in front of Ferguson, who remains remarkably calm, then pitches straight off the stage where some crew men put him out with a fire extinguisher.

At either side of the now-former Tag Team Champion, the bodyguards, Jim Pibb and Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas, appear. Each of them is riding a Segway, and each has his initials stitched on the pouch in the front. That’s right, folks - we’re big-budget here tonight.

The guards roll by and Danny begins the long walk to the ring. As he does, another group of men emerges from the back. Dressed in black, they are all holding poles to what looks to be a giant sheet of plexiglass. The sheet has two "walls" and a "roof," and the men in black run alongside Danny, making sure he is constantly covered. Yes, this blocks the spotlights a little, and yes, it’s not great for camera angles, but in about three seconds you’re going to understand its purpose.

*SPLAT*

A half-full cup of Coke smacks against the top of the plexiglass and splatters, shooting its contents out onto the opposite side of fans...ie, not on Danny. Soon, a small hailstorm of trash and debris follows, all aimed at D-Ferg, all bouncing off the plexiglass. Having anticipated that his level of crowd hate would nearly quadruple on this night, Fergie came prepared. The men in black keep pace with him as he jogs his way to the ring, getting soaked with Dr. Pepper and having popcorn stick to their suits, but doing their job nonetheless. They are his first, last and only line of defense.

Behind this regal procession, Reggie Delray, now only smoking if you’re a 65-year-old fat chick from Tuscaloosa, runs to catch up with his client to get a few words in before the bell rings, but he gets caught in the face with a souvenir milshake. Let me rephrase that: He’s about 20 steps from the ring when a vanilla-flavored rocket of destruction careens into his face with the kind of momentum that could put a dent in a car hood, but in this case sends heels up to meet head as he goes fucking parallel with the ground before twisting and flopping into a fetal and motionless position in the middle of the concourse, the final phase of a minute that will be played over and over in the memory banks of countless fans, and will no doubt be up on YouTube in 15 minutes. Somewhere, Michael Irvin, Tom Jackson and Chris Berman are screaming, "JACKED UP!"

Danny looks back at his manager, shakes his head, and walks up the stairs into the ring. He infers that the children should no longer be in the cage, except he does it in a harsh and mean way that makes at least one of the kids cry. Kyle once again defers leadership to his teenage first mate and keeps his eyes locked on Danny as the children and everyone else not named Lamen or Ferguson or Giles is removed from the scene of the impending crime.

With the ring cleared, Vince Howard takes control from outside.

Vince: Lllladies and Geeeentlemen, this next match is scheduled for ONE FALL, and will be held within the confines of a 12-foot-high STEEL CAGE.

Cheering. Whatnot.

Vince: Standing in the southeast corner of the ring, hailing from Red Bank, New Jersey, standing six feet, one inch tall and weighing in at two hundred and twenty pounds, he is the Evolution of ReVolution and the Crown Prince of Punk Rock, ladies and gentlemen, he is KYLE LAMEN!

Even more cheering. Kyle salutes his fans.

Vince: And standing in the northwest corner of the ring, hailing from Hollywood, California, he ALSO stands six feet, one inch tall and ALSO weighs in at two hundred and twenty pounds. Ladies and gentlemen, he is PRIME's Superstar, DANNNY FERGUSON!

Less cheering. Considerably less cheering. Like, to the point of booing. Some trash flies at the ring, but very little of it actually makes it through the chain linking.

Not willing to play janitor, Thomas Giles signals for the bell in hopes of staving off more litter. It works, and a cheer rises from the crowd as the bell rings and we get underway.

Nick: This is HUGE, folks. This match is being conducted under the amalgamated cage match rules from history. That is, you can win by pinning your opponent, getting him to submit, or by escaping the cage.

Kevin: Which is convenient, 'cause I know one guy in there will do everything he can to finish it in the ring, and the other will do everything HE can to get out of it.

Richard: From what I hear, you shouldb't be lecturing anyone about running.

Kevin: I will stab your face.

Nick: Yikes. Another thing to remember is that the cage door WILL be locked. The only way to escape - should you so choose - would be over the top.

The two men step out. Danny makes a beeline for Kyle, but the quicker man shuffles away, circling and looking for his opening. Danny gives chase for a little while, and finally gets close enough for Kyle to shoot a quick MMA-esque kick to the outside of his leg. Danny buckles slightly, but recovers and goes back to stalking. After a longer chase, he makes a similar mistake and oversteps in his pursuit. Kyle follows up again, this time sweeping around with an amateur-style leg takedown. Quick thinking pulls Danny's leg away before he goes down on his face, but the damage is done, and he's already off his gameplan.

Kyle rises and Danny charges in. He gets tossed overhead with an armdrag. Kyle holds it in an armbar for a moment, then releases, not willing to stay on the mat for very long. He hovers, waiting for Danny to rise, then checks him with a snap dropkick to the face while Ferg is on all fours. Danny rolls backwards, holding onto his prized features, and Kyle pursues, catching him in the ribs a few times.

Nick: Lamen has clearly worked on his striking in preparation for this match.

Kevin: His body isn't as strong as it was months ago. He knows he doesn't have the pop in his aerial moves that he once did, so he's finding that pop in some other areas.

Ferguson retreats to the ropes, grabbing them to get some separation from the advancing Lamen. He pulls himself up slowly, eyes locked on his foe, then steps back out. Kyle goes back to circling, switching directions every once in a while to upset Danny's footing. The ref calls for action and Danny ties to give it, lunging forward into a lockup. Every time, though, Kyle gives him the matador treatment and endures a criticism from Giles. Finally, on the fourth try or so, when Danny lunges and he sidesteps, he spins down into a sweep kick, knocking Ferg's feet out from under him and taking him to the mat. He immediately floats over into a rear chinlock, attempting to keep the actor grounded, or at least to stall for a while and get the ref back on his side.

Danny immediately buckes up to his hands and knees, as if the weight of Kyle on his back wasn't there. He reaches back with one hand and tries to pul Kyle off, but Lamen hops off his back, keeping the chinlock, and puts both feet down on the side of Danny's body. He attempts to sling his opponent down to the mat, but said opponent was waiting for an opportunity, and got it when Kyle took his weight off. With a galloping step, Danny shuffles toward the ropes and clamps down on the arm around his neck while threading his other arm between his body and Kyle's legs and throwing out and up. What it amounts to is Kyle being thrown catapult-style from an Angle Slam position. He hits the steel mesh that surrounds the ring and falls in a heap between the cage wall on the ropes.

Nick: And the cage is already used as a weapon, not five minutes into this encounter!

Richard: That's because Danny's SMART! He knows how to work this to his own advantage!

Ferguson approaches Lamen as the latter pulls up to his feet. He grabs Kyle by the neck and tries to throw him into the ring. As he sails overhead, Kyle loops his arm into Danny's and spins to the mat, tossing him with a lucha libre-style armdrag. When Danny pops back up to his feet, he's met with a flying knee to the face that staggers him back into the turnbuckle. Lamen follows up with some hard kicks to the ribcage, then steps up on the middle rope and delivers a "low" roundhouse to the side of Danny's head. Ferguson, dazed, staggers from the corner, and Kyle hits the ropes, coming back with a spinning wheel kick. On the spin, though, Danny catches him in basically a powerbomb position, using the momentum to swing around and toss Kyle back into the cage wall. This time, he bounces off and gets hung up in the ropes, eventually flipping into the ring and landing on his back.

Richard: You see that? He can't match that strength! Danny's going to get his redemption here!

Kevin: What the hell does he need to get redemption for? He's never got the short end of anything!

Richard: Uh, he just lost a title tonight, Sandusky. Maybe that's something you're not acc...

Kevin: I'm not what?

Richard: You know what? Nevermind.

Nick: Good choice there, Richard.

Danny grabs Kyle by the ankles and drags him out toward the center of the ring, where he immediately drops to a side headlock, a Ferguson trademark, if it were possible for a wrestler to trademark a side headlock. He really works it, Trying to choke the life out of Kyle this early in the match, but really just trying to maximize the damage on that neck. But you probably knew that part.

Kyle swings his legs up for a headscissors, but Danny, showing the kind of technical prestige that one simply HAS to develop when filming a flick about Terry Funk, rolls back with it. He pulls out some innovation, grabbing the leg that's wrapped around his head, keeping the other hand around Kyle's head and standing up. He's in a perfect position for an Air Raid Crash, but Kyle knows that giving up a high-impact move like that so early in the match would spell disaster, so he kicks his legs free. When he lands, Danny cinches up his headlock, and sudenly Kyle's in position for his own finisher, the MVII. Since his Lamen-sense is still acting up, he swings his legs back up and tries to lock in a crucifix for his Generation 13 driver, but doesn't have the momentum to throw it. Danny holds him there for a second, then swings his body and tries to spin Kyle out into an X-Factor-like facebuster. This time, though, Kyle was ready, and twists his body into another lucha-style armdrag to sling Danny across the ring.

Both men are up at the same time, and now any semblance of wrestling is out the window. They both charge and start throwing wild punches, causing flashbulbs all across the stadium to go off in unison, looking for that commemorative shot of one of PRIME's hottest rivalries before it's finally over. The blows come fast and furious, but it's Kyle, with his newly-developed striking prowess and sharp-minded choise of shots (versus Danny's windmill Mike Tyson's Punch-Out approach) gains him the advantage. With Danny rocked, he turns to forearms, leveling the Superstar. Still, Danny doesn't go down. Kyle takes a step back, then uses the extra step forward to hit even harder. Still, Danny stands firm. Finally, Kyle hits the ropes and comes back with a Flying Burrito forearm. Danny "miraculously" snaps out of his daze and catches his airborne enemy, spinning with a sidewalk slam that plants Kyle in the mat. Bouncing up immediately, Danny tries to pull Kyle up by his hair, only to find none. Instead, he grabs the ears, instantly yanking KVL up, then throwing him straight into the cage wall for already the third time in this match.

Richard: I don't know about you two, but right now I'm scoring Ferguson ahead.

Kevin: Thank God we're not using European rules. This ends in the ring.

Richard: Or on the padded mats outside of the ring.

Kevin: Whatever.

Once again, Danny pulls Kyle out, and once again, he locks on the side headlock. Minutes pass as he cranks on the hold, wearing down the "hyper-kinetic" cruiserweight as best he can.

Kyle's shoulders hit the mat, and Giles makes the count.

ONE!

TWO!

NO!

Lamen kicks out with relative authority. When he sticks that shoulder up, Danny immediately pulls him up and slips his other arm in, turning the headlock into a rear sleeper. Kyle's left in a seated position with Danny crouched behind him, pushing forward. He tries planting a knee in the back for a Dibiase-esque rear chinlock, but doesn't have the position he needs before Kyle is able to roll up to his feet. He's bent over with Danny clamped onto the side of his head. The two of them could do a little Bushwacker Battering Ram act if they so desired. Luckily, they don't.

Nick: Ferguson's really trying his hardest to keep Lamen grounded, but it's pretty early for that to work.

Kyle shows a little European style by locking onto Danny's arm with his chin and backs away. Danny's headlock is quickly reversed on him as Kyle moves the arm behind his back and into a hammerlock. Danny reaches behind to try and get out of this new position. He then crouches and reaches through the legs, trying to trip Kyle up. Lamen responds by jumping up, releasing the hammerlock and keeping Danny's arm in place by sticking his knees there. His weight brings him back to the mat, with Danny in tow, for a modified lungblower that jams his arm just as badly as his spine.

Danny doesn't go down, but bounces back to his feet on that impact. He comes up and Kyle fires a dropkick right into the shoulder of the wounded arm. Danny spins away and doubles over, holding the arm cradled and turning it away from the attacks.

Kevin: Atta boy, Kyle! Get after him!

Richard: Please, show some journalistic integrity.

Nick: Let's lead by example there, Rich.

Lamen comes in with a forearm to the head, and he knocks Danny back into the corner. He leans in and grabs the wounded arm, using it ti Irish whip Ferguson across the ring. Danny slumps into the opposite side, hitting his shoulder hard against the buckles. Upon impact, he's immediately hit by Lamen, who flies in with a Stinger Splash that squashes him against the ropes again. Danny stumbles out of the turnbuckles, dazed and favoring his arm. Lamen sizes him up, then springboards up on the ropes next to him. From there, he leaps up a little further, onto the cage itself, then flies back, turning into a swinging hurricanrana that hurls Ferguson across the ring.

Nick: Nice moves by Lamen. He's making sure all his hits here count! The last time these two met, he was able to outlast Ferguson and wear him down. With his failing health, he might not have that advantage, so he's trying to wear Danny down as much as he can.

When Danny's back up, Kyle is there, too. He grabs Danny by the head and leads him over to the ropes. Sizing Danny up, he tries to slam his head into the cage wall...but Danny stops him. Planting his undamaged arm against the mesh, he blocks the attempt. He fires an elbow back into Kyle's midsection, breaking Lamen's position, but sending pain shooting up his arm. Both men turn away, doubled over and hurting.

They stumble slightly, then back into each other. At once, they both spin with a lariat, and both connect, and both go down, Rocky 2-style, in a heap.

Giles looks at the two men, preparing to count...then realizes the stipulations and stakes of this match and decides against it.

Richard: What? What the hell is he doing? Count, you idiot! COUNT!

Kevin: This match won't be ending on a countout or a disqualification. I admire the ref's dedication to PRIME and it's fans - he knows we need to see an ending!

Richard: I'm going to file an injunction against him for this!

Nick: And I'm sure they'll laugh it off just like they laughed off your 'boxed lunches in the catering area' idea!

Richard: I'm sick of St. James eating all the damned chicken nuggets! Is that so wrong?

Kevin: They ARE good nuggets.

There's a mixture of booing and screaming as each man struggles back to his feet. Ferguson charges in with another lariat, forgetting momentarily that hy typically throws it with that now-injured right arm. Lamen was more alert to the fact, though, and is quick to toss him over with an armdrag and transition to an armbar. He twists with the hold, and Danny struggles and screams, refusing adamantly to submit.

Ferguson tries to sit up and block the bar, and Kyle twists it around into an arm wringer, putting Danny on his hand and knees. Kyle twists the arm down to the mat and drives a knee into the upper arm, jolting the shoulder even more. From there, he twists into a Mahistrol Cradle and takes Ferg over.

ONE!

TWO!

TH-NO!

Danny kicks out, flopping the cradle over, and he goes for his headlock. Kyle wriggles free before he can grab it, and gives him a dropkick to the shoulder that stifles that kind of comeback.

Nick: Ferguson really taking some punishment here. Lamen's really gotten the better of him here.

Kevin: This is pretty similar to their first match. He's outpacing Danny. Ferguson needs to step it up or find an opening, or this is going to be pretty anti-climatic.

Ferguson writhes around in pain on the mat, and Kyle takes the opportunity to jump to the middle rope and give him a quebrada splash. He makes another pin attempt.

ONE!

TWO!

NO!

Mostly on adrenaline, Danny kicks out even harder than before. Kyle bounces back to his feet quickly, and tries to drop a quick elbow, but Danny is quick enough to avoid it. Ferg reaches out with his good arm and tries to muscle Kyle down into a chinlock, but doesn't get the leverage he needs. Instead, as he tries to roll it over, he ends up on his stomach with Kyle on top, the latter's head being pinned down. Basically, it looks like a junior varsity wrestling match...really awkward.

Kyle ruins that moment when he pops his head out, jumps to his feet and delivers a double stomp to Danny's back. He immediately hits the ropes and comes back with a reverse neck snap. Ferguson once again writhes in pain, looking more and more desperate to get out of his current situation.

Kevin: Hey Rich, you've been pretty quiet ever since Lamen has been hammering your boy.

Richard: I feel kind of cramped in the booth.

Kevin: Funny, I heard you felt more comfortable with other guys in your personal space.

Richard: ...says the guy who wears tights for a living.

Lamen pulls Danny up by his hair and readys for a continued assault. As he pulls Ferg up for a bodyslam, the Superstar finally takes advantage of the no-DQ audible that the ref called earlier, and plants a thumb straight in his nemesis' eye.

Kyle stumbles back and lets go of his position. Seeing the space that he'd never had just minutes before, Danny reels back and clocks Lamen with a hard forearm. He goes down instantly, but pops back up. Danny floors him again, and this time, when Kyle stands up, he barely makes it to his feet before catching a third clubbing blow that knocks him into the corner. Following Kyle in, Danny plants a hard knee in the midsection, doubling him over. Then he brings a hard hammer blow down onto Kyle's neck, knocking him to his knees.

Richard: Ha ha! What do you say to that, San-dusky!

Kevin: I say the match isn't over yet, pal.

Grabbing him under the chin, Danny pulls Kyle out from the turnbuckle a little. He keeps his right arm cradled, but balances himself with his left while he drives a knee into Kyle's neck. Lamen flattens out with the blow, but that doesn't stop Danny from delivering another shot. From there, he crouches over Kyle, putting a knee right in the small of his back, then reaches out with his left arm and PALMS Kyle's bald head. He pulls back with the open hand, clamping with his fingers in the eye sockets for a grip, in a really uncomfortable-looking camel clutch.

Nick: Really interesting stuff here from Ferguson. Regardless of his methods of getting control, he's making the most of his situation. He's picked up a thing or two about improvisation from the Funker!

From pulling back so hard, Danny's grip begins to slip. He eventually loses it, and Kyle tries to fight up to his feet. He gets to all fours and Danny floats over to a front facelock. Instead of trying to choke Kyle down, though, he pulls him up to a standing position...then falls back and DDTs him into the mat! When Kyle flops over to his back, Danny immediately transitions to a one-armed side headlock, trying to regain his breath before continuing the assault.

Kevin: See? Even when Ferguson's on the offensive, he needs to catch his breath. I'm surprised he's been as successful as he has been with that conditioning.

Richard: Didn't he beat you twice?

Kevin: Are you asking to be slapped in the mouth?

Nick: You have to admit, Kev - Danny's in-ring presence has improved tremendously since his foray into Funkism.

Kevin: Maybe. He's been worse, I can say that.

Ferguson yanks Kyle up and backs him against the ropes. He whips Kyle across the ring, then catches him on the rebound with a hiptoss all the way into the cage. Lamen goes end over end, hits the mesh, bounces back down to the ropes, and is summarily collected by Danny who hoists him straight up with one arm and drops him with a back suplex that looks more like it should be called a backdrop driver and delivered by Steve Williams while some Japanese wannabe fanboys wet themselves.

Kyle hits the mat hard enough to roll straight over to his stomach post-impact. He's out on his feet...except he doesn't even have the benefit of being on his feet.

Danny is quick to get back to his feet, and quicker to put a boot to the back of Lamen's head. He picks Kyle up by the shoulder and applies a front facelock. Gingerly using his right arm to set up for a vertical suplex, he doesn't use it to lift. Instead, he squats a little bit and cranks on the facelock, torquing the neck to lift Kyle up. He uses the injured arm to stabilize, but little else. Lamen struggles against the more painful nature of the suplex, begging for the eventual drop to the mat as a kind of respite. Instead, though, Danny runs forward, slamming Kyle face-first into the cage before eventually falling back to finish the move.

Nick: The tides have completely turned here. Danny has made use of the cage to take control of this one, and Kyle has yet to make him taste the steel!

Richard: That's right - Lame-face had his little flurry at the beginning, but now it's time for Danny to take charge and put this fantasy act to rest!

Thinking - and justifiably so - that Kyle is sufficiently subdued, Danny casts his eyes skyward and begins climbing the cage. From the corner, it's a relatively easy climb up the turnbuckle. Once you get to a certain point, though, especially as a guy who never takes to the air, not even the fear of God could spur you up that sheer cage wall. So Danny isn't exactly flying up the wall, no matter how badly he wants this to be over and done with.

Danny gets to the top turnbuckle and breathes deeply, trying to gather the strength for the next step. He places his hand very gingerly on the first chain link, then reaches up for the next, but never pulls himself up. Back in the ring, a dazed and disoriented Kyle Lamen is pulling himself up along the opposite turnbuckle. The crowd starts cheering for him to snap out of it. Danny, being so full of himself he’s legally blind, think they’re cheering because he’s one them over, that his heart in enduring this beating has turned them to his side, and they sense victory.

Kevin: Come on, Kyle, get your head straight and stop him!

Nick: He’s going to need to act fast. Even if Ferguson’s behaving like a scared cat in a tree, he’s over a third of the way out!

Danny takes another breath before pulling up with his injured arm, only to lower himself back down. He tries to rub out the shoulder, letting go of the cage momentarily, and the cheering gets louder. "They’re willing me on," he thinks. "I can do this." With a triumphant nod of the head, he reaches back up for the cage and pulls himself back up.

Across the ring, Lamen stops seeing double and notices the opening. Sprinting across the ring, he bounds from the mat to the top rope with the agility of a late-90s Sabu, then jumps from there onto Danny’s shoulders. It’s kinda like one of those super cruiserweight moves where someone springboards from the ropes into a sunset flip powerbomb (ie, the kind of stuff you see in an X Division match). Except instead of a sunset flip, Kyle throws himself onto Danny in a crucifix position, draped across the guy’s shoulders. A more alert and unorthodox opponent might have taken advantage of the situation and planted Kyle with a spinning DVD or even a Samoan drop from the turnbuckle, but Danny doesn’t have those kinds of high-end synapses. So instead, when he’s grabbed with the crucifix, his immediate instinct is to let go of the cage and fall. He’s not much of a rock climber. As the two men tumble back, Kyle has complete control, whipping Danny backwards with all his might and sending the Superstar plummeting to the mat with his patented powerbomb variation!

Nick: GENERATION 13! FROM THE CAGE!

Kevin: It’s over! Right here! Pin him!

Kyle obliges, somewhat slowly, crawling over to Danny and hooking the leg back in a pin that reeks of desperation.

ONE!

TWO!

THR-NO!

By the skin of his teeth, Danny forces a shoulder up. He doesn’t have the strength or wherewithal to kick out, but he’s been in and around the ring long enough to instinctually get that shoulder off the mat if he still can. Maybe if Kyle had tried a second cover, after the daze of the Generation 13 wore off and the pain set in, he might’ve pulled it off. Instead, he flops off Danny, exhausted and in disbelief over the near miss.

Both men are down, and a rumble rises up from the stadium. Hands clapping, feet stomping, noise pulsing in waves.

"LET’S GO LA-MEN!"
*clapclapclaclapp* (they’re out of sync)
"LET’S GO LA-MEN!"
"*clalapclapclapapap*
"LET’S GO LA-MEN!"
"*clap clap clapapapap* (getting better)
"LET’S GO LA-MEN!"
"*clap clap clapclapclap*

Nick: The crowd here in Tampa seems to be firmly behind KVL.

Richard: Pfft. They’re chanting "Let go, Lamen." As in, "let go of this pipe dream you have of ever beating Danny Ferguson."

Nick: I don’t see it that way.

Kevin: You know, for a dude as intuitive as you claim to be, you should get more ass.

Richard: I’m very selective in my companions, thank you, and I think that’s none of your business.

In one corner, Danny grabs on to Thomas Giles and uses the tiny ref to pull himself up. In the other corner, Kyle does the same with the ropes. Both men stumble out, sensing a win within their grasp. They both throw hard forearms, and they are both staggered backward...but both stay on their feet. Kyle throws the second, and Danny responds, and once again the two get into a battle of blows. Danny hits harder but Kyle is quicker, and he turns to hit the ropes for some more juice on his next hit...but Danny suddenly lunges forward and clips the back of his knee with a chop block. Kyle goes down like a ton of bricks, clutching the leg, and a wave of concern ripples through the crowd.

Danny rolls Kyle over and mounts him, pounding with straight fists to get his abuse in. Kyle takes a few clean hits to the face, then manages to get his hands up and block. Frustrated, Danny stands and grabs at the injured leg by the foot. He drags Kyle around the ring, alternating between kicking the knee joint and then stomping on Kyle’s face when he tries to defend the knee.

Kevin: I’m not sure if I understand this change in strategy. Why is he suddenly going after the leg? He spent the whole match on the neck!

Nick: Desperation, Kevin. Danny’s thrown everything but the Box Office Bomb at Kyle and had no result. He’d jeopardize his chances of winning before he gives Lamen or anyone a chance to kick out of the B-O-B. He needs another point of attack to wear the man down.

Richard; Need I remind either of you that Danny is a submission expert now, thanks to the spinning toehold?

Kevin: No, you needn’t. Because he isn’t.

Positioning the ankle of Kyle’s wounded leg under his arm, Danny steps over into a half crab. With his free hand, he clubs Kyle’s kneecap, inflicting as much damage as possible. Kyle writhes in pain and crawls for the ropes. He makes good progress, but Danny suddenly pulls back on the crab, twists, and transitions into an STF! Pulling back on the neck and hitting all his points of attack at once, he restrains Lamen from reaching the ropes. Kyle fights, but to no avail.

Giles checks for a tap, but it doesn’t come. Still, Lamen can’t crawl anymore, because Danny has himself in smart position to prohibit movement.

Richard: This is it! Ring the bell! Kyle Lamen is going to have to give up in his last match in PRIME! I love it! Ferguson, you sadistic, magnificent bastard!

Nick: As much as I hate to see Richard happy, I think he’s right. Kyle has nowhere to go!

Indeed, locked in the STF, his neck and knee both searing, Kyle was at a crossroads of two thresholds. One was his pain tolerance, which was once quite good but came with his conditioning and muscular strength, both of which were deteriorating faster than he had admitted openly. As such, he was slightly surprised at this moment how much the move hurt. Was Danny that good, or was he just much worse than he prepared for? Was he really ready to tap out to a man he hated this much?

The other threshold was the one that determined how far he would go. Permanent injury was not a concern, because why would it matter? He didn’t have much of a life worth saving. But Danny wouldn’t just release the hold - it had no wear or tear on him. He was doing just fine. He could keep it on all night. So then, Kyle had to consider the possibility of referee stoppage, and he couldn’t let that happen. So this threshold wasn’t so much how much abuse he would endure, but rather to what extent he was willing to compromise himself to avoid that abuse.

How far would Kyle Lamen, a man who would’ve permanently worn PRIME’s white hat and sheriff’s badge if the fed were a wild west town, go to beat Danny Ferguson and settle his affairs? Would he cross that line? Could he go against what the fans knew him to be?

As he reached out one more time for the ropes and failed, he knew that it was time to make a decision.

The fans would forgive him.

Instead of letting his hand fall weakly to the mat when it missed the ropes. Kyle suddenly threw it back, plunging his thumb right into Danny’s unsuspecting eye.

Richard: That cheating bastard!

Nick: It’s no DQ! And Danny did the same thing earlier!

Richard: Don’t pretend like the double standard doesn’t exist!

Danny releases the hold immediately, and rolls away from Kyle, clutching his face. With the bitter taste of his own medicine lingering, he screams bloody murder at this sudden turn of events. Kyle, meanwhile, slowly pushes up to all fours. Being very careful with his pained left leg, he rises to his feet, rubbing his neck. Then he slowly turns to face Danny, his eyes cold, a dead-on impression of Tchu at that very moment. Except he wasn’t trying to do impressions.

As Danny, whimpering and holding his face, gets up, he looks over at Kyle, and catches the death stare. Slowly, he lowers his hand and goes pale, and a thick cloud of anticipation chokes the life out of Raymond James.

Nick: Oh my...

Kevin: I don’t know if I’ve ever seen that look on Kyle’s face before. That’s...I don’t know...

Richard: Run, Danny! RUN!

Kyle suddenly stomps towards Danny as the crowd roars. Ferguson takes the hint and tries to escape, running towards the nearest turnbuckle and trying to climb. Grossly overestimating his climbing prowess, and forgetting both his shoulder pain and his colossal failure at climbing from earlier, he doesn’t make it very far. Instead, the new Intense Kyle grabs him by the tights and yanks him down from his perch. Keeping hold of the ring attire and putting one hand on the back of Danny’s head, Lamen pulls him away from the turnbuckle, storms across the ring and slings the Superstar head-first into the steel cage!

Danny hits and bounces back, but doesn’t stumble very far. Kyle is right behind him, and he shoves his enemy back into the cage wall. Stepping up on the ropes for leverage, he GRINDS Danny’s face against the "unforgiving" steel mesh. The camera shot from the other side shows the spiteful, borderline maniacal look on Kyle’s face as he takes out eight to ten months of aggression in one swoop. The camera also picks up the small cut that appears on Danny’s forehead, then grows exponentially larger as he’s scraped across the metal like a hunk of cheese.

The crowd, meanwhile, is eating this up. It looks like they’ll let their sheriff pass with some rough behavior, given the circumstance.

Richard: I can’t believe this! He can’t get away with this! He could scar the man permanently! His career is in jeopardy! Lamen’s ruining Danny’s life!

Kevin: What goes around...

Thomas Giles pleads with Lamen to back off, and Kyle finally obliges, mindful more of his reputation and of the children at ringside than of Danny’s health or well-being. As he steps away, Ferguson sinks down, flopping against the middle rope and hanging there, like he’s waiting for a 619, with blood starting to drip from his face onto the mat.

From the other side of the ring, Kyle sizes him up, chatting with Giles. Then, he pushes the ref away and charges forward, hitting Danny with a front dropkick that smashes him back against the cage wall. When Danny collapses back onto the mat, his face is entering "crimson mask" territory. At the very least, highlights of this match will be in black and white on TV next week.

Nick: I gotta say, I never expected to see this. A few minutes ago, with Danny locking in that STF, I thought Kyle was done. The Kyle Lamen I knew would have had no choice but to tap in that situation. I never saw this coming.

Kevin: You can’t underestimate the human spirit, Nick. It’s what lets mothers lift cars off of their children, or lets cyclists in need of hip replacement produce extra testosterone to rise to the top of their sport.

Richard: ...

Kevin: What?

Nick: You had me and then you lost me there, bud.

Kevin: Anyway, this is Kyle’s last match EVER. Anything he held back before, anything he watched out for, the inhibitions, they’re gone.

Kevin’s point is emphasized by the flurry of punches that Lamen is now raining down on Danny’s face. The Superstar struggles, but can’t escape the clutches. He only has an opening when Kyle jumps up to his feet and stomps with both feet on his chest.

With Danny subdued, Kyle pulls him up. He slips behind into an atomic drop position, then lists, sitting the dazed Ferguson on a nearby turnbuckle. From there, he pulls him back, halfway into a tree of woe, and grabs him by the head in position for his Maximum Velocity II "modified spinning flatliner," aka the Shellshock.

Nick: He’s going to hit it from there!

Kevin: He could end up spiking Danny right on his head! Just desserts for that jerk!

Richard: I hope he can live with himself for ruining Danny’s life after his own is already over.

We never face that ethical dilemma, though, because Danny swings a fist at the back of Kyle’s head and frees himself. When Kyle spins to prevent Danny from getting away, he finds himself locked in an Ace Cutter position. With a display of athleticism that has been previously unmatched in his performance tonight, Danny hops out of a seated position and plants both feet against the wall of the cage, pushing off and spinning both men off in an Acid Drop-esque setup, before whirling around into a tornado DDT that drives Kyle head-first into the mat!

It used to be called the Spiffy! DDT, but Danny dropped the name when he dropped the mask. As a roar trickles out from the crowd, both men are laid out in the middle of the ring, and both were a little surprised to see that one come out of Fergie’s back of tricks.

Nick: Five Seconds of Fame! Whoa! I don’t think we’ve seen him use that in PRIME yet!

Richard: There’s a first time for everything. Now maybe he can put this one to bed!

Indeed, Danny rolls over and throws a limp arm onto Kyle, pleading with anyone in the area that this would finally be over.

ONE!

TWO!

THREENO! NO!

You couldn’t fit a nickel in the space between the ref’s hand and the mat before Kyle kicked out. Giles pulled up just enough to prevent that telltale sound of a match ending, and the bell doesn’t ring. Beside himself, Ferguson pushes up to all fours, cursing the ref for his slow count. He stands up and shoves Giles, who warns him to take it easy. Danny says something to him and then gives him an open-handed slap that floors him.

Nick: Come on, now!

Kevin: Obviously the frustration is starting to wear on him. He’s trying to back out of this match!

Richard: He’s just showing the ref who’s boss in there! In a match without disqualification, he has no need to be there other than to count the fall, and he apparently can’t do that right, even!

Pointing to the ref to emphasize his point, Danny goes back to Kyle and picks up the latter’s banged-up left wheel by the ankle. Putting himself in position, he steps over and spins, executing the Funker’s trademark toehold! Kyle, suddenly awakened from his stupor like somebody waved smelling salts under his nose, jolts up to a seated position. He tries to get away, but Danny stays close enough to keep his leverage and far enough to prevent any reversals. He steps over and spins a second time, increasing the pressure.

Giles slowly tries to pull himself up and stumbles, showing the effect of the unexpected slap. Kyle doesn’t look ready to give up, but that doesn’t stop Danny from calling for the ref to check.

Richard: Quit sleeping on the job, Giles! Get in there and earn your check!

Nick: The man has been assaulted!

Richard: The man works in professional wrestling. If he isn’t able to take a punch by now, then maybe it’s time for a career change. AFTER he registers this fall, of course!

Danny gives up on the hold suddenly and stalks over to Giles, slumped against the corner. He props the ref up in the corner and tries to shake him awake, to no avail. Shouting has the same non-effect. Reggie grabs a water bottle from the announce table and shoves it through the chain linking.

Kevin: Hey!

Nick: Desperate times here in the Ferguson camp.

Danny dumps the contents of the bottle onto Giles, snapping him out of his stupor. Ferguson takes a moment to throw some of the water on his own face, clearing away the blood, but then goes to work trying to revive the official. And then, having revived him, he proceeds to berate the official. Loudly. Shaking Thomas to emphasize his points, he lectures the longtime referee on the importance of preparedness and, above all, ring awareness. It was at that moment that Giles eyes opened wide - not due to enlightenment from Ferg’s pep talk, but rather because Danny’s ring awareness needed some dusting off as well.

The reaction from the ref gave Danny just enough time to move out of the way. Kyle, in one of his final bursts of energy, comes sailing in. He was looking for a flying forearm on Danny, but with his target suddenly changed, he does his best to pull up. He puts both feet out and stops himself short, but quickly doubles over to grab his left knee, which had taken plenty of abuse thusfar and didn’t need the extra pressure. Giles puts out his hands to catch Kyle and subsequently to prevent his own clobbering, and aside from pain shooting down Kyle’s leg and a quick scare, everyone escapes unscathed.

Nick: Close call for Lamen there, but how much did that emergency stop hurt him? His knee looks like it’s in bad shape.

Kevin: Truthfully, he’s lucky that Ferguson released the toehold without really cranking on it.

Richard: If you ask me, he’s lucky he made it this far without Danny taking him out!

Kyle and the ref separate slowly, both happy to have avoided that unfortunate circumstance. Kyle turns around to find Danny...then finds himself on the receiving end of a low blow. Before he could double over, Danny stands up, hoisting Kyle up as well he can in a military press. His hurting arm cradles the head, and the good arm, the one used for the low blow, bears most of the weight, but he didn't need the strength for that long.

Taking a step forward, he throws Kyle toward the cage like a lawn dart. He collides with the mesh hard, enough to stretch it and contour it to his face, then falls to the mat, catching the ropes and getting slung back into the ring. As Giles scolds Danny for the dirty play, the camera stays focused on Kyle. A small cut has opened above his eyebrow, and his first blood of this contest is starting to trickle out.

And there, as Danny looked down at Kyle and then out into the crowd, a certain smile returned.

It was a smile that Lamen fans had first seen nearly a year ago, when an assault from Ferguson left Kyle on the shelf. It was the smile that indirectly led to the discovery of his fateful tumor. It had made several reappearances since then - every time Danny advanced in the JITC, when he injured rookie Alex Ross, when he pinned Kyle at Culture Shock, and most importantly, it was a smile that he had sported every single damn time that he had saddled up next to Kyle and twisted the knife about the latter’s forced retirement (in many senses of the word).

It was a smile that Danny only used when he knew he had won.

Nick: I don’t like the look on his face...

Richard: I do! He’s got this one well in hand! Start playing the music, this one’s over!

Kevin: I can’t believe he’s going to do it again. I can’t believe he’s just going to slip away with this! This is bullshit!

There’s a clanking sound as Sandusky throws down his headset. The shot cuts away from Danny’s Nicholson-level smirk and shows the former Ebola III trying to get into the cage, only to be restrained by Danny’s bodyguards. He tears at his neck brace and tries to kick the two men away, but to no avail.

Richard: Honestly, that kind of unprofessionalism in the booth is uncalled for.

Nick: And you would understand, having spent your entire career toeing that line of unprofessionalism.

Danny reaches down and grabs Kyle by the neck, yanking him up to his feet. Lamen slumps against his nemesis, unable to even stand on his own after all that’s transpired. Danny doesn’t keep him leaning for very long, though, and reaches down to scoop Kyle up. Walking around the ring with a limp KVL hanging in a fallaway slam position, Danny makes sure to soak in the moment. Then, he slings Kyle up onto his shoulder, preparing his sworn enemy for one last goodbye, in the form of a Box Office Bomb.

Nick: I’m gonna be sick.

As Danny swings him up, he prepares for a quick drop to put Lamen away convincingly. It doesn’t happen, though, because on the scoop and swing, as he’s shifted into position, Kyle suddenly comes to life, kicking his legs furiously and upsetting Ferguson’s balance! A rumble rises in the crowd as their hero makes one final push.

With his armstill smarting from earlier in the match, Danny can’t regain control and falls back. Lamen lands on his feet, holding Danny by his neck in a Scorpion Death Drop position. Then, he spins around, pulling an Eye of the Hurricane (or whatever the hell the Big Show called it) and grabbing Danny’s head with his other arm. Then, with lightning speed, he spins back and whips Danny face-first into the mat with a little move you might’ve heard of. I think he calls it-

Nick: MAXIMUM VELOCITY! MAXIMUM VELOCITY! KYLE LAMEN JUST HIT FERGUSON WITH MAXIMUM VELOCITY!

Technically, it was MVII, but we’re not going to nitpick in an emotional moment like this.

Danny’s body doesn’t react well to the forced faceplant, and he pops back up, rolling to his backside before slumping over on the mat. His eyes are glazed before the camera guy gets there for a closeup. He looks like he just got kicked in the face by a horse...a slightly ironic coincidence, for anyone familiar with Terry Funk’s history.

Now on his fourth or fifth wind, Kyle steps over Danny, giving him a light kick with a heel to roll him to his back. Then, he begins scaling the ropes nearest to Danny, preparing for something else. He gets to the top turnbuckle...looks at Danny...then looks out at the crowd.

Richard: What the hell’s he thinking?

Nick: He’s thinking that this needs to END! NOW!

With an accompanying roar from the crowd, Kyle starts climbing the cage. Using only his arms and his right leg, and letting the throbbing left knee rest up, he turns the quick trip into a small adventure. He hoists himself up to the edge and pulls up to a standing position, facing out to the crowd in Raymond James Stadium.

Richard: What’s he going to do? Take his own life? Just jump right off right now and put himself out of his misery?

Nick: If he hits the floor first, you know this one’s over. But I don’t think that’s what he’s doing!

Kyle head-fakes to the crowd below, then looks back over his shoulder at the still-dazed frame of Danny in the ring. He rubs his injured knee one time. It didn’t have a lot of strength left in it after that climb, but with what he had in mind, he wouldn’t need much of a jump. He shrugs to the crowd, then crouches, then...liftoff.

For a number of years following this event, wrestling fans would refer to the move unofficially as Maximum Velocity III, or MVIII, despite the move making only one appearance. Still, it is on his Wikipedia page, and that means it must be true. Plus, it’s a pretty damn sweet move. And I’m not entirely sure if CORKSCREW PHOENIX SPLASH OFF THE TOP OF A DAMN CAGE adequately covers it.

540-degree spin + 450-degree flip + cage = death of Danny F.

The impact must have shaken every seat in this arena, but that’s hard to gauge because it came with one of those "OOOHHOhhooohhaaaaAAAAAAHHHHAAAHHHHH" sounds that happens when someone makes a sweet fumble-causing hit in football. Not to mention the fact that as soon as the ring stopped rocking, they are already counting a pinfall.

"ONE!"

"TWO!"

"THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH-HHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA -AAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
"

The Pay-Per-View broadcast at home lost all semblance of found, it’s just straight feedback. The video broadcast even skips a little as the sonic rumble cascades through the area. You could feel it in your car, driving along the Dale Mabry Highway next to the stadium. You could feel it at home when the cameramen suddenly go NYPD Blue on you and start shaking like they’ve got Parkinson’s. If you were a scientist with a seismic machine in Florida, the absolute zenith of joy and screaming that came out of Ray-Jay at this moment would’ve registered on your scale. Except there are no scientists in Florida with seismic gauges, because it seemed like a frivolous expense. But early tomorrow morning, someone was going to make a phone call.

Kyle Lamen lets go of the leg hook and rolls off of his vanquished foe. He can’t hear his music or the kids, but he knows both are there. He uses the ropes and Thomas Giles to get to his feet, then hugs the latter without any concern for his level of manliness at this moment. He lifts Thomas off the ground and spins him, finally coming to a stop in the middle of the ring. He puts the zebra (or penguin, if you’re Kornheiser) down, grabs him by the wrist and raises his hand in victory. Giles takes in the moment...then realizes it’s supposed to be the other way around and raises Kyle’s hand, making no effort to hide his beaming smile.

Nick: I can’t believe it! Kyle Lamen has fought back against the odds! He has finally put away Danny Ferguson like he would have done six months ago!

Lamen breaks free of Giles just as the other officials are unlocking the cage. Kevin Sandusky and the Make A Wish kids pour in, with his ex-partner tossing him a towel to wipe away some of the sweat and blood. Kyle hugs or high-fives all the kids who are willing to touch him in his gross state and then gets everyone to join hands and raise them up to the crowd, who haven’t stopped cheering since the ref counted three. Finally, Kevin extends his hand to Kyle, and the two shake, then embrace, ensuring that there is not one ass in one seat, or one single dry eye in this entire stadium. The cheering starts to subside, but the applause picks up, a standing ovation for KVL on the night of his magnum opus.

He says something to Kevin, who nods affirmatively. Then, with a head pat to a couple of the younger kids, Kyle goes back to the cage wall and starts climbing again. Sandusky wrangles the kids and moves them back out of the cage, leaving the spotlight to their mutual friend on his last moment in the sun.

Kyle raises his fists to the crowd as he reaches the top of the cage and straddles it. He tries to salute all sides of the stadium from his perch, singing along with "Bloodclot" as the fans join in.

Nick: Folks, it’s an emotional moment for us here tonight. Richard will claim afterwards that he’s not talking because he has nothing to say, but he’s damn near bawling his eyes out here, ladies and gents.

Richard: I got something in my eye!

Nick: It’s called a tear, Grinch. Let it go and celebrate the occasion with everyone else!

Richard: Celebrate what? That Lamen’s dying?

Nick: Celebrate that he’s LIVING, Rich. He’s living until the last damn second, no matter what anyone says! And the losing streak, the hiatus, the retirement, the unretirement, it all means nothing now. He’ll be remembered for this night, here in Tampa, Florida, when he FINISHED all the unfinished business he had left, and went out A WINNER!

Back in the ring, Danny is slowly being revived by his manager, Delray. Reggie is moving frantically, trying to get his charge back into consciousness and out of the ring. He shoots a look up towards the top of the cage every once in a while, worried that Lamen might come back for more.

Atop the cage, Lamen is going back and forth with some fans down at ringside. "Are you gonna catch me?" the camera picks up. They all cheer. Reluctantly, or mock-reluctantly, Kyle starts climbing down the side of the cage. He looks back and prepares to jump, then looks back into the cage and the ring one last time.

Danny, now on his knees, looks up at that moment to catch the eye of his conqueror. With tears welling in his own eyes, washing away parts of his now-drying crimson mask, Danny can't react. He cradles his right shoulder and holds onto it with his other arm, just staring up at Lamen. KVL returns the gaze, emotionless...content. Then he just pushes off, leaping backwards into the crowd for one of the biggest stage dives Tampa has ever seen. He disappears into the crowd and an "OOH!" circulates...but then he pops back up, a-ok, and starts getting passed among the fans! Slowly and steadily, Lamen passes through the crowd, singing along with Rancid, high-fiving everyone he can, and crowd-surfing his way toward the south end zone of Raymond James Stadium, opposite of the way he entered it.

Nick: If there was ever an enduring image of a man leaving on his own terms...I think this is it. Goodbye, Kyle. From all of us here at PRIME, goodbye...and good luck.

"Bloodclot" continues as an overhead cam stays locked on Kyle, following his unconventional exit from the wrestling world.

Alright, so, how happy was Lindsay Troy right now?

The Queen of the Ring has an uncharacteristic smile, albeit a small one, on her face as she strides through the hallways clutching two bottles of water in her hand. Her half of the PRIME tag belts was left back in the dressing room with Melton, but its absence didn't lessen the moment in any way. A few stage hands pause their activities to congratulate her, and she replies with a sincere 'thank you' before turning down a different hallway.

Unfortunately the hallway wasn't empty and she's greeted by another Italian member of the roster, Tony Gamble.

Tony Gamble: Well, look what the cat coughed up... Lindsay Troy.

The smile teasing it's way through the permanent smirk on his face throws Troy off a bit, but she knows how to keep the uneasiness hidden.

Tony Gamble: I know what you did, you know.

Lindsay takes a step closer to Tony and looks down at the smaller man.

Lindsay Troy: You're going to have to be more specific. There are a lot of things I've done, some nicer than others.

Tony Gamble: You locked me in that broom closet a few weeks ago.

Lindsay feigns innocence, pressing her palm against her chest.

Tony Gamble: Don't go acting all innocent either, I know it was you... I TiVo'd the show.

Lindsay Troy: Well damn.

She snaps her fingers in mock-disappointment.

Lindsay Troy: Ya got me. Although I didn't think you needed to TiVo the show in order to figure it out. Process of elimination and all that. You have any other nuggets of wonder to bestow upon me, or can I be on my merry way?

Gamble rubs his chin, a look of disappointment coming across his face.

Tony Gamble: No, not right off the bat.

Lindsay Troy: Didn't think so.

She shakes her head as she starts to walk away.

Tony Gamble: Oh, I got it.

She stops, turning to face The Grin.

Tony Gamble: No, that won't work.

Shrugging her shoulders, Lindsay chuckles at Tony's flustered face.

Tony Gamble: Oh I got one... you better watch your back.

Lindsay Troy: If that's the best you can come up with, Gambillini, I doubt you're going to have me quivering in my shoes.

Troy tips one of the bottles of water in Gamble's direction.

Lindsay Troy: I'll be seein' ya.

She starts to walk away once more, but again is stopped in her tracks by Gamble's voice.

Tony Gamble: Not if I see you first...

As quickly as he said it, Gamble digs his toe into the ground and smacks his tongue against his teeth.

Tony Gamble: I mean, I can do a lot better inside that ring. Maybe one day when you're done playing around with Melton in the (Gamble makes quote marks with his fingers) tag division... You'll be able to step up and find out.

Gamble, feeling much better at that reply nods his head with a triumphant smirk on his face.

Lindsay Troy: Or maybe when your testicles finally drop into your sac, you'll get yourself a partner and meet me there one time.

Tony raises an eyebrow while Lindsay's narrowing eyebrows are slowly accompanied by a growing toothy smile.

Lindsay Troy: Unless, of course, you're concerned that "playing around" in the "tag division" is going to somehow hurt whatever "image" you think you have around here.

Gamble waves his right hand to dismiss the notion.

Tony Gamble: Pssh... Been there and done that. I already carried someone in the tag division once, I don't feel like doing it again. Besides, I've seen what's left of the tag division. I'm sure you'll want to make a name for yourself there, before you decide to step up to the big boys.

Gamble looks up at the taller woman before him.

Tony Gamble: So to speak.

Lindsay Troy: My name's already been made there, Gamble. I made Fergdor bleed all over that ring before he had to get into a cage to settle the score with Lamen and I took that gold of his and made it my own. You call call it a relief that the tag belts are in better hands or you can call it Joey and I doing Ferg a favor. But the point, Tony, is this: don't you presume for one second that I don't know you're looking to cash in on that receipt you owe me and don't you think that I don't know that Killian's going to want to do the same. There was a reason I locked you in that closet. You can get me from the shadows, you can get me from a closet, you can get me with a bat, but I think you know where this is going to end up sooner or later.

Tony Gamble: Did you know your eyes flicker like flames when you get all hot and bothered...

He pauses, then just as quickly shakes the thought from his mind.

Tony Gamble: Did you know your eyes flicker like flames when you get all hot and bothered...

He pauses and closes his eyes to shake the thought from his mind. When he reopens them, Troy is already several yards away from him, having had enough of the conversation. Gamble looks after her, then calls out to an ignoring Troy:

Tony Gamble: Wait... What did you say I was going to do to you with a bat in the closet?

Nick: This is it, fans! Nova and Facey in the confrontation for which PRIMEates have been clamoring for months!

Richard: Well, I wouldn't say this is it, Nick. Tchu and Killean are it. This is…um…this is cool.

Nick: Fine. This is cool, fans! Nova and Facey in the confrontation for which PRIMEates have been clamoring for months!

Richard: The grammar's awkward, but I'll take it.

The camera pans around ringside as a bright green bong is suspended on a cord hanging on a pole above the squared circle. Higher up on another cord is the Intense Title, gleaming under the ring lights.

Nick: I see we have a moment before the competitors enter the ring, so I'll reiterate the rules of the "Grip It and Rip It Challenge" as outlined in the video package on last week's show. The first person to grab the…uh…

Richard: Bong, Nick. I think Nova and Facey have desensitized PRIME's viewing audience to weed enough that we can say "bong" on TV.

Nick: Well, the first person to grab the…bong, and "rip it" will have a chance to grab the Intense Title as it is lowered down to reachable ladder-level. That's how you win it.

Richard: And I've got money on the Face, Nick.

Nick: How am I not at all surprised?

Richard: You don't bet against the A-List. It's terrible odds.

"White Man'z World" by 2pac hits the speakers, and the crowd rises to boo the freakin' balls out of Adam Dick as soon as he makes himself visible.

Nick: Well, if you're playing the odds, there aren't many people in PRIME with a better win-loss record than the Rising Star.

Richard: Yeah, well, I…wait, where is the Illustrious Face-Eater?

Nick: You raise an interesting question, Richard. Everyone's focused on the ramp, but there's no movement from the back. I'm being told right now that he's not back there.

The crowd mulls in anticipation of the Dick's arrival, and suddenly sections of the crowd beginning pointing at the area around the PRIME-A-Tron.

Nick: There's smoke coming from behind the eastern view screen! Is there a fire somewhere?!

Richard: The niiiiiiiiight they droooo-hooove ol' PRIME down…

Nick: Smoke is continuing to billow out, and I don't know what's going on here, fans! Should we be evacuating?

Richard: *Sniff* Wait a minute, Nick…waaaait a minute…why does that smell remind me of college?

Nick: *Sniff* Smells like my hippie uncle's tobacco field…

Richard: *Sniffs again* That ain't tobacco, my boy! That's...that's…well, as Nova would say…DAT'S DAT SHIT! And I can't believe I just quoted him. I must be getting high out here.

Nick: I can't believe all this smoke! Is Godzilla chonging out back there?! Is…

Stuart's words die on his lips as the crowd explodes in a mixture of hatred and awe-inspired cheering, and before the packed Tampa Bay crowd, a hot-air balloon rises from behind the eastern PRIME-A-Tron screen, revealing itself to be to the source of the smoke.

And the Illustrious Freaking Face-Eater is standing tall in the basket.

Richard: *Climbing up on top of his announce position* Oh Captain, My Captain!

Facey's balloon (decorated with a design of his trademark mask in front of a large pot leaf) floats slowly over the crowd. The smoke emanates from a smoldering pile sitting on a mesh screen above the basket's flame jet.

Nick: I think he's spitting on the crowd…

Richard: No! Don't dehydrate yourself! This match is HUGE!

"White Man'z World" dies down to a low volume as the Eater of Faces produces a megaphone.

The Illustrious Face-Eater: Hello, my bitches! How's the view from the floor, with the garbage and rats? It rules from up here, in case anyone was wondering. And there's one person I should thank for the opportunity to do this…

Nick: Worth? Nelson?

The Illustrious Face-Eater: …Nova, for supplying me with a quarter-pound o' dat Fluffy McStick-Nasty bubonic chronic funkity funk to power the swankest hot-air balloon EVER! I'm sure if I had asked you, you would have given me permission to swipe it!

Facey's laughter echoes out of his megaphone across the booing crowds (who, amazingly enough, wholly sympathize with Nova's ever-present 'weed got ganked' dilemma…the times we live in, huh?).

Nick: This is truly ridiculous.

Facey's balloon floats over the ring, and well-placed hooks temporarily halt its progress. The Face lowers a ladder down to the ring, and begins to descend…very quickly, because someone in the field seating is giving him the Nolan Ryan treatment with crushed-up Steveweisers.

Nick: Wow, that guy has a great arm.

Facey passes first the Intense Title, reaching out and holding it in his hand (CROWD HATES HIM!), and then the suspended bong, which he gives a hearty kiss to (CROWD HATES HIM BUT LOVES BONGS, SO IT'S BETTER!) He lands solidly on the mat, giving his cue back up to the top for the balloon to be dealt with according to the magic of secret remote controls.

Richard: Look at him, Nick! No fear in Adam Dick's heart tonight! He's gonna be champion…for the what, umpteenth time? Doesn't he have more belts than Nova, in half the time?

Nick: Oh, who knows, the way the A-List declare themselves co-champions of everything…

Richard: But champions nonetheless.

As Facey paces almost comically in the ring, arms out provokingly, the lights in the arena go out and a field of stars appears on the PRIME-A-Tron.

"Mother Earth is pregnant for the third time…for y'all have knocked her up. I have tasted the maggots in the mind of the universe, and I was not offended, for I knew I had to rise above it all…or drown in my own shit."

However, on this momentous night, it is not the freakishly psyche-shattering wailosity of Eddie Hazel that drifts like silvery clouds of psychodelia over the PA system, but the slow, three-chord riff intro to "We Only Come Out At Night" by the Smashing Pumpkins.

"We only come out at night…we only come out at night…the days are much too bright…we only come out at night…"

Instantly, with almost migraine-inducing force, the crowd gives a seismic pop as the curtains to the back part and a dais rolls mechanically out onto the stage. On it, Nova stands, clad in an enormous fur coat. His eyes are shielded by huge sunglasses that go out past his ears.

Nick: There he is, Richard! The Rising Star…the Intense Champion!

Richard: Great, now can you tell me who they are?

Surrounding Nova's feet on the dais are several drunk bitches, complete with broken heels and vomit-crusted hair.

Nick: Umm…no, I can't.

In Nova's hand, where the Intense Title would be were it not above the ring, is a bottle of bourbon that he waves around happily offering mock libations to the fans behind the protective barricade as the dais rolls down the ramp towards the ring. CSC security follows the dais dutifully, and blue and white pyrotechnics explode zestfully on the fireworks platform.

Nick: Anyone can churn up heat, Rich! Anyone can take the low road! But Nova has possibly the largest base of fan support of anyone in PRIME, and he's done it the old-fashioned way…almost two years of blood and sweat!

Richard: And all he has to show for it are a few fans who'll laugh at his weed jokes, and a belt he's about to lose!

Nick: I guess we just quantify success differently.

Richard: No kidding.

The dais comes to a halt at the ring apron, and Nova stares through his admittedly ridiculous shades at Facey, who stands in the ring beckoning him. One of the Rising Star's drunk bitches gives him a shaky thumbs-up for support, but Nova is too In the Zone at this point to notice. He steps through the ropes, and begins removing his clothes, which also consist of a few fake gold chains, a cummerbund, and a sash belt.

Richard: God, it looks like Nova's wardrobe was designed by Flava-Flav with help from the Sheik of Araby.

Nick: He's got his own style, for sure.

Richard: Hope he has fun losing in it.

Nova gives himself a shake and walks to the middle of the ring, but the referee reminds him that he's still holding the bourbon. Nova grins and gives a shrug before walking back to the corner and setting it down, careful to warn his drunk bitches that it's off limits. He walks back to the middle of the ring, and he and Facey stand a foot or two from one another as the ref gives them the spiel. Suddenly, Facey gives Nova a good hard slap to the face and scampers back, bouncing around and shadow-boxing as the Rising Star has to be restrained by the ref.

Nick: Oh, can't the Illustrious Face-Eater go two seconds without a low blow or cheap shot?

Richard: He wouldn't be Adam Dick if he could!

The ref holds his arms out in peace, and Facey acquiesces, coming calmly back to the center of the ring…but as the rules are read out again, he slaps Nova hard across the face and backs away again to safety. Nova glares at him hard as the ref tries a third time to defuse the situation. Facey nods and shrugs as though he's over it before walking back to the middle of ring…

THUD!!

…but as he does, Nova pushes the ref gently aside and springs forward with a headbutt into Facey's chest.

Nick: OOHH!! Retaliatory blow from the Rising Star, and Facey is down on the mat, gasping for air!

Richard: Nova's been training with Frenchmen! ARREST HIM!!

Nick: The ref has given up! He's calling for the bell, and this contest is on!

Nova moves quickly over to Facey, yanking him up and pushing him back towards the turnbuckle with a forearm across his throat. Once there, he lands a knife-edge chop (*THWAP*), followed by an overhand chop (*WHOP*), and then his own slap to the face of Adam Dick (*SMACK*). He backs up, and as Facey stumbles out of the corner, he hoists him up, and brings him down Testigrams-first into a reverse Atomic Drop.

Richard: Awww, come on!! Ref?!

Facey crumples to the mat, eyes glistening in pain as he cups the balls that have seen so much punishment this summer. The bad kind of punishment.

Nick: The opening salvo is over, Rich, and Nova is taking Facey to school!

Richard: Yeah, Gay School! Lay off the nuts, man!

Wasting no time, Nova rolls out of the ring and throws back the apron. His upper half disappears under it for a moment before he comes back out with a long black ladder. He measures up the still-hurtin' Facey before sliding the ladder into the ring, grinning as its end tags the Dick in the side of the face.

Nick: OH!! Ladder-shot to Adam Dick's face, and the close-up camera angle is showing that he may have a cut above his eyebrow from it!

As Facey tries to shake the cobwebs out, Nova hoists him up and throws an arm over his shoulder.

Nick: Nova looking for a Falling Star attempt here…going for the lift, aaaand Facey's having none of it! Face-Eater back down to his feet, and…reversal into a reverse neckbreaker!!

Richard: Haha! Winds of change, baby!

Nova rolls away, clutching the back of his neck. Facey climbs to his feet, a hand moving to his face to check for blood above his eye. The fans roar their approval as Nova and Facey stare each other down across the ring. After a moment of pause, the two charge each other. Facey springs off the downed ladder and catches Nova with a body splash/lariat hybrid thing, and the Rising Star tumbles backwards through the ropes to the outside as Facey lands on his knees.

Nick: Nova down on the outside, and Facey with the upper hand at the moment…and it looks like he's going for the ladder!

Richard: Of course he is, Nick! Rip the bong, grab the belt, and sorry for ya, Nova! This is turning into a GREAT show!

Nick: Where have you been all night, Richard? The show has been amazing so far!

Richard: It's about to be amazinger, buddy!

Facey grabs the ladder, indeed, but he doesn't set it up below the bong in the ring. He lays it against the ropes above where Nova is, and steps back, holding up an arm as he waits for the Rising Star to climb to his feet. When he does (slowly), Facey runs back against the opposite ropes and tears ass across the ring towards his newly-constructed ladder steps…

Nick: …but Nova springing up onto the apron quick now, and THE LADDER GOES UP-OHHH!!! INTO THE FACE OF ADAM DICK!! Nova playing a little possum here and the Illustrious Face-Eater is laid OUT!

The blow sends Facey flying backwards, legs shooting up as he lands on his back. The ladder tips back into the ring. Nova slides back in, and walks over…past Facey, to the fifth of bourbon in the corner. One of the drunk bitches has an arm almost outstretched to the bottle, and Nova slaps it away, offering a chastisement.

Richard: You're not friggin' serious.

Nick: Oh, what? Facey enters the ring via weed smoke-shrouded hot-air balloon and you're shouting "Oh Captain My Captain," but Nova has a drink during the match, and you're sniffing your nose at him?

Richard: He shouldn't have taken it away from his drunk bitch. That's not polite.

Nova knocks a stiff one back and sets the bottle back down (further away this time) before turning back to Facey, whose brain is still floating somewhere between a Tera Patrick double-stuff special and a funny picture of Satan on his kindergarten Lite-Brite.

Nick: Nova's got Facey and he's pulling him up…eyeing that ladder…and Irish Whip, but Facey reverses and it's Nova towards the ladder, but he reads it!! He reads it and he's up and AIRBORNE!! MOONSAULT ONTO FACEY, BUT THE FACE-EATER'S HOLDING…TRYING TO HOLD…TRYING TO HOLD…

Facey trembles as he begins to spin with Nova on his shoulders, but with one solid rotation, he has Nova out and drops him down chest first with a reverse stalling suplex onto the ladder that's leaned against the ropes.

Nick: ESTRADAPLEX!! ESTRADAPLEX ONTO THE LADDER, in one of the better reversals I've seen in a hot minute, Richard! Wow!

Richard: A-List style. Never doubt the Face.

Chest heaving from effort, Facey stares down at Nova, who's slumped awkwardly across the ladder. The Dick moves around to the side leaned against the ropes, and grabs underneath it, lifting up slowly as he grunts and grits his teeth from the weight. Stepping forward, he eventually pulls the ladder up and drops it down onto its other side…with Nova now underneath.

Nick: OH, MY GOD! Nova's body was just crushed underneath that ladder, and the Rising Star is in a very bad way here, Richard!

Richard: He had a nice, K-Wolf style belt run, but he's not Intense enough. That man standing in the ring right now embodies Intensity!

Facey grabs hold of the ladder, opting for opportunity over offense (+75 allit.) by setting it up over Nova's downed form. The Eater of Faces begins making his way up the ladder, rung by rung.

Nick: This could be it, fans! We could have a new Intense Champion right now if the Illustrious Face-Eater can make it to the top, grab the bong and hit it, and then claim the belt!

Richard: Grip it and rip it, Facey!! Grip it and rip it like you've never gripped it and ripped it before!!

Facey continues his way up the ladder, but Nova stirs underneath it. He crawls out and his eyes widen as he sees Facey nearing the top. Scrambling quickly to the corner, Nova grabs the bottle of bourbon and uncorks it before tilting it back.

Richard: Ahhh, ha, ha, ha!! The bastard's drowning his sorrows! He's lost!

Nick: Somehow I don't think so…

Nova wipes his bearded mug with the back of his hand before turning…and chucking the bottle with all his might at his foe. The bottle whistles through the air…

CRASH!!

…and shatters against the side of Facey's head, causing the A-Lister to flail wildly as he falls from the ladder to the mat. The crowd loses it like the pitcher for the home team just whizzed in the third strike to win the World Series, and the bartender promised everyone beforehand that if it went down that way, free drinks all night on the house.

Nick: BOTTLE OF BOURBON TO THE HEAD OF THE FACE-EATER, AND THESE FANS ARE LOVING IT!!

"NO-VA! NO-VA! NO-VA! NO-VA!"

Richard: That's bullshit, Nick! I'm sorry, but give me a break!

Nick: It's an Intense Title Match, Richard! It's anything goes!!

Richard: No, I mean the bourbon! That was Woodford he just threw away!

Nick: Anything to stay in the match, Rich! And Nova is headed for that ladder right now, and the fans want nothing more! He's scaling it…getting closer, and Facey is still down from that fall…getting closer, Rich!

Richard: GET UP, FACE!! GET UP!!

Nick: He's nearing the top now, and the fans all know it…he's…HE'S…NOVA'S GOT THE BONG!!

The fans explode in cheers as Nova grabs hold of the suspended bong and removes a lighter from his pocket.

Nick: But Facey is stirring now!

Richard: YES! GET HIM!! KNOCK THE DAMN LADDER OVER!!

Nova rips the bong to another ha-y00ge pop from the crowd, and smoke drifts away into the already weed-saturated arena air.

Nick: Facey is up, and he's headed for the ladder…BUT NOVA'S OFF! NOVA JUMPS OFF THE LADDER!!

Forsaking his shot to grab the Intense Title, Nova hops down off the ladder, in the process turning the bong over so that bong water cascades down on top of the Illustrious Face-Eater, who was honestly not expecting anything like this to happen.

Richard: EWWW!!

Facey howls as it drips off his skin. He begins running in circles, shaking his hands and blowing snot freely out of his nose as he tries to deal with the overwhelming funk smell of a fluid so rotten (when it's reeeeally good) that the Triple Alliance and Entente could have gassed each other with it in the first World War.

Richard: And you think Facey's the heel here?! That was low, Nick! That was Vampir Nosferatu-Pentagram-Crucifixion low!

Nick: Fans, my co-commentator will shortly collapse of a hyperbolic overdose. Bear with me.

Facey turns back around, and Nova charges, bong-in-hand.

Nick: Nova charging now…TOSSING THE BONG TO FACEY, AND NOVACAINE!!! NO!! NO, FACEY DUCKS UNDER AND OHHH!! THE ILLUSTRIOUS FACE-EATER NAILS NOVA WITH THE BONG AND IT'S SHATTERED!! NOVA IS DOWN!!

Richard: AHHHHH AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! Except Nova doesn't have a mask that protects his head from glass cuts, Nick!

Nick: You're right, and we're seeing the effects of that now, Richard! Nova's bleeding on the mat!

Richard: Oh, ho, ho…ohhhh, ho…I'm choking on the appropriateness of this!!

As Nova remains on his hands and knees, blood dripping in rivulets down onto the mat, Facey makes a beeline for the ladder.

Nick: It's all about the Intense Title now! Whoever can make it to the top of the ladder wins the match, and the gold…BUT NOVA ISN'T STAYING DOWN!!

Richard: WHAT?!

Nick: NOVA MIGHT BE BLEEDING EVERYWHERE AT THIS POINT, BUT HE'S HEADED FOR THAT LADDER, RICH!!

Richard: Hey Johnny Blaze, you've lost! Accept it!

Nick: I don't think so, Nick, and Nova doesn't either, because he's scaling that ladder in hot pursuit!! Facey's almost to the top, but Nova's comin' for him!!

The Illustrious Face-Eater reaches the top, and stretches out his arm for the Intense Title...only to have one bloody hand grip his forearm…and the other hit him in the nose. Facey growls and backhands the side of Nova's face.

Nick: NOVA AND FACEY DUKING IT OUT AT THE TOP, AND ONLY ONE MAN IS LEAVING THE LADDER WITH THAT BELT!!!

Suddenly, the attention of the fans is drawn to the eastern PRIME-A-Tron screen at the top of the Raymond James Stadium.

Nick: Look, the hot-air balloon! It's descending again!

Richard: The cavalry is here, baby!

Nick: And look at the grin on Facey's mug! He knows it's coming, but Nova doesn't!

Richard: TOUGH!!

As the balloon descends, Nova and Facey continue to trade blows atop the ladder, blood from Nova's face spattering Facey's arms and tights. A large shadow moves first over the crowds, and then the ring as the balloon (controlled, conveniently, at this point by remote control magic) settles over the battling enemies.

Nick: The rope ladder is descending!! FACEY'S TRYING TO HANG ON FOR IT!!

Richard: COME ON, FACEY!! HANG IN THERE!

The rope ladder swings back and forth as it continues to drop, now feet above Nova and Facey's heads.

Nick: NOVA NOW WITH A RIGHT! AND ANOTHER! AND ANOTHER, AND FACEY IS BARELY HANGING ON!!

Richard: DAMN!!

As the rope ladder swings into reachable distance, Facey leans way back, arms flailing desperately as he tries to maintain balance…

…but he falls.

…

Only to catch the last rung of the rope ladder and swing out. Coming back, he delivers two hard boots to the steel ladder, causing it to topple over, sending the Rising Star falling from grace to the mat.

Nick: NOVA DOWN!!! FACEY SWINGING BACK…AND HE'S GOT IT!! HE'S GOT THE INTENSE TITLE, AND THIS MATCH IS OVER!

Richard: YES!! YES!! THERE IS A GOD, AND HE IS A MEMBER OF THE A-LIST!

Winner: The Illustrious Face-Eater (via hot-air balloon)

As Facey clutches the rope ladder, Intense Title in hand, the balloon begins to wisk him away towards the entrance ramp.

Nick: Well, Facey got the last laugh at Colossus III here tonight, Richard, though not by the most honorable means, I'd say!

Richard: Do I care? Look at him, Nick! He looks majestic!

Odd that Richard should say this now, because without warning, the flame powering the hot-air balloon dies, and it begins to sink.

Nick: WHOA!! IT'S NOT GONNA CLEAR THE…

What Nick wants to finish here with is "protective barricade," because that's exactly what the balloon gets hung on as it deflates, as long as these things exist for this show. Ya know what, just suspend disbelief. And love me. Facey dangles in the basket for a moment before plummeting to the mats on the ring side. The nylon of the balloon hangs down almost to the heads of the audience on the other side.

Nick: Nova's up in the ring! He's staring down at Facey, and we might have a second brawl here!

Richard: BOOOO!! Leave the man alone! He won!

Facey stands up in his shattered basket and stares up at Nova, who stands in the ring, hair matted with blood. The Eater of Faces pauses only a moment before sliding into the ring and coming after the Rising Star…

Nick: IT'S ON!!

…and extending a hand to him.

Nick: WHAT?!

Richard: WHAT?!

Crowd (in their heads): WHAT?!

Nick: FACEY IS STANDING IN THE RING WITH NOVA, AND HE'S EXTENDING A HAND!! THE ILLUSTRIOUS FACE-EATER IS SHOWING RESPECT FOR THE RISING STAR!!

Nova stares at the outstretched hand for a moment, then up at Facey (very carefully, because masks can conceal emotion like whut), then out at the crowd, as if to poll their opinion.

Richard: Awwww, tell me he's about to kick him in the nuts or something!

The roof and walls of the arena are blown off, and a new arena is constructed around the seating area as the fans lose it when Nova clasps Facey's hand and shakes it. Facey turns and raises Nova's arm in the air.

"FA-CEY! NO-VA! FA-CEY! NO-VA! FA-CEY! NO-VA!"

Nick: THIS IS AMAZING, RICHARD!!

Richard: THE HELL YOU SAY! THIS IS A TRAVESTY! GODDAMN WEED AND ITS PACIFYING EFFECTS!

Nick: I CAN'T FIND THE WORDS TO…

Before Nick can finish, in the middle of the ring…Facey explodes.

You read that right. I'm not kidding. The Illustrious Face-Eater explodes in a ball of flame, incinerating himself completely and launching Nova across the ring. The arena goes instantly dead-quiet, and Nova lies on the other side of the ring, eyes wide and face white in shock as a single arm clasps his wrist.

Nick: …

Richard: …

Nova turns over and immediately loses everything he's ever eaten in the ring. He's not alone.

Nick: Oh…Oh, God, cut away. Cut the camera.

Nova remains on the ground in the ring, staring at the spot where his friend stood raising his arm moments before. The Intense Title lies across the ring, still gleaming.

Then the feed is cut.

Sitting alone in a desolate corner of Raymond James Stadium, deep inside the bowels of the stadium, Chet Worth sits alone, a beer in his hand, babbling to himself as Blaine Blair walks up, a slight smile on his face.

Chet Worth: "Oh, I won't be the next Tyler Nelson... I won't screw people over..." DAMNIT.

Blaine Blair: Wanna talk about it?

Worth looks up with a snap, expecting to be somewhere no one would find him. He hides his beer, as if he were 16 again, and Mrs. Willham walked in on him and his best friend Rich, splitting a gross, warm beer in the basement of their house.

Chet Worth: Talk about what? That I'm a failure? That I'm not going to make PRIME a better place? That I'll just throw myself into stupid matches, and lame returns every few months, just to satisfy some stupid primal urge to compete, making PRIME a shithole? No, thanks.

Blaine Blair: You're being a little hard on yourself, aren't you? I mean... Just a month ago, you were hell bent on destroying Nelson, and trying to make PRIME a better place, right?

Chet Worth: Right.

Blaine Blair: Well, Danny Ferguson was part of what made PRIME 'broken', right?

Worth takes a big swig from his beer, and nods.

Chet Worth: Right.

Blaine Blair: Do you think this'll have any impact on future dealings with Ferguson? He's still your employee, after all.

Chet Worth: I don't know, Blaine. I really, really, don't. All I know is that I said I wouldn't get involved in things like this, and here I am, all but handing those belts on a silver platter to Troy and Melton.

Blair nodded.

Blaine Blair: So, what do you want to do then? Take them away? Invite more tag teams that won't do a damn thing into PRIME, and give the belts back to them again? They earned it, Chet. They beat the A-List last month at ReVolution 100. They deserved these belts today.

Worth looked at Blair and smiled.

Chet Worth: You're right. You're absolutely right. This was just karma paying Ferguson back. Question is... what's going to happen when he comes to pay me back?

Blaine Blair: I don't know. But, we'll handle it when it comes to that. I'm sure of it. Now, I need you back in the office for a bit. We need to go over travel plans for Revolution in Orlando, and you have a phone call to return.

Worth sighed, and threw his arms into the air.

Chet Worth: Do I have to? I really don't want him back here...

Blaine Blair: Yes. You do. And yes, he needs to be there.

Chet Worth: Fine. But, I won't like it.

Blaine Blair: I know. But, it's for the best, and he really wants to be there.

Chet Worth: FINE. I'm coming. Just, leave me alone now, okay?

Blaine Blair: As you wish.

Nova can’t believe it. He can’t fucking believe it.

Instead of believing it, he takes another drag off of his cigarette. Another long drag that burns up his ends and forces him to withdraw another cigarette to light. With nerves still shot, all Nova can do was peer down the abyss of an abandoned hallway as he sits quietly to himself. No drunk bitches, no massive bongs to be smoked. Just Nova and a somber expression.

Nova: How the fuck...?

He shakes his head as he exhales, knowing full well that what just happened did not make sense. Hell, when it comes to the Face-Eater nothing makes sense, but this time is just insane. It’s unfair.

Troy: Care to talk about it?

The hand on his shoulder allowed Nova to realize that, despite all the death around him, maybe there was still a little love.

Nova: There’s nothing to talk about, Lindz. He fucking BLEW UP.

Lindsay Troy, with that fresh strap of Tag-Team gold around her shoulder, steps in front of Nova and tries to console him.

Troy: Well, still, that kind of happening is... weird... but that doesn’t mean it isn’t sad. You, for everything you’ve been through with that midget, must have something to say about his death...

Angst like a teen needing a Zoloft prescription, Nova jumps to his feet taking offense somewhat.

Nova: He beat me, alright? He took the Intense Title, he beat me, and now he’s gone. BOOM! Exploded right out of my life! What the Hell else is there to talk about?!

Nova rushes to his feet and down the hall, not wanting to hear any of Lindsay Troy’s condolences. She begins to call out but stops herself short of realizing he just doesn’t care.

Then Nova turns the corner and runs into the only Irish Superstar That Matters.

Yes, D-Ferg in the heezy.

Danny Ferguson: The Jihad didn’t work out?

Nova sneers at Facey’s former partner and tries to push past.

Danny Ferguson: Hey, look, bad taste and all that, I know. But hey, you should consider something like this a blessing. Now we don’t have a scrawny, screaming, pot-smoking heat-thief running around to mess up everything we’ve got going, right?

Nova stops and turns to face Danny Ferguson, who seems to be no-selling the fact that the Face-Eater just died in the ring.

Nova: Do you have any tact? Even for people you respect?

Danny Ferguson: I respect people?

Nova shakes his head in disgust and begins to leave the arena for the night.

Danny Ferguson: Don’t worry, Nov, we’ll bounce back from this! We always do! It's the A-List way!!

With a sly smile on his face, Danny watches the former Intense Champion part into the parking lot.

Danny Ferguson: Well if no one else seems to care...

Lifting his jacket to reveal a recently acquired accessory, the Intense Championship staying firmly strapped around his waste.

Nick: What a fantastic evening we’ve had so far, hey partner?

Richard: What are you - John Wayne?

Nick: I agree. And it’s only going to get better from here.

Vince Howard: The following contest is a No Disqualification match and it is for the FIVE STAR CHAMPIONSHIP! Introducing first, being accompanied by Eleanor Kannon, PRIME’s Five Star Champion, the Viet Viper, the Sultan of Style…

The opening drum shots of Audioslave’s ‘The Worm’ are accompanied by shots of yellow pyro from the Pirate Ship atop the stadium over the audience burning out towards the back of the arena. Every 5 seconds another drum shot and another burst of pyro.

Nick: Wow… Tsonda’s gone all-out for his Colossus entrance.

After about the 30 second mark the overhead pyro stops as the vocals come in and so do Chandler Tsonda and Eleanor Kannon under a shower of Randy Orton-like entrance pyro. They strut in to a chorus of boos from every scalawag in the arena. Tsonda doesn’t seem to mind, though, he’s almost feeding off it.

Vince Howard: CHANDLER TSONDA!!!

Richard: Tsonda and Ellie are looking to be in top form.

Nick: Do you think he prepared for this match?

Richard: He doesn’t need to!

The arena falls into darkness and a single spot light comes up on a lone figure standing in the Pirate Ship.

Richard: Is that… James Brown?

Over the sound system a loud ‘HUH!’ is heard.

Nick: Yeah, that’s gotta be James Brown.

James Brown: Yeah, uh! Get up, now! Ow! Knock out!

A funky bass and drum beat starts up.

Richard: I know this beat…

Vince Howard: And his opponent, Father Wrestling, Mr. Incredible…

James Brown sings.

Super highways, coast to coast,
easy to get anywhere
On the transcontinental overload,
just slide behind the wheel
How does it feel

When there's no destination - that's too far
And somewhere on the way,
you might find out who you are

In a HUUUUUGE explosion of red, white and blue pyrotechnics that comes from all over the arena. The arena lights come up with a row of chorus girls along the ship’s bow and none other than Johnny Noble dancing with the Godfather of Soul…

Living in America - eye to eye, station to station
Living in America - hand to hand, across the nation
Living in America - got to have a celebration

Rock my soul!!!

Johnny Noble disappears from the Pirate Ship and is seen strolling down the entrance ramp, red and blue spotlights roving around the arena and Noble’s wearing a Star-Spangled Top-Hat and Trunks.

Vince Howard: JOHNNY NOOOOOOOOOOOBLE!

Richard: Oh sweet Murphy, first he steals Rocky’s entrance, now he’s taking Apollo Creed’s!?

Nick (Who’s up dancing along with the crowd): Kinda catchy though, isn’t it?

Richard: Maybe a little…

Noble grooves into the ring and points at Tsonda.

Noble: I want you! I want you!

Ellie, not sure what’s coming next takes her leave of the ring. But Noble grooves right back out. While Mr. Morality dances James Brown and over 60,000 Tampa fans sing it out at the top of their lungs.

I live in America
I live in America
I live in America

Noble does ‘The Train’ over to an older fan in the front row who is singing the loudest and gives him the novelty top hat. Then rolls back into the ring.

I feel good!!!

Noble may have borrowed an entrance from Apollo Creed, but across this ring was not a 7 Foot Russian Fridge… rather a 6 Foot Vietnamese Model, and the man who had torn Noble’s life to shreds. Now it was time to collect payment. Noble, not one to neglect the fans, knew his ring entrance would be the only time he would think about them until the match was over. With the theatrics over and the match about to begin Noble switches instantly into wrestling mode. Tsonda motions for Noble to bring it on.

Noble dives in with a tie-up and quickly overpowers the smaller man, sending him reeling into the ropes and bouncing off onto his face. Nobel wastes no time in getting over there and stomping the daylights out of the smaller, younger man. Tsonda starts covering his face and head as the referee has to get in and break it up, reminding Noble that those kicks, while legal in this type of match are still dangerous.

Noble agrees to back off, but Tsonda is quick and before long the smaller man is flying at Noble with a Reverse Elbow smash. Noble takes it across the chops and recoils a bit, but won’t fall over. Tsonda jumps back in straight away and starts working the lower extremities of Johnny Noble with a barrage of kicks. Noble takes a knee and Tsonda uses the opportunity to jump in with a Shining Wizard.

Nick: Takes you back dunnit, Rich?

Richard: To what? A former Global Champion? A masked competitor? A man who wrote more RPs in a crypt than anyone?

Nick: Yeah, him.

Richard: No.

Noble falls backward and Tsonda nails a Standing Moonsault and a Springboard Body Splash followed up by a Dropkick to the side of the head. Noble shakes it all of, though, almost no-selling it. Then gets back to his feet and sees Tsonda coming at him fast with a clothesline. Noble figures he can take it and flexes up for the encounter, which is exactly what Tsonda is banking on. Tsonda pulls the arm back in and jumps off the second ropes, rebounding back at Noble and bring the big man, who’s leaning forward into the Clothesline, down with a Bulldog Facecrusher. The crowd seems rather unimpressed.

Richard: Get up and join me in this standing ovation!

Nick: Sit down, Richard.

Tsonda backs up and readies himself for another running attack, to make up for the weight disadvantage. He lunges himself at a rising Noble, but Mr. Incredible sees it coming and jacks Tsonda way up into the air in a powerful Military Press type of push.

Nick: Oh. My. God! Noble just sent Tsonda 15 feet into the air and the Sultan of Style crashed just INCHES away from the barricade!

Richard: C’mon ref! Noble could’ve killed the man!

Crowd: HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT!

Noble, after a couple replays of the fall, rolls out of the ring and grabs Tsonda by the scruff of his neck and Irish Whips him into the side of the ring before rolling him back onto the canvas. Noble slides in after and hooks the left leg for a pin.

ONE!

Richard: There’s no way a near-death fall could put away the champeen like the Viet Viper!

Noble sits up and Tsonda soon after, even though his back is obviously beginning to hurt. Noble is first to his feet and he calls Tsonda to a Mercy Fight. Tsonda locks in one hand-

Nick: Tsonda’s crazy to think he could beat Noble in a Mercy Fight!

And then boots Noble in the gut! But Noble, rather than let go, twists the smaller man’s arm around and puts him into a Hammer Lock then Lifts the Viper up, putting excess pressure on the man’s arm and upper back, before dropping him down and tightly locking in a Sleeper Hold.

Richard: I can see why they call this a Sleeper Hold… sure is boring to watch. And this is for the Five Star belt??

Tsonda’s a slippery devil and he manages to slide out under Noble’s grasp after only a few moments. The Model Citizen turns and delivers a lightning quick Toe Kick, but Noble catches the foot and ends up with an Enziguri for his troubles, Noble takes a knee for the second time in the match and Tsonda comes out with a flurry of kicks… it sorta looks like that Chinese girl from Street Fighter… remember her? Like that. Noble stumbles backward into the ropes, trying to evade the kicks. Tsonda leaps off the adjacent ropes and hits a dropkick that sends the bigger man toppling over the top rope to the floor.

Nick: What a rollercoaster of a match. The momentum shifting back and forth, Noble slows it down and Tsonda brings it back up again. Amazing!

Richard: Yeah, the Viper’s putting on a clinic out there! And he’s showing no signs of slowing down yet!

Richard’s right! Tsonda leaps clear over the ropes and lands a Leg Drop across Noble’s throat. Chandler seems to instantly regret it, though, as he is grasping at his tailbone. Chandler stands up and leans over the announce table. Johnny gets up as well and walks over to Tsonda. Mr. Morality grabs Tsonda’s shoulder and spins him around to a devastating ‘OOOOOOH!’ from the crowd.

Richard: Ha! Showed the ol’ man, there Chandler! Did you see that?

Nick: I sure did. Tsonda just ploughed Noble across the face with one of our monitors! Now I’ll have to watch off yours until they can replace it!

Richard: Can we get a new monitor down here?

The Model Citizen hits a dropkick to the back of the knee of Johnny and the larger feller starts to falter, but as he begins to go down Tsonda tries for an ill-timed attack which leads to a sick elbow to the face. Then the Washington native Whips Tsonda as hard as possible into the barricade. Tsonda hits it square in the solarplexis, and turns to look at Noble, no selling the pain as much as possible, then flashes Noble a cheeky smile. This enrages the Old Schooler who charges in and lays some stiff rights across the visage of the saucy Asian. After which Noble hoists Chandler up in a Military Press and drops him square across the top of the barricade, Tsonda turns about and slumps up against the hard plastic and steel, as he does Noble backs it up. At about 10 or 12 feet Tsonda calls out.

Tsonda: Hey Noble!

And gives the Blonde Bull the middle finger, and now the Bull sees red! Noble charges in hollering and Spears the Viet Viper right through the barricade and onto the concrete where the crowd is sitting. Then, from a side headlock, starts in with right after right square in the face. Noble leans in and starts jawing Tsonda off and Chandler smokes his foe in the nose with a vicious Headbutt, Noble rolls over and checks for blood. So far, so good, but the Viet Viper is on the move again, despite the serious pain in his back. He’s removed a fan from her chair and is swinging wildly at Noble, keeping the Blonde Bull at bay. Security is rushing in to keep the fans at a safe distance as well.

After several more swings Noble’s had enough and just sticks his hand up and stops the chair. He yanks it out of Tsonda’s hand gives him a haymaker to the face, Tsonda starts to fall forward and Noble jacks him up and drops him down hard with Suplex into several chairs… well, they used to be. Noble then gets up, slowly, as he doesn’t have the stamina of some younger men, and drops a few Standing Elbows across the face and torso of Tsonda.

Noble bends over to picks Tsonda up and Ellie comes in front behind with the other chair Noble tossed to the ground and hit the behemoth over the back, it didn’t hurt him, but it distracted the man long enough for Tsonda to jump off the row of chairs behind Noble with another Bulldog into the chair on the concrete floor. Tsonda is once again favouring his back and tailbone, but doesn’t have time to worry about it yet since Noble is already stirring.

Nick: What a fantastic exchange! The pace has been unrelenting the last few minutes!

Richard: Yeah, Chandler Tsonda’s really raising the bar for the old man!

Nick: And Noble is pushing himself to rise to the challenge!

Richard: Wait a sec, what’s Chandler doing?

Crowd: HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT!

Nick: More amazing-

Richard: Five Star-

Nick: Offense from Chandler Tsonda!

For those who didn’t see it (That’d be all of you) Chandler just soared off the top turnbuckle clear into the third row to land a MASSIVE Cross Body on a rising Noble. Both men are down, but in a match like this falls and submissions are the only way to win the contest - no count-outs.

Nick: This kind of action is exactly why fans tune in every week to watch PRIME shows! And this is the epitome of the Five Star Division!

After replays of the move itself and a few of past moves, Tsonda begins to move, he rolls over Noble and makes the cover. But ref doesn’t even drop to try and make the count.

Richard: What the hell is this!? Bias!

Nick: It’s No DQ, Richard, not Falls Count Anywhere or Hardcore. A fall has got to be registered in the ring!

Richard: I still say it’s fixed!

Chandler lets fly with a few expletives as he and a groggy Noble rise to their feet. Still in the crowd Noble Shoulder-And-Elbow’s with his opponent then puts him across his shoulders with a Fireman’s Carry, but he’s tired, and after just making it out to ringside, through the hole in the barricade, Noble just falls backwards, hitting a Samoan Drop, Chandler bounces before coming to rest a foot or two from Noble. Noble, again, is the first one up, but he’s far from top form. He gets in beside Tsonda and locks in a tight Cobra Clutch.

Richard: Doesn’t he know he can’t win out there?

Nick: Sure, but it’s not about winning just yet, Noble’s working the back of his opponent to sap his strength. It’s all part of the larger picture.

Richard: w/e, Nick.

Nick: Did you just say double u slash ee?

Richard: lol yea u need 2 b kewl lik me! Rofl!

Tsonda is tapping like a madman on the outside, all for naught, of course, but he thinks it will cause Noble to relinquish the hold. And, eventually, it does. Noble gets himself back into the ring and taunts Tsonda to do the same. So he does, and that was a mistake.

Noble pounces on the man with a storm of punches, then picks him up by the hair and yanks him in for a jumping Piledriver and hooks Tsonda’s leg for the cover.

ONE!

TWO!!

THREE!!!

The fans break into a riot, but no, wait, the ref is waving off the count. Tsonda’s foot found the ropes.

Richard: See that cunning? Saving his energy by not trying to kick out?

Nick: Couldn’t just be exhaustion, eh?

Richard: I doubt it.

Noble gets up rather quickly and grabs Tsonda’s feet. Noble spins around gives Chandler a ride with a Big Swing and release! The Viper slides, skidding, across the mat and out of the ring landing, back first, near the entrance ramp. Noble hurries out after him and wastes no time landing Tsonda hard on the corrugated steel ramp way with a huge Fall Away Slam, but Tsonda keeps moving and so Noble breaks out the newest, and second most deadly, move in his arsenal!

Richard: He’s gonna kill him! Someone get in there!

Noble pulls the Model Citizen in for what looks like another Piledriver, on the out-friggen-side, but instead flips him up for what’s sure to be a killer…

Nick: JACKKNIFE POWERBOMB! JACKKNIFE POWERBOMB!

The crowd roars in approval.

Crowd: JOHN-NY! JOHN-NY! JOHN-NY! JOHN-NY! JOHN-NY! JOHN-NY! JOHN-NY!

Tsonda, who’s not even moving, can’t be pinned outside, so Mr. Incredible lifts the man up (after some posing for the crowd) over his shoulder and starts toward the ring, but Tsonda has the presence of mind to grab the tights of Noble and give them a yank, Noble instantly cringes and favours his manhood… then tries to relieve the wedgie.

Richard: Clever…

Tsonda goes straight to the ring apron, limping and favouring his back the whole way. Noble is finally up and goes over toward The Viet Viper and receives a steel ladder across the face, and again, and the third time sees the big man stumble back and fall over. He’s probably 12 feet away from the ring when he falls to the ground when Tsonda swings the ladder from the bottom and hits Noble across the chest with the top of it, then sets it up about 8 feet from where Noble is laying on the ground. Tsonda climbs the ladder.

Nick: He’s mad! This is the second time he’s going to risk his very life tonight!

Richard: He’s willing to do anything for the fans!

Nick: For the fans? I doubt it, he’s doing it for himse-- well look, he’s not even doing it! He’s getting back into the ring. Oh no, wait…

Tsonda stands at the ropes nearest the ladder, then runs to the farthest ropes and then back. The Viet Viper leaps up onto the top rope and the springboards 5 feet onto the ladder and rides it all the way down onto the upper torso and face of the legend Johnny Noble. When the ladder crashes both men are down. Again. For the umpteen zillionth time this match. Noble under the ladder and Tsonda beside it.

Crowd: HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT!

More replays while the two come to.

Noble turns the ladder off himself and begins to rise to his feet, the Sultan of Style gives a couple shots to the fallen Noble and then disappears back into the ring where he finds a home in the turnbuckle and recuperates as Noble makes his way back to the ring, still bleeding like a geezer… er, geyser. Tsonda takes his perch atop the turnbuckle and as Noble enters Tsonda dives off the ropes with an Over Castle (Overhead Neckbreaker) but Noble somehow manages to catch him and spins around turning Tsonda’s own momentum into a variation of the--

Nick: OM MY GOD! Johnny Noble just broke out a desperation Incredi-Plex! He’s looking sharp as he ever was!

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

Richard: That blood-thirsty beast just hasn’t had enough! He’s going in for more… animal.

Johnny is first up and grabs up the Sultan of Style by the hair, Whipping him into the corner. Tsonda lurches over the turnbuckle and is handed a chair by Ellie, she signals Chandler when Noble is close enough and Tsonda whips around and hits Noble in the face with the edge of the chair and sends the big man to the canvas.

Nick: Tsonda’s taking every advantage afforded to him!

Richard: Would you expect any less?

The Sultan of Style climbs the turnbuckle and prepares to leap off. But just as he’s getting ready to leap Noble comes in from underneath and lands ANOTHER amazing Powerbomb.

Nick: Sit-Out Powerbomb from Mr. Incredible! This could be it.

Richard: Doesn’t look like it…

The two men are laid out, again, and both men look worse for the wear, but nowhere near ready to give up, after the euphoria-inducing maneuver from Johnny Noble.

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

Tsonda is actually first to his feet, but he needs the ring ropes and still is basically doubled over them, his frame achy all over from Noble’s entire body coming down on him.

Nick: This is the rematch that folks have been salivating over since ReV 100!

Richard: I can actually hear Johnny Noble’s osteoporosis setting in.

Calcium deficiencies be damned, Father Wrestling is clamoring to his feet and the Tampa crowd is downright uproarious about this.

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

And the crowd was planning a fifth massive chant for Johnny, but an outside crescent kick puts Noble back on the mat. Tsonda can barely pull Noble up his arms are so fatigued, but he does his best to position the veteran in the turnbuckle. The crowd is noticeably quieter now that Tsonda is somewhat in control, but all on the edges of their respective seats, should Noble bust out a move.

Nick: Here we may see Tsonda’s size disadvantage actually help him out. He doesn’t have as much muscle to carry around, so he’s more suited to a long match, unless it turns into a slugfest. In that case, Noble’s higher threshold of pain would tide him over.

Richard: Wait…timeout. Isn’t it not a size "disadvantage" then?

Nick: Well, it’s still…I mean, according to size…it’s still-

Richard: Served, homes.

With effort belying his current physical state, Tsonda takes one step back and then charges, like some sort of very attractive humanoid Pamplona bull. Horrible analogies aside, the Viet Viper is cause for some flashbulbs himself as he executes a picture-perfect moonsault kick that puts Noble in a bad way, right in front of the turnbuckle.

There is no hesitation from Tsonda, who hits the ropes and springboards off the second, coming down onto Noble’s chest cavity with a double leg drop. A cringe shows that his back pain hasn’t subsided, yet he scampers onto Noble for a pin attempt that (and I don’t get this part, really…wouldn’t the fans wouldn’t want to shout out random numbers as to confuse the ref or some such tactics since they don’t even want Tsonda to win?) is counted by every fan in the arena.

One…

Two…

Three!NO!

Nick: Each pinfall is getting us progressively closer to the end of the match.

Richard: That passes for play-by-play?

Nick: Would you rather me just complain about what a horrid 5-Star champ Tsonda makes?

Johnny Noble got his shoulder up just a fraction off the mat before the third strike could come down, but he’s still in dire straits, considering the roll Tsonda’s on. The Sultan of Style slaps the mat in frustration, but he knows that he has to stay on the offense to stop the fans from getting behind a Noble comeback. Mr. Incredible tries to get to his feet, but Tsonda drops a double elbow onto his back and forces Noble back to the mat. Again, he tries to rise, but Chandler responds, this time with a falling shoulder block. Normally, this wouldn’t have enough power to put Noble down, but Tsonda’s angle means that he sends his entire body weight into the exposed back and side of Noble.

The 5-Star champ kicks at Johnny a couple of times and then flips him over. He grabs both of Noble’s legs and lifts them up in the air, leaving the area from whence Hayley Noble came, very exposed. In one motion, he crosses his arms with dual middle fingers and drops both knees into the danger zone of Johnny Noble, which elicits a grunt of "UMPH" from every male fan.

Richard: Completely legal.

Nick: That doesn’t make it an honorable way to be fighting. You’d never see Noble pull something like that.

Richard: Like when Noble used that high-angle powerbomb? That could’ve seriously injured Chandler!

Nick: What about when Tsonda CRASHED DOWN ONTO HIM WITH A LADDER?!

Tsonda being completely in control brings a chant from the fans that is not unique, but is still good, clean, American fun.

Crowd: ASS-HOLE! ASS-HOLE ASS-HOLE! ASS-HOLE!

Richard: You know it’s a pay-per-view when you can bust out the unbleeped chants!

Seeing as Noble is incapacitated in the fun region, Tsonda goes to the outside, taking his sweet time for recovery when he can. He looks under the ring and spies a trash can, which he promptly tosses into the ring. However, his eyes go even wider when he spies the Singapore cane. He grabs it, but doesn’t bring it into the ring, instead sliding it over to where Ellie is standing on the outside. She grabs it off the apron.

Nick: I can only imagine what Tsonda’s got planned with this weaponry.

Noble is back on his feet in the ring and the flow on his face has almost stopped at this point. His face is a bloody mess, sure, but the actual flow of blood has slowed somewhat. Noble is waiting for Chandler Tsonda when he slides into the ring (cringing at the pain in his back while doing so) and he hip tosses him towards the corner opposite the trash can.

Richard: Can we get Ken the masseuse out there for him?

Nick: Entourage references? How desperate are you for acceptance with our viewers?

The Model Citizen is on one knee when Noble grabs him from behind in an awkward sleeper hold (given the fact that Noble is much taller). Noble leans in, as to put more stress on Chandler’s back, and it works for a second, but this quickly allows Tsonda to slip around the back and pull Noble down for a crucifix pin attempt.

One…

Two…

NO!

Nick: Johnny Noble is sternly refusing to lower himself to Tsonda’s level and cheat, but at what point will it become necessary for survival in this match?

Richard: Why did the dinosaurs become extinct, Nick? The same reason Noble’s going to lose.

Nick: He’s going to be hit by a large comet and/or the ensuing dust cloud will stop all photosynthesis on the planet, thus depriving him of his leafy diet?

Richard: Not quite what I was going for, but I like the imagery, so we’ll just stick with your answer.

Both men are up quicker than they’ve been in a while and the crowd begins to get back into it hardcore. Noble reaches out with a strong right, but Tsonda ducks. Tsonda extends his left foot for strong kick up at Noble’s jaw, but it’s blocked and Noble pushes Tsonda’s leg, so the Viet Viper spins in place. As he spins back around, Noble tries to grab him for a suplex, but Tsonda spins out with a hammerlock. However, Noble responds by pulling Tsonda up from behind him with one arm, setting him up on the shoulder and then planting him straight down into the ring!

Nick: What an exchange and now the match may be over!

Richard: He…he doesn’t even know how to spell Over-the-Shoulder Belly to Belly Sit-Out Piledriver, no less do it! He’s supposed to be old school! All crappy power moves that everyone no-sells because they’re used four hundred times in a common match!

Nick: It looks like the old dog learned some new tricks to take down Tsonda!

One…

Two…

Richard: Applesauce, bitch!

No, we have not changed our numeric system. Richard’s response, however bizarre, is to Eleanor Kannon-Hall having entered the ring. Not just entered however; entered and thwacked Johnny Noble on the back with a Singapore cane, causing him to release his pin attempt. He rolls over and yells out in pain, then looks up at the culprit and his nostrils flare as he sees Ellie in the ring. For once, the Prep Princess is scared of Johnny Noble, who climbs to his feet and looks as though he might Incrediplex her. The crowd, although they don’t seem like the type to be pro-domestic violence, begins a mega-pop at the thought of Ellie getting hers.

Richard: You’re just angry right now because Hayley’s a walking sperm bank. Don’t you do it, Noble!

He grabs the Singapore cane out of Ellie’s hands and tosses it back towards the middle of the ring, while getting in her face and pointing to the apron, clearly pointing out that she better hit the road if she wants to keep breathing. Gulping, Ellie snarls and steps on Noble’s foot, imagining that this will give her ample getaway time. However, Noble looks down incredulously and then grabs Ellie by the scruff of the neck, in a completely non-abusive way, for all you sponsors.

Nick: I don’t get it. It’s against every principle Noble’s got to put his hands on Ellie.

Richard: Maybe he’s snapped just like Lisieux. Ellie, my sweet, for your sake I hope not!

Releasing Ellie, he points down to Tsonda and makes the motion of snapping something over his knee. His finger would indicate that this is a symbol for the 5-Star Champ’s back.

Nick: Scared Straight ’06! He’s telling Ellie what he’s going to do to Tsonda if she tries to butt in again.

Ellie, having thoughtfully considered what’s been placed in front of her, opts for the mature, adult move: she sticks her tongue out at Noble. Of course, this leads Noble to lean down towards Tsonda, while still looking at Ellie. And this stops him from noticing Tsonda crawling towards the controversial cane. He shakes his head free of the cobwebs and, even without full balance, sort of lurches forward, slamming down the Singapore cane on the balding dome of Johnny Noble.
Nick: What?! No! This can’t be!

Richard: Show’s over, folks. Get your concessions and prepare for the next match.

Johnny Noble, one of the most adored wrestlers in PRIME, topples to the ring, like a corpse. He lies motionless on the mat as Ellie cackles horridly and Tsonda wipes his brow of the liberal amounts of sweat.

Nick: (dejected) He…he may be out cold.

Unsurprisingly, Chandler Tsonda isn’t happy with just winning. He wants the complete and utter humiliation of Johnny Noble. So he climbs the turnbuckle, as the crowd is basically silent. Tsonda stands on the second rope, the picture of sadistic joy. He again crosses his arms at the wrist and throws up two birds for the crowd. Realizing that there is no point in responding to the childish actions of Chandler Tsonda, a small section of the crowd begins to chant for Noble, despite the fact that he is out cold.

Richard: How nice. One last shout-out for Noble as he takes the biggest loss of his career.

And a strange thing happens as Chandler Tsonda perches on the top turnbuckle. He faces the crowd and, in almost predetermined fashion, they all rise to their feet. They know that Tsonda’s finishing maneuver is a foregone conclusion, but they want to support the man who has struggled for so long through the sea of B.S. placed at his feet by Chandler Tsonda.

Nick: I don’t know that I’ve ever seen this kind of response.

The 5-Star Tsar (copyright infringement be damned!) is just as confused, but still needs to seize the opportunity. Because PRIME has the budget that they do, the arching backflip is recorded in slow motion, with a couple flashbulbs to boot, and then immediately brought back into live motion as Tsonda slams down onto Noble’s chest, flecked with spots of blood.

Richard: BOOYAKASHA! DONE! FINITO!

Knowing he has just done in his biggest rival, Tsonda hooks the leg, trying to ignore the upwelling of noise from the fans. The crowd does not count along, they do not gasp in anticipation, they do no pass go nor do they collect two hundred dollars. They just chant one name over and over, giving goose bumps to many in attendance.

Crowd: JOH-NNY! JOH-NNY! JOH-NNY! JOH-NNY!

One…

Crowd: JOH-NNY! JOH-NNY! JOH-NNY! JOH-NNY!

Two…

Crowd: JOH-NNY! JOH-NNY! JOH-NNY! JOH-NNY!

…

…

Three.

But the fans keep their chant going. You know why? BECAUSE HE MOTHERFUCKING GOT THE SHOULDER UP, THAT’S FUCKIN’ WHY.

Richard: WHAT?!

Nick: Good Lord! Johnny Noble’s still got somethin’ left! Listen to the crowd here at PRIME’s biggest night ever: the ring is damn near vibrating from the buzz!

The nonexistent roof of the Raymond James Gazebo O’ Love is blown off into orbit. The crowd’s reaction is similar to that of a team that has just scored three runs to tie the game in the bottom of the ninth. Fists are waved wildly and the cheers get louder for that slight spark of life.

Meanwhile, in the ring Chandler Tsonda is straight flummoxed. He blinks dozens of times, stuck in a nightmare that’s played through his head so many times: he’s got Noble right where he wants him, but he won’t go down and the crowd has got his back and Noble is just about to get the inch he needs for a miracle comeback…

But it can’t happen, the 5-Star Champ thinks. He just has to cover this leak and the ship is still in good enough shape to keep sailing, to keep this win in the bag. With Noble still basically motionless, Tsonda puts all of his bodily momentum into a dead-drop elbow that lands in Noble’s midsection. It brings an "oof!" from Noble, but no other movement. Tsonda tries against to put him away.

One…

Two…

ThreNOPE! Shoulder up!

Richard: But…you’re…WHAT?!

Another ecstatic response and now the consistent buzz is getting louder. They’re thinking like Red Sox fans; if they can keep fending off the loss, they’re bound to find a position to win. There’s still very little life from Noble, but his steroids aren’t found in vials or Floyd Landis’ cabinet (ZING!); they’re in the cheers of the fans that are quickly growing.

Absolutely seething, Tsonda bounces off the ropes, rolls down into a somersault, then pops up at the end of the roll into a flying squirrel splash. He goes for another pin, clearly being drained mentally by the premise of winning being right in front of him all the time. It’s a snazzy move, but it’s also one out of frustration. Maybe more stomach impact will suck the wind out of Noble’s sails.

One…

Two…

Three! No sir, you may NOT have another! Kickout!

Nick: What a gutsy performance this is! Win or loss, Johnny Noble is more than dedicated enough in the ring to make up for what he doesn’t have in wheels.

It’s strange. It’s almost like the fans are feeding into Noble’s comeback and a kickout means that the old dude is straight feelin’ it. He’s chompin’ at the bit to get back on his feet and no matter how many times Chandler Tsonda tries to pin, he’s gonna need to drain more than that out of Johnny Noble if he wants to take this match.

The Sultan of Style is completely baffled. Everything he has done up to this point has been effective, but only enough to put Noble down for a two. He moves, albeit slowly, over towards the thus far neglected trash can. He’s so gassed that he hunches over it for a moment, trying to regain some breath. It actually takes his two tries to lift the can, given the state of his back and arms.

Nick: Any move involving the arms at this point is basically useless for Tsonda. His workout regiment is much more focused on core muscles…what some of us in the industry would call purely aesthetic muscles.

Richard: That’s real classy, Nick. You can’t think of anything else flawed about him so you insult his workout? What’s next? The color scheme of his pyro isn’t intimidating enough?

Nick: Everyone in PRIME knows that until he ran into Johnny Noble, he hadn’t ever cared about a wrestling match as he did about looking good. Maybe Noble has unintentionally forced Tsonda into a good habit.

The Model Citizen turns with the trashcan, ready to put the finishing touches on his masterpiece of a match. He could not be more surprised to be looking Johnny Noble in the eyes. Or rather, in the chest plate, due to the height difference. The shock is so great that Tsonda gets frozen in his tracks long enough for Noble to rear back, cock his fist, and send a haymaker into the trashcan so powerful that it knocks Tsonda and the can backwards!

Richard: Drat!

Nick: Back in business!

The 5-Star champion is down, his back leaning on the bottom rope, with the trash can resting on his stomach. The angle of his impact was horrible for his back and he’s now clutching at it, ignoring the fact that one Jonathan Danger Noble is on the warpath again. And oh yes, those masses of people attending the event? They seem to be somewhat impressed.

Crowd: JOH-NNY! JOH-NNY! JOH-NNY! JOH-NNY!

The cleanest of clean fighters, Noble heaves the trash can aside and tosses Tsonda hard into the turnbuckle. Having not regained balance at any point, the shove sends Tsonda into the turnbuckle awkwardly, his shoulder impacting right on the metal of the post. And without enough energy to extricate himself, Tsonda is a sitting duck for Johnny Noble. Father Wrestling lifts Tsonda from behind with surprising ease up onto his shoulders. The only way Tsonda can think of fighting off this attack is to sway from side to side, but Noble gets a good grip on his legs and falls backwards, really giving the ring supports a run for their money with an electric chair drop!

Nick: That was not the move Tsonda needed for his back.

Richard: Can we get a timeout? Please?

On the heels of his sweet offensive roll, Noble rolls onto Tsonda and puts one hand up in the air, calling for the arena to count with him. He uses his bulk to try and press Tsonda as far down into the mat as possible, hoping to keep the nimble Tsonda down.

One…

Two…

Three! No!

Nick: So damn close!

The crowd issues a massive "aww!" at the near fall by Noble and Tsonda quickly slides out of the ring, into the waiting arms of Ellie. The boos come in loud and clear as the Viet Viper tries to recuperate with the help of his "warrior maiden." Johnny Noble doesn’t bother with any "get over here" hand motions or flexing in the ring. He goes right out after Tsonda.

The 5-Star Tsar is sent running, with Noble in hot pursuit. Knowing that he can’t outrun Noble for long, Tsonda ducks back into the ring and scampers over towards the trash can. Noble is blind to this, as he’s sliding into the ring. But Tsonda’s quickness has not failed him and, in a move that would make RVD proud, he tosses the can at Noble, who’s first reaction is, of course, to catch it. As the can leaves his hands, he’s already running at the ropes, and as the can hits Noble’s hands, Tsonda is there with a springboard dropkick.

Richard: Whoa! He’s like David Copperfield…only sexier.

Both men are once again down for the count, but in this No Holds Barred contest, the referee has given up any chance of letting this end on a double count-out. As such, there is only the noise of the crowd as the two men crawl to opposite turnbuckles, now desperately needing the solid metal to help them rise.

Nick: I don’t care what you have to say about either man…this is a match worthy of its massive stage here at Colossus. There, I said it.

Richard: And we’ve all learned a valuable lesson, Nick. That being, that you’re a huge fairy.

Crowd: JOH-NNY! JOH-NNY! JOH-NNY! JOH-NNY!

There is a great deal of fatigue on the part of both men and both know that any misstep at this point in the match could mean a quick capitalization by their opponent and a loss that will haunt them for the rest of their career. And with that knowledge, they still head to the middle of the ring and lock up for what may be the last time.

One would think that Noble would immediately take over, but Tsonda’s agility is nary unrivaled in PRIME; he head fakes, sidesteps, and then pulls Noble to the mat with a facecrusher. At this point, adrenaline has cancelled out the physical pain of such a move, so the only advantage is that it takes Noble longer to get up. And Tsonda takes advantage of this, with a spinning heel kick that catches Noble right in the face as he tries to get to his feet.

Nick: Good God! That’s another blow that could’ve knocked him out cold!

Richard: I know! Put on Murder, She Wrote. That knocks my mother-in-law out within seconds.

Johnny Noble looks up and his face is a rosy mess. The kick has unleashed the flow of blood and it is not trickling down his face, it is liberally exiting, like the cool place for all the little blood rivulets is the visage of Johnny Noble. Yes, I know; this description is just going downhill in quality. But from beneath his red mask, Noble roars and beats his chest. It’s another goose bump moment for the crowd. Hairs stand up and hundreds of flashbulbs go off to capture that picture of passion; a man with everything to lose continuing the fight, despite his bloodied state.

Nick: Haven’t you noticed that the writer has done a great job of not using the clichéd "crimson" reference to the blood?

Richard: My, he’s quite talented.

Standing tall, Noble throws a right and then another and then another and each blow forces Tsonda one step back. He’s blocking the shots, but his arms are tired and after the first three shots, the blows are glancing off his arms and straight into his face. Noble is throwing hands so quickly that specks of blood are jumping from his face onto Tsonda’s chest and face.

PRIME’s elder tosses Tsonda at the ropes and the Model Citizen’s legs allow him to duck the first attempted lariat, but he’s no longer got enough gas to duck under the Big Boot on the way back. He catches it right on the kisser and he drops like a ton of something that is not bricks, because a ton is a ton and therefore will drop at the same rate no matter the substance.
Crowd: JOH-NNY! JOH-NNY! JOH-NNY! JOH-NNY!

They can see it, feel it, and smell it. Victory is just one big maneuver away for Johnny Noble. From underneath the flow of blood, the look is pure uncut determination. Chandler Tsonda hops up and throws a wild punch, but Noble catches his fist, rotates his body, and then lifts Tsonda up viciously with a shoulder breaker.

Nick: My shoulder hurts just watching that!

The 5-Star champ doesn’t fall, but he’s in such pain that he moves to the ropes, shrieking about a dislocation. The referee goes to check on his shoulder and Tsonda comes dangerously close to backhanding him for even trying. Holding his right arm, the Sultan of Style grits his teeth and runs at Johnny Noble, but at this point, despite the blood, Noble is in better shape, and he’s able to easily pull off a powerslam right into a pin.

One…

Two...

Three!

The referee shakes his head, but his hand is just a micrometer off the mat; it may as well have just hit. Still, the last micrometer is the most important one, so that means no win just yet for Noble.

Richard: Chandler, clear your chi!

Father Wrestling pulls Tsonda back to his feet and pulls out the infamous toe kick. With Tsonda hunched over, Noble lets loose the most furious of battle cries. He reaches down to execute the most incredible suplex in the game…

The crowd is shocked. Noble is shocked. Tsonda even looks shocked that the shot of hairspray has affected Noble; there is a Kryptonite, after all. The boos rain in as Noble tries to stand his ground, but is forced to claw at his eyes due to the stinging liquid.

Richard: You tard! You smell that? It smells like victory mixed with Pantene Pro V!

Through the combined blood and hairspray, Noble throws a punch that catches Tsonda off-balance and sends him stumbling the other way. Knowing he has to finish it now, Noble grabs him and lifts him up for the Incrediplex. The entire arena holds their breath, knowing they are seconds away from the demise of Chandler Tsonda and the new reign of Johnny Noble.

Mr. Incredible, though, is affected by the concoction in his eyes. Tsonda sees an opportunity and takes it, slipping out of the move and pulling Noble to the mat with a falling implant DDT!

Nick: The momentum of this match has changed entirely. Tsonda is back in control, but can he do what’s necessary to finally put Noble down?

As quick to his feet as he can be, Tsonda pulls the groggy, bloodied Noble to his feet. In a second’s time, he grabs Noble’s head, goes up the turnbuckle, and brings him crashing down with his own patented Diamond Dust!

Nick: Runway Vault! The crowd is severely quieter now; they’ve been stunned by Tsonda, really.

Richard: Shouldn’t be. He’s a good kid, that one.

And just as quick as he was up last time, Tsonda’s up faster this time, with the end in sight. He jumps to the top turnbuckle, and then bounces right off backwards with a much sloppier moonsault than before, but one with the same impact. As he hits the mat, the crowd goes deathly silent. The only question is whether he can muster up the energy to cover.

Nick: Tsonda’s out of position to make the pin! Noble might have a shot!

Richard: Doubt it, broheim.

Crowd: JOH-NNY! JOH-NNY! JOH-NNY! JOH-NNY!

Knowing they can save Noble from this predicament, the cheers for Noble start up once again, with Tsonda crawling towards his challenger. He throws his non-hurt arm over Noble’s frame and just hopes for the best.

One…



Two…




Gasp.





Three!

Winner: Chandler Tsonda

The crowd immediately deflates as "The Worm" by Audioslave hits and Tsonda’s voice can actually be heard as he lets loose a horrid banshee-esque victory cry. Vince Howard nods to the fallen Tsonda and drops the title belt into the still-champion’s arms. Chandler cradles the title like a baby in his arms and immediately rolls out of the ring, but then needs the apron for support. Ellie reaches his side, helping him stand.

Nick: Well…that wasn’t the desired result, but the match was just what a 5-Star match at Colossus should be.

Richard: Yeah, but the orange guy didn’t win. That’s what’s important. Praise Hoyt.

With Ellie to help him, the 5-Star Champion makes his escape, while Noble is just coming to in the ring. He looks up at the fleeing Tsonda. And the crowd begins to cheer for Noble anyway as he reaches his feet and drapes himself over the top rope. He returns a faint smile, but due to exhaustion and disappointment, he can’t offer them a full Noble response.

Nick: We can’t forget to acknowledge Johnny Noble’s great effort and we can’t forget that we still have to decide the Universal Title, as well as finally decide things between Ignatius Lisieux and Karina Wolfenden.

Four years ago… He ruined the moment of Immortality.

A scene plays of grainy video in what appears to be a bingo hall or high school gymnasium. Killean takes to the dirty old ring and spears Tchu, knocking over a championship belt that rests on a nearby table.

Eleven Months Ago he re-emerged looking for revenge

Footage plays of Tchu smashing Killean’s skull with a steel chair, shattering the patented red glasses of The Supreme Machine.

He was brought into the world of wrestling to dispose of The Inhuman Being and return immortality to its rightful owner

A shot of Killean, standing in a spotlight in a dark room, the shadow of the massive Sephiroth behind him.

He was the man in possession of immortality. He is the man craving revenge for the assault he faced years ago

A shot of Tchu, drenched in sweat, fists taped, splattered with blood.

Four years of anger and aggression will explode in one match for the century

Various footage is played of Tchu and Killean. Shots of Killean attacking Tchu with his trademark baseball bat, Tchu standing over a fallen Supreme Machine. Sirrajin suplexing Tchu through a table, draping the Anti-PRIME heavyweight title over his face.

Four years have come to this. Things are Coming Undone…

Korn’s "Coming Undone" begins to play over shots of the carnage spread between the two… then the screen goes dark, and in simple white letters, one word appears…

Tonight

As "Coming Undone" fades out in the area, Killean Sirrajin is trying not to come undone as he paces back and forth in the dressing room contained in his skybox. He is wearing his old traditional leather trench coat open, the bottoms slapping against his legs as he paces. He mumbles to himself…

Killean Sirrajin: Four years… four fuckin’ years… we’re gonna die out there tonight…

As he continues his pacing, he throws his head back, looking at the roof through his red sunglasses. Hopefully, this would be the only time tonight he would be seeing red in his vision.

Probably not.

As he continued to pace back and forth, about ready to jump out of his skin, Charity opens the door but she is not alone.

Ladies and gentlemen, presenting for the first time on TeeVee anywhere, the young eleven month old daughter of Killean Sirrajin…

… Desiree Lisa Ria Sirrajin.

Killean stopped his pacing and as he locked his eyes on his beautiful little girl, he smiled brightly and sighed, losing himself in Dizzy’s bright blue eyes. The little Sirrajin smiled just as bright, throwing her arms forward and repeatedly closing and opening her hands. It was the universal sign that she wanted her daddy. Killean held his arms out and took his daughter from the equally loving arms of the beautiful Charity Manale. Killean looks again at his daughter and then brings her close for a hug.

Killean Sirrajin: You make all my problems go away Dizzy…

He may be a heartless human being in the wrestling world, but there was no denying his love and compassion for his daughter. She was the only thing that mattered to him at that exact second.

As Charity walked by, something fell out of her coat pocket. Killean looked at it and bent down to pick it up.

Killean Sirrajin: A plane ticket to Toronto?

Charity spins and feels her pocket, sighing when she sees the ticket in Killean’s hand. Desiree was busy playing with Killean’s sunglasses as Charity removed the ticket from his hand.

Charity Manale: That’s right, after the show I’m flying up to Toronto with Desiree to see my parents in Waterloo.

Killean was stunned. He knew nothing of these arrangements.

Charity Manale: You look surprised…

The Supreme Machine nodded in response. Desiree was still playing with his sunglasses in her little hands.

Charity Manale: I refuse to sit here and watch you and Matthew decimate each other. I’m certainly not letting Desiree witness the violence that will erupt from the ring tonight. Perhaps Mary had it right…

Killean kisses Desiree as Charity reaches out to take the little girl. Desiree takes the red sunglasses with her in her hand. Killean reaches out and instead of taking the glasses back, he puts them on Desiree. The glasses look like large clown glasses in comparison to her small face. She laughs.

Charity Manale: … maybe it’s not all worth the pain and suffering.

Killean stood shocked as Charity kissed him on the cheek, not doing something she had always done before every match Killean was involved in.

She didn’t wish him luck.

Charity walked out of the small dressing room and into the skybox, closing the door. Killean stood befuddled. Charity was sick of all the beatings, all the insults and everything else Killean and Tchu fired at each other. Now, much like Mary Ward, she just wanted the violence to end once and for all.

Killean wanted to end the violence, but it would take more violence to end it.

He roared out in animalistic fashion and slammed his fists into the door. He then opened it, moving out into the skybox. The crowd in the skybox turned to see Killean walking to the door that lead to the hallway. There was a buzz from the crowd, drawing attention from the fans seated with a view into the skybox. Then the big screens in the stadium showed the image of Killean staring at the ground, proceeding to open the door with such authority that the door knob crashes through the drywall. There was a large buzz in the stadium now, not only for the Ignatius Lisieux and Karina Wolfenden match…

The Champ was ready to go…

Four years in the making…

Surely the challenger was ready too.

We enter to a camera-shot of the topped-and-tailed Nick Stuart and Richard Parker, who are sitting on the edge of their seats at the broadcast booth at ringside, Nick welcomes us back with a trademark warm smile as Richard merely rolls his eyes upon seeing the camera take up a resting spot directly in front of him… Nick raises his right hand to cut Richard off, before delivering his formal re-introduction:

Nick: Folks, welcome back to Colossus III and boy-oh-boy what a night we have had so far… but, ladies and gentlemen, things aren’t done here in Tampa Bay, Florida… not by a long shot!

Richard: He’s right, hicks and hickesses, because tonight we still need to Killean Sirrajin humble and humiliate the "Inhuman Being" and next we get to see Karina Wolfenden strip Ignatius Lisieux of his beloved "Hall of Fame Championship" and drive him out of PRIME in the process!

Nick: Heaven, Hoyt and Jesus forbid… as my less-than-esteemed broadcast colleague alluded to just a moment ago, next up is the match that has been on the cards ever since Karina Wolfenden ripped dominantly through the PRIME roster almost two years ago to stake her claim as the best this company has ever seen-

Richard: -after Ian English, Hoyt Williams and Killean Sirrajin, of course… but nevertheless, almost two years ago Karina Wolfenden entered PRIME and took the place by storm – no mean feat for someone who’s real place is in the kitchen, making pies for the men-folk…

Nick: Indeed. These two amazing athletes both claim to be the best PRIME Superstar ever to have walked the grand halls of this fantastic company and they first met on a cold night in Tokyo, Japan… way back in February of this year…

Attentions turn away from the broadcast booth and towards the multiple PRIME-a-TRON’s located around the Raymond James Stadium as the scene is plunged into total darkness… Alkaline Trio guitar echoes around the huge battleground as "Burn" begins in earnest on the PA system…

# "There’s a lightning storm, each and every night…" #

A still shot of Ignatius Lisieux and Karina Wolfenden’s first contact flashes onto the screens, as inside of the Dual Halo they spin to face one another, Karina coiled to strike. Time, on the video package at least, slows down severely as the camera shot spins three-sixty degrees around the two legends and the scene fades into black-and-white.

"Seeing Karina Wolfenden and Ignatius Lisieux fighting side by side is like watching two different generations of PRIME come together! Listen to the fans!"

# "Crashing inside you, like motorbikes…" #

It rolls into action once more to show Karina spinning away from Lisieux to drill a boot into the rib-section of Chet Worth as the French-Canadian looks on at the "K-Wolf" with an impressed grin… the smile is frozen in time as once again the screen is drained of all colour.

# "We toss and turn, sleep so loud…" #

Their second in-Halo meeting now flashes onto the screen as a decidedly more eager-looking Wolfenden limbers up in front of the still-grinning "MachiaVellian Protagonist"… the shot slows down into a black-and-white still once more until it charges up again to show Kenjiro Ito and Hoyt Williams knocking the two off each other’s radar again.

# "Grind the teeth in our… our empty mouths - (are empty.)" #

The famous back-bump sequence now rolls on the big screens as even the Tampa Bay fans pop for the moment where Lisieux and Wolfenden back into each other and then spin like assassins to face each other in the centre of Dual Halo A. Both warriors are drained of colour and frozen once again as the Alkaline Trio continue to play and Nick Stuart’s words echo out throughout the stadium…

"Are Karina and Lisieux about to come to blows!?"

# "There’s a forest fire, burning bright…" #

The scene remains frozen until the next line of the song, where it is quickly played-out to show the French-Canadian backing away from striking the "Negasonic Lupine" due to his belief that he should never hit a woman: not even in the middle of a wrestling ring. Karina’ immortal line then echoes out through Tampa Bay, drawing a pop from her hardcore followers…

"You've got five seconds to start this before my knee meets your face..."

# "Spreading quickly towards our last rites…" #

The battle-ready Karina is paused right after deliverance until the scene speeds up to show Ignatius Lisieux spinning away from her in order to avoid any conflict, a close-up shot of Wolfenden’s narrowed eyes is our next black-and-white focal point…

# "Nowhere to run, pointless to hide…" #

…Tampa Bay jeers it’s heart out as the video montage show Karina running at Ignatius from behind and delivering two famed snap-kicks into his lower back, sending him scrambling into the corner where she dives towards him with a knee-strike. Frozen in mid-air, Matrix style, the camera again rotates around the flying "K-Wolf", but rests it’s gaze on the shocked expression that adorns the French-Canadians face…

# "Just lay there and scream, pretending to try… pretending..." #

Fast-forward ten minutes in the Halo to Karina Wolfenden firing another unprovoked right boot into the face of the "Eternal Sunrise" as the "K-Wolf" desperately tries to goad him into facing up to her like a man… the zoom now rests upon Ignatius’ narrowed eyes, allowing you to almost see the inner battle he’s facing as he tries to resist Kari’s taunts.

"I'm not sure exactly what to make of this? Does Karina Wolfenden feel is necessary to square up with one of PRIME's more decorated past superstars? Is that it?"

The music briefly dies for a moment as another iconic image of Ignatius Lisieux and Karina Wolfenden from Dual Halo Three is etched onto the big screens, amidst pure darkness Richard Parker’s words bellow out:

"That's right! Suck it up Lisieux, because if you want to win this match, you're going to have to hit a girl!"

Another close-up of Wolfenden shoots onto the screen and quickly a shot of Lisieux follows, before his immortal words echo out repeatedly throughout the Raymond James Stadium…

"I don’t want to fight you."

*WHOOSH*

A massive eruption of fire ignites all around the ringside area, the stage and the entrance ramp, shocking the Tampa Bay PRIMEates into absolute silence as The Alkaline Trio pierce through the night with their feud-defining lyrics…

# "Intending to burn, pretending to fight it…" #

"GOOD GOD ALMIGHTY! C4!"

# "Everyone learns faster on fire, things took a turn…" #

Karina Wolfenden drives the French-Canadian into the mat with her patented finishing move…

# "Lost all desire, you live and you burn…" #

"If Ignatius Lisieux wasn't crippled enough already, that move should put him out of commission until two-thousand-and-eight!"

Both legs are hooked as Ignatius Lisieux is eliminated from the Dual Halo and resigned to his second sixth-place finish in two Culture Shock appearances: all thanks to Karina Wolfenden.

# "You live and you burn…" #

Another burst of fire shakes the Raymond James Stadium to its very core as the video package fades out, along with the Alkaline Trio, and our picture is returned to the ringside announce table…

Nick: That is where this one all started, folks, when Karina Wolfenden eliminated Ignatius Lisieux from Dual Halo Three she set the tone for the past six months in PRIME Wrestling. Since that date, Ignatius Lisieux has tried to reason with the "K-Wolf", he has tried to avoid her, but still she has pushed his buttons…

Richard: …And look, she has got exactly what she wanted… Karina Wolfenden versus Ignatius Lisieux on the biggest show of them all, on perhaps the biggest show in PRIME’s history… and Nick, I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that despite the lack of the Universal Title in this match – which was a possibility if Killean Sirrajin wasn’t so god-damn amazing – this contest could well be the biggest bout this company has ever seen.

Nick: I’m not sure many would disagree, Richard, together Karina and Ignatius have more wins than anyone else on the PRIME roster, past or present and have accomplished things that many could only dream of… it is this reputation for both that has led them here today, along with some other things along the way…

We’re back on the multiple screens once more as "The War" by Angels and Airwaves begins it’s slow, yet incredible, introduction… Various shots of the two PRIME legends flash through the screen; they are both shown capturing the Universal Title and celebrating thereafter before the brain-scrambling power-chords rumble throughout the stadium, grabbing everyone’s attention…

Action shots of the two competitors fade in and out of the scene, C4’s are hit, Sunset Legacy’s are hit, and all of the trademark moves of the two are displayed to mammoth reactions from the Floridian crowd before Tom Delonge’s lyrics enter the fray…

# "Why won’t you tell me, that it’s almost over!?" #

A lull in the ear-busting music sees Karina Wolfenden and Ignatius Lisieux backstage on ReVolution Ninety, their first conversation ever in PRIME came one week after the Dual Halo…

"I guess you didn't notice the fact that I was pretty much desperate not to fight you?"

"Yeah, that wasn't patronising much. How'd that tactic work out, by the way?"

# "Why must this tear my head inside out!?" #

Fast forward a few moments to the two staring each other down as Karina delivers the famous question…

"Tell me, Iggy… are you worth it?"

# "Believe… do you want this? #

ReVolution Ninety-One: the bee incident in Karina Wolfenden’s dressing room, when Ignatius Lisieux appeared to check on the "K-Wolf"…

"What the hell just happened in there? Are you alright?"

…Only to be greeted with nothingness…

"The sad thing is that if you had been stung, how many people in PRIME would have actually cared?"

And then we finally saw the French-Canadian deliver something of a fight-back…

"If that silence is meant to equal zero, then congrats... you've at least got some grip on reality left."

The camera shot fizzes around Ignatius’ expression and then switches to the petrified Karina Wolfenden, the "MVP" had struck his first blow…

# "Believe… do I want this, too? #

Images flash onto the screen of the Karina Wolfenden, Tchu and Ignatius Lisieux team that were victorious on ReVolution Ninety-Five and then to ReVolution Ninety-Eight where Karina overhears Adam and Ignatius Lisieux talking about Hayley Noble…

"You think she heard anything!?"

"Didn’t seem like it… plus – she’d surely never stoop that low, even if she did…"

# "Why won’t you tell me, that it’s almost over!?" #

On ReVolution Ninety-Nine, Karina outs Ignatius to Johnny Noble about Hayley and later prevents Tchu from making the save as Ignatius Lisieux is battered by Clint Poteet and Killean Sirrajin, slow-motion captures of him being thrown from the skybox shock the Tampa Bay crowd into near-silence…

"WOLFENDEN!? Karina Wolfenden just sold Ignatius Lisieux down the river!!"

ReVolution One-Hundred brings defeats for both Wolfenden and Lisieux, to Tchu and Sirrajin respectively, meaning that they will not Main Event Colossus Three…

"A huge victory for Tchu! He’s done it again! What a colossal victory for The Anti-PRIME!"

"Here is your winner… and STILL PRIME Universal Champion… KILLEAN… SIRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAJINNNNNNNNNN!!!"

# "Why must this tear my head inside out!?" #

ReVolution One-oh-One sees Ignatius Lisieux in the hospital receiving a message from Chet Worth…

"Dearest Iggy, please quit being such a bitch and getting hospitalised after every big match you have… You’re a whole lot better than that. Love, Chet."

While Tchu gives Kari some advice…

"I got my win, and now I'm looking into PRIME's future. And, if you ask me, it looks like you need to finally fight your battle against PRIME's past if you want to join me there."

# "Why won’t you tell me, that it’s almost over!?" #

The ReVolution One-Hundred contract debacle is then disclosed to the French-Canadian on ReVolution One-oh-Two and Ignatius Lisieux immediately confronts Karina Wolfenden about it, almost finally giving in to her wishes and striking her…

"You realise you're doing it all wrong, don't you? It generally works better when the palm hits the cheek. It's, y'know, kinda the point."

# "Why must this tear my head inside out!?" #

Then just last week on ReVolution One-oh-Three Karina Wolfenden finally finds the red button and presses it as hard as she possibly can as she goes to Chet Worth to blackball the "MVP" out of his position in the company… Worth’s defining words echo around the stadium, drawing fearful hisses from the PRIMEates in attendance:

"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."

When Ignatius Lisieux sees it, he snaps, and attacks his closest friend…

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

Those words echo out over and over again as the music stops dead, Karina Wolfenden and Ignatius Lisieux are placed head-on together on the screens, with the Hall of Fame Title in between them to a rapturous burst of cheering and applause from the Raymond James Stadium, before all attention turns to the primed-and-ready ring announcer in the middle of the squared-circle…

Vince Howard: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE FOLLOWING CONTEST IS SCHEDULED FOR ONE FALL… AND IS FOR THE UNSANCTIONED PRIME "HALL OF FAME CHAMPIONSHIP"!

Nick: What a pair of video packages… what an epic feud, what a rivalry… just listen to this reaction for these two behemoths of PRIME from the fans inside of the Raymond James Stadium… "Hall of Fame Championship" on the line as Karina Wolfenden and Ignatius Lisieux meet in singles competition, PRIME’s present versus PRIME’s past… are you ready, Richard?

Despite already screaming their lungs out for almost three hours, not a single PRIME fan in the Floridian crowd has lost a decibel. Under the late-evening sky, they again surge up, popping simply with anticipation and for the match announcement as the unfamiliar strings of Barber's "Adagio" sweep throughout the stadium. One by one, the lights are shut off, the immense black-out following a path from the rig above the ring to the entrance.

Richard: Oh I’m ready alright; I’m ready to see Ignatius Lisieux crash and burn for the second major PRIME event in a row, something that has probably never happened for as long as he has infested this company with his French-Canadian-ness…

Vince Howard: …INTRODUCING FIRST… THE CHALLENGER…

Through the pitch-black come cheers, chants, and whistles - the PRIME fans not losing any of their passion along with their illumination.

Nick: Karina Wolfenden going to be out here first and it’s going to be incredibly interesting to see what kind of a reaction she gets here in Tampa Bay, after months of goading Ignatius Lisieux, after months of disrespecting the legacy of PRIME…

Vince Howard: …FROM ALBANY, NEW YORK…

Richard: …they’d better give her the respect she deserves… despite being a member of the inferior sex she has won more matches than anyone else on this whole roster!

Playing with the crowd, the black-out drags to over the thirty-second mark; only heightening expectation rather than breeding frustration. Then, a heavenly beam of bleaching white light burns down onto the stage. Standing, head-bowed in the intense light is Karina Wolfenden, hair illuminated platinum, and decked out in all white…

Nick: Oh now, would you just take a look at the little angel there in the pure colours!?

Vince Howard: …AND WEIGHING IN AT ONE-HUNDRED-SIXTY-ONE POUNDS…

Richard: What the hell are you trying to imply there, Nick?

Nick: Nothing, nothing at all… I’d just say she’s more "Deville" than angel, is all.

Her reaction, as expected, is totally split - her die-hard supporters just doing enough to hold their own against the largely superior numbers of the Ignatius Lisieux camp.

"KA-RI-NA! KA-RI-NA! KA-RI-NA!"

Nick: Well there’s the answer I was looking for… I’d say we have an eighty-twenty split here in favour of the French-Canadian, but the Karina support is still being heard through the masses of the seventy-five-thousand here in the Bay.

The numerous video screens around the stadium flicker back into life, each showing calming scenes of heavenly clouds floating atop bright-blue skies.

Vince Howard: …PRIME’S WRESTLER OF THE YEAR AND THE WINNER OF DUAL HALO FOR TWO-THOUSAND-FIVE…

Nick: Undoubtedly PRIME’s star asset since joining in late oh-four, undoubtedly the greatest female competitor PRIME has ever seen… perhaps even the greatest competitor, period, that PRIME has seen…

Against the serene backdrop and soothing strings, Kari drops down to both knees, hands held in prayer as she bows her head forwards.

Nick: …more wins than anyone else, as many accolades as anyone else, more epic matches than anyone else, Karina Wolfenden is a PRIME staple, a PRIME legend… if she wins tonight she becomes a PRIME Hall of Famer…

Vince Howard: …SHE IS A FORMER UNIVERSAL, TAG-TEAM AND ALIAS CHAMPION…

And then: Armageddon!

*BO-BO-BO-BO-BO-BO-BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!*

Richard: ARGH! HOLY SHI…

From the skies, the stage is bombarded, setting off deafening explosions all around the praying "K-Wolf". Into the blinding light of the pyrotechnic onslaught, more ammo whistles down from the lighting rigs, setting off a chain reaction all the way up the PRIME-a-TRON which again detonates with a display to wake up anyone within a twenty-mile radius.

Richard: NICK! HOLD ME!!

Nick: Get the hell off me, you sick freak!

Explosions erupt from explosions, rapturous bangs cut off by louder eruptions. The PRIMEates are stunned, Vince Howard is almost yelling down his microphone to be heard amidst the din.

Vince Howard: …THE "K-WOLF" …

On the video screens, the sky is now on fire.

Nick: What a visual… the Raymond James stadium is bathed in the orange-red glow of a burning sky, the PRIMEates are dumbstruck by this magisterial display, silence rules the day!

Then, as every fan on the entrance side of the stadium has to cover their ears, rocket after rocket shoots up behind the stage, painting the sky red and orange in a display that probably trumps the gross economic output of several countries.

Nick: Oh my!

Vince Howard: …KARRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNAAAAAAAA WOLFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFENNNNNNNNNNDENNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

Regardless of who the display was for, the PRIME fans weren't going to sit on their hands for THAT.

Nick: I hope you can hear me back in your homes, folks, this is as loud as I have heard the Raymond James Stadium all night – the foundations of this structure have shook to their very core as Karina Wolfenden makes her entrance to challenge Ignatius Lisieux for the PRIME "Hall of Fame Championship"…

Richard: Please, in the name of Hoyt, tell me that the fireworks are over with… I think I’ve gone deaf!

Nick: Will you stop shouting down my damn ear!? I can hear you!!

*SUPERCALIFRAGIALISTICWHENWEDROPWEGOBALLISTIC~!*

Long after the explosions cease the smoke lingers - and so do the cheers from the appreciative crowd. Then, striding out of the choking, swirling haze comes Karina Wolfenden... now stripped of the white attire and platinum wig and wearing all black, with her clipped back hair a fierce orange.

Nick: That’s more like it from the "K-Wolf": fiery hair to match the entrance and dressed in all-black, I’ve never seen her looking so full of energy, I cannot believe she can look so confident heading into a match with Lisieux…

Richard: What does she have to fear, seriously? Killean Sirrajin almost finished the French-fry off at the Century show, there’s barely anything of him left for Karina to pummel anymore. I predict a walk in the park for Wolfenden.

Nick: You’ve underestimated Lisieux countless times before, Rich - excuse me if I decide to root against you again here…

Richard: Hey, this wouldn’t be PRIME if we didn’t disagree… boy, Kari looks hot…

Pumped full of adrenaline from her entrance, the "K-Wolf" bounds down the aisle, crackling with pent-up energy as Overseer's "Velocity Shift" begins to pummel the Raymond James Stadium's speakers and resonate around the concrete and timber structure.

Richard: Is this the best entrance music around today, or what?

Nick: It certainly fits the character, that’s for sure… Karina Wolfenden hasn’t beaten anyone outside of Hoyt Williams who we might consider a "PRIME Legend", but tonight she gets her chance… after falling to the likes of Sirrajin, Deville, Youngblood and Tchu… Ignatius Lisieux is the next in line to step into the ring with the "K-Wolf".

After leaping up onto the apron, Kari bounces on the spot, purely kinetic. Grabbing the top rope, her gloved hands yank it back, and then she rides the springboard onto the cable

Richard: Whoa!

Nick: Tremendous athleticism displayed by the New Yorker, that’s going to be a key feature of this contest… Karina has the advantage these days where speed and agility are concerned, but Ignatius Lisieux will be looking to get her onto the mat and into some technical situations, where he most definitely will take the upper-hand.

Balancing on tip-toes on the strand of plastic coated cable, the "K-Wolf" surveys the crowd that her actions over the past couple of months have split, before hopping off and into the ring, still loosening herself up as she goes.

Nick: Whoa, typical lack of respect shown there by Karina Wolfenden…

Thomas Giles welcomes the challenger to the ring with a pat on the back, but Wolfenden brushes him off as he immediately steers away from her and towards the opposite side of the ring.

Nick: …and that’s really where the young lady lets herself down, in my book. She has all of the tools to be whatever she wants to be in this company, but she continually disappoints because of her attitude. Some of the stunts that she’s pulled recently have been beyond belief…

"Velocity Shift" begins to slowly fade away as the PRIMEates prepare for the biggest moment of the night so far: Ignatius Lisieux’s entrance into the Tampa Bay night.

Richard: Well I can’t say I’m happy that she denied Ian English appearing on the Century… but damn, she deserves a medal for keeping those other has-beens away from our doors!

Nick: I can’t agree with that at all, guys like Tony Rolo and Joey Troy made this place what it is today and Wolfenden spat all over their legacy… wait a second, it’s Lisieux time!

The stadium lights again dull down as the camera pans up to the scoreboard clock, which reads "10.56pm". Utter darkness engulfs the stands, the aisle and the ringside area as the multiple PRIME-a-TRON’s go pitch black. Numerous yelps and screams buzz through the warm night air as flames again burst up and engulf the entrance-way and stage…

Richard: ARGH!!!

Nick: PHEW!! It just got extremely hot in here!!

Vince Howard: …AND HER OPPONENT, THE CHAMPION…

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

Some guitar feedback squeals out through the stadium as we switch to a blimp-shot of the amazing scene down below… a massive white spotlight beams out onto the Buccaneers’ ship, basking four men on the deck in it’s bright white glow…

Richard: Is that The Offspring!? LIVE!?

"ARE YOU GUYS READY FOR IGNATIUS LISIEUX!?"

"WOOOOOOOOO!!!"

Nick: I have no idea… I’m not up to speed at all on modern music!!

"I SAID: ARE YOU READY FOR IGNATIUS LISIEUX!?"

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

Dexter Holland’s bleached-white hair glows in the night as he clasps his right hand around the on-deck microphone, Noodles stands to his left, famed Ibanez guitar in hand and Greg K. is to his right with his Ibanez bass at the ready… towards the back of the stage sits Atom Willard, taking a special one-night-only break from his involvement with Angels and Airwaves to appear live in Tampa Bay for his favourite wrestler, ever…

Vince Howard: …FROM VILLE-MARIE, QUEBEC, CANADA…

"WE ARE THE OFFSPRING… THIS IS ‘MILLION MILES AWAY’… LET’S DO THIS!"

Nick: Well I guess that answers our question! The Offspring are here; live in Tampa Bay, to perform the entrance music for our "Hall of Fame Champion"! It doesn’t get any bigger or better than Colossus folks, all the stars want to be here!

Richard: I’d be so stoked right now if this wasn’t for Lisieux, seriously.

Another trademark Dexter yell is followed-up by a crash cymbal and a crunch of power-chord, before "Millions Miles Away" bursts into full-effect, sending the PRIMEates inside of the Raymond James stadium nuts with anticipation. The camera swirls around the huge floor-seating area as flames continue to burst up out of the aisle and around the ring…

Richard: For the love of Hoyt, make the flames stop! I would have thought Lisieux, of all people, would have wanted anything to do with fire after what happened to him!

Nick: I think he might be sending out a message here, Rich… Karina has her back to proceedings, but Lisieux is sending out a message that he’s survived bigger things than this match…

Vince Howard: …WEIGHING IN AT TWO-HUNDRED-FIFTY-ONE POUNDS…

"On ReVolution Fifty, Ignatius Lisieux was burned on the cross…" appears on the huge multi-screens… "…At Colossus Three, he walks through the fire again…"

Nick: WHOA!!!

A huge fireball shoots up from in front of the pirate ship and Ignatius Lisieux storms right through it, jumping around on the spot, dripping wet with water, pumping his fists as the crowd goes absolutely nuts:

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

Richard: He’s crazy - he has got to be crazy to do that!!

Nick: That was amazing… I can barely hear myself think because of the noise in this place!

# "There was a time, looking through myself, wanting to pretend…" #

Holland’s lyrics burst out over the speakers as white and pink pyrotechnics shoot off up into the night sky, the camera switches-up to focus on their explosions as the Tampa Bay PRIMEates gasp in awe of the amazing sight. The angle then switches back to a close-up of the soaking-wet Ignatius Lisieux, dressed in special white and pink tights with white boots, his golden "Hall of Fame Championship" fastened firmly around his waist.

"IG-GY!! IG-GY!! IG-GY!!"

# "If I escaped, I could fill myself, I don’t think you can…" #

Vince Howard: …PRIME’S WRESTLER OF THE YEAR AND GLOBAL CURSE KILLER IN TWO-THOUSAND-FOUR…

Nick: What an immense crowd reaction… what an iconic image for the ages, Ignatius Lisieux, clad in all-white, walks directly THROUGH the fire on his way to the ring for his "Hall of Fame" Title defence against Karina Wolfenden, boy-oh-boy that was amazing!

# "Been far and wide, but that hole inside never really leaves…" #

Richard: Iconic!? A guy who’s career was nearly ended by fire WALKS THROUGH IT for an entrance!?

Nick: It’s symbolic, Richard… Lisieux is demonstrating that he has overcome that part of his life - Karina represents the next big obstacle in his way, and she STILL has her back to him.

# "I went away, what I really left… left behind was me…" #

Vince Howard: …HE IS A FORMER UNIVERSAL, INTENSE AND TAG-TEAM CHAMPION…

The French-Canadian turns and gives the thumbs-up to the grinning Dexter Holland, before turning on his heels to face directly down the huge entrance aisle towards his destiny: the squared circle and a meeting with the "K-Wolf".

# "It’s telling me, to be on my way hoooooooohhhhhhhhh-ohhh-ohhhhhme…" #

His eyes remain narrowed and focus as she shakes out his calf-muscles and bursts into a jog, massive white pyrotechnics shooting off just after he passes over them on his run down the aisle like time-delayed proximity mines, offering up an amazing front-on visual from inside of the ring.

Nick: What a display here from Ignatius Lisieux, what an absolutely immense journey to the ring… the man who won the Intense Title in his third ever PRIME match, the man who won the Universal Title in only his fifth ever PRIME match, arguably the best competitor that this company has ever seen… he has been involved in three eras of PRIME with great success in each… in my eyes, he is the best…

# "Ohhh-ohhhh-oh-ohhhhhhhh…" #

Vince Howard: …THE "MACHIAVELLIAN PROTAGONIST"… "ETERNAL SUNRISE" …

Still jogging down the aisle, Lisieux spins off to either side now and again to slap some raised hands, never willing to miss an opportunity to interact with his fans. He stares intently up towards the ring for any signs of movement from Karina Wolfenden, but she’s kneeling down in the corner, mentally and physically preparing herself for the bout – trying to act totally care-free about the pomp and ceremony of the French-Canadian’s entrance.

# "MILLION MILES AWAY… MILLION MILES AWAY…" #

Richard: He has never won a Dual Halo match, Nick… until he does that then I don’t think we can call Ignatius Lisieux the best we’ve ever seen… for my unbiased money that accolade would go to Hoyt Williams, but I suppose since he’s now gone then Karina is the next best option…

# "I CAN’T STAY… I CAN’T STAY…" #

Nick: The reaction says it all, though… even Tchu won’t get a reception like this tonight, Ignatius Lisieux is here in Tampa Bay with absolutely everything on the line, as always, and the PRIMEates adore him for it! This is Ignatius’ biggest ever match in PRIME, he’s fighting for his job, he’s fighting for the past, he’s fighting for the fans… everything Karina has done and said to him since Culture Shock is going to explode in her face…

Vince Howard: …IGGGGGGGGGNNNNNNNAAAAAAAAAAATTTIIUSSSSSSSSSS LISSSSSSSSSSSSIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUXXXX!!!

Richard: It’s going to take a lot more than the support of these idiots for Ignatius Lisieux to beat Karina Wolfenden, though - I hope he knows that…

# "MILLION MILES AWAY…" #

Nick: Oh you know he will, he knows that having the majority here in his favour is a huge advantage, but it doesn’t make anything certain… tonight the two best ever in the history of PRIME go one-on-one, no excuses, no way out… Thomas Giles is the lucky guy who gets to officiate it and I am absolutely thrilled to be here calling this colossal match-up!

As Lisieux reaches the bottom of the aisle with the Offspring still pounding away on the pirate ship, he's finally met with the sight of a beaming Karina Wolfenden, now energetically bouncing on the spot in the middle of the ring. Despite Thomas Giles' attempts to usher her back towards her corner, Wolfenden remains, staring right into Iggy with nothing but confidence exuding from her hyper-charged figure.

Richard: Look at the confidence oozing out of Karina Wolfenden. Seriously, if she does not win this match tonight, I’ll eat your damn hat!

Nick: I don’t wear a damn hat!

Richard: Crap, I keep forgetting you’re not "JR" and I’m not the "King"…

Nick: After two of the best PRIME entrances I have ever seen and with the Offspring still playing away it‘s Ignatius Lisieux versus Karina Wolfenden for the "Hall of Fame Championship" at Colossus Three in the biggest singles match in all PRIME history… ALL… SYSTEMS… GO!!!

Having resisted the enraging temptation of the bait for so long, the "Eternal Sunrise" no longer has to deny his hunger, and finally slashes his restraints…

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

Nick: Lisieux making a beeline straight for Wolfenden!!

Richard: Lookout!!

Spring-boarding onto the top rope, Lisieux flings himself across the ring at a startled "K-Wolf", crashing down into her with a fierce flying forearm. Realising he has little chance of getting things paused for an official start to the match, Giles calls for the bell, which is barely heard above the now-roaring fans…

Nick: Tampa Bay already firmly in the corner of the French-Canadian and Kari looks totally dumbfounded at the sheer speed of his first attack in this contest! The Offspring have been cut short, but they don’t care, they’ve already left their stage to take their seats!!

Richard: LET’S GO OFF-SPRING!

"LET’S GO IG-GY!!"

Squirming on her back, the "K-Wolf" thrashes her feet out, trying to stop Lisieux getting any clean blows to follow up his first attack of the contest.

Nick: Karina trying to immediately regain a hold in this contest, she knows that she cannot allow her stronger opponent to dominate from the outset!

Outside of the ring, the crowd fights their own battle. The pro-Wolfenden camp try to make up their severe numbers deficit by jeering Iggy's jump-start with everything their lungs can muster, but they're drowned out early on by the majority, as the PRIME fans fuel their "MVP" with whatever support they can.

Nick: The eighty-twenty split is creating a fantastic atmosphere here inside of the Raymond James Stadium, the Lisieux fans are overcoming their adversaries with sheer numbers, it is absolutely deafening in this place!

"IG-GY!! IG-GY!! IG-GY!!"

Bringing her legs up to fend him off, the "K-Wolf" avoids the full-brunt of Lisieux's onslaught and then manages to free herself from underneath him and bail from the ring.

Nick: Oh look at that, Wolfenden running from Lisieux like a scolded dog!!

Richard: She’s merely taking a breather, dammit! If that Canuck bastard had started this match properly then she’d never be in this position right now.

Having underestimated the desire Lisieux possesses to put her down on the biggest show in PRIME's history, the usually ice-cold Wolfenden appears a tad flustered, a state that isn't helped one bit as the pumped-up French-Canadian rushes toward the ropes.

Nick: He’s not willing to give her one moment of rest here tonight… here he goes again!!

Richard: GET OUT OF THE WAY, KARI!!

With adrenaline numbing all the wounds inflicted to his body in the love/hate relationship he's endured with PRIME and its many superstars, Iggy simply flings himself head-long over the top rope. As Kari feels the shadow cast over her, she looks up, but has no time to react as the super-charged two-hundred-fifty pounds of Ignatius Lisieux thumps into her, sending both their bodies tumbling back up the ramp, much to the delight of the ravenous fans at ringside.

Nick: Oh my! What a daring move from the "Eternal Sunrise"! Since getting back into PRIME almost ten months ago we haven’t seen too much of Ignatius’ high-risk offence, but when he goes for it he can execute it as well as anyone else on this entire roster!

Richard: That was a lucky shot, Nick… he’s gonna burn himself out here if he isn’t careful!

Far removed from the reserved figure that had held his frustrations in for so long, the now-released Ignatius flings his head back and lets out a primal roar, orchestrating the PRIME fans to chant his name with even greater gusto than before.

"M-V-P!!! M-V-P!!! M-V-P!!!"

Nick: I have never seen Ignatius Lisieux so psyched, I have never seen anything like this in all of my days announcing for this company!!

Fists clenched, Lisieux springs up and watches as a startled "K-Wolf" pulls herself up; not exactly having previously predicted the way the match had started. Striding up to her, Iggy then lashes out with his right hand, doing the one thing he'd wanted to do since he first exchanged conflicting words with her. Stretching out his fist, the "Eternal Sunrise" lands a harsh slap to the cheek of Wolfenden with such ferocity that it even manages to be heard above the still-warring Tampa Bay crowd.

"OHHHHHHHH!!!"

Richard: The BITCH!

Nick: How good must that feel to Ignatius Lisieux right now!? All of these months of frustration erupt through his right-arm as he finally strikes out at his tormentor!

Richard: That rat-bastard just struck a woman, SEXUAL HARRASSMENT!!

The force of the slap sends the dazed "K-Wolf" staggering back against the safety barricade, her raised six-foot frame resting seated against it as she rubs her stinging cheek with a scowl.

Richard: Uh-oh Lisieux, you’ve really done it now… look at Kari’s expression – hell hath no fury like a thrill-seeking nymphomaniac scorned!

Huffing out of his nose like a frenzied bull, Lisieux scrapes the soles of his boots across the ramps surface, before charging at the shell-shocked Wolfenden. As she looks back wide-eyed at the man she thought was too mild-mannered to cut it in PRIME: version two-thousand-six, the "K-Wolf" is a rabbit in the headlights as the "MVP" hurls himself at her with a diving spear, taking them over the barrier and tumbling into the fans lined-up along the aisle.

Nick: Good Lord, good God! Spear from Lisieux, he just took Wolfenden right over that damned security railing! Listen to this crowd here!!

"OOOHHHHH!"

Hurriedly leaping over the rail in pursuit of the match's participants, Thomas Giles fails to find them as the over-eager fans at Colossus III mob the wrestlers in their droves.

Nick: Thomas Giles is in there trying to restore some measure of regulation to a contest that is already getting out of hand!

Richard: Come on zebra - lay the authoritarian smack-down onto that French-Canadian punk!

As a winded and startled Wolfenden tries to crawl away from the frighteningly unreserved Lisieux, her fiercely loyal fans try and form a prohibitive wall to keep him away from her. Incensed by her remarks and action in recent months, many PRIME fans take objection, shoving the Wolfenden sympathisers back, and prompting yellow-shirted CSC security to rush onto the scene, ordering fans to return to their seats in a scene of complete chaos.

Nick: Whoa! Even the PRIMEates are getting involved in a physical battle of their own… has there ever been a single contest that has split opinion so much? I don’t think we’ve ever seen our fans so emotionally invested in a match before!

Richard: Dammit, security… you should have just let those idiots tear each others’ heads off! Or at least start beating-down on the Lisieux contingent!

Thomas Giles finally finds the wrestlers in the crowd, but as he lectures Lisieux about returning things to the ring, the "MVP" instead rushes at Wolfenden once more, leaping off a fan's chair to mow her down with an awe-inspiring spinning heel-kick.

Nick: Whoa! More high-risk from the "MachiaVellian Protagonist"!!

With the "Hall of Fame Champion" not exactly going about the match in the most calculated of fashions, he's left crash-landing into a cluster of discarded chairs, while Wolfenden is left tumbling over a tipped-over seat.

"WOOOOO!!!"

Nick: The Raymond James Stadium is rocking again as Ignatius Lisieux keeps up the high-intensity onslaught!! I’m not sure how long he’ll be able to sustain the pace of these attacks for, though… all it takes is one missed move…

Again, Thomas Giles tries to implement a measure of ceremony into proceedings as he orders a rising Iggy to get things back into the ring, but again he is ignored by the super-charged French-Canadian.

Richard: Will you get a damned grip on things in there, Giles? - That idiot is letting Lisieux run riot!

Nick: I think those Lisieux fans out there would kill him if he stopped this!

With fans jostling for position to pat his back and shout words of encouragement and support, Lisieux stalks the dazed "K-Wolf" as she drags herself up. Creeping up behind her, the "MVP" reaches forward and grabs a handful of black and orange hair, before sharply yanking her down into one of the abandoned seats. With his opponent now prone, the "Eternal Sunrise" hops up onto the ringside barrier, then flings himself back off with a cross-body block, sending the chair on which the "K-Wolf" is seated toppling backwards.

"OOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

Nick: Man-oh-man!! Cross-body block through a CHAIR by Ignatius Lisieux! Wolfenden has not been given a millisecond to get a single ounce of offence onto her opponent; I’m not sure if I have ever seen her being manhandled like this from the outset!

Richard: The fact remains that the low-down Canuck blindsided her and started this before the bell rang, how come you don’t mention that!? Huh!?

As the wrestlers spill down onto the floor, Lisieux is finally able to land a short flurry of forearms, before Giles grabs his arm and tries valiantly to pull him off Karina.

Richard: It’s about damn time, too… Thomas Giles finally grows a pair!

Knowing that the official hasn't the desire to bring the colossal match to a very early close with a disqualification call, Lisieux pushes the official off-of him, only to catch one of Wolfenden's unpredictable feet to the mouth.

Richard: Now he’s pushing the- YES!!!

Feeling one of his teeth aching, the "MVP" pats his mouth for blood, giving the "K-Wolf" a chance to swing both legs up and catch him in a vice-like head-scissors, using Lisieux's own arm to constrict his neck's artery…

Nick: All it took was one moment, one second of inactivity on the part of the French-Canadian and the "K-Wolf" has seized her opportunity, she has those scissors locked-in incredibly tight – he’s almost going blue already!

Despite the ferocity with which his heart is pumping the blood around his body, Lisieux refuses to yield - and instead begins to climb to his feet - only for the "K-Wolf" to make herself deadweight on top of him.

Richard: That’s it, keep a hold of it, Kari… keep it locked-on!

The fans surrounding the wrestlers turn their volume dials up an extra notch as Iggy manages to straighten his body off, before toppling forward and driving the hanging "K-Wolf" down into a pile of toppled-over chairs.

Richard: NOOOOOOOOOO!!!

"IG-GY!! IG-GY!! IG-GY!!"

Nick: Lisieux breaks free, Lisieux breaks free!!

As she feels the edges of the chairs dig into her ribs and arm, a pained Wolfenden releases her grip on Lisieux, who heaves in a few deep breaths. Security again step in as some fans get caught up in the moment, one leaning down over Lisieux to hurl abuse at him, almost resulting in a pro-Iggy fan blind-siding him with a right hand.

Nick: Things getting a little out of control out there on the floor and again CSC security are forced to step-in to separate these warring fans! I have NEVER seen an atmosphere like this for a PRIME encounter - this is more akin to the crowd at a football game!

Before the "Eternal Sunrise" can fling himself at the "K-Wolf" once again, Thomas Giles commandeers one of the security guards, using him to force Iggy back to the ringside barrier, much to the disgust of the baying crowd inside of the Raymond James Stadium.

"BOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

Nick: Thomas Giles had better get the hell out of Dodge because those fans will lynch him if he doesn’t…

Richard: Yeah, Lisieux fans are just like the guy they support… do one tiny little thing against them and they’ll hold it against you forever!

Hopping up, Kari rubs her thigh where a chair dug in, before catching a glimpse of a distracted Lisieux through all of the commotion.

Richard: Do it Kari… Go for him!

Nick: Lookout Lisieux!!

Eager for revenge, she yells for a path to be cleared, done in the form of an expletive-laden threat, then sprints through the parting crowd towards the "MVP". Just catching sight of an orange flash, Lisieux dips a shoulder as Wolfenden explodes out of nowhere, before he bursts back up, sending the "K-Wolf" high over the barrier and down onto the mats with a back body-drop!

"WOOOOOO!!"

Nick: Back body-drop from the French-Canadian, how in the name of the Lord did he see that one coming!?

Richard: Heaven forbid that he could have been warned by any one of his sixty-five-thousand fans out there… or even that he looked up to one of the screens and saw her coming, huh!?

Arching her back off the black safety mats, a grimacing "K-Wolf" feels the effects of landing on the thin padding, while a pumped Lisieux high-fives a few of his supporters on the opposite side of the barrier.

Nick: The momentum is still with the "Eternal Sunrise", anything that Wolfenden has tried so far has not come off… I have never seen such a blistering start, this is insane!

As Thomas Giles climbs over to ringside, Iggy waits for a hunched-over Wolfenden to rise, before using the barrier like a gymnastics’ horse. Planting his hands upon it, Iggy swings his legs over, latching them around Kari's neck before pushing himself off and taking Kari down with an innovate version of the famed head-scissors manoeuvre.

Nick: Another piece of smart innovation from the French-Canadian as he slams Wolfenden down into the mat with a modified head-scissors… since his return we have been used to seeing Lisieux start slow in his matches, he has tended to absorb punishment before hitting a killer blow… his tactics for this bout are completely different to the norm!

Richard: Maybe Kari is using his tactics, huh? You ever thought about that…

Finding therapeutic relief in finally being able to vent himself physically at his selfish colleague, Lisieux pumps an inspiring fist towards his support, before hopping up onto the apron and lining up the rising "K-Wolf" in his sights. Jumping up onto the middle rope, Lisieux then vaults off…

Nick: ASAI MOONSAULT FROM LISI-

...only for Wolfenden to gather her senses and duck forward, seeking sanctuary just under the lip of the ring apron.

Nick: -KARINA DODGES IT!!

Somehow managing to spot her dodge and adjust his flight in the constrictive airspace, Lisieux lands, crouched, just an inch or two away from the barrier...

Nick: Amazing! Lisieux lands on his feet…

…Only to almost be beheaded by a roundhouse kick from his opponent!!

Nick: OH!!! WOLFENDEN LANDS ONE!!

As she's finally able to connect, her furious foot smacks the loose head of the "Eternal Sunrise" into the safety barricade, immediately scrambling his brains.

"OHHHHHH!!"

Richard: What did I just say!? What did I just tell you!? Karina Wolfenden has been biding her time, waiting for the right moment to strike and then… BOOM! I bet Lisieux can no longer see straight after that shot.

Nick: That did not look at all good for the French-Canadian right there… his eyes almost rolled back into his head with the impact of the barricade…

As Thomas Giles now calls for the "K-Wolf" to bring the action back into the ring, Lisieux tries to drag himself up. Holding his splitting head in both hands, the "Eternal Sunrise's" historically-weak legs won't solidify beneath him, and he drops back down to the mats with a pained thud, taking his supporters’ noise with him.

Nick: Things immediately looking worrying here for the Lisieux camp… those legs that suffered such awful injuries at ReVolution Fifty have just caved-in on themselves - that shot from Karina has really messed Ignatius up.

Grabbing a handful of Ignatius’ spiked hair, Wolfenden keeps his head held down as she flings a flurry of short kicks up into his face, before ushering him back into the ring…

Richard: See? For all of the bad you have to say about her, she’s just rolled that sack of multi-race crap back into the ring like a true sportsman. How many times did Giles ask Lisieux to do just that?

His head obviously groggy, Lisieux struggles to stand following the harsh shots, and he drops back against the buckles for support. Seeing her cue, Karina charges at him, leaping up to drive both knees into his sternum, and then hooking the head to pull him down into an inverted lung-blower.

Nick: LUNG-BLOWER FROM WOLFENDEN! Ignatius Lisieux needs to shake out these cobwebs a.s.a.p. if he wants to make any more progress in this match, after such an enthralling start it has only taken one pure moment of force for Karina to be able to establish a foothold.

Richard: This was exactly her point, ReVolution Fifty has left Lisieux too susceptible - he’s a risk to himself and everyone around him!

Seeing a chance to go for the first pin-fall attempt of the match, Kari rolls Iggy over, then hops up to the top rope, flipping back off and onto her rival with an Arabian Press, before hooking both legs.

Nick: Wolfenden with the pin-fall attempt!!

"ONE!


TW-NO!!"

Nick: Shoulder-up from the French-Canadian, quick shoulder-up!

The "K-Wolf" looks gleeful, rather than frustrated, that he wants her to dish out some more punishment.

Richard: You think Karina is enjoying this yet?

Nick: It certainly looks that way to me, she knows that she has her opponent exactly where she wants him… this is when Wolfenden is at her most dangerous, I fear for Ignatius, I really do…

Still cupping his pounding head in his hands, the "Eternal Sunrise" pulls himself up using the ropes, then again has to drop back against the buckles. With her opponent's arms draped over the ropes, Wolfenden sees his torso as an open target, and fires off a harsh snap-kick to his chest…

Nick: Solid shot from Karina… and another one, this time to the abdomen! Lisieux is trying to cover-up but the shots are simply too quick to defend against.

Richard: Come on, Kari, unload!!

With Lisieux beginning to sway, Kari vaults the top rope onto the apron, keeping hold of it, before springing back over to score an enziguri to the back of Iggy's throbbing head! Her pockets of support spring into action along with the New Yorker and the Lisieux majority struggle to find enough inspiration to drown them out…

Richard: And now we hear the voice of the true supporters in this Tampa Bay crowd, just listen to this for the dominance of Wolfenden:

"KA-RI! KA-RI! KA-RI!"

Nick: I cannot believe that so many would still be in her corner after the way that she has been acting recently, I cannot believe our fans would stoop so low…

With the support of Kari’s hardcore echoing around his brain and a glassy look to his eyes, Lisieux collapses forward, prompting the referee to slide down and check on him.

Nick: Thomas Giles looks extremely worried here, we’re only ten minutes into the contest and already there are serious health concerns about the "Hall of Fame Champion".

Richard: Most people usually have health concerns after stepping into the ring with the "K-Wolf" - it’s hardly a new phenomenon.

Not quite showing the same concern for her opponent as the official, Wolfenden simply waits for him to roll onto his front, before flinging herself up into a majestic standing corkscrew senton. Rolling seamlessly back onto her front, Kari takes a moment to pose for Tampa Bay, before once again flipping-off gravity to score with a standing, twisting four-fifty splash - hooking both legs upon landing!

Nick: WHAT A MOVE!! COVER!!

"ONE!



TWO!!

TH-NO!!!"

Richard: Arghhhhhhh!!

With Kari not looking entirely surprised, Lisieux shoots a shoulder up and then quickly tries to shake the vast array of cobwebs loose before things get any worse for him. His supporters find their voice again, but it is nowhere near as loud as five minutes ago…

Nick: The Lisieux majority trying to fire some life into the French-Canadian once again, but I think it’s going to take something huge for him to be able to sway this contest back over to his side of the scales.

"LET’S GO IG-GY!!!"

Richard: I don’t know why they’re bothering, seriously – and they’re already growing quieter, if Kari can silence these idiots then she has this match as good as won.

For some reason getting the idea that she can take out PRIME Hall of Famer Ignatius Lisieux in a matter of minutes, the "K-Wolf" keeps the tempo cranked up. Poised in her starting blocks, she waits for Iggy to drag himself up to his knees…

Nick: Wolfenden poised to strike one more time… the majority of fans in the Raymond James Stadium are praying that Lisieux will see her coming…

Taking her cue, Kari rushes the ropes, building up speed as she rebounds. Approaching Iggy behind his right shoulder, the "K-Wolf" plants her left hand onto the canvas, using it as a pivot to swing through and smash both her feet into the "Eternal Sunrise’s" face with a handstand six-one-nine!

Nick: OH MY!!!

Richard: He didn’t see it coming, not at all!!!

"OOOOOHHHH!!"

Richard: LOOK AT THIS!!!

With Iggy flattened out, the "K-Wolf" makes a short rush at him, once again showcasing her athleticism by landing a twisting, running shooting star press – and then again hooking both legs!!

Nick: Undeniably amazing from Karina… she’s making another cover!!

"ONE!"

Richard: This is it!!

"TWO!!"

Nick: Not already… no way!

"THR-NO!!!"

Nick: SHOULDER-UP ONCE AGAIN FROM LISIEUX!!!

Fairly content that each unsuccessful pin-fall attempt wears down the "MVP" just that little bit more, inching her towards victory, the "K-Wolf" hops up without any protest towards Thomas Giles.

Richard: Karina’s sportsmanship so far in this match has been nothing short of amazing, she isn’t complaining, she isn’t cheating… if she’s not careful I’m going to be forced to switch my allegiances!

Nick: That would never happen, surely.

Richard: Yeah, seriously… never.

Seemingly enjoying herself now after a shaky start, Karina drops into her stance across the ring from Lisieux, waiting for him to rise into her mental cross-hairs. The twinkle in her eyes gives away the moment her aim goes red. Surging forward, she steps up off Lisieux's knee and tries to behead him with a "Shining Wizard", only for the "MVP" to somehow duck his head under the blow!

Nick: Lisieux digs down deep and ducks underneath the-

"WOO-"

Just as Iggy managed to duck, the "K-Wolf" somehow manages to land on both feet, before flinging her right foot back to catch Lisieux square on the back of the skull, sending him slumping forwards.

Nick: -ARGH!! WOLFENDEN LANDS IT!!

"-OOOOHHHH!!"

Richard: Sit down and shut up, sheep… your hero is getting his ass handed to him on a silver platter! Although he did have me worried there for a second…

As the hopeful Iggy fans sigh at his defiance being cut short, Kari ties up his legs, before grabbing an arm so that she can roll her opponent upright. Despite the attempts by the French-Canadian to slip free, the "K-Wolf" presses her foot against the back of his head and then violently drops forward to crush his skull against the canvas with a curb-stomp!

Nick: Oh God! Ignatius’ cranium takes more punishment!!

Richard: CURB STOMP from Karina! What a move!!

"BOOOOO!!"

Grabbing his splitting skull, Lisieux can't put up an air-defence as Wolfenden rolls into place, then again dazzles for the cameras with a standing, inside-tuck four-fifty, complete with, you guessed it, a leg-hook…

Nick: …And another cover from the "K-Wolf"!

"ONE!"



Richard: This time, this time… I can feel it!



"TWO!!"



Richard: Count faster, dammit!



"THRE-NO!!!"

Nick: LISIEUX ESCAPES AGAIN!!

Richard: NOOOOOOOOO!!

For the first time in the match, the "K-Wolf" looks aggrieved at not getting her three-count as she snarls towards the match official and motions for a faster fall next time around.

Nick: So much for not complaining about the falls, huh?

Richard: I think she has every right to after that count - Giles was counting with "Mississippi’s" in between, or something!

Giles opens his arms out by his sides as though to protest innocence and the New Yorker can do nothing but turn away and go ahead with her assault on PRIME’s "past".

Richard: Well, as usual Kari it looks like you’re wrestling your opponent PLUS the match official… I tell you, will we ever get a fair contest in this company?

Nick: What in the hell do you mean!? Our match officials are the best around!

Continuing with her "stand 'em up, knock 'em down" tactics, the "K-Wolf" shoots another warning glare at the official, before rolling out under the bottom rope…

Nick: Uh-oh for Lisieux – I dread to think what she has planned next…

Hopping on the apron, eager to continue the onslaught, the Wolfenden lines up a rising Lisieux, before spring-boarding with a twist onto the top rope…

Richard: Have you ever seen anything like this before!?

…Riding the cable's bounce, she effortlessly flings herself off, continuing the twist, and latches onto Iggy's head, spinning through to spike him head-first into the mat with the "Dual Halo" seven-twenty DDT!!

Nick: HOLY JESUS!!!

"OOOOOOOOOHHHHH!!"

Richard: AWESOME!!

"KA-RI-NA! KA-RI-NA!"

Nick: That was quite simply unreal, she’s making another cover!!

Richard: Count it!!

Throwing herself upon the motionless Lisieux, Wolfenden again hooks both legs.

"ONE!







TWO!!!







THREE-NO!!!"

Richard: For the love of Hoyt, stay down Lisieux! STAY DOWN!

"TWOOOOOOOOOO!!"

Nick: This man will not give up without a fight, he will not go quietly into the Florida night… it’s going to take a hell of a lot more from Wolfenden if she wants to put away the "Hall of Fame Champion" here tonight.

Another move, another tenth of a second closer to victory for PRIME’s two-thousand-five Wrestler of the Year.

Richard: Lisieux needs a miracle though, and last I remember he wasn’t exactly in God’s good books after what he did to Hoyt at Ultra Violence…

Nick: Well I guess it’s just lucky that it’s Hoyt’s "brother" who deals with the miracle side of things, eh?

Springing back to her feet, the resurgent "K-Wolf" looks down with smug satisfaction at the increasingly-wounded Lisieux, his head still suffering the effects of the violent collision against the safety barricade from earlier. Blinking rapidly to try and clear his blurring vision, Lisieux sits up - only for a fierce, sweeping kick from the "K-Wolf" to swat him back flat!

Richard: …Oh really!? Then explain that one to me, Mr. Smarty Pants!

Nick is silence, but the resurgent pro-Lisieux factions of the crowd now begin to grow in voice the more damage Wolfenden inflicts on their hero, trying to urge him back up through sound and prayer alone…

"M-V-P!! M-V-P!! M-V-P!!"

Richard: These idiots in the crowd are just as bad as he is! Do they not know when to give-up and shut-up!? In any case, they should be saving their energy for chanting Killean’s name after he embarrasses Tchu later on!

Snarling towards the growing anti-Wolfenden movement and slowing it down just a notch after her high-tempo onslaught, the "K-Wolf" takes a few deep breaths, before dropping into a one-armed handstand, then spinning through into a short knee-drop to the chest. Shuffling off Iggy and into a sprinter's start, Kari rushes the ropes, hopping onto the middle cable…

Nick: More danger for Lisieux here… I have never witnessed anyone move so quickly around a PRIME ring as Karina Wolfenden does… WAIT A SECOND!!!

…Suddenly revived by the crowd's new-found energy, Lisieux kips-up as Wolfenden flips back off the ropes and into her "Goodnight Moon" Asai knee-drop…

Nick: HE’S UP! LISIEUX KIPS-UP!

Richard: WATCH OUT, KARI!!

Catching sight of Iggy flashing out of her path, the "K-Wolf" amazingly manages to land crouched on her feet, then roll under the lunging "Yakuza" kick that Lisieux throws her way!

Richard: HA! Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon eat thy heart out with thine spoon!!

Rolling onto her feet, Kari rebounds off the ropes and flings herself at Iggy... only to be plucked out of the air, and then swung down into a urinage back-breaker!

Nick: HE’S COMING BACK! LISTEN TO THE ROAR OF THE CROWD!!

Keeping hold of the stunned Wolfenden, Lisieux pulls her back up for a fall-away slam, backing towards the ropes before hurling Kari over both his head, and the ropes themselves!

Nick: OH MY!!

Reaching out for the ropes in desperation, Wolfenden's fingers can only brush the plastic-coating as she's sent plummeting down onto the mats below.

"WOOOOOOOO!!!"

Nick: Wolfenden SLAMMED to the outside by Ignatius Lisieux! I don’t know where the heck that little burst of life came from but it looks to me as though the French-Canadian has just received his second wind! He’s managed to withstand everything that Wolfenden has thrown at him so far and he’s back with the upper-hand! I have never heard such a constant din from our fans, ever!

With the fans going nuts for him under the peaceful night sky, Lisieux pulls himself up using the ropes, and again has to massage his throbbing head between his hands. Putting any thoughts of injury to the back of his splitting head and looking up to the clear skies for inspiration, the "Eternal Sunrise" then backs away across the ring, resting back against the cables and calling for the "K-Wolf" to rise to her feet.

Richard: Look at the arrogance of this bastard, he hits one lucky move on the "K-Wolf" and now he’s issuing her with demands… I hope she kicks his brain right out of his head for this!

From across the length of the ring, Iggy sees a startled Kari stagger up, nursing her back and shoulder which took the brunt of the nasty fall…

Nick: Oh, looks like Wolfenden is suffering some pain herself now, she’s heavily favouring that shoulder – it could well be dislocated!

…With his opponent looking as if she's trying to put her shoulder back into place, the "MVP" begins his run-up, building up speed before hurling himself head-long through the ropes.

Nick: MY, MY… LISIEUX TAKING A PAGE RIGHT OUT OF THE WOLFENDEN PLAYBOOK HERE!

Just as the "K-Wolf" has done many-a-time, Lisieux extends his body into a missile, leading with both fists. Just as the "K-Wolf" realises she's still in a wrestling match, Lisieux ploughs into her side…

Nick: NEGASONIC LUPINE WARHEAD!!

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHH!!!"

As she's sent tumbling down, the "K-Wolf" again lands with all her weight channelled through her shoulders - while the landing hardly helps Lisieux's agonisingly sore head.

Richard: He’s a madman, a certifiable lunatic! Karina was right in everything that she said about him last week on ReVolution… I want him OUT of this company!

Nick: Well you have no say in that, buddy… Ignatius Lisieux has his destiny in his own hands here tonight and just listen to the tidal wave of vocal support that just burst out in his favour!

Shooting back up to fuel himself on the PRIME crowd's gigantic burst of sound, Lisieux suddenly feels light-headed, and slumps down against the guard-rail, gasping after a dry-heave.

Richard: Oh, looks like things aren’t going as brilliantly as you thought, eh?

Nick: Ignatius must have hit his head pulling-off that move, he looks in trouble again and the match official is right on over there to check him out…

Blinking rapidly to try and fix his vision, the violent crushing of his head between Wolfenden's boot and the barricade continues to take its toll on the "Eternal Sunrise" - something that hasn't gone at all unnoticed by Thomas Giles.

Richard: Imagine if Giles stops this match because he doesn’t think Lisieux is fit to continue, I think we’d see another witch-hunt!

Nick: TG would surely never do that, I’m not sure if I’d wish that call upon anyone but this is not just a match we’re talking about here… this is a man’s livelihood!

With genuine concern for their hero on some faces in the crowd, Giles rushes over to Lisieux, the concerned official then checks on the PRIME Hall-of-Famer, who instantly protests the official's claims that he might not be okay to continue and pushes him away.

"IG-GY!! IG-GY!! IG-GY!!"

Accepting the offer of a fan's water bottle, Lisieux pours the contents down his throat, letting the rest wash his face, before returning his focus to the huddled-up "K-Wolf". As he approaches, Wolfenden bursts up in the blink of an eye, trying to cave his face in with a spinning back-fist - only for the "Eternal Sunrise" to use the extended limb to throw Kari over his shoulder!

Nick: Karina out of nowhere… BUT LISIEUX TELEGRAPHS IT!!

…Feeling the joint begin to grind in its socket, a grimacing "K-Wolf" crawls towards the ring…

Nick: If Ignatius’ skull is providing Giles with cause for concern, then he could do far worse than to go check-out that left shoulder of Karina Wolfenden… seems to me like both our competitors are now struggling with injury.

Always the gentleman, Lisieux gives the lady a helping hand into the ring, but keeps a hold of her limb, wrapping it around the ropes before suddenly sitting-out onto the ringside mats. A yell of pain resounds from the "K-Wolf" as she again feels her shoulder strained, before she wisely scurries back to the middle of the ring. As Iggy slides in, the "K-Wolf" pulls herself up, immediately protecting her left shoulder with an arm-shaped shield.

Nick: Wolfenden and Lisieux jockeying for position in there now, after the blood and thunder of the opening quarter of an hour it’s unsurprising to see the pace slow down a little bit as both try to regain some stamina…

A traditional believer in attack being the best form of defence, Kari comes at him with a trio of kicks, but each is blocked or just-about dodged, allowing the French-Canadian to get close enough the drop Wolfenden with a single-arm DDT. Showing off his superiority on the mat, Lisieux transitions into a crucifix - with no opposition - before rolling over to pin the "K-Wolf's" shoulders down!

Nick: PIN-FALL ATTEMPT!

"ONE!


TWO!!


TH-NO!!!"

Richard: Who the heck does he think he’s kidding!?

Nick: It wasn’t all that far away, Rich… snappy thinking from Lisieux right there, while the match remains at a technical juncture the upper-hand rests with the French-Canadian, Kari needs to get out of this predicament awful quick…

Releasing his leg-scissors on the "K-Wolf's" arm, Iggy spins through into a traditional arm-bar, but the defensive "K-Wolf" refuses to be obedient. Trying to scramble up, she throws knees into the side of the "Eternal Sunrise", forcing him to subdue her by spinning through with an arm-wringer. Again lashing out due to the pain, the "K-Wolf" lands a snap-kick to the outside of Iggy's knee, but he responds by again spinning through with an arm-wringer, forcing Kari to flip forward onto her back to alleviate the pressure.

Richard: As much as you’re saying Lisieux has the advantage on the canvas, it seems to me like Karina herself isn’t exactly a novice in that position…

Nick: Both of these competitors can turn their hands to anything that comes their way inside of that squared-circle, but it is fact that Lisieux is better-schooled in the art of technical wrestling than his female opponent…

Knowing she's at a severe disadvantage on the mat, Wolfenden scrambles up to her feet, only for Iggy to suddenly yank her into an STO, sending her thumping down against the mat, and straight into a top-wrist-lock. Using his dominant position, Iggy manages to pin the "K-Wolf's" other arm down with his knee.

Nick: Another quick fall!

"ONE!




TWO!!




THR-NO!!!"

Nick: Wolfenden easily kicks-out!

Richard: Lisieux must be crazier than I thought… if he thinks a weak-ass attempt at winning this match like that is gonna be successful then his mind is as fried as his legs are!

Showing her frustration at being next-to-helpless on the canvas, Wolfenden squirms, trying to land with any kick that she can contort her body into throwing.

Nick: Desperation creeping in there now, if Lisieux can keep Wolfenden frustrated like this then she’s only going to keep making mistake after mistake, it’s playing right into his hands and these fans are mesmerised as they look-on…

Richard: That’s just the normal dumbfounded expression that Floridians have… remember Boda?

Simply refusing to release the "K-Wolf's" wrist, even going so far as to use his left hand to wrap his wrist-tape around the grip he has, Lisieux guides Kari back up, waiting on something... Keeping an observant eye on his dangerous rival, the French-Canadian waits for just the split-second she goes to throw a kick before yanking her up onto his shoulders, then sending her crashing back down with a Samoan drop.

Nick: HARD SAMOAN DROP SHAKES THE RING TO ITS CORE!

Still keeping a hold of her wrist, Iggy spins over onto her, hooking the far leg with his free arm for another pin-fall attempt!

"ONE!





TWO!!





THRE-NO!!!"

Nick: Oh man! That was hella close!

Again, the powerful legs of the "K-Wolf" allow her to kick out, but the "Eternal Sunrise" stays one step ahead by transitioning into a cross arm-breaker. However, she cannot quell the growing support for the technical dominance being displayed by the "Hall of Fame Champion"…

"LET’S GO IG-GY!!!"

Nick: The majority of the Raymond James Stadium are on their feet once again, they can sense that the advantage rests well-and-truly in the hands of the French-Canadian… can Ignatius Lisieux pull out his twenty-eighth and biggest victory in PRIME here tonight!?

Desperately gripping her fingers together, Wolfenden refuses to let Lisieux extend the joint, but the resistance leaves her grinding her teeth in agony as her shoulder feels the strain. Continuing to persevere, Lisieux doesn't bother switching holds, content to let Kari force her own shoulder out of its socket out of fear of a different submission.

Richard: This is getting hard to watch, dammit! If Lisieux was any sort of a gentlemen he’d have allowed the "K-Wolf" out of this thing by now, her damn shoulder could be hanging out of the socket right now!

Planting her feet on the mat, Kari tries bridging to try and alleviate the strain, before Lisieux seizes on her prone position to give up on the submission and instead spin back across the "K-Wolf"; tying her arms up as he pins her down once again to the canvas, much to the delight of the crowd.

Nick: Yet another cover attempt from Lisieux, this one could do it!!

"ONE!"




Richard: KARI! KICK-OUT!!




"TWO!!"




Nick: She’s in trouble here!!




"THREE-NO!!!"

"TWOOOOOOO!!!"

Richard: PRAISE HOYT!

Nick: Boy, he’s getting closer with every try… if the French-Canadian can just find one more big move from somewhere then I think he could keep her down!

As the "K-Wolf" bridges up, Lisieux keeps her arms ensnared, only for her to spin through, managing to transition herself into a clinch.

Richard: FINALLY! SHE’S FREE!

Before the "Eternal Sunrise" can break free, Wolfenden throws her knee up into his face, connecting hard to his forehead.

Nick: HARD knee-strike to the head!!

Iggy's fans wince as the harsh strike weakens his legs, while the more blood-thirsty "K-Wolf" contingent rise, sending a ripple of energy throughout the crowd as the previous chant mutates…

"LET’S GO KA-RI!"

Nick: Wolfenden is relentless in her assault on Ignatius’ cranium here…

Another knee connects just as Lisieux manages to break free, sending him staggering back. Kari rushes across the distance, and then flings herself at the "MVP" - pumping both feet into his chest so hard that some expect his lungs to burst out the back. Sent flying back into the corner, Iggy bounces back off the buckles, allowing the "K-Wolf" to launch herself at him with a flying knee. Gathering his senses at a fortuitous moment, Lisieux only just manages to spin out of her path, the trailing foot of the speeding Wolfenden brushing his side…

Richard: She’s got him- HOW DID HE DO THAT!?

Nick: Lisieux majestically dodges out of the way!!

On the back-foot against his aggressive rival, Lisieux is again forced into evasive manoeuvres to duck a spinning back-fist, and then block a snap kick to his thigh, then just bobbing his head under a furious roundhouse kick.

Nick: Lisieux ducks a shot, jukes left to evade another one…

Richard: HIT HIM, DAMMIT!

Getting behind their man, Iggy's fans pop for every dodge, seeing the frustration build in the "K-Wolf"…

Nick: He’s too quick!!

Tiring of the cat-and-mouse antics, Karina flings herself into a aggressive windmill kick, but true to form, Iggy rolls through under it, and waits until her vaulting rotation comes to an end before he takes her down with a sudden arm-drag.

Nick: Audible laughter from the crowd now as Ignatius Lisieux evades everything that Karina tosses in his direction, he’s playing with Wolfenden and this Tampa Bay crowd are totally eating it up!

Not even bothering to keep hold of the arm and bar it, Lisieux hops back up with a sly grin fixed across his face as he teases his rival. The fans, of course, respond accordingly to their sweat-laden hero:

Richard: And the sheep sing again:

"M-V-P!! M-V-P!! M-V-P!!"

Nick: These fans are recharged with energy after the last five minutes have seen their French-Canadian hero gain a significant advantage over his opponent…

Richard: "French-Canadian" and "hero"… three words I never thought I’d see combined…

Fuming that all her aggression was neutralised by a mere arm-drag, Wolfenden surges forward with a Yakuza kick, aiming straight for the "MVP's" face...

Nick: Kick attempt from Wolfenden… Lisieux bridges out under it… GOODNIGHT MOON!!

Richard: Oh, come on!!

Nick: Lisieux evades it!! Kari lands on her feet… leapfrog from Ignatius Lisieux and oh boy, a little pat on the head for good measure! Karina Wolfenden looks furious but the French-Canadian is smiling wider than I have seen for a long, long time.

Kari's agitation is clear as she kicks out at the bottom rope, while Lisieux just cocks an eyebrow, as if to say "she finally managed to hit something". With Kari’s frustration comes the chant again, causing another sneer to emerge across her face.

Nick: Wolfenden is being tightened like a screw here by Lisieux, we haven’t heard a thing out of the Karina-crowd for a LONG time, now…

"M-V-P!! M-V-P!! M-V-P!!"

Richard: That’s because these other idiots won’t shut the hell up!

Like a red rag to a bull, Ignatius’ gesture brings Kari rushing back at him, hyper-kinetic, launching herself rolling into a "Koppou" kick that the "Eternal Sunrise" nimbly sidesteps…

Richard: FOR GOD’S SAKE… HIT HIM!!

…Utilising her own momentum, the "K-Wolf" rolls through onto her feet, before making a short-dart at Iggy, then flinging herself into a moonsault kick. Arching backwards, all Iggy feels is a breeze against his cheek as the "K-Wolf" goes somersaulting past, before he deftly stoops down to sweep her landing leg with his arm…

Nick: LOOK AT THAT! Wolfenden sent tumbling down to the mat with the merest of swipes, she just cannot get anywhere near Lisieux… I haven’t seen the French-Canadian on this kind of form since his early days with the company – this is fantastic viewing!

Richard: No it’s not, this is painful… it’s horrible…

Dumping the energetic "K-Wolf" on her derriere, Lisieux stands over his rival, casting his shadow over her seething form as his fans continue to get behind him with all their voice.

"BOW DOWN, KA-RI!!"

Nick: Bow down indeed… for all of Karina’s pretensions of being the best this company has ever seen she’s seeing a lesson in the evasive arts here in Tampa Bay, Florida… I don’t think I’ve ever seen her looking so incensed before!

…Stranded down on the mat, the "K-Wolf" shuffles away from the stalking Lisieux, lashing out sporadically with her feet to keep him at bay. Just as Iggy comes within an inch of having his nose kicked back into his skull, the "K-Wolf" uses the split-second it bought her to kip-up... only for Lisieux to be there waiting, taking Wolfenden over with a hip-toss, before again backing away.

Nick: Another hip-toss from Ignatius Lisieux! Wolfenden is tomato-red right now - she cannot believe what is happening here…

Richard: What good is it doing Iggy tough, really? He’s hitting no damage onto Karina at all…

Nick: Physically, maybe, but psychologically he’s destroying her… Despite the mesmerising flurry of strikes by the "K-Wolf", she's been thwarted with a simple arm-drag and hip-toss, registering no hits to the still-throbbing head of the "Eternal Sunrise".

…Storming upwards, a fuming Wolfenden strides over to the Hall-of-Famer, who lets her approach, wanting to fuel her anger. In reply to the "MVP's" mocking of her, the "K-Wolf" lands a harsh slap across his face. Keeping his head where Kari's hand swatted it, Iggy rubs his cheek, a smug grin forming across his face, a prelude to the chuckle that follows.

"OOOOOOOOOOHHHHH!!"

Richard: Have a taste of your own bitchy medicine, Lisieux! The slap heard around the world!

Nick: The utter disdain from Karina… she’s at breaking point here and she’s going to find herself in a world of trouble if she ain’t careful.

With Wolfenden not thinking about how to follow up the slap, the "Eternal Sunrise" frees himself of any lingering reservations, and unloads with a volley of crunching forearms. Unable to reply to any of them, a battered "K-Wolf" is backed against the ropes, before Iggy whips her into the opposite set and then sends her flipping back onto her front as he tries to scythe her head off with a lariat.

Throwing his arms up into the air and roaring up at the moon, Lisieux injects the stadium's crowd with an overdose of adrenaline. They respond, as always, exactly how he wants them to:

"COOOMMMMMMMMEEEEEEE ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!"

Nick: Unreal… simply unreal… the Raymond James Stadium again explodes with appreciation for the "MachiaVellian Protagonist", who has been in control of this contest for at least the last ten minutes.

A groggy "K-Wolf" staggers up, only for Lisieux to grab her around the waist, and fling her overhead with a German suplex - again sending Wolfenden flipping forward all the way onto her front… Rolling out under the bottom rope, Lisieux hops up, then slingshots back into the ring with a senton, landing across the "K-Wolf's" back, before rolling back to his feet. Again, Iggy urges the fans to try and raise the volume up yet another notch, before beckoning to Wolfenden to rise.

*CLAP*

*CLAP*

*CLAP*

*CLAP*

*CLAP*

Nick: Lisieux using the fans to build up momentum here, this is harking back to the days of Tony Rolo, he’s feeding off the crowd, they’re giving him every ounce of energy they have…

The rhythmic applause sends out a message about tempo to Lisieux, who pumps his fist along with the crowd. Stunned from the onslaught by the "Eternal Sunrise", Kari staggers up, and takes a wild swing at PRIME's "MVP". Seeing it coming a mile off, Lisieux ducks and captures her arms in a Full Nelson, before hurling the "K-Wolf" overhead and folding her up over her own neck with a trademark Dragon Suplex; right out of the Black Angel playbook.

Nick: HUGE DRAGON SUPLEX FROM LISIEUX! THIS COULD BE IT!!!

"ONE!







TWO!!







THRE-NO!!!"

Richard: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! –IS SHE? …SHE’S FREE!!

Nick: Dammit!

The high angle Iggy landed the Suplex at works against him as Wolfenden slumps onto her front, peeling her shoulders off the mat as she goes to evade the three count… Losing his impartialness, Nick Stuart slams his fist into the desk with frustration at her near escape…

Richard: Now, now Nick… you’re meant to be the down-the-middle announcer in this tandem here, remember?

Not slowing down for a second, Iggy pulls the "K-Wolf" up off the mat, and then lifts her up into a gut-buster. As a winded Wolfenden slumps over, Lisieux then hooks both arms, heaves her up, and then plants his rival down into the canvas…

Nick: BUTTERFLY DDT FROM LISIEUX!!

Keeping the arms hooked, Iggy rises, dragging a flagging Wolfenden with him, before against lifting her up... only to drill her back down…

Nick: BUTTERFLY POWERBOMB!!

"OOOOOOOOOHHHHH!!!"

Laying spread-eagled on the canvas, a stunned Wolfenden stares up through the lighting rig at the night-sky, the sudden flurry from the PRIME "MVP" having rocked her both physically and mentally. Sweat beads down her forehead, her hair is frizzed and unkempt, the battle most definitely showing its signs on her appearance.

Richard: Come on Kari, come on…

As he sits up, the "Eternal Sunrise" thumps his right hand down onto the canvas, then, as he rises, stamps his right foot. The rhythm again spreads through the fans, who immediately start stamping their feet in unison with the "Hall of Fame Champion" - drowning out the pro-Kari contingents, while the vibrations jar Wolfenden's teeth as she lies on the canvas.

*THUD*

*THUD*

*THUD*

Nick: Wolfenden is in the famous world-of-hurt right now, Ignatius Lisieux STILL has all of the momentum and she’s wearing down by the second…

Slowly, she pulls herself up, thoughts feeling distant from actions as she tries to gather her senses. But, before she has the chance, Lisieux pounces…

Nick: SUPERKICK!!

"WOOOOOOO!!"

Richard: Ugh!!

As Kari's head snaps back, she stumbles a few paces, before dropping down seated onto the middle rope, sending her limp body tumbling down to the mats outside.

Richard: Oh no!

Nick: The impact of the shot just sent Karina Wolfenden tumbling right through the ropes!!

As Iggy goes to follow her out, Thomas Giles steps in and hold shim back, trying to keep order despite the "MVP's" protests.

Nick: Giles stepping-in there to try and prevent Lisieux from attacking…

Punch-drunk, Wolfenden pulls herself up, before dropping back down to one knee, seemingly having underestimated her opponent. Again, Iggy goes to slingshot out over the top rope, but again the referee blocks his path...

Richard: That’s the way zebra - keep that sinner within the guidelines!

…this time, though, Iggy nudges him aside. Reaching out through the ropes, Lisieux grabs Wolfenden by the arm and pulls her back towards the ring, only for the "K-Wolf's" hand to clamp around his wrist…

Nick: Uh-oh…

…Before Lisieux can recoil, Kari yanks him out through the ropes, nearly pulling him to the outside, before she flings herself …

"OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

Nick: BICYCLE KICK TO LISIEUX’S SKULL!!!

The crowd let out a collecting wince, before the pro-Wolfenden pockets come back to life. Ignoring Thomas Giles, not a rare thing in this match, a slightly-shaken Wolfenden pulls Iggy over the middle rope, then again rocks his skull with an enziguri kick, busting out an impressive vertical leap. Trying to mask the impact landing back on the floor has on her aching body; the "K-Wolf" drags herself up onto the apron and then climbs the corner's ladder up to the top turnbuckle…

Nick: Kari’s followers find their voice once again as the Lisieux camp is rendered silent… after a huge spell of domination all it took was an ill-timed refereeing intervention to swing things back in the direction of the "K-Wolf"!

"KA-RI-NA! KA-RI-NA! KA-RI-NA!"

Richard: I hope you’re not trying to blame your favourite little match official for Kari regaining her foothold in this match there, Nick…

Nick: No… no I’m not - I just thought maybe he could have let Iggy get on with it…

The chants are never as loud as Ignatius’, but they’re still extremely audible… As expectant camera flashes bleach the picture, Wolfenden tries to secure her tired footing on the top, lining up the prone Lisieux once again in her cross-hairs…

Nick: -But that’s neither here-nor-there, as it stands it is Wolfenden with the marked advantage and she’s got something on her mind here, too…

Richard: Oh this is going to be good, I can sense it!

With Iggy stranded across the middle rope, the "K-Wolf" leaps off the top and pummels both her feet down between his shoulder-blades with a trademark double stomp, before desperately grabbing the ropes and swinging safely onto the apron!

Nick: THE DOUBLE STOMP FROM WOLFENDEN… AND OH BOY! What athleticism to remain placed on the apron!

Richard: You don’t win more matches than anyone else in PRIME by sheer luck, you know?

"WOOOOOOOO!!!"

A limp Iggy just hangs across the bouncing rope, sending Thomas Giles hopping out onto the apron to check on him. Rightly concerned for the wrestler's health, he tries to get a reaction out of the "MVP", looking to signs of life in his glassy eyes, but before Iggy has a chance to respond, Wolfenden sends a kick up into his face that knocks the fading "Eternal Sunrise" back into the ring. Angry at her lack of concern, Giles jabs a finger at the "K-Wolf", but she's only focused on Lisieux and completely brushes the match official off.

Richard: Come on Kari, he’s there for the taking!

Nick: Giles wants to check on him but she’s not going to make the same mistake that Lisieux did, she doesn’t have the same respect for authority that he does…

Stalking her wounded prey, a resurgent "K-Wolf" slips back through the ropes and then waits for Iggy to drag himself up. Keeping out of his line of sight, she skulks low as the "MVP's" legs fail him a couple of times, intentions not blossoming into action at the first few tries. Then, as Lisieux's legs finally feel solid under him Wolfenden showcases yet another gravity defying vertical leap, crushing Iggy's already throbbing head between her violent feet with a breathtaking enziguri scissors kick.

Nick: OH. MY. GOD!!!

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!! HO-LY SHIT!! HO-LY SHIT!!"

As if his life-support had just been yanked out at the plug, Lisieux crumbles, spreading out across the mat, motionless.

Nick: This looks bad… this looks really bad…

Beside Nick, Richard Parker is looking on with glee while gesturing with his arms for Wolfenden to cease, the worried Thomas Giles again skids down to check on Lisieux, only for Wolfenden to slide down over him and hook both legs, ordering the official to count. Making his disapproval vocal, Giles finally concedes, and carries out his duty on the biggest show in PRIME's history…

"ONE!







TWO!!







THREE-NO!!!"

"TWOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

Nick: SHOULDER-UP!! LISIEUX GETS THE SHOULDER UP!!!!

The noise erupting around the stadium as Lisieux somehow rolls a shoulder up goes beyond deafening, and into head-exploding territory, the roar of approval is quite simply amazing:

"ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

…Dropping onto her back and staring up into the clear sky, the "K-Wolf" resorts to laughter to cope with the sense of disbelief at her opponent’s fortitude.

Nick: Karina can do nothing else BUT laugh… she must have thought that she’d done enough to put him away, but still he fights onwards!

Richard: I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again… this bastard is a machine, no way could any ordinary human suffer this amount of punishment and still want to continue.

Nick: He’s no machine… he’s Ignatius Lisieux.

Knowing that Giles is getting itchy feet about allowing someone in his state to continue, Iggy grabs Giles' collar in his left hand, pulling him close…

Nick: Looks to me like Iggy is demanding that Giles doesn’t stop the match, he knows that this could be his last in PRIME and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do everything he can to prevent it from being so.

"IG-GY!! …IG-GY!! …IG-GY!!"
"KAR-I! …KAR-I! …KAR-I!"

Nick: The fans continue to battle in the stands, but it is inside of the squared-circle where the real drama is happening here tonight!

Kari pulls herself both up and together, before demanding of Iggy to do the same.

Nick: Wolfenden is up and she wants Lisieux to join her! The atmosphere in this place is unbelievable!

Under the disapproving gaze of the referee, Wolfenden goads the Hall of Famer, dangling the carrot there for him to grab as he battles his unresponsive body, which buckles under his weight. Feeding off the cheers and chants, the "Eternal Sunrise's" overlapping vision finally merges into one, and he's able to get to one knee. Resting both hands on it, he seemingly uses all he has just to get his other foot planted on the canvas... only for the "K-Wolf" to then stride right up to him, clinch around his neck, and drive her knee into his forehead!

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"
"WOOOO!"

Nick: For the love of all that is holy… Karina Wolfenden might have just knocked the French-Canadian unconscious… what a sadistic knee-strike by the current Wrestler of the Year…

Richard: Needs must, Nick… needs must…

Eyes rolling back, Iggy flops backwards onto the canvas as the diminishing Wolfenden contingent in the crowd still battle valiantly against the majority - damn smarks.

Nick: I think Lisieux is starting to gain more allies in the crowd here, Wolfenden keeps lowering the tone with her methods, this is no longer a wrestling match - this is fast degenerating into a street fight…

Dropping back against the buckles, the "K-Wolf" surveys the scene with a brief look of approval before spinning and hopping up onto the middle rope… Looking far from the energetic figure that emerged from a hail of pyrotechnics, Wolfenden climbs onto the top rope, perching as she secures her tired footing.

Nick: Wolfenden looking tired, but still determined to put Lisieux away…

Richard: Careful now, Kari… careful…

Straightening up, Kari's feet shuffle for balance, before she explodes off into a mesmerising flip, going through a full six-thirty degrees... before ploughing into the canvas which Lisieux recently vacated…

Nick: LISIEUX ROLLS CLEAR!!

"WOOOOOOOOOO!!"

Kari's face screws up as she arches her back off the sweat-stained mat, the rapid rotations only making her collision with the mat all the more painful.

Nick: CRASH AND BURN!!

Richard: NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Grabbing onto the ropes to help pull himself up, a groggy Lisieux can barely hear the roaring crowd through his splitting head, but can feed off their energy none the less. Her posture warped as she tries to sooth the pain shooting up her back, Kari leaves herself open for the "Eternal Sunrise" to crash into her mid-section, driving her down into the canvas…

Nick: SPEAR BY LISIEUX! SPEAR BY LISIEUX! HE HOLDS ON!!!

"ONE!"





Richard: GET UP KARI! GET UP!!!





"TWO!"





Nick: I THINK HE’S GOT HER!!





"THREE-NO!!!"

Richard: Shoulder up! She got her shoulder up!

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

Iggy rolls off to her side, both wrestlers suffering as the match saps every last bit of energy they possess… Thomas Giles hovers over the pair of them with his arms raised high into the Tampa sky…

Nick: Is he…? I think Thomas Giles is about to start the ten-count!

"ONE!"

Richard: Surely the match can’t end like this!?

"TWO!!"

Nick: I’m not sure if it won’t… Lisieux is almost spent and Wolfenden has just taken a massive impact move!

"THREE!!!"

Richard: Erm… Kari?!

"FOUR!!!!"

Nick: No movement so far from either competitor… the only motion on display are the two heaving chests of these valiant warriors pumping air in and out of their bodies…

"FIVE!!!!!"

Richard: Seriously Kari… start getting up!!

"SIX!!!!!!"

The fans begin to swell-up with anticipation as Giles’ count begins to reach a climax, still neither competitor budges… until Ignatius’ leg twitch seems to alert Wolfenden, who immediately starts scrambling…

"SEVEN!!!!!!!"

Nick: They’re moving… they’re moving!! Can they make it up in time!?

Richard: IT’S ALIVE!!

"EIGHT!!!!!!!!"

Nick: Kari is leaning on Lisieux… he’s leaning right back… they’re almost there!!

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

Both wresters use the other for support as they finally rise, before Kari shoves him off and connects with a vicious snap kick to the outside of his knee.

Nick: Wolfenden strikes first!!

In retaliation, Lisieux rocks her jaw with a straight forearm, and then doubles her back over with a boot to the ribs.

Nick: Lisieux fires back with two shots of his own…

As Kari’s momentum takes her back-over, she flings out her right leg with a crane kick, scoring a glancing blow across Iggy's jaw as he goes to follow up. Sent staggering back, Lisieux gives Wolfenden the chance to score another snap kick to the knee, but he replies right away with a European upper-cut, rocking his rival once more and bringing the Raymond James Stadium to life for what seems like the millionth time this evening…

"LET’S GO IG-GY!! …LET’S GO IG-GY!! …LET’S GO IG-GY!!"

Nick: Just listen to this, soak it all up… this is Colossus, this is Wolfenden-Lisieux, THIS IS PRIME!!!

Even Richard is dumbstruck by the immense atmosphere and with the exchanged blows chipping away at their final reserves, Wolfenden spins into a back-heel kick, connecting to Iggy's ribs, before again securing her clinch around his neck…

Richard: He’s fading… he’s really fading… come on Kari, finish him off now… finish it here!

Nick: These two gladiators have been battling for almost thirty minutes here tonight, they’re both drenched in sweat and stained with blood… what an epic contest, what a night!!

Before Lisieux can break free, Wolfenden fires off two of her face-crushing "Muay Thai" knees, but as she goes to follow them up with a moonsault kick, Iggy somehow manages to recoil his head from out of harm's way. As Kari touches back down on the mat, Lisieux launches himself into a spin, and then sends his rival flying back into the corner with a roaring elbow!

"YYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEAHHHHHHH!!!"

Nick: Lisieux with a BIG shot to Wolfenden, she’s sent staggering backwards – there’s life in the old dog, yet…

Feet losing traction on the sweaty canvas, Kari has to drape her arms over the ropes to keep upright, just as the sight of an onrushing Lisieux grows larger in her cloudy vision.

Richard: Lookout Kari, dodge left... DODGE LEFT!!!

Ducking under the charging Lisieux, Kari rebounds off the ropes as he collides with the buckles, but as she rushes him, the "Eternal Sunrise" plucks her up off the canvas and into a tilt-a-whirl…

"WOO-"

Nick: SUNSET LEGACY!!!! SUNSET LEGACY!!!!

Richard: NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

…Only for Kari to reach out and grab the ropes in desperation. Before Iggy can drop her on her head, a desperate "K-Wolf" yanks herself out through the ropes and onto the apron.

Nick: Wolfenden breaks clear!!! - By God, she broke clear!

"-AHHH! BOO-"

But, as she uses the ropes to pull herself up, Iggy grabs the cable and slingshots her back into the ring.

"-WOOOO!"

Stumbling up, the exhausted Kari seeks refuge in the corner, only for the battered and bruised "Eternal Sunrise" to almost behead her with a clothesline!

Nick: HUGE clothesline from Lisieux! How can these two be keeping the tempo so high!? How can either competitor be running on anything more than fumes now? This is simply unreal – I’m struggling to keep my composure here –

Richard: We can tell!!

Nick: Ignatius Lisieux now with the upper-hand…

Believing he needs to up the stakes, the "Hall of Fame Champion" sets Wolfenden up for a super-plex, but dumps the challenger on the top turnbuckle instead of taking her over. Giving his aching head a short, sharp shake to try and clear it, Lisieux steps up onto the middle rope, only for his boot to slip on the moist ropes, sending him back down to the mat…

Nick: The French-Canadian looks like he’s trying to position Wolfenden for a super-plex here, but his foot just slipped on those sweat-drenched ropes… Thomas Giles is straight in there to check him out, but Iggy says he’s fine…

Richard: Nick, this is killing me – it really is… I cannot believe this isn’t the last match of the night, I want a pay-rise - I want overtime money… I want a damn CROWN!

"AHHHHH!!"

Not having been able to function properly since having his head crushed against the safety barricade, Iggy again goes to climb up, only for Kari to catch him in the face with her foot…

Nick: Oh man this could be huge trouble here for the "MachiaVellian Protagonist", he thought Kari was a sitting duck up there but she’s been playing possum to a tee…

…Stooping down to hook his head, then secure her grip under his left arm, Wolfenden locks the "MVP" in, then pushes off to spike Lisieux on the top of his head with the Whirlwind Romance!!

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

Nick: WHIRLWIND ROMANCE!!! WHIRLWIND ROMANCE!!!

Richard: Goodnight Lisieux!

Having figured, along with most of the fans, that one more blow to the head would be enough to turn Lisieux's lights off, Wolfenden throws herself onto him, hooking both legs tightly.

Nick: Wolfenden with the immediate cover… Karina Wolfenden IS the NEW PRIME "Hall of Fame Champion!!

"ONE!!!"




Richard: What a match, what a woman… what a way to win this!!





"TWO!!!!!!"





Nick: Oh, there’s blood streaming out from Ignatius’ temple… that bright blonde hair is turning a nasty shade of crimson. Stay down Iggy, it’s not worth all of this… just stay down…

"THREEEE-NO!!!!!!!!!"

"TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!"

Nick: MY GOD!! MY GOD!!

To the utter disbelief of the wide-eyed "K-Wolf" and everyone in attendance, Lisieux rolls a shoulder up just as the three is about to hit. Kari ploughs an aggrieved fist into the canvas and lets out a an agitated yelp,

Richard: That man cannot be human… he CANNOT be a human being!!

Despite looking ghostly pale and with body language suggesting that he's about to vomit, the battle-weary Ignatius Lisieux shows his famous determination by battling with his own body to stand.

Nick: How in the name of all that is holy can this boy be standing right now!?

"HO-LY SHIT!! HO-LY SHIT!! HO-LY SHIT!!"

Richard: Look at Karina… she cannot believe what she is dealing with here, but surely he’s only one more move away from giving up the ghost!? He BARELY snuck out of the last fall!

Sighing with anxiety, Thomas Giles continues to let the match go on, despite having feared a concussion to Lisieux long ago, but not wanting to face the wrath of the "MVP" (and the PRIMEates) should he simply hand the win to the "K-Wolf". Dropping back against the turnbuckles, Iggy stares up into the Tampa Bay night, heaving in oxygen to try and make the fumes he's running on last a little longer.

Nick: I’m not even sure if Ignatius Lisieux knows where he is anymore, he’s looking around this fantastic stadium with a glazed-over look on his face… he surely can’t withstand this for much longer.

Incredibly frustrated, and deciding that maybe one heftier whack to the skull is needed; Kari composes herself and rushes into the corner, launching into the best somersault she can muster to attack with a cartwheel corner kick.

Richard: THIS COULD BE IT!!!

Not possessing the energy to duck or roll, Lisieux simply lets go of the ropes, sending him flopping down to the canvas and leaving the "K-Wolf" colliding with the buckles.

Nick: LISIEUX FALLS… WOLFENDEN MISSES!!!

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

Caught up in the ropes and with no route of escape likely, a wincing Wolfenden hangs, while Iggy rolls back to the middle of the ring.

Richard: Is she… is she caught up in those ropes!?

Nick: I think she is! If Karina has got tied-up in those ropes… well, what a chance for Lisieux, what a chance to retain his job and win this match!

Looking out into the crowd, Iggy sees the fans all off their seats, chanting, cheering, or stamping their feet as they get sucked into the epic battle. He moves towards the helpless Wolfenden with a raised, clenched fist and looks to the PRIMEates for guidance, before agonisingly staring back at his trapped opponent…

Nick: Come on Iggy, finish it… for all that the bitch has done to you over the last six months, for Johnny and Hayley… Rolo and Troy... COME ON!!

Richard: Don’t you dare, Lisieux… don’t you dare!!

"DO IT!! DO IT!! DO IT!!"

Richard stands up and points aggressively towards the grinning French-Canadian as Nick struggles to drag him back down into his seat… Not failing to be energised by the scene, Lisieux pulls his fist up to his face and stares at it intently, before again casting his glance back to Wolfenden…

Nick: For your job, Iggy… for the PRIMEates… take the chance!

…With the Tampa Bay crowd’s majority rule being that the French-Canadian should take advantage of the situation that has presented itself… Lisieux looks back at the fans and shrugs… and then shakes his head a little bit and amazingly instructs Thomas Giles to untie the groggy "K-Wolf" from the ropes…

Nick: …I… I cannot believe what I’m seeing here… through it all, with everything that she has done to him… Ignatius Lisieux is allowing Wolfenden to go free…

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

Richard Parker is silenced, the true majesty of the French-Canadian even hitting home on his rotten core… he’s silently impressed, he cannot believe that another human being can be so different from himself.

Nick: …The PRIMEates are telling Lisieux exactly what they think of that, but he’s right… at the end of the day he’s right… I cannot believe it, though… I really can’t…

…Grabbing the back of her head, Kari drops down to the floor… but going for one last sprint towards the finish, Iggy surprises the stadium as he drags her up into a front face-lock…

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!"

Richard: WHAT THE HELL IS HE DOING!?

Nick: She’s untied; Richard… the match goes on!

The fans rise in anticipation as a grin fixates itself across the lips of the two-thousand-four PRIME Wrestler of the Year - having survived Wolfenden's "Whirlwind Romance", Iggy climbs cautiously onto the middle rope, before pushing off and spinning through, spiking Kari down onto her head with a Tornado DDT of his own!

Nick: THE "182"!!!!! HE HITS IT!!!

…Rolling over, all Iggy can do for a cover is drop his right hand onto Kari's shoulder, but it still counts…

"ONE!!!"






Richard slumps down into his chair, certain that the French-Canadian has just struck the final blow of this enthralling contest.






"TWO!!!!!!"






Nick and the rest of the stadium look on with their heads in their hands, totally disbelieving of what they’re seeing as Thomas Giles counts the final number…






"THREEEEEEEE-NO!!!!!!!!!"

…Shocked silence - from everyone.

Iggy's heart breaks and his eyes close over as he watches Kari roll a shoulder up just as Thomas Giles' palm is about to touch the canvas for the third time... The Tampa Bay crowd is still silent; shots on the big-screens show numerous PRIMEates with their heads still firmly in their hands. Disbelief is the order of the day in Florida. The sweat-soaked Ignatius Lisieux raises his arms to the heavens in anger, before returning his focus to getting back up to his feet…

Nick: Well… what more can you say about this, really? What more can you possibly talk about? We have gone beyond the realms of expectation here in Tampa Bay tonight… Ignatius Lisieux and Karina Wolfenden are re-writing the playbook in front of a worldwide audience - phenomenal.

Both wrestlers exhausted, suffering in the humid night, they slowly rise, neck and neck with one another… Having handed over control to their instincts, the bitter rivals stagger towards one another, where Iggy is first to throw, scoring a forearm to Kari's jaw that almost sends her dropping back. Rallying, Kari flings yet another snap kick to the outside of Iggy's knee, almost buckling the joint. Just as Iggy throws another forearm, Kari fires off another kick - both connecting at the same time...

"M-V-P!!! …M-V-P!!! …M-V-P!!! …M-V-P!!!"
"KA-RI-NA!! …KA-RI-NA!! …KA-RI-NA!!"

The exhausted fans’ chants are getting slower as Kari is dropped to one knee - so is Iggy, when his left leg eventually gives out…

The announcers are silent, allowing the pure atmosphere of the moment to reign supreme over the airwaves… while, heaving in air, both wrestlers remain down on one knee, before Wolfenden manages to find just enough somewhere deep within to throw herself up and into a roundhouse kick - connecting to Lisieux’s temple and swatting him to the side. Grabbing his buzzing skull in both hands, the battered Lisieux rolls down under the bottom rope to the floor, while Kari drops down to both knees, resting up to try and get enough back in the tank to have another flurry of offence.

On the outside, Iggy uses the barrier to pull himself up, blood now dripping worryingly out of his left ear… while in the ring; Kari again makes a struggle out of getting to her feet, her face swollen and bruised, and her lips both smeared in crimson liquid.

Seeing Iggy on the outside ignites a spark, and Wolfenden rushes to the ropes, exiting the ring with a baseball slide, connecting both feet to Lisieux's recently-injured ribs. With her winded opponent doubled over, Wolfenden makes her big play, tying up his arms - locking him up for the "C4".

Nick: WOLFENDEN LOOKING FOR THE C4!!!! C4!!!

Richard: YESSSSSSSSS!!!

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

With no ropes to use, the "K-Wolf" uses the apron to kick off-of, going to flip over Iggy and score her lethal finisher onto the outside mats... only for an exhausted Lisieux to simply sit-out, dumping Kari down onto her neck and shoulders as she's dropped mid-slip!

Nick: OH MY!!!!!!

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

Pure instinct (and a severe loss of vision/awareness) causes Lisieux to roll over and cover the limp Wolfenden, but the eager fans slapping their hands on the barrier don't cut it as a legal count, even if they do reach ten…

Nick: Lisieux’s mind is telling him to cover… but that’s not going to count on the outside of the ring… how did he evade the C4!? How could that be possible!?

Richard: I’m not sure if it was even intentional, Nick… I think his limbs just gave-way…

Grabbing the back of her throbbing neck, Wolfenden goes to crawl away from Lisieux, only for him to grab a handful of her frizzy black and orange hair. Slipping over the barrier and into the crowd, Iggy pulls Kari towards him, before locking in a dragon sleeper, targeting the neck and bending it back over the security rail.

Nick: Fantastic idea from the French-Canadian… immediately seeing that Wolfenden is favouring her neck he’s locked in that dragon-sleeper OVER the security barrier!

Seriously considering whether or not he really wants to see things like this first-hand, Thomas Giles calls for Iggy to break the hold and get back into the ring, going so far as to lever his arm into the sleeper, loosening it so that Kari can slither out.

Richard: …Good Lord, massive stones on display from Thomas Giles – I think that might be the first time I’ve ever seen that in PRIME!

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!"

Nick: Thomas Giles is again the villain in Tampa Bay… but that was an illegal hold from Lisieux, he had to break it – the move still looks as though it’s done some permanent damage, though…

The tiring fans help keep Lisieux upright, while their pats on the back and words of encouragement barely keep him going, the epic contest easily past the thirty minute mark now…

Nick: I’m not sure how much more either of these warriors can give us… I have never seen Karina Wolfenden looking so battle-weary… I have seen Ignatius Lisieux in this state, but surely he can’t do it again?

Climbing up onto the barricade, Iggy turns to face the crowd, raising a fist to rally them behind his cause - as if they weren't already there. With their man in control, the Lisieux fans absolutely drown-out the chants of the pro-Wolfenden pockets, cutting off her energy supply.

"IG-GY!!! IG-GY!!! IG-GY!!!"

Then, his head so smashed that he’s no longer able to even weigh up risks and benefits, Iggy flings himself off the barrier…

Nick: INFINITE ECLIPSE!!!!!! HE HITS IT… DEAR GOD, HE JUST ALMOST LANDED HEAD-FIRST!!

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"

With both competitors down on the outside, Giles looks to the crowd with a shrug of the shoulders and reluctantly begins to raise his arms to administer the ten-count…

Nick: Thomas Giles surely has no option here… another ten-count has to be called… I can’t see either competitor getting up from that. Karina Wolfenden and Ignatius Lisieux are landing in a crumpled, sweaty heap on the outside of the ring… this has to be over, end this now… just end it…

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!! SHUT THE FUCK UP!!"

…Looking out into the seething Tampa Bay crowd with eyes wide, Giles immediately heeds their apparent warning and abandons the proposed idea.

Richard: Talk about fan-power!! Seems that these sick bastards in Florida won’t be happy until they see one of our superstars dead… on their heads be it…

Nick: I can’t believe what I’m seeing here, I really can’t.

"LET’S GO IG-GY!!!!!"
"LET’S G KA-RI!!!"

Again crawling slowly away from Lisieux, Kari stops at the ring post, where she reaches up and grabs the turnbuckle ladder in her gloved hands, pulling herself up…

Nick: How is she even able to stand!?

Showing little in the way of reservations, the "Eternal Sunrise" rushes the "K-Wolf" - going to spear her into the ring post...

Richard: LOOKOUT!!!

…only for Wolfenden to let go of the ladder, dropping out of harm's way…

Nick: Oh man… Kari mo-

Spotting her dodge just in time, Iggy skids to a halt, bringing up his arms as buffers, and just manages to avoid colliding with the steel, much to the French-Canadian’s relief.

Nick: -he just stops in time!!

…He can't, however, avoid the kick from a grounded Wolfenden that smashes his head against the ring post!!

Nick: OH MY GOD!!!!

"URRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

The rousing cheers that had swelled in support of the "Eternal Sunrise" are quenched as he slides down the steel, eyes completely glazed over and blood streaming out from his forehead.

Nick: I hope to God that the kids are safely tucked-up in bed… I can barely watch this any longer…

Sitting back against the barricade, Kari takes a few seconds to rest, watching the last ounces of fight ooze out of the "MVP". Snaking herself back up, Kari pushes Iggy away from the post with her foot, herding him towards the announce table.

Nick: …it’s over Kari, it’s done… what the hell else do you want to do? Just cover him… please, just cover him… don’t bring him over here, dammit…

Richard: KA-RI-NA! KA-RI-NA!

Nick: Oh, please…

Head hanging limp, dropping from side to side, Iggy crawls to the announce desk, which he uses to support his weight as he amazingly tries to pull himself up. Karina’s hardcore support finds their voice again amongst the silent concern of the Lisieux camp…

"KA-RI-NA! KA-RI-NA!"

Nick and Richard begin to back away from their seats just as Lisieux gets to his feet, the "K-Wolf" connects with a spinning back-fist, knocking her opponent up onto the table...

Sensing something big coming, the pro-Wolfenden contingents continue to make themselves heard over the deflated Lisieux followers. Rolling in under the bottom rope, Kari ignores the disparaging glare of the Giles as she pulls herself up, resting against the ropes. Grabbing the top rope in both hands, the "K-Wolf" leans back, before spring-boarding up onto the cable. Riding the bounce, Wolfenden seems to remain perched on the rope for an eternity before she finally builds up enough courage and leaps off - landing a double stomp to Lisieux…

Nick: OH MY GO-

*BUZZ* *CRACKLE*

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Nick: Wolf----through-----table!!!

"HO-LY SHIT!!! HO-LY SHIT!!! HO-LY SHIT!!!"

With the announcers’ headsets malfunctioning due to the wreckage of the table, both wrestlers lay flat-out, their bodies now pin-cushions for the shards and splinters of wood that ping and land all around them.

With his head in his hands, Thomas Giles watches on, sickened, wondering why he won't bring himself to stopping the match… one more look to the baying masses tells him that he simply cannot. With technicians frantically swarming around the paled Richard Parker and Nick Stuart, Karina eventually starts dragging herself upwards… The two announcers look on with dropped jaws, barely able to believe what they are seeing.

Aching and limping, a wincing and severely-dishevelled "K-Wolf" rests against the barricade, looking down at the broken Lisieux, who is motionless apart from the odd, disturbing spasm. Nonchalantly swiping a water bottle from a ringside fan, she pours the contents over her head, and then gulps down the last mouthful - her supporters delight in these classic Wolfenden tactics, and respond in the only way they know how:

"KA-RI-NA! KA-RI-NA!"

Scraping her matted-down orange hair back, Kari uncomfortably staggers over the table debris, and fumbles before she grabs a limp Lisieux, trying to drag him back towards the ring…. Running on instinct alone, the "Eternal Sunrise" tries to stand under his own steam, but his strings have been totally cut… his fans desperately try to instil some life into him once again:

"ONE… MORE… TIME!! ONE… MORE… TIME!! ONE… MORE… TIME!!"

Wolfenden eventually musters up the strength and pushes Lisieux under the bottom rope, while a thankful Thomas Giles slides down, ready to make what he sees as a merciful count… The Raymond James Stadium intakes a massive gulp of breath as the curtain begins to drop on this epic battle, the technicians even stop what they are doing to watch… as, slithering in between the ropes, the "K-Wolf" slumps down across Iggy, hooking both legs…

"ONE!!!!!!












TWO!!!!!!!!!












THREEEEEE!!!"

Wolfenden sighs deeply and looks with sheer disbelief at Thomas Giles, who returns the look with interest… his right arm up in the air, the sign of peace being made with his fingers…

"TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!"

Tampa Bay nearly explodes as realisation begins to set-in… Ignatius Lisieux got his shoulder up again!

"IG-GY!!! IG-GY!!! IG-GY!!!"

With another massive sigh, Kari head drops forward, shaking uncontrollably. Reaching back, she grabs the ropes, pulling herself up, all the while just looking down at the body of Ignatius Lisieux. Empty eyes stare up into the night sky, while his chest barely rises with each short breath.

Nick: Folks----are we---

Richard: I can hear---I can hear you Nick…

Nick: We good? –How… how can he possibly!? …I cannot believe my eyes, I don’t believe this…

Despite his whole body being ravaged by pain, and his brain feeling as if it’s about to swell and burst out of his skull, the "Eternal Sunrise" owes it to himself, and to PRIME, to get up.

So he does.

Richard: No way…

Rolling onto his front, Iggy plants his palms onto the canvas, and tries to push himself up as a massive roar again engulfs the stadium, making Nick and Richard’s words from the announce booth completely inaudible…

"RRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!"

Throughout the stadium, the PRIME fans chant and rhythmically stomp their feet, not for a victory, but simply for a man who can stand after taking a gigantic amount of physical punishment. As the battered, bruised and bloody Ignatius Lisieux reaches his knees, he looks up to see a blur of black and orange through his depressingly-tainted vision. Sucking in a deep breath, composing herself - and maybe even asking herself if she really wants to do it, Kari drops back into her kicking stance…

Nick: THIS IS UNREAL FOLKS… IN ALL MY YEARS I HAVE NEVER WITNESSED SUCH FORTITUDE… I HOPE YOU CAN HEAR US BACK HOME… THIS IS ELECTRIC! –OHHHHHHHHHHH!!! DOUBLE-STRIKE ROUNDHOUSE KICK FROM WOLFENDEN!!!

Karina follows through after the first violent impact to catch the "Eternal Sunrise" across the jaw with a second, blood flies out from his mouth and left-ear as he collapses in a broken heap once more… Florida is brought to silence at what it is seeing.

Richard: THIS TIME… THAT HAS GOT TO BE ENOUGH…

Not having enough left in her to stay standing, Wolfenden herself drops to the canvas, completely spent - luckily for her, she lands across Lisieux… A sweating and haggard Thomas Giles drops down for another count, praying to God that it will be his last of the night…

"ONE!!!!!!!!!!"








Nick: After almost forty minutes… neither competitor is standing and Karina Wolfenden is inadvertently covering Ignatius Lisieux…








"TWOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"








Richard: I have to take my hat off here… I’ve never seen anything like this, I am amazed… completely amazed.








THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! "

Nick: IT’S OVER… IT’S… FINALLY… OVER. WOLFENDEN WINS!

Exceptionally gratefully, the match official drags himself exhaustedly upwards to call for the bell, and then drops back down to his knees to check on the two wrestlers - who haven't moved a muscle since the "K-Wolf" first made the cover.

*DING* *DING* *DING*

WINNER: KARINA WOLFENDEN

Despite their mixed, vocal allegiances during the match, the fans remain deathly silent as Giles tries to get any signs of life out Wolfenden or Lisieux. Then, as Kari rolls off Iggy in laboured fashion, fists held up towards the sky, they slowly break into applause, swelling up the stadium, row by row. As Overseer's "Velocity Shift" blasts out, the Wolfenden contingents in the crowd celebrate not only her victory, but their own, over the "Eternal Sunrise" and his legions of followers.

Nick: Karina Wolfenden’s biggest singles victory in perhaps her entire career… she has defeated the valiant, heroic Ignatius Lisieux in Tampa Bay, Florida in what will surely go down in the history books as the greatest match ever seen in this company.

Vince Howard rises to his feet with an astonished expression, struggling to speak amidst the breathtaking scenes as the timekeeper hands the golden unofficial title belt to the referee…

Vince Howard: THE WINNER OF THIS MATCH, AND NNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWW PRIME "HALL OF FAME CHAMPION"...

As Wolfenden just manages to stand - fighting locked muscles - Thomas Giles offers a helping hand… and then raises her arm to the crowd…

Vince Howard: …KARRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNAAAAAAAA WOLFENNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNDENNNNNNNNNN!!!!!

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"

Nick: Through it all, evil prevails… but this is not a reception fit for evil, Tampa Bay is treating this Wolfenden performance with the respect it deserves. Nobody else would have beaten Ignatius Lisieux here tonight: not Tchu, not Sirrajin… not even Rolo, this was Ignatius Lisieux at his very best and Karina Wolfenden has prevailed.

Dropping back down onto one knee, the exhausted Kari dry-heaves, having given everything her body had, and anything it would loan her, to put away the Hall of Famer. Beside her on the canvas, Iggy finally stirs, both hands immediately grabbing his pounding head, he has no idea where he is, the PRIMEates (all of them, this time) soon do their utmost to remind him…

Richard: …and still he moves… if this truly is Ignatius Lisieux’s last match with this company, then he has transformed me… he has turned me into a fan. I have never witnessed anything of the like of what my eyes have just seen…

"THANK YOU IG-GY!!! THANK YOU IG-GY!!!"

As Richard Parker dramatically rises to his feet to join in the applause and calls for Nick Stuart to do the same, Karina heaves in lungful after lungful of air to try and refuel her body. She looks down at Lisieux as he comes-to, but without the glare of spite that she'd shot towards him for months…

Ripping her gloves off, and unbuckling pads and bracers, the "K-Wolf" disarms herself, and then offers her hand to Lisieux!

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"

Nick: SURELY NOT!!

Not even realising who the hand belongs to, Lisieux reaches for it, but as his cloudy vision finally makes out Wolfenden, he checks his reach, leaving his hand hovering just a few inches from hers… Again the crowd fall silent, while his frustration and loathing towards the "K-Wolf" and her actions over recent months flood into Iggy's thoughts: Culture Shock, Hayley, ReVolution One-Hundred, and Chet Worth… tonight.

Richard: …HE HAS TO SHAKE IT… AFTER THAT, HE HAS TO SHAKE IT…

Nick: -He wouldn’t be any less of a man if he didn’t – not after what she’s put him through…

After around ten seconds or so, he accepts the "K-Wolf's" hand, and the pair of them rise to their feet together, despite neither looking anything close to sure in their footing, in one of the most iconic images ever broadcast by PRIME or any wrestling promotion anywhere…

Nick: OH YEAH!!! THAT IS HOW WE DO IT!!! WHAT A SIGHT, WHAT A PICTURE!! IGNATIUS LISIEUX AND KARINA WOLFENDEN EMBRACE!!

The Raymond James Stadium collectively rises to its feet with an astounding round of applause for undisputedly the two best superstars that PRIME Wrestling has ever seen. They’re too spent to chant anymore, and the main event is yet to come…

Nick: I want the night to end right here, I really do… the emotion is unbelievable… how can Killean and Tchu top this!?

As Thomas Giles then approaches with PRIME's unofficial Hall of Fame Championship, Lisieux breaks off from the "K-Wolf", stumbling into Giles' path… he places his weary arms around the match official and asks, words slurring as if he'd drank a dozen too many, for his belt.

Nick: It looks to me as though Lisieux wants to present Wolfenden with the title belt – what a true touch of class; it’s the mark of the man…

Not wanting to say "no" to either of the wrestlers he'd just seen go to war, Giles hands over the belt, and decides to make himself scarce with a few calculated sidesteps to his left, where he places his head in his hands to try and knock a sense of realism into his malfunctioning brain.

Nick: That man deserves major credit, too, Thomas Giles has officiated the hell out of this epic contest… what a performance from our man in the middle.

Richard: I also give kudos to the zebra… he did a hell of a job.

"Velocity Shift" dies down as Iggy, with belt in hand, turns back to the "K-Wolf"… He would be damned if his final act inside of a PRIME ring wasn’t going to be one truly fitting to his character during his third, and perhaps final, run with the company, even if it was Karina herself who had sealed his exit.

Nick: Silence descends over the Raymond James Stadium again, just look at the camera bulbs shooting off through the darkness…

Just as she had done to him, Lisieux extends his hand, the hatred both had built up in recent months seemingly having been completely vented during their brutal and defining encounter. Seemingly having earned a new-found respect for the PRIME "MVP", the "K-Wolf" obliges… slowly shaking Lisieux's hand as the brief cheers of the crowd blossom into another standing ovation. After a few words that the ringside microphones can't pick up, Lisieux hands Wolfenden the Hall of Fame belt, after giving it a last, fond look, tears streaming down his cheeks as he does so…

Nick: Lisieux shedding tears now, Karina Wolfenden might well have just ended his PRIME career, and I think it’s finally starting to hit home for the French-Canadian.

A this time non-live version of "Million Miles Away" pumps out of the stadium's speakers in tribute, as Ignatius Lisieux begins to embark on his final exit, shrugging off the officials at ringside as they offer to help him back up the aisle - he struggles valiantly with his various injuries and his emotions as he embarks on the huge walk back up towards the curtain.

Nick: No help required… if this is to be Ignatius Lisieux’s last exit from the grand stage, then he’s going to do it his way: alone. God bless you Ignatius Lisieux… God bless you and God speed… there stands one of the finest warriors this sport has ever seen.

While Nick and Richard salute Ignatius’ exit, Karina is left in the ring with the "Offspring" blaring all around her with the new title belt draped over her shoulder. With everyone’s attention focused elsewhere she simply drops down to her knees, head back and arms reaching up to the stars as her theme music restarts and camera flashes bring a faux-dawn to the Florida night, while the scene slowly fades to black…

Nick: Karina Wolfenden reigns supreme as the NEW "Hall of Fame Champion"… but we’re not done here folks, not by a long shot… Killean Sirrajin versus Tchu for the PRIME Universal Championship is up… NEXT!

Richard: I’m gonna need some Powerade out here… some Powerade and some oxygen… whew, what a match!

Never has the backstage area of a PRIME-inhabited venue been so full and buzzing, it’s Colossus Three baby, and we’re right before the second biggest match on the card: Killean Sirrajin is just about to defend his ill-gotten Universal Title against the mighty Tchu, that one's bound to be a doozy, but don’t go rushing off to see it just yet: there’s something of a big deal going down here, too:

Tearstained, bloodstained and sweat-stained, basically way less-than-fresh from (un)arguably the best singles match in all PRIME history, Ignatius Lisieux is limping at an agonisingly slow pace towards the exit of the Raymond James Arena, wading valiantly through crowds and crowds of gawping onlookers, fans and colleagues alike… they all wanted a piece of the "Eternal Sunrise", especially seeing how this was probably his last night with the company: he had the pink-slip in his hand to prove it.

Despite all of this, never had the French-Canadian felt so hopelessly alone: well, at least not since ReVolution Fifty anyway…

"Way to go Iggy - that was one hell of a show out there!" calls out a random backstage lackey, slapping the French-Canadian appreciatively on the back. As much as Lisieux probably wants to break his neck right now, he refrains and instead offers up the most meagre of half-smiles ever seen on international television before swiftly brushing him off.

The huddle forming behind him is another great irritation to the former "Hall of Fame Champion", but there is a greater obstacle up ahead: there stand the match officials, fronted by the soon-to-depart-for-the main-event Bernie Roberts… upon entering the "foyer" area of the backstage, a huge round of applause engulfs the French-Canadian, causing a lump to well-up in his throat. He stands still and silent, embarrassment overcoming him at every turn, before he looks around at the amassed faces in front of him and raises his hand, immediately grinding a halt to proceedings:

"Save it for Karina, folks… she won the match…" he says sombrely with a wry smile, causing a few whispers of discontent to flutter round about him.

After a few moments of awkward shuffling, life is fired back into the scene as a yell of "FUCK KARINA!" bursts out from near the back of the group… "AND FUCK CHET WORTH!" A massive roar goes up and then Bernie Roberts plants his huge arms around the French-Canadian and holds on tight, whispering in his ear: "You’re the best ever, man… I’m sorry I have to go so quickly, but believe me: the best ever."

Lisieux can’t respond, he’s quite simply too dumbstruck. He merely pats Roberts on the shoulder appreciatively before the senior official makes a quick beeline for the curtain, a sweating Thomas Giles is next up… before the man who just counted a loss for the "Eternal Sunrise" can speak; Ignatius draws him in close for an embrace as the gathered onlookers smile away like collective Cheshire cats. "I’m sorry for any trouble I gave you out there; you did a hell of a job."

Giles, upon receiving an extremely rare and valuable compliment, can’t mutter much more than to just say "thanks"… He backs away from Ignatius Lisieux and swiftly yells out, "Clear a path! CLEAR A FUCKING PATH!"

The crowd parts like the red sea as the striped-shirted match officials form a guard of honour around the French-Canadian and begin to proudly lead him towards the arena exit. Ignatius looks around each and every one of them with a warm smile before sucking in a huge gulp of air and fighting back at more invading tears…

Never had such a hugely popular superstar been fired from the company.

A brief moment of anger sweeps over the departing superstar as he looks around at his amassed supporters - he wonders why they can’t do anything to save him, he wonders why they’re all there to see him go. "Hypocrites, every last one of them" he thinks, before chiding himself for being so cynical (in typical Lisieux style) …

Any ill-will that Ignatius held had to be for Karina Wolfenden and Chet Worth for their role in Colossus Three being his last night with the company, why should everyday folks like Max Newell and Josh Roberts risk their livelihood to protect his job? Truthfully, the "MVP" was not sure if he would ever be able to forgive Worth for this, although he had already made his peace with Karina.

Now approaching the parking lot, his last obstacle would be the waiting fans outside of the stadium. Those poor bastards who hadn’t been able to afford or find a ticket to the big show and who had waited around all night to catch a glimpse of the heroes and heroines… as his last remaining obligation as a PRIME superstar he sucked it up and vowed to sign every last autograph and pose for every last photo that they requested. After all, the fans were the only ones he really owed anything to.

"This is as far as we go, Iggy… Chet wants us in our seats for the Main Event…" says Josh Roberts uncomfortably as he swings open the door to the parking lot and extends his right hand, "…we’ll already be in trouble for missing the pre-match speeches!"

Lisieux can’t help but to smile as he shakes Roberts’ hand vigorously, "I appreciate that Josh, I’m sorry for getting you guys into trouble."

"Don’t worry about it" pipes up Thomas Giles, "you’re the only guy who ever spoke to us back here… we’ll miss you buddy."

Another warm smile from the French-Canadian follows as he delivers a brief wave and closes over the fire-exit behind him, slumping back against the steel door with a dull "thud" with the realisation that he is finally alone.

He sighs massively and rubs at his streaming eyes, before again chiding himself for showing weakness. He then drags his tired body back up to a standing position and pulls over his black Adidas sports bag to fish around a little for his car-keys, before pressing down on their button and setting off in search of the electronic "blip".

Upon finding the noise he pulls open the door to the white Corolla and slides gently inside, his body now aching severely. The French-Canadian starts up the engine immediately but doesn’t screeching away in the traditional parking-lot style... instead he sits there for a while, the camera struggling to get a clear shot of his face as the reflection on the windscreen of the parking lot lights provides obstructive.

Through the restricted view it can still be seen that the French-Canadian is shedding tears, the reality of his exit from PRIME seemingly becoming all-too-real for him to handle. He wipes his eyes, shifts the car out of "park" and slowly pulls away from the parking lot, ready to face the PRIMEates with his head held as high as possible and the wounds of battle still perfectly evident all over his body.

Karina Wolfenden might have ended Ignatius Lisieux's third run in PRIME, but the "MVP" still shook her hand. To the end he remained a figure of true integrity, a real role-model for the younger fans. His most recent ten-month stint in PRIME has rebuilt a broken reputation and a shattered body after the horrors of ReVolution Fifty… and Lisieux has remained PRIME until the end.

Whether he will ever return is anyone's guess, but for now another chapter in his storied history with the company is over. What the future holds for the French-Canadian is never certain, but for the first time in over three years his future most definitely does not include PRIME Wrestling.

Now, all that was left to do was pull-up outside and thank the waiting fans for all of their support and forgiveness since his return… after that, he would be gone.

Nick: Ladies and gentlemen, what we are about to witness is the type of encounter that gave life the phrases "grudge match of the century" and "epic battle". This match is four years in the making… and its safe to say that what we’re about to see won’t be pretty.

Richard: It’s the main event of the biggest wrestling event of the year! And its two guys who absolutely want to beat the hell out of each other. They’ve been friends, they’ve been enemies… tonight, they will finally meet as the obstacle between each man’s destiny to lead the new era of PRIME as Universal Champion!

Nick: Killean wants to hold onto the title he won fro Clyde at Ultra Violence several months ago, and in doing so… eliminate Tchu… the very man he was brought into the wrestling industry to take out four years ago in the Underground. As for The Inhuman Being, he wants payback on the man who has attacked him and brutalized him on numerous occasions. And he wants to take back the title he feels is rightfully his. The title that Tyler Nelson spent six months trying to keep him away from. But with Chet Worth now in charge of PRIME… Tchu will get his chance to take back the championship.

Richard: And we’re just seconds away from it all!

Vince Howard: Ladies and Gentlemen, the next contest is tonight’s main event, is scheduled for one fall with no time-limit, is No-Holds Barred… and is for the Universal Championshiiiip.

The fans rise to their feet as the stadium lights go off, casting the crowd in darkness… the glow of the moon the only light.

Suddenly across the entire entrance set, a wall of blue flames erupts from the ground. The fire dances ten feet into the air, making a towering barrier that blocks the set.

Richard: The hell? Damn… what is that!?

The sounds of Godsmack’s "I Fucking Hate You" rip through the stadium. Blue lights begin to blink on and off all around the complex. Then, through the flames, a figure can be seen emerging from the back. That figure slowly steps right through the burning wall of flames… and the crowd goes nuts.

"Whhhhhhooooooooooo"

Nick: Here comes the self proclaimed Anti-PRIME!

Vince Howard: Introducing first, from Dayton, OH… weighing in at 244lbs… The Inhuman Being… Tchuuuuuuuu!!

The challenger makes his way towards the ring, leaving the ten foot fire behind him. The blue lights occasionally light up his face, showing a cold look of intense focus.

Nick: Listen to the ovation for Tchu here tonight! It’s off the charts!

Richard: Somebody get me a thousand rolls of duct tape so I can close the mouths of all these fools!

Finally to the ring, Tchu walks up the ring steps and slides between the middle and top ropes. As the fans continue to cheer, Tchu makes his way over to the corner and climbs the turnbuckle, making a "T" with his arms.

"Cause I fuckin hate you, you're such a liar
I love to hate you, you're all the same to me"

The fans chant along with the chorus of Tchu’s new theme, as The Inhuman Being throws his arms to the side and lets loose with an animalistic roar.

Tchu hops down from the turnbuckle with the fans still going wild. As "I Fucking Hate You" fades into nothingness, and the wall of fire and blue lights cease to exist, the fans continue their ovation for the man who could possibly do what many thought impossible after ReVolution 100. Tchu stood in the ring, looking intently at the entrance, awaiting the arrival of his old friend and current nemesis.

Then… it happened…

*BOOM BOOM BOOM*

Loud pyrotechnics explode from all around the entrance, shaking the stadium to its very foundation. The lights flicker and flash until the stadium is plunged into darkness. Then, one by one, lights colored red and silver begin to light up the crowd, the walls and the entrance. Even the pirate ship glows under the illumination. Then comes…

"Walk on Water"…

The demo version by Ozzy Osbourne begins as the crowd explodes into a chorus of boos. The lights continue to flash as the bass hits and The Universal Champion enters the stadium.

Richard: Do you hear that?

Nick: WHAT?! I can’t hear anything with this crowd!

Sirrajin steps onto the stage area and crosses his arms. He then throws them in the air and a massive pyro display lights up the entire stadium. The pyro then explodes down the ramp and finally lights up all four ringposts and the light setup above the ring.

Nick: JESUS! I’m blind!

Richard: That was bright, but I still hear something…

Sure enough, the crowd turns to the sky just above the entrance way. Coming in at frightening speed, an F-18 flies overhead and buzzes Raymond James Stadium and drowns out the crowd, the music and even the pyro that explodes as it crosses. Right behind it, two more F-18’s buzz the stadium and by this time, everyone is surely deaf.

Richard: I have never seen anything like this in my life!

Nick: WHAT?!

Richard: Your mom is fat.

Nick: WHAT?! I can’t hear a thing now.

Richard: Heh, thought so…

Vince Howard: And the opponent. From Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada...weighing in at 297lbs... he is the PRIME Universal Champion... Killean Sirrajin!

With the red and silver lights panning the entire stadium, Killean finally makes his way down the aisle, as the fans are showing just exactly how much they hate the Champion. A large smile is on Killean’s face. His wrestling goggles are around his neck as he runs and slides under the bottom rope, stopping and looking straight into the eyes of Matthew Ward before he gets to his feet.

Killean slides off his trench coat, followed by the title belt. He tosses the coat over the top rope and hand his championship to Bernie Roberts, not before kissing it though. He then slides off his sunglasses, pulling the custom made wrestling goggles over his eyes.

Both men take a step towards each other, erasing the distance between them to mere inches. A cold glare is greeted by an equally chilling expression as the two stare down one another. Behind them, head official Bernie Roberts holds the Universal Championship high above his head in both hands, showcasing to all watching just what is at stake in this match. And the belt is only the beginning

As the tension swarms through Raymond James Stadium, the fans begin to buzz, growing louder and louder as the two men continue to stand motionless, facing off.

Nick: Listen to this crowd!

Richard: What did you say? I can’t hear you over all these nut jobs!

Nick: They might be louder than Killean’s entrance!

Through the frenzied crowd, the bell can be heard chiming three times in quick succession, signifying the start to a match nearly four years in the making.

Nick: The intensity in this building is suffocating! No more waiting, no more mind games or sneak attacks. No more trashtalking! This is it!

Each warrior continues to stare at his nemesis, neither man flinching or blinking, the only motion the heaving of their chests as each man draws a breath from the atmosphere.

"WHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"

The crowd continues to grow louder in anxious anticipation, rattling the foundations of the stadium.

Nick: This is unreal! I’ve got goosebumps!

Richard: This is huge! I just hope Killean hurries up and cleans Tchu’s clock. Leaves more time for the after-party!

Nick: I don’t think anyone in here tonight believes this will be a quick affair. You can’t honestly expect four years of bad blood to be taken care of in ten minutes.

Killean breaks the stare down by turning his head slightly to the side. He grips the wrestling goggles with one hand and tears them off, throwing them over the ropes. They ricochet off the plexiglas crowd barrier and land on the mats. He then locks his eyes right on to Tchu. The fire of four years of pent up frustration is evident in both of their gazes.

Richard: That's how serious the champ is about this match. He tossed his goggles away, risking his eyesight under the bright stadium lights to stare right into the mind of Tchu. Killean's gaze is an intimidating sight if I've ever seen one.

"WWWWHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"

Nick: This crowd is unbelievable. This is as loud as I’ve ever heard a mass of people in my lifetime. They’re ready for these two giants of the industry to collide on the most Colossal stage of them all!

And they get their wish.

Killean suddenly swings with a right hook, but Tchu blocks the attempt with his left forearm and delivers a right of his own, connecting with the side of Sirrajin’s face. The PRIME Choice fires back with another attempt at a right hook, this one finding its mark.
The two men continue to exchange fists to the face, a right from Tchu sending spit flying from the mouth of Killean. Then a right from The Supreme Machine, nearly breaking The Inhuman Being’s jaw. A right from Tchu, A right from Killean…

Nick: Now we’re officially under way, and in intense fashion. These two men are leveling the hell out of each other!

Tchu manages to gain the advantage, connecting with two right hands in a row. The blasts send the big man reeling, and The Inhuman Being continues to fire away with closed fists, knuckles clashing against skull. The punches begin to push the champion back, putting a small distance between the men. Tchu attempts to take advantage of that space by charging forward for a clothesline, but Killean, in one fluid motion, ducks under the extended arm and begins to irish whip his nemesis towards the ropes. He is unsuccessful, and the momentum is reversed, with Tchu dipping a shoulder and hoisting Sirrajin high into the air.

Nick: Good Lord! What elevation on that back body drop!

THUD!

Nick: And what an impact!

Richard: Our Champion must have been ten feet off the mat!

Nick: And Killean is no small man. That was just shy of 300lbs that Tchu sent soaring through the air. That kinda strength has to come, in part, from the pure adrenaline that must be pumping through these men’s veins.

In the ring, Killean rises to his feet and turns to charge toward Tchu. The champ catches a spinning back elbow to the face that sends him right back down to the mat. He doesn’t stay long, once again jumping to his feet. This time, however, it is The Anti-PRIME who charges forward… clotheslining the champion over the top rope, sending him spilling to the protective mats outside.

Bernie Roberts pushes Tchu back, trying to prevent the chaos from spilling outside the ring, but he has no such luck. Without a moments hesitation, Tchu charges forward three quick steps and dives through the middle and tope rope, spearing a groggy Universal Champion.

Nick: Holy shit! The Inhuman Being goes airborne!

Richard: Damn it!

Nick: Tchu is really taking the fight to Killean here in the opening moments of this match.

Richard: This isn’t the kind of start things were supposed to get off to.

Nick: I’d say that the champ wasn’t prepared for this match, but I refuse to believe that. I think Tchu is just a man possessed right now.

Richard: Then I guess Killean is just gonna have to play the part of the exorcists tonight!

Outside the ring, just inches from the screaming fans, both competitors pull themselves to their feet. It is Tchu who once again goes on the offensive, slugging The PRIME Choice in the head with a solid right fist. The champ reels but regains his composure and ducks under the next swing from his old friend. Caught by surprise, Tchu quickly spins around to face Killean and is greeted by a boot to the gut for his trouble.

Richard: Yesssss!

With the challenger doubled over in pain, The Supreme Machine takes his left hand and grabs a fistful of hair. His right hand locks onto the tights and, as if tossing out the garbage, Sirrajin flings Tchu head first into the steel steps. This doesn’t offer the availability of protection that the standard irish whip allows, and The Inhuman Being’s skull drives directly into steel with no shoulders or forearms to absorb even an ounce of the impact.

Richard: That was unbelievably awesome!

Nick: Awesome? A human being just got thrown skull first into solid steel and you want to call it awesome? He could have a concussion or a broken neck or he could be de…

Richard: Whatever. And I thought this guy was supposed to be the "INhuman being". Get your facts straight, dumbass.

The advantage now clearly in his favor, Killean takes a moment to regain his composure and flip off the rabid fans ringside who slam their fists into the plexi-glass barrier and chant profanities in his direction.

"Assssshooooole! Assshoooole! Asssssshooole!"

Nick: I don’t think these fans care too much for the champ.

Richard: That just confirms that they’re a bunch of idiots! As if it hadn’t been obvious enough already tonight.

Tired of concerning himself with the fans, and not for one second wanting to cost himself by losing focus in the most important match of his young career, Sirrajing steps over to Tchu and peels him off the protective mats at ringside. He then rolls him under the bottom rope with a cocky shove, following right behind, only under his own free will. Once in the confines of the squared circle, Killean wraps Tchu’s left arm around his neck and hooks him by the waist, lifting and dropping him with a belly to back suplex.

Richard: The champ continues to drive Tchu’s cranium into any and all available surfaces!

Nick: And that amuses you?

Richard: Severely. Tchu has wanted to get his hands on Killean for over four years… ever since The Supreme Machine broke his ribs in the Underground. And now, he finally gets his chance to step into the ring with him, and three minutes into the match, Sirrajin has already dropped him on his head.

The raucous fans fall silent at the sight of the nasty angle in which Tchu landed, but such aggression is to be expected between two men who have been waiting nearly four years to tear each other apart. Neither have any intentions of waiting till twenty minutes into the contest to take things seriously.

And that fact is proven as Sirrajin marches straight towards his long time nemesis and begins to lay heavy boots into the ribs and shoulders of the fallen challenger.

Richard: Now this is why I like Killean… not afraid to kick a man while he’s down! And that’s why he’s the champion and Tchu isn’t. Because Tchu lost the mean streak he had in him when he debuted. And now he’s a challenger instead of the champion!

Killean continues to drive boot after boot into the torso of The Inhuman Being. In an impressive showing of determination and strength, Tchu begins to push himself to his feet, rising despite the stomps that rained down on him.

Nick: Look at this! You think these two men don’t want to stand tall over each other at the end of the night? Look at Tchu fight his way to his feet in the midst of this assault by the champ!

Richard: So what? It’s gonna take a whole lot more than shaking off a couple of boots to the ribs to defeat Killean.

Once Tchu is to his feet, Sirrajin switches the method of his attack, throwing punches towards the jaw of The Inhuman Being. One connects, but the second is blocked and The self-proclaimed Anti-PRIME fires back with a shot right to the throat.

Nick: And Tchu just drove his fist into the windpipe of the champion. How’s that for a mean streak, Dick?

Richard: That’s not what I wanted! Not now… not against The PRIME Choice! Where was that when he was fighting Iggy a couple months ago?

With Killean grasping at his throat, searching for a breath, Tchu grabs The Supreme Machine and hoists him high into the air, holding him for a brief second before dropping the Universal champion on his head with a belly to back suplex of his own. The Supreme Machine lands on his neck and upper back, folding up like an accordion. The crowd erupts as Tchu once again becomes the aggressor.

Nick: One suplex deserves another, and Tchu just returned the favor!

Much like Killean had done just moments earlier, Tchu stays on the attack, savagely laying boots into the ribs and shoulders of Sirrajin.

Nick: Anything you can do, I can do better. The Inhuman Being is mimicking the assault he just suffered in the middle of the ring.

Richard: So what you’re telling me, is that Tchu doesn’t know what he’s doing in the ring, he just has to follow the lead of a legend like The PRIME Choice?

Tchu continues to stomp on Killean while the buzz of the crowd grows with each boot that connects, breaking and bruising the champ’s body.

Nick: No. Only an idiot like you could see this as follow the leader.

Richard: Then what is it?

Nick: Seems pretty clear to me that Tchu is taking the fight to Killean from a physical and psychological standpoint. He’s letting Killean know that whatever Sirrajin might do, he’s not going to be phased…he’s just gonna rise up and dish it right back.

Richard: Ok, nerd.

Finally abandoning the identical nature of his offense, Tchu drops a knee into the neck of Killean, then quickly rises up and drops a knee into the skull of his opponent.

Now, it is Sirrajin’s who shows his endurance, taking several more knees to the head and neck while managing to roll towards the ropes, his momentum not deterred by the assault from above.

In relentless pursuit, Tchu follows each roll, continuing to drop knees and boots into Killean, and as The champ rolls under the bottom rope, The Inhuman Being follows immediately, stepping through the middle and top ropes… right into The Supreme Machine’s trap.

Nick: Ohhhh!!

Sirrajin pulls down on the middle cable as Tchu steps through, then lets loose, the rope bouncing straight into the groin of the challenger, causing him to fall to his right, back into the ring, clutching his tender area.

Nick: That had to hurt! Just a bad spot for any man to take that sort of damage!

Richard: Every male in the audience just felt that… but not quite as badly as Tchu!

Without a moments thought, Killean is back into the ring where he drops a heavy elbow across the torso of his opponent. Then another and another. Each time, the elbow is slammed down right into the ribs, nearly snapping them with their force.

Nick: That sonofabitch is going straight for the ribs!

Richard: What’s wrong with that?

Nick: He knows that Tchu has suffered several severe injuries to the ribs throughout his career. In fact, it was Killean who first broke Tchu’s ribs in the Underground with a viscous spear. Then he turned around a week later and did it again, snapped ribs and all!

Richard: That makes him smart, not a sonofabitch! You bias fool!

Back in the squared circle, the Universal Champion continues to punish the former champ. Dragging Tchu to his feet, Killean lifts his enemy whips him into the ropes, then catches the rebounding superstar and flips him through the air, smashing down Tchu’s torso across his knee.

Nick: Tilt-a-whirl backbreaker! That’s not gonna help those ribs any!

Richard: That’s the point. Ya know, you can hate Killean all you want… think he’s a terrible human being and an evil bastard… but you can’t deny he’s an excellent, and intelligent, competitor!

Already in a great deal of pain, Tchu wraps his arms around his own body and closes his eyes, gritting his teeth in anguish. For The Supreme Machine, this is nothing more than an invitation to inflict permanent, career ending, damage. Two kicks to the ribs are simply tenderizing the Inhuman Being for the torture that is about to be applied.

Nick: Camel Cluth! Right in the middle of the ring!

Richard: And this could be the end for Tchu. With those damaged ribs and no possible escape… forget about it!

Wrenching back, hands locked under the chin, Killean applies all the pressure he can muster from his massive frame, bending the spine of the Anti-PRIME in a direction man’s back was never meant to bend.

Nick: Tchu has got to be in immense amounts of pain. The nearest set of ropes is four or five feet way… this is a bad spot for him to be in!

Richard: Which means it’s a good spot for Killean.

With referee Bernie Roberts right on top of things, waiting for the possibility that Tchu will quit, Sirrajin leans back a slight bit more, upping the pressure and pain being inflicted on the spine and ribs of his rival.

But there is no quit in The Inhuman Being. In a surge of strength, he manages to slip his hands to the mat, and in a moment that showcases his nickname, Tchu begins to push himself off of the canvas, straightening his back, relieving some of the pressure, and bringing all 290lbs of his nemesis with him.

Nick: Look at this…

Finally elevated enough, Tchu brings his knees under the weight, then begins to stand. Along for the ride, Killean switches his grip, locking on a blatant choke as his challenger comes to a full standing position. Now, though, Tchu finds himself in an equally bad situation, being choked out with nearly three hundred pounds on his back.

This time, however, there’s a much easier solution to the problem.

Nick: Oh my GOD!!

In one swift motion, The Inhuman Being kicks his own feet out from underneath him and throws himself backward, crushing The PRIME Cut between his weight and the canvas.

"YEEEEEAAAAAAAHHH"

The fans roar in approval as Tchu rolls off of Killean and slowly starts to pull himself up with the aide of the ropes, while Sirrajin tries to recover, physically and mentally, from the unforeseen reversal of fortunes.

Nick: What an unbelievable display of pure strength and determination. I don’t know what hurt The Supreme Machine more… being sandwiched between Tchu and the mat, or just knowing that his nemesis just stood up out of a camel clutch in the middle of the ring.

Richard: I’m in shock…this is terrible, and you running your mouth isn’t helping anything!

As Tchu once again finds himself on his feet, Killean, just a couple of feet away begins to pull himself up as well. The look on the champion’s face is a strange hybrid of shock, anger, and pain. Perhaps the disbelief of what has just occurred clouds his judgment, perhaps the anger gets the best of him… but something causes The PRIME Choice to make the mistake of charging in recklessly towards Tchu. The Inhuman Being is aware of the rampaging champion and catches him with a belly to belly toss.

The PRIME Cut goes flying through the air, landing with a crash on his right shoulder. The impact pales in comparison to the previous moments, and Killean is able to shake off the throw and quickly roll back to his feet, but his efforts are not rewarded. The self-proclaimed Anti-PRIME is right there waiting, slamming a closed right hand into the face of the company’s most hated heel. The punch staggers the big man and Tchu continues to deliver, backing The Supreme Machine into the corner. An irish whip sends Sirrajin into the opposite corner where he is immediately greeted with a full throttle clothesline from the challenger.

Nick: All of a sudden, it’s the Inhuman Being who is firmly in control of things!

As Sirrajin staggers out of the corner, Tchu wraps his arm around Killean’s neck and slips behind, dropping the champion with a reverse DDT.

Nick: High impact move… and will we see our first cover of the night…

No. Tchu is fast to climb back to his feet, dragging Killean with him, courtesy of two handfuls of long black hair.

Richard: Of course not. You said it yourself earlier… these two men want to decimate each other. Neither guy has thoughts of ending this thing early.

Nick: A good point. As badly as both of these men surely want to leave this stadium tonight as Universal Champion… you can believe they want to do so standing over the other man’s bleeding, broken body.

Tchu is quick to his feet, bringing The Supreme Machine with him. An Irish whip is attempted, but reversed by the champ; however, Killean changes the direction of the momentum, sending The Anti-PRIME crashing into the turnbuckle. The impact is devastating to the injured ribs of The Inhuman Being, and as he gasps for breath in the corner, Sirrajin charges… and misses

The same spear that had interrupted the Immortality Championship ceremony four years ago and broken several ribs, the same spear that had crashed the party of Tchu’s self-proclaimed Anti-PRIME Heavyweight Championship crowning and left a broken body… now, that same spear found only ring post.

Far too familiar with the champions habits, Tchu is able to move out of the way at the last second, leaving Killean to run neck and shoulder first into solid steel.

Nick: Tchu had that one scouted from the start!

Richard: That’s been the go to move for Killean number times when it comes to destroying The Inhuman Being… and unfortunately, at the worst possible moment, it was one time too many.

Peeling himself away, The Supreme Machine stumbles forward, clutching his neck and shoulder. His off balance carry him right into the waiting arms of Tchu, who locks his arms around the Universal Champion’s torso and snaps backwards, hurling Killean through the air, high above the ropes… where The PRIME Choice smashes into thin protective mats in ugly fashion The sound of the champ’s flesh smacking thinly padded concrete echoes into the first ten rows, where it is met with mass cringing by the fans.

Nick: Good Lord! Did you see that?! Tchu just tossed Killean out of the ring with a perfectly executed overhead belly to belly suplex!

Richard: I saw… and it sucks!

Without a first thought, let alone a second, The Inhuman Being slides out of the ring under the bottom cable. As Killean lays prone on the mat, Tchu heads over to the time keepers table and grabs a steel chair…

"WHHHHOOOOOO"

…much to the delight of the fans.

When he makes his way back over to his nemesis, he finds Killean slowly, but surely, pulling himself to his feet.

CRACK!

A stiff shot of steel across the spine of Sirrajin sends him quickly heading in the opposite direction, falling right back down to the cold ground. Gasping heavily, the saliva trickles out of the open mouth of the champion, staining the mats. As Tchu grabs a handful of hair and drags Killean upwards, the trail of spit skews across the (not so) protective padding.

Nick: Our Universal Champion looks lifeless. I’ve never seen anyone dominate The Supreme Machine like this!

Maybe the words reached Killean’s ears… someway or somehow… but as if they had been spoken directly to him, Sirrajin bursts to life, slamming a right fist into Tchu’s ribs. A second hard right follows immediately. With his new found motivation, The PRIME Cut whips Tchu right towards the steel post. Face first into cold metal is the only way for Tchu’s journey to end… and that’s exactly what happens.

The Anti-PRIME’s skull cracks off the steel posting, and the momentum carries him past, dropping him in a seated position, the support of the barricade behind his back the only thing holding him remotely upright.

While he seats, trying to recall where he is, what he’s doing… who he is for that matter… blood begins to flow freely from a gash in the middle of Tchu’s forehead. This draws a sick grin from the reigning Uni Champion.

Nick: Tchu has been busted wide open! He could be sporting a crimson mask within a matter of seconds!

Richard: THAT’S what I’m talking about!

Nick: Are you serious? You want to see a man bleeding profusely, needing medical attention in the middle of match you know he’ll never quit, no matter how much it might be in his best interest to just give up and get his ass to the emergency room?

Richard: As long as it’s Tchu we’re talking about… I’m fine with it. This guy has it coming. You remember back in September when he busted Killean’s skull wide open with a chair shot that rocked the foundation’s of PRIME? Everything Tchu gets tonight… he deserves.

Now, it is Killean’s turn to grab a fistful of hair and rip his opponent to his feet by the scalp. A clubbing blow across the back gives Sirrajin a moment to slip behind his the adversary. The Supreme Machine locks his arms around the waist of The Inhuman Being and flings him overhead.

Nick: Release German Suplex!

And the ‘release’ takes all control out of the toss. Tchu flies through the air and smashes face first, upside down, into the plexi-glass. Bouncing off with a sick sound, The challenger drops down on the top of his head, crumpling on the mats.

Nick: Not again!

Richard: He’s going to be dead in five minutes at this rate!

Nick: You’re absolutely right!

Richard: That would be grrreeeaaaat.

Nick: Is there a concerned bone in your body? Does it matter at all to you, that all other things aside, those are two flesh and blood human beings in the ring?

Richard: These two men are doing exactly what they’ve been dying to do for the past few years… I don’t feel bad about anything.

The intensity of the match having picked up, the anticipation in the stadium begins to build, helping to warm the cooling night air, as the clouds roll across the sky, blocking the moonlight.

Killean drags Tchu over towards the time keepers table. In haphazard form, The Supreme Machine slams his nemesis’ face into the surface. A dull, muffled ‘DONG’ can be heard as Tchu’s face smacks against the ring bell. Killean just continues to march around the ring, stopping again, this time to slam the challenger’s head into the plexi-glass at ringside.

As he slides off, Tchu leaves streaks of blood and sweat against the glass barrier. The PRIME Cut catches him before he collapses to the mats, and finally, rolls Tchu back into the ring.

Nick: Thank God! We can finally get this thing back into the ring where the action belongs.

Richard: It might already be too late, Nick. Tchu is in bad shape. The damage has been done. Rolling Tchu into the ring could be just a formality. Time to officially end things!

On cue, the current Universal champion hoists the former champ overhead in what appears to be a standard suplex. But nothing is so to the point with The PRIME Choice. He holds Tchu in the air, showing off his strength to the thousands of fans in the stadium, whom in turn greet him with a thunderous round of boos. Then, in a fraction of a second, Killean turns and snaps down, delivering a powerful jackhammer and holding it for the first pin attempt of the match. Bernie Roberts shows why he has earned the top spot on the PRIME referee chart, immediately getting into position to make the count

ONE…


TWO…


T…

Nick: No! Tchu kicks out. So much for "time to officially end things!"

Richard: That doesn’t mean it won’t be soon. Kicking out of that high impact maneuver after the damage done outside the ring is impressive… but it hasn’t improved Tchu’s situation any. He’s still busted wide open, bleeding like mad. He’s still got banged up, perhaps even broken, ribs. And he’s still at the champion’s mercy. Killean is in firm control of things.

Nick: As much as I hate to admit it… all good points.

Whether or not he’s in a better situation isn’t Tchu’s main concern. While he tries to regain his composure and fight through the blood loss, his top priority is survival.

Stumbling to his feet under his own strength, The Inhuman Being can feel the presence of The Supreme Machine just a step behind him. Tchu tries to make a quick, unexpected turn to fire off a right hand, but Killean is ready for it, leaning back just enough so that the swing finds nothing but air. Left in a vulnerable situation, Tchu quickly pays for the miss. The PRIME Choice delivers a boot to the gut, then whips Tchu into the corner.

Crashing chest first, The Anti-PRIME ricochets off the turnbuckles, stumbling backwards. Charging from behind, Killean dives towards the staggering challenger, driving his shoulder right into Tchu’s back in a reverse spear of sorts.

Richard: Spear!

Nick: The human body is not meant to bend that way!

"Holy Shit! Holy Shit! Holy Shit!"

Richard: Tchu didn’t see that one coming!

Nick: How the hell could he? Killean caught him from behind. He rammed that shoulder right into Tchu’s spine and practically snapped him in half.

Nearly convulsing on the mat from the pain, Tchu is an easy target for the second pin attempt in the last minute.

ONE…


TWO…


THR…

And for the second time, Tchu is able to kick out.

Bernie Roberts holds up two fingers to make sure the champion knows that things aren’t over, but Killean doesn’t seem interested, rolling under the bottom rope and heading for the same steel chair that had crashed across his shoulders only a few moments earlier.

In the ring, Tchu begins to stir, rolling onto his stomach before pushing himself onto all fours. There, in the center of the squared circle, The Inhuman Being begins to cough, finally spitting up a pile of blood that falls from his lips and collects in the pool that has already begun to form on the canvas under his dripping, crimson skull.

Nick: Jesus Christ! It looks like that spear busted up Tchu’s insides. It appears that he’s bleeding internally now, but to be perfectly honest… with all that blood flowing from that gash in his forehead, I have no idea where all that blood is coming from. It could be from inside. Could be a busted lip or…

Richard: He’s a mess. That’s all there is to it.

Nick: I think that probably sums it as best as words can.

The Universal Champion slides back into the ring, weapon in his possession and marches straight towards The Inhuman Being. But, as he swings the chair back over his head and brings it down, he finds only the mat. Tchu rolls out of the way, then kicks The Supreme Machine in the knee, pushing his leg out from underneath him. Sirrajin takes a nose dive forward, landing right on the chair that had been intended for The Anti-PRIME’s destruction.

Nick: Right about now, I’m guessing the champion wishes he would have just left that chair alone!

The crowd rises to its feet, sensing a shift in the momentum.

Tchu rises back to his feet and makes his way to his nemesis. A kick to the back of the neck presses Killean’s face right back into the cold steel it lays upon. Several more boots follow before Tchu stops, allowing the champ a moment to start to push himself into an upright position.

It isn’t a moment of compassion, such a thing would be the most unlikely of scenarios between the two enemies. Instead, it is a set up. With Killean unwittingly setting himself up in perfect position, Tchu takes off for the ropes, a bulldog into solid steel on his mind. When he rebounds off the ropes, however, Killean spins on a dime and slams forward his knee. The former Universal Champion is propelled into the air, flipping over the knee in his gut, landing hard on his back.

Richard: Just when you thought Tchu was gonna turn things in his favor… Killean show’s you why he is the TWO time Universal Champion!

Immediately, a hush falls over the roaring crowd. The PRIME Cut is able to silence them with one simple move, returning the advantage to his own hands.

Richard: The Supreme Machine just took the life right out of this crowd!

Killean now begins more payback, stomping away on Tchu, calculating each boot to make sure it lands squarely in the ribs and stomach of his adversary. Each one does more damage to the injured ribs and insides of Tchu, and as he tries to shield himself from the stomps, more blood rises from the back of his throat, spilling through his lips and rolling down his chin, collecting with sweat in his goatee.

Nick: Folks, this is quickly turning ugly. Flat out ugly.

Apparently not agreeing, Sirrajin picks up Tchu, tucking him under his arm, only to drop him with a sidewalk slam to jeers from the crowd.

"Boooooooooooooooo"

Killean remains seated on the canvas, soaking in the boos that surround him. Through heavy breathing, a small smile spreads across his face, but as he starts to climb to his feet, that smile quickly fades. From his prone position on the canvas, Tchu reaches up and grabs Killean by the tights, pulling him to the mat for roll up pin from nowhere. Bernie Roberts is much more prepared for such a thing than the champion is, and he immediately drops into position for the count.

ONE…


TWO…


T…

The Universal Champion kicks out of the hold just after two, a look of shock still on his face. The crowd begins to lay it on him in heavy fashion.

"Killean Sucks! Killean Sucks! Killean Sucks!"

The PRIME Choice, pounds the mat in frustration, before jumping back to his feet. What he doesn’t know is that while he was recovering from shock, Tchu had already used the ropes to regain his stance, and as soon as Killean is to his feet, The Inhuman Being collides with him, clotheslining his nemesis.

Nick: Tchu is firing back once again!

The shot drops Sirrajin to one knee, but doesn’t level him as Tchu had hoped for, and so, taking a deep breath, he charges forward with another clothesline only for Killean to explode forward with one giant step and deliver…

Richard: SUPREME JUSTICE!

The Anti-PRIME’s neck is locked by the large arm of the champion and driven backward. Killean throws himself forward, following Tchu on the journey downward, driving every last bit of force that he can into move, practically crushing Tchu through the mat.

Richard: Killean killed his momentum again. And this time…it’s all over!

Killean believes the same and goes for the cover. Roberts is there to make the count.

ONE…


TWO…


THR…

Nick: No! Two and half! Supreme Justice couldn’t put Tchu away.

"Let’s Go Tchuuu, Let’s Go! Let’s Go Tchuuu, Let’s Go!"

Nick: And the fans are helping to will Tchu to his feet!

Richard: Somebody make them shuddup.

The Inhuman Being starts to stir, moving towards a standing position while The Supreme Machine runs his fingers through his hair in frustrated fashion, pulling several strands straight out of the scalp.

Despite the cooling air and breeze that has begun to form in the Florida night air, sweat continues to fall from the hair of Tchu, mixing with the mass amounts of blood he has shed to create a gross liquid concoction. The image is caught by one of the camera men at ringside, and immediately finds its way onto the large screens all around the stadium.

"Ooooooooooooooooooooeeewhwhhwh

The unanimous response from the thousands and thousands of PRIMEates in attendance is a combination of shocked "ohs" from those in the nose bleeds who are getting their first good glimpse at The Inhuman Being’s state, and "ewwws" from those with the weaker stomachs.

Still, despite his gruesome state, Tchu is able to fight to his feet and turns to find The PRIME Choice waiting for him. A boot to the gut causes him to scream in agony while clutching his ribs, and a clubbing blow to the back doubles him over in powerbomb position. But Tchu finds some strength to lift his back and shoulder, pushing Killean into the air in a back body drop that doesn’t ever get even halfway around. The result, however, is even more damaging, as Sirrajin lands throat first across the top rope.

Nick: Tchu didn’t have quite enough strength their to get Killean all the way around, but it worked none the less!

The PRIME Cut clutches at his windpipe as he turns in bumbling fashion to catch a boot in the stomache. Needing to catch a breather before he could ever dream of a powerbomb of his own, Tchu opts for the much simpler DDT only he makes sure to lay his free forearm across the top of Killean’s neck, crushing his throat as he rams his skull into the canvas.

Nick: A modified DDT!

Richard: NOO! Do you realize what…

Nick: That was The Cutthroat! The trademark maneuver of Tchu’s former tag team partner, and Killean’s mentor… Sephiroth!

Indeed it is, and much like Seph had used it to win countless matches in his career, Tchu looks to do the same, throwing his weight across Killean and hooking a leg.

ONE…


TWO…


THR…

Richard: Yesss! Kickout!

The DDT may not have finished the job, but it does give Tchu the moment to regain the energy he is in desperate need of. Both men lie on the canvas, chests rising and falling as they gasp for air.

Head Official Bernie Roberts stands over the fallen warriors, no need to start a ten count. The seconds begin to tick by, and Killean is the first to stir. While he struggles to his feet, Tchu remains on the mat, drawing steady breaths.

"Inhuman! Inhuman! Inhuman!

Nick: Listen to these fans… showing their support for The Inhuman Being!

Richard: They can chant all they want, it’s not like Killean derives his power from the fans adoration.

Finally, Tchu rolls onto his stomach and climbs up, using the ropes so as not to waste any of the energy he just reserved.

Just as they had at the start of the match that seems so long ago, the two men meet in the middle of the ring and begin to exchange right hands, pummeling each others face with closed fists.

Nick: Listen to the crowd explode!

The Anti-PRIME finally gains the advantage and begins to work Killean back towards the corner. Once trapped against the turnbuckles, The Inhuman Being unleashes a flurry of punches far more intense than any thrown yet in the battle. His knuckles bounce off the brow of the Universal Champion, again… and again… each punch thrown with more force and anger than the one before it.

Nick: I don’t believe this, folks! Tchu seems to have found a second tank of gas and started to beat the living hell out of The Supreme Machine

Through the collision of bone, a gash begins to form across the left eye of The PRIME Choice. The next several punches open the gash further and further, the knuckles of The Inhuman Being pushing into the flesh and widening the cut. The roar of the fans grows louder and louder with each punch, becoming deafening at the sight of blood pouring from the champions brow.

Richard: What the hell… these fans are savages.

Nick: Tchu has busted Killean wide open with his fists! No chairs, no ring steps, no steel posts… with his bare hands! With his god damn bare hands!

Finally relenting on the punches, Tchu grabs two handfuls of hair and pulls Killean out of the corner and tucks him away in the same powerbomb position he had fought his way out of to reverse his fortune in the match. But it isn’t a powerbomb he decides on. In one jolted motion, The Inhuman Being grabs a fistful of tights and pulls while sitting back, spiking Sirrajin’s head into the ground.

Nick: The Pulling Piledriver. My God how the momentum has shifted in this match!

Richard: I can’t believe that just a couple of moments ago, Killean was firmly in control of this match and looked to be finishing it off at any second. Now… this is unbelievable.

He doesn’t go for the pin, continuing the assault before trying to put things away. Tchu picks Killean up and hoists him across his shoulder. After a brief pause, The Anti-PRIME dips his left shoulder and hits the canvas, delivering a DVD to the champ. This time there is a cover.

ONE…


TWO…


THR…

The Champion shows why he holds the gold, firing an arm into the air, breaking up the count at two and half.

Richard: I’m beginning to wonder if either of these men are ever gonna stay down.

Nick: One thing is for sure. These two men are leaving every thing they have in the middle of that ring. They are showing exactly w…

Nick is cut off in mid sentence as a drop of water splashes onto the top of his head. He stops and rubs his hand through his hair, then pulls it away, staring at it. While he’s examining his palm, another drop of water falls. Then another.

Nick: What in the…

Richard: What’s wrong?

Nick: I think its starting to…

Rain.

Large cool drops of water being to fall from the heavens, splashing down on the thousands of fans in attendance. Immediately, the sound and camera crew around ringside begin to pull out protective gear. The rain begins to fall a little harder as the occasional fan darts for cover.

In the ring, Tchu and Killean continue on, refreshed by the cool drops that splash across them. The challenger fires a stiff left shot that connects with the champion’s jaw, rocking the near 300lbs superstar. The next punch, though, slips right into Killean’s waitin grasp and locks Tchu in a bad spot. A spot for Deus Ex Impact!

Richard: Out of nowhere! The T-Bone Suplex!

Sirrajin instantly covers Tchu, hooking a leg and yelling for Roberts to make the count, but PRIME’s number one ref is already on top of things.

ONE…


TWO…


THR…

The fans explode, meaning only one thing…again, Tchu kicks out, refusing to stay down.

Livid at the fact that Roberts has the nerve to inform him that his nemesis has kicked out of both of his preferred finishers, Killean slams his fist into the mat and yells out a profanity. He then turns and screams at Tchu, demanding that he get it. Not to oblige, but because he has no chance of winning the match laying flat on his back, Tchu begins to rise, first to a knee.

Sirrajin hits the ropes and bounces back, looking to connect with Supreme Justice for the second time in the match, but Tchu jumps up from his kneeled position in a flash and scoops Killean, snapping him over in a powerslam that happens so fast that most fans turn immediately to the Tron screens to catch the replay. Meanwhile, Roberts is put to work again, this time, counting down the shoulders of the champion.

ONE…


TWO…


TH…

"Oooooohhh"

Disappoint echoes into the night sky, as the fans wipe the rain off their faces, not wanting to miss a second of the action.

Nick: Ladies and Gentlemen, the rain is coming down in steady fashion now, but these fans aren’t leaving and these two men aren’t giving them any reason to want to. In the down pour, a hundred thousand strong are witnessing a hellacious battle between two great competitors who simply will not accept defeat at the hand of the other man.

Both men struggle back to their feet, the wet canvas becoming slick under their feet. Tchu is first to regain solid footing and moves in on the still rising Killean. For the second time in the match, Tchu locks Sirrajin in for what appears to be a reverse DDT, but this time, he grabs the tights with his left hand leans back, sending the champion faces first into the canvas with a reverse suplex.

Feeling that this is his chance to finish things off, Tchu locks a sleeper hold onto his opponent, but a mule kick to a tender spot halts the attempted sleeping neckbreaker known as The Downfall.

Richard: Smart move by our Universal Champion

Nick: At this point, I’m not going to argue. I believe either of these men will do whatever it takes to earn a victory.

In the increasingly drenched ring, The PRIME Cut attempts to whip Tchu into the corner turnbuckle, but the moisture on his hand and the challenger’s arm causes his hold to slip right off.

"Fuck"

The frustrated yell can be heard twenty rows back, as Killean tries again. This time, his grip hold and he tugs The Inhuman Being towards the corner, but the move is reversed and Tchu sends Sirrajin chest first into the turnbuckle. When he bounces back, Tchu is ready and in merciless fashion springs straight into the sleeper, dropping Killean down, back of skull to canvas.

Nick: The Downfall! There it is!

Richard: No!

The cover.

ONE…


TWO…


THRE…

But it doesn’t happen!

Nick: I don’t believe it! He kicked out of the Downfall!

Richard: If Tchu can kick out of Supreme Justice, you better believe the champion can kick out of that damned sleeping neckbreaker.

Now it is Tchu’s turn to grow angry, letting out a primal scream, followed by a deep frustrated breath.

When Killean has recovered, he turns to find Tchu charging right after him, not allowing him a chance to get his wind back. The Inhuman Being kicks out his legs and flies forward, grabbing hold of The PRIME Cut’s neck on the way.

Nick: Supreme Justice! He just used Killean’s own finisher against him!

Tchu pushes himself across Killean, going for the pin attempt again.

ONE…


TWO…


THRE…

Nick: Yes! He did it!

Richard: Like hell he did!

Just as Roberts hand is about to hit the mat for the third and final time, he stops, not more than two inches from ending the battle. He looks over the pin and points… to the champion’s left foot on the bottom rope.

"Buuullshiiiit. Buuuuuullllshhhiiiiiiitttt."

Nick: The fans aren’t happy about that one at all.

Richard: Too damn bad. Just cuz they all want Tchu to win doesn’t mean its gonna happen.

As the rain continues to come down, both men close their eyes in pained looks of exhaustion and frustration, but neither has any intentions of giving up. Tchu wipes his hands down his face, pushing the drops of rain from his vision. Killean has to shove back his soaked hair, smearing it with the blood from his busted brow as he does so.

Nick: What a memorable encounter these men are giving us hear tonight.

Richard: Did you expect anything less?

Nick: I had high expectation, but I can’t see how anyone could have foreseen this sort of sheer intensity and refusal to lose.

The champion attempts a standing suplex, but Tchu slips over his shoulder and attempts a short clothesline, but Sirrajin ducks under and steps behind his challenger. Waiting for The Anti-PRIME to turn, Killean is ready and hoists Tchu up, slamming him down with an ungodly spinebuster.

Nick: Spinebuster… he calls it The Arrow!

The logical pinfall attempt follows.

ONE…


TWO…


THR…

It still isn’t enough. Tchu fires his shoulder off of the mat, prolonging the battle. Killean wastes no time in scrapping Tchu off the canvas and picking him up. The Inhuman Being tries to fire off another stiff right jab, but its useless and Sirrajin just uses the momentum to once again drop Tchu with

Richard: Deus Ex Impact! For the second time.

Killean crawls towards the carcass of The Anti-PRIME and drapes an arm across his opponent. Roberts is right there and slides into position for the count.

ONE…


TWO…


THREE

Nick: No! He kicked out again! He kicked out again! This man will not stay down!

Richard: That’s impossible! That’s the second time he’s kicked out of The Deus Ex Impact! There’s no way.

At this point, Killean is at a loss. He racks his mind for what he can possibly pull from his arsenal that hasn’t already failed to get the job done. With a sigh, he trudges to his feet, bringing Tchu with him, and begins to work his nemesis back towards the corner with punch after punch to the ribs.

Once to the turnbuckle, The Supreme Machine hoists Tchu up and sets him on the top turnbuckle, then begins to climb after him.

Nick: What the hell is he doing now?

Richard: Looking to finally bring an end to things would be my guess.

Nick: Those turnbuckles have got to be slick with all this rain. These two men better be careful.

Richard: Or what? They’ll get hurt? Both of them are already practically dead!

Atop the turnbuckles, both men stand on their feet, Killean attempts a top rope superplex, but Tchu slams a fist into the stomach, then another and finally a third. The last shot sends Killean crashing downward. Sirrajin quickly shakes off the landing, and gets to his feet, just as Tchu is coming down with an axe handle smash. The PRIME Choice takes a small step to the side and slams his right fist into the torso of Tchu.

Nick: Two reversals in a row! Both men trying to make something… anything happen!

The champion pushes Tchu into the ropes and catches his adversary as he rebounds scooping him up and twisting him with a tilt-a-whirl

Nick: Wait a min…

In the middle of the crazy spin, Tchu slips back over Killean’s shoulder and locks in a sleeper hold, then drops down in one fluid motion.

Nick: There it is! The Downfall! And the crowd has erupted!

But Tchu doesn’t go for the cover. He never even releases his grip on Sirrajin’s head. With an arm still locked around his head and under his chin, Tchu uses every last bit of strength in his body to climb back to his feet, dragging Killean with him. Once both are finally returned to the vertical position, Tchu snaps right back down to the mat, putting Killean’s skull right back through the canvas. A small splash fans out from a puddle under Sirrajin’s head and Roberts slips into position to count the champions downfall.

ONE…


TWO…


THREE!

Nick: He did it! He did it! Tchu has captured the Universal title!

Richard: Noooo!

Winner: Tchu

The fans explode into cheers, thundering their voices into the black, pouring sky.

Vince Howard: Ladies and Gentlemen… the winner of the match.. and NEW Universal Champion… Tchuuuuuuuu!

Nick: He hit two Downfalls in a row, never releasing the hold… and it was finally enough to put Killean down and pick up the victory. But now he can stand triumphantly over his adversary!

Bernie Roberts heads over to the ropes and grabs the Universal Championship belt from the time keeper, then heads over to the two men lying in the middle of the ring, in a puddle of blood and sweat and rain.

Nick: What an unbelievable encounter this was tonight!

Richard: I can’t believe he did it. I can’t believe he pinned The PRIME Choice.

Tchu rises to his knees as the fans continue to cheer and Roberts hands him the Universal title he has fought and craved to regain for the past eight months. He stares at the title, holding it across his forearms, the blood dripping onto its gold surface.

Nick: Ladies and Gentlemen, we will see you in ten days for ReVolution 104 and the start to the reign of a new champion! Colossus III… what an amazing, unforgettable evening its been! Goodnight everybody. We’ll see you next Wednesday!

Tchu rises to his feet. As the PRIME copyright logo appears in the corner of the screen, The Inhuman Being hoists the title above his headwith both hands, raising the volume of the cheers from the hundred thousand fans. The title shines under the lights of the stadium, and as the rain falls, washing the blood from his face, cleansing his body, the screen fades to black.