Against a black void, sudden, thunderous drum rolls flash lightning across the screen, illuminating the PRIME logo in short waves. Another sudden drum roll again bathes the logo in light, before Otep’s "T.R.I.C. (The Revolution is Coming)" swirls in the background, and a video montage emerges from the darkness.

"The reVolution is coming…"

On the brink of collapsing from exhaustion, Chet Worth is shown within one of the Dual Halo structures, having his aching arm raised in victory, before the flipside is seen, and he lays a bloody pulp in the ring, only to break into a smile as his tongue produces the golden ticket from his bleeding mouth.

"The reVolution is coming…"

Jason Snow is shown catching an off-guard Xavier Kannon with the Snake Eyes, then Rich Rollins is shown shedding his disguise, before Angelo and EVL pose entwined in the middle of the ring, bleached by camera flashes.

"The reVolution is coming…"

A returning Killean Sirrajin storms the ring, fighting alongside his once bitter enemy, Tchu.

"Risin’ from the ashes to lead the wretched masses…"

Mic in hand, belt over shoulder, Sonny Silver is shown goading the PRIME fans, before turning to the camera and yelling, "YOU’RE FIRED!"

"Back to the Sufi shack - defyin’ all the fascists…"

The painted, bruised, and bloody face of Vangelus Olsig fills the camera lens with a devilish smirk, then Violence Jack is shown striding into a darkened arena, flanked by his Sect of Black Wisdom, before Devin Shakur is seen unloading a brutal string of knees to a victim’s face.

"Wurdz burn with passion -- mentally enhancin’…"

Danny Ferguson is shown wailing on Tony Danza, then Chainz is seen staring menacingly into the camera as Tracy wraps herself around him, before Paul Cain is shown knocking a victim out cold with the Reality Check.

"I'm David to Goliath or Delilah to your Samson…"

Tony Gamble pulls at a victim’s face with his "Scream For Me", Charity Manale is shown leading Jonathon Winters to the ring, then a roaring Gabriel Afeaki smashes through an opponent with his knee, and the Trashcan Man’s wild face is shown through roaring flames.

"Kickin’ ass like Cassius -- spreadin’ rhymes like rashes…"

Pierce Lavelle is seen hurling his opponent into the turnbuckles with the Whiplash, then Captain Suleimon spikes his opponent dangerously with the Whirling Dervish, then its Easton Hall’s turn, shown almost beheading Bastille with the FLYING BACK ELBOW~!

"The satellite’s in flight - how long before it crashes…"

Ethan Knight is shown Corkscrewing off the top rope, then Lindsay Troy is seen flying off to knock an opponent cold with a Swandive Stunner, then Garbage Bag Johnny flinging himself from the top into the Dumpster Dive.

"Falling like avalanches - crumbled and crushed…"

The Illustrious Face-Eater is seen spontaneously combusting, before the image of his badly hologrammed ghost takes his place, then finally a smoking and crackling, damaged Faceybot. Azala Zameer is then shown stampeding through the crowd.

"My wild womyn get to sinning -- know the power of us…"

Karina Wolfenden torpedoes through the ropes with the Negasonic Lupine Warhead, Sun Tzu points the barrel of Fluffy down the camera lens, Lindsay Troy gestures to the "Bitch Patrol" motif on her shirt, and Eva van Lorne throws a kick right through the viewer’s TV screen.

"I’m callin’ your bluff -- is it freedom or death?"

Shawn Stewart almost drives his opponent down through the ring with a devastating takedown, following it up with a flurry of strikes, before Jack Murphy storms the screen, almost turning his victim inside out with a furious Spear.

"We're getting’ it on in Babylon - choking’ on gods breath…"

With a full 70’s Disco light-show behind him, Asa Fountain is shown jiving his way down the aisle, before his smiling visage is replaced by the conceited smirk of Malachi, as he spreads his arms in a Christ-like pose under a lone spotlight.

"The infinite connects true soldiers alive…"

The mysterious N is shown fighting off opponents either side of him, Captain Suleimon wields the mic and jabs an accusing finger at the fans, before Tchu is shown standing amid his blue light show, cold eyes staring dead centre.

"The tribe will survive when Armageddon arrives…"

The FUCK YOU quintet of Angelo Deville, Nova, Jason Snow, Rich Rollins, and Eva van Lorne are shown prowling the ring, the fans all around them on their feet, riled and baying for their blood.

"T.R.I.C!"

Jonathon Winters almost beheads an opponent with the Indifference Maker, then Chandler Tsonda and Ellie are shown making one of their grand entrances, then Adam is shown flying across the ring to drive his elbow through an opponent’s sternum.

"T.R.I.C!"

Sun Tzu almost smashes both feet through an unfortunate opponent’s ribs with the Beijing Cocktail, then Karina Wolfenden folds her victim up like a limp accordion with the C4, then Ember engulfs Jonathon Winters’ face in a fireball.

"T.R.I.C!"

Angelo Deville is shown admonishing a star-struck Tony Gamble in the middle of the ring, before cutting to Deville’s arm limply dropping for a third time, then Gamble hurling his arms aloft, head dropping back as he’s named the Jewel in the Crown.

"The reVolution is coming…"

Backed by a confident Chet Worth, the trio of Lindsay Troy, Killean Sirrajin, and Tchu spread out across the stage, each making their own gesture down towards the ring.

"The reVolution is coming…"

The titles end on a shot of Nova staring straight into the camera’s lens, slowing raising his Universal championship with a mixture of smug satisfaction and pride, before the PRIME logo smashes through the screen.

Hey, know what’s cool? ReVolution 120.

Know why?

Is it the contender bouts whose results will influence, nay, map out title match-ups for PRIME’s foreseeable future?

…

Fuck no. >=)

It’s the fact that ya boyz is openin’ the show like only they can. Peep game.

"Alright, gents. I called this meeting for a reason."

The Risen Star paces back and forth in the Fuck You locker-room, already clad in his ring gear with the Universal Title strapped around his waist. He exhales a cloud of cigarette smoke into the air and ashes it on the ground.

Nova: Danny Ferguson is attempting – rather unsuccessfully if you want my unbiased opinion – to…how do you say…royally fuck our shit up. Nonetheless, I think we’re all in agreement that things were much sweeter when it was just the ghost of Chet Worth cowering behind Troy’s skirts, no?

The camera pans around to reveal Nova’s compatriots, the Original Villain and the Devil’s Don, seated in front of the Risen Star, listening intently. They nod in accordance.

Nova: Well, I’ve been doing a research on our boy Daniel. Believe me, it wasn’t easy. His IMDb biography is more barren than Brooke Hogan's, and Googling the bastard didn’t produce much better results other than random Geocities fan-sites, most of which were started by Danny himself…BUT! Through the use of some incantations I picked up off a tattoo on the lower back of one of the Suicide Girls, I managed to scrounge up one very valuable piece of information.

He pauses, a mischievous grin spreading over his face.

Nova: Dude has a thing for Connie Lingus.

Deville and Snow look at one another in puzzlement. Deville turns his gaze back to Nova, cocking an eyebrow.

Angelo Deville: Don’t we all?

Nova: No, no, no! Not that…her!

A buxom redhead steps out of the doorjamb leading into the private bathroom, a pursed smile curling one corner of her mouth as she runs a hand up the door’s frame.

Nova: Boys…meet Connie Lingus, Irish porn star extraordinaire and, hilariously enough, Danny Ferguson’s crush.

Connie Lingus: It’s a pleas-

Nova: Great. So anyway, Connie here is going to act as our little ‘distraction’ tonight, and Hoyt willing, lure that "Four Is A Mother-Fucking Crowd" red-haired sonuvabitch out of the arena, thus allowing us the relative carte blanche that we used to enjoy regularly before somebody decided that incarcerating a man for someone else’s fake spontaneous combustion wasn’t as completely 1337 as we all thought. Go figure.

The Risen Star claps his hands together.

Nova: Any questions? No? Then let’s go to work.

Nova walks over to Connie and ogles her fantastic boobs…I mean, explains the plan to her.

…

No, I meant ogles her fantastic boobs as the scene fades on something in the half open doorway to the locker room. It appears to be a grin...

Yes, that Grin.

Devin Shakur swept the hallway stealthily, like a cougar on the prowl for his prey in the wilderness. Each step silent, his breath a mere whisper against the feint musical humming’s of the fans boos.

He was aggravated and confused all at the same time. His efforts to woo Sun Tzu had been frivolous. His time spent learning Chinese now seemed pointless. All he’d done is fuel her lust for one, Angelo Deville.

Angelo Deville

Shakur spat, he despised the man. The man had captured the heart of his beautiful Chinese butterfly. He wanted to crush him; he wanted to have Sun Tzu’s affections. What has this Angelo Deville done that I haven’t? Shakur thought as he kept a close eye on the doors around him.

He was going to pay Angelo Deville a visit.

Suddenly Shakur froze. He heard something but then everything became quiet. It’s nothing, he thought, keep moving.

The element of surprise, Shakur definitely had that.

Lavelle: If it isn’t my good friend Devin Shakur!

Shakur stalled, fists clenched.

The footsteps he’d heard belonged to Lavelle. He turned but was suddenly met with a sharp pain at the side of his head. His body stumbled against the wall. Lavelle was now the predator. He drove toward Shakur like a bat out of hell. Shakur couldn’t react in time as Lavelle kneed him three times in the gut before gripping his purplish coloured hair and slamming his head against the wall.

Lavelle inched closer.

Lavelle: You think I’d just forget?

A smiled lined his face, Shakur wasn’t bleeding … yet.

Suddenly Lavelle slammed his head into the wall again, causing Shakur to wince backwards, a drop of blood oozing from his eyebrow. Lavelle charged again, a screaming roar echoed around the hall as he speared Shakur into the opposite wall.

The hall was tiny, cramped, not enough room to retaliate.

Lavelle moved, swinging his fist into Shakur’s face. Shakur slipped to the floor. The element of surprise had been taken.

Now he knew the extent to which Lavelle was capable of. He underestimated him.

Lavelle crouched down next to Shakur. There was an aura anger and determination within him.

Lavelle: Hello you Emo prick. Remember me?

Shakur raised his head slightly, but his attempt was met with Lavelle’s fist. The sound of bone on bone was spine tingling, nails on a chalkboard. Lavelle winced, his knuckles a purplish haze.

Lavelle: You underestimated me, Shakur. You jumped me to prove a point and you just pissed me off. I’ll see you at Culture Shock and believe me, you purple haired Communist lover, we’re in the narrows and the snakes always bite!

Lavelle had a sickening grin on his face, Shakur’s blood laced into his knuckles. He inched a little closer, his words a whisper.

Lavelle: The rules have changed, Shakur, I’m not the good guy in AWC anymore. You awoke a beast.

Lavelle rose to his feet and sent a thundering kick into Shakur’s gut causing "The Reject" to bite on air, his lungs craving for air as his stomach indented with the strength of Lavelle’s kick. He spluttered as he heard footsteps. He looked around, Lavelle had gone … for now.

Danny Ferguson and his Team have arrived at the Cricket Ground. Well, I guess they arrived a while ago, because now they’re walking down the hall towards Chet Worth’s office, stopping by for any pro-PRIME, anti-FU updates before he headed up to his luxury suite for the night.

About midway through his trek, though, he spies a sign for the women’s locker room. Seeing as how he’d spent all that time in jail, and wasn’t ready to try his hand with the women in South Africa, Spain or India without proper documentation and testing, he hadn’t, you know, done his thing in a while. And even though last week’s little run-in with Sun Tzu should have soured him on PRIME females, there was still a chance he could catch a glimpse of one of those interviewers, or maybe that chick who rolls with Chainz...he probably would mind...

As he tries to be inconspicuous while being the only Peeping Tom with bodyguards in known history, his efforts are cut off when Lindsay Troy emerges from the bathroom door.

Lindsay Troy: That’s funny, I don’t remember seeing you in Porky’s.

Danny Ferguson: (flustered) No, I just, um, I was here to...I was hoping to catch up with you.

Lindsay Troy: And the best place you thought to find me was outside the women’s showers instead of outside my own locker room?

Danny Ferguson: Well, I mean, that is to say...you ARE a woman, aren’t you?

She heaves a very agitated SIIIIIGH.

Lindsay Troy: It’s good to see our forced teammate relationship is improving. Now, if you don’t mind, talking to you makes my head hurt, so I’m-

She turns to walk away, and Danny cuts her off.

Danny Ferguson: Ok, Legs-...Lindsay, I did a lot of thinking after last week, and if us being tag team champions is what it takes, then I’m all in. You’re the best person for the job.

Lindsay Troy: Oh, I am? Seriously? After all that recruiting you did last week? Really, Danny, did you think I didn’t see you?

Danny Ferguson: I was hoping you hadn’t, no.

Lindsay Troy: Please. I saw you talking to Afeaki and Sonny told me after the show that you tried to get him to team up with you. I think that one was the funniest, because if Sonny really wanted the tag belts he'd have teamed back up with ME to get them.

Danny Ferguson: Blasted Silver.

Troy folds her arms across her chest.

Lindsay Troy: So what you're saying, Fergdor, is that I'm a better choice than Sun Tzu, GBJ, GA, Sonny Silver and any other PRIME employee, including janitors, ring crew and the people who set up the catering tables?

Danny looks down at the floor and Jim Pibb sprinkles some dirt on the tiles for him to kick. Ferguson does, with his hands behind hs back and a sheepish look on his face.

Danny Ferguson: (muttering) Yes...

Lindsay continues glaring at Danny, who lifts his eyes eyes to look at her before casting them down to the floor again.

Lindsay Troy: Alright, fine. I'm going to watch the guys in the tag match to see who's going to wind up the contenders to the belts. You should come watch and maybe work on the whole "team dynamic" thing with me if we're going to function somewhat cohesively.

She walks off, leaving Ferguson and the boys behind in the dust that Danny kicked for scene enhancement.

Danny Ferguson: She thinks she’s sooooo smart, but you know what? She’s not.

Both bodyguards nod. A crew member approaches their group.

Crew Member: Hey Danny, someone said there’s a surprise for you in your suite.

He pats Danny on the shoulder, provoking a cringe from the Superstar, then walks away. Danny sneers as he disappears.

Danny Ferguson: Was he hitting on me?

Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas: Boss, I don-

Danny Ferguson: Rhetorical question. Go rough him up.

Dametreyus sighs and pulls out a pair of black gloves, tugging them on as he exits, stage left. Danny, meanwhile, progresses onward to the suite, and the ‘surprise’ that awaits him.

No sooner does the Sect finish their business than the Turkish March booms over the loudspeakers. Atop the ramp, General Rahman emerges, proudly and furiously hoisting the Turkish flag. Almost keeping each wave in tune with the chorus of boos that rain down from the Melbourne faithful, he sneers at the fans as he steps out. Behind him, the small form of Captain Suleimon takes the stage, followed closely by the far larger Jack Murphy. The three-man caravan pauses momentarily, soaking in the crowd's distaste, then they start down the ramp.

Nick: It looks like we’re ready to go on the night’s opening match!

Richard: But where’s the third team? Reborn and Redeemed?

Nick: Straight out of Enhancement Talent City, at a combined weight of 5 lbs less than it would take to kick out of your pinfall attempt...they’re already in the ring.

Before Sully and Murphy reach the ring, a shot inside shows that Peter Maxwell and Jason O'Neil have already entered the ring. They stretch against the ropes and roll out their joints, entirely nonchalant about things. Rahman joins Violence Jack at ringside and the atmosphere is already tense. Murphy and Suleimon enter the ring, and with everyone present and accounted for, we hit the bell and the first Aussie PRIME match is on.

Nick: Here we go Melbourne! A packed title shot-challenge show tonight, and what an opener we’re looking at here!

Richard: I’m torn, Nick. I love the Covenant, and I love Suleimon and Murphy. If I could somehow combine them into a Turkish Devil-worshipping military cult, they’d be my all-time favorites.

Nick: All-time, huh?

Richard: Top Five, at least. Top seven.

Maxwell and Knight start things off. Being the more tenured of the two, Peter goes for the classic circle-and-attack approach, a strategy that works for about two steps before Ethan Knight springs to life and catches him in the mouth with a spinning wheel kick. Knight lands on his feet in position for a standing shooting star press, which he executes perfectly for a quick and dirty two count.

Nick: The Covenant’s going for the fast win!

Richard: It’s a smart strategy, keeping everyone off guard. On the other hand, they’re probably trying to avoid Murphy and Suleimon.

Nick: This is going to be a tough match for you, huh?

Richard: It’s very stressful.

Maxwell is back on his feet before Knight is, but the lighter, quicker man sweeps the legs and tries for a second cover. This time, with the element of surprise not a factor, Maxwell kicks out before a count is even registered. Unfortunately for him, though, the movement slowed him down quite a bit, and by the time he gets to one knee, Knight blasts him with a front dropkick that sends him rolling back into the corner of Suleimon and Murphy. The Bull tags Maxwell's hand as it flies by.

Murphy takes his moment to step through the ropes and size up Knight. Impatient, Ethan charges in, only to have his face palmed and shoved away by The Bull. He rolls back up to his feet and makes another run, trying to get a running start to his lock up, but The Bull, in a slightly-ironic twist, sidesteps him with an unspoken "ole!", catches the lockup and pivots, slinging Knight halfway across the ring.

Nick: The power advantage might be too much for Knight.

Richard: The Bull’s too strong for him. However, he might just be showing off and will eventually fall to the speed of Ethan.

He hits the free turnbuckle and pulls himself up, only to be met with a running knee from Murphy that flattens him against the corner. Keeping him pinned there, Murphy follows up with some standing knees and hard elbows. Seeing Knight fairly vanquished, he pushes up against him, preparing for an Irish (ha!) whip. Before he follows through, he signals over his shoulder to his partner, who is at the corner just to his right.

Nick: They’ve got something planned here...hard to tell what’s going on...

Richard: It looks like they came prepared. However, it might also be a cheap attack!

Nick: I want you to know I’m having a lot of fun listening to you.

Richard: I want to stab you with my pen.

With a roar, Murphy pushes off and slings Knight across the ring, straight into the Reborn & Redeemed corner. As soon as he releases Knight, he hits the ropes and charges to his own corner. At the same time, Suleimon springboards up to the turnbuckle at their corner. Knight crashes into Jason O'Neil, who tags him and begins to step into the ropes. At the same time, Murphy dives for the corner, reaching out his arms to grab Suleimon. As he falls, he spins, using the momentum to yank Sully off the turnbuckle and hurl him across the ring. Tucking as best he can, the good Captain slams into Jason O'Neil, nearly knocking him out of the ring. On the rebound, he falls on top of Ethan Knight, collecting some extra damage points for his human pinball trick.

Nick: Incredible kamikaze team attack from Team Turkey!

Richard: Just like I said, a cheap attack! But also brilliant!

O'Neil is reeling, and Sully whips him into the opposite ropes. On the rebound, he catches him across the neck with a lariat, hanging on to spin behind Jason and slam his head into the mat. From there, he puts the boots to the former GCW, FSW, OSW, PWC and RPW star. He makes a point to dig the heel in a little with each stomp, making O'Neil jump a little and struggle even harder to get to his feet. Eventually the Scarecrow rolls to his stomach and pushes up. From there, Suleimon hits the ropes and comes back with a diving shoulderblock that catches his opponent right in the face and snaps his head back.

Richard: Now this is the kind of match I can get into! Screw this O’Neil sucker!

Nick: I’m glad you’re getting a small dose of the typical formula. You need a breather after doing all that waffling...

Jason slumps to the mat and the Captain senses blood in the water. He delivers a few softening kicks, then strides to his team's corner and vaults up in one movement. Sizing up the downed shell of a former superstar, he takes to the air with a soaring elbow drop. It would have been really sweet, if O'Neil hadn't moved at the last moment. The sheer impact, coupled with the Captain - now proved to NOT be a Sky Captain - and his inability to protect himself or anyone else when following through with moves, led to a sickening impact rippling through the crowd, and they cringe as such.
Nick: The old dog has still got it! O’Neil quickly turns the tide on Suleimon!

Richard: That bastard! He got lucky! He shouldn’t even be here!

Nick: Are you kidding? If he and Maxwell weren’t in this match, your head might have popped like a pimple!

O'Neil rolls over to the ropes and collects himself. Unfortunately, his sense of ring awareness had been momentarily paralyzed when he took an AC joint to the grill. He didn't realize how close he was to the Covenant corner, and didn't know until Horace Tully reached out and put a handprint on his back with a blind - but not deaf - tag.

Tully hurdles the top rope and hits the mat running, charging Suleimon and flooring him with a stiff Yakuza-kick-esque boot. The Captain goes down hard and Tully follows it up with a smooth elbowdrop, then floats over to pull the Captain up by his hair. Getting to his feet, he drags the man up and delivers some sharp kneelifts to the face before throwing an arm over his head and hoisting for a snap suplex. A quick float and he pulls the man back up for a Sambo suplex, shifting his lock just slightly. Keeping the grip, he floats and lifts again, this time shifting to a bridging German suplex for a fall.

One!

Two!

ThrNO!

Nick: Jack Murphy just broke that one up!

Richard: Nice teamwork! Also a blatant bending of the rules!

Suleimon is not quite resilient enough to make the kickout after that assault (you try taking it and then throw stones), but luckily his outstretched legs were within distance of Jack Murphy’s paw. Unseen to the official, Murphy yanks his partner out of the pin attempt and drags him toward the corner. The Immolator of Istanbul had just enough sense to make the tag before rolling to the apron to collect himself.

Nick: We’re about to see the two musclemen of these teams square off! I hope the ring can take it!

Richard: The ring took Stanislav vs. St. James. I think it can handle these two.

Nick: But do either of those mountains hit as hard as Horace Tully?

Murphy steps into the ring quickly, but not quick enough to block a running forearm smash from Horace Tully. The Sect member follows up with several shoulderblocks to the midsection, slamming The Bull up against the turnbuckles. He slumps a little, sitting on the bottom turnbuckle as he slides down, and Tully takes off towards the ropes.

Nick: Looks like he’s going for a facewash here!

Richard: Damn him! But a good idea!

Nick: Murphy’s up, though! This doesn’t look good for Tully!

On the return, Tully’s eyes grow wide at the sight of Jack Murphy, rising from the mat with surprising speed. Before he has time to react, Murphy levels him with a falling clothesline, a move whose impact came as much from Tully’s momentum as it did from the force with which it was thrown. Horace Tully nearly does a backflip as he flies into the air and collapses near the Suleimon/Murphy corner. Murphy, having spent quite a bit of energy in that burst after the attack he received, stumbles slowly to the opposite ropes.

Nick: What an impact!

Richard: He almost took Tully’s head off! On the other hand, a move that deadly should be outlawed!

The official goes to check on Tully and doesn’t see Ethan Knight and Violence Jack slip over to Murphy. As VJ grabs The Bull’s legs to keep him from moving, Ethan takes and arm and jumps to wrap his legs around Murphy’s head, dragging him over the top rope in a loose (ie, he has no MMA training and doesn’t do it with deadly force) triangle choke.

The ref hears the jeers from the crowd and turns around to see what the commotion is. While he tries to break up the Sect mugging of Murphy, Suleimon springs back to life. With General Rahman’s help, he runs the Turkish flag in front of Horace Tully’s throat and pulls back, choking the life out of him.

Nick: Both teams are trying to use the numbers advantage!

Richard: I can’t believe they’re trying to cheat their way to victory!

Nick: Who?

Richard: Both! Er, neither! Er...dammit!

With a pair of two-on-one beatings going down and nary a face to make the save ‘tween them, Peter Maxwell and Jason O’Neil take matters into their own hands. Firstly, they are the filler team, the de-facto neutrals who play whatever role is needed. Secondly, both have done the hero thing before and in the twilight of your career, you’re more inclined to make the save than to kick someone while they’re down. Thirdly, this is primo television time, something that comes at a luxury to folks who haven’t garnered an on-air victory in some years. It should come as no surprise that the two of them are in the ring before I finish this paragraph.

Nick: Reborn and Redeemed are storming the ring!

Richard: Those pricks!

Nick: You should send them a Thank You note after tonight.

Richard: I’m penning it in my head.

Maxwell takes a running dive at Rahman and Suleimon, jumping with a split-leg kick that catches the flag on either side of Horace Tully’s head and snaps it in half. The two Turkish military men fall back and are instantly horrified at the indignity.

O’Neil, meanwhile, runs across the ring and dives through the top and middle ropes, spearing Knight while he is upside-down and sending both of them sailing into the barricade. Violence Jack releases his hold on Murphy’s legs and The Bull stumbles back before falling into a seated position in the ring. Maxwell, who found himself in a Bronco Buster position on Tully after his saving kick, scrambles to get back to his feet, only to be pulled out by Suleimon.

The continued beatings of Reborn and Redeemed continue while the ref struggles to maintain order. Eventually, though, he settles on it being out of his hands since the two legal men are in the ring.

Nick: This is chaos! Hell has broken loose outside the ring!

Richard: It’s a smart move by the Sect of Black Wisdom! But also a brilliant counter from Suleimon and Rahman!

Maxwell momentarily shrugs off the smaller Turks and makes a run for his partner, but Violence Jack and Ethan Knight just take the beating to him, too, and now it’s turned into a giant heel beatdown mosh pit. Rahman joins the fray, picking his shots to prevent the Sect of Black Wisdom from trying to take anything out on him.

In the ring, Tully and Murphy both stir, slowly getting to their feet. Tully uses the ropes in the corner to balance himself, while Murphy pauses on one knee to catch his breath. Seeing an opportunity, Tully charges out for a Shining Wizard knee, but Murphy catches him and throws him back at the turnbuckle with the mechanics (but not the force) of a powerbomb. The Bull rises with the move and Tully charges out immediately, catching him with a hard forearm smash that rocks the larger man. Murphy sways, and Tully takes a short trip to the ropes and back before connecting on another smash. This time, Murphy drops to a knee, and Tully immediately follows it with a standing Shining Wizard, practically burying his knee in The Bull’s jaw.

Nick: Wow! Tully is taking it to the Bull here!

Richard: It’s a cheap assault after the two-on-one! On the other hand, he’s taking advantage of the situation!

On the outside, Suleimon is sizing up the mob of people. Both O’Neil and Maxwell are out on their feet, with the Sect gaining control. Not for long, though, as Suleimon jumps on the apron and takes a running start into the far ringpost, running up it and jumping off it with a move that can only be described in generic terms.

Nick: Flying...body attack?!

He slams into the group and everyone goes down in a heap, effectively eliminated from the match.

Nick: What impact on that! Everyone is wiped out!

Richard: Smart move to cut off the Sect from involving themselves in the match! On the other hand, he’s an idiot for isolating his partner!

In the ring, Tully has Murphy by the hair and sets him up in a pumphandle position. He gathers up his strength and lets out a yell as he lifts The aptly-named Bull into the air and drives him down with The Horror Out of Dover! The crowd lets out an "ooh!" at the end of the move, but he doesn’t seem to be done. Popping back to his feet, Tully drags Murphy up and hooks him in a front facelock, then crosses his legs and lifts again, letting out another yell as he plants Murphy in the mat with It Came From Yuggoth!

He immediately rolls Murphy into a pin, but neglects to hook the leg from sheer exhaustion of the lift.

One!

Two!

ThreeKICKOUT!

Nick: Whoa! Cheating death there by Murphy!

Richard: That was a slow count! But it was also very evenly-timed.

By the slimmest of margins, Murphy’s shoulder leaves the mat. Tully spits some venom at the ref about the speed or lack thereof of his count. He makes a quick check outside to see that all other participants are down...then he lies in wait. Standing up and then opting for a crouch, he hovers over Murphy while the bigger man slowly begins to rise.

Nick: Horace Tully’s got something planned here!

Richard: He’s going to finish it off! However, he needs to be careful not to sleep on Jack Murphy!

Nick: You going to make it to the end? This heel vs. heel stuff is tough. You’re tearing up a little.

Richard: I’m fine, I just...I’m fine.

Murphy seems to take forever to get to his knees, and eventually begins to stand. Tully, now ready to continue his assault, takes an extended moment to peel the elbowpad from his arm, readying for a lariat. He hits the ropes and comes back with it...

...but Murphy, having played possum for his recovery, snaps into action, sidestepping the lariat and grabbing Tully’s arm. Swinging him like a pendulum, Murphy locks in the Cobra Clutch, spinning with Tully before sitting out for a modified version of his Firebrand ’77 move!

Nick: Shocking turn of events for Murphy!

Richard: I thought he was out cold! That devious bastard!

After slamming Tully down with the bulldog, Murphy keeps the Clutch and shifts his weight onto Horace’s back, pulling on the hold and giving him nowhere to go.

With Tully practically staring at the lights after being pulled back that far, he realizes that he has nowhere to go and that he needs to cut his losses or cut his wrestling career short. He and Ethan would have another chance for a tag title shot some other day.

Nick: He tapped! Tully tapped!

Richard: Drats! I mean, congrats! Congrats to Suleimon and Murphy, the new #1 contenders!

WINNERS: CAPTAIN SULEIMON & JACK MURPHY

The Turkish March blares again, and Suleimon rolls back into the ring to meet his partner.

Nick: They didn’t always look strong in that match, but they knew how to rise to the occasion when it counted!

Richard: It’s PRIME’s hottest new team, and they’re going straight for the tag titles! Ferguson and Troy won’t know what hit them at Culture Shock!

General Rahman retrieves the remains of the Turkish flag and waves it over Suleimon and Murphy’s heads as they congratulate themselves on the W.

Angelica Brooks stands by a door leading to the arena's backstage parking lot. She looks into a small mirror, freshening up, fixing her fiery red hair and making sure her black top and dress pants fit in all the right places. She snaps her hand mirror shut and turns to her camera crew.

Angelica: How do I look?

The camera crew throws a thumbs up.

Angelica (with glee): Good!

She takes position by the door and takes a few deep breaths. She stands up straight, and with mic in hand, waits.

Soon, the doors burst open, and in walks the Sultan of Soul himself, Asa 'Fro' Fountain. He walks right passed Angelica, his aviators over his eyes, afro-pick in his hair, his leather jacket on with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Angelica steps quickly to catch up, sticking her microphone in his face.

Angelica: Asa! Asa, we were hoping to get a few words with you!

Asa stops and raises an eyebrow. He puts his sunglasses on his forehead, turns to Angelica, and smiles a big, white, perfect-toothed smile.

Asa: Heeeyyy, what's up girl? I haven't seen you since the upstairs at the King of Kings after party!

Asa moves in to get a little touchy n' feely. Angelica blushes a little bit, keeping him at bay with a hand on his chest. She makes an intentional coughing noise and gestures toward the crew.

Angelica: Um, we were hoping you might answer a few questions if you don't mind.

Asa turns and notices the camera crew for the first time.

Asa: Sure thing, suga. Watcha wanna know?

Angelica springs into action, mic at the ready.

Angelica: Well, we all know that you and Sonny Silver have been butting heads since King of Kings, do you have any comments on the rivalry?

Asa loses the smile, moving from "I'm a super-flirt" mode to "I'm an angry black man" mode.

Asa: That jive-ass motha fucka don't know shit. This cracka comes to me, thinks I'm some WCW fool an' tries gettin' me fired. So, I dropped his stupid ass in the middle of the ring back in South Africa. And he STILL ain't taken the hint!. So he taunts me into some rigged gauntlet match, screws me over. I tell ya, foxy lady, this shit ain't groovy.

Angelica: I see! Now, tonight you've been booked to face two newcomers to PRIME, Devin Shakur and Michael "Chainz" Sloan. Both have a lot of momentum in their favor, Shakur known to be a methodical fighter, and Chainz is, well, a monster! How do you plan to defeat both of them?

Asa: Suga, when it comes to tactics, I only got one: keep it groovy. I'ma step in that ring, make the crowd pop, then make them fools drop, ya dig?

Angelica: I do! Now, coincidentally, the winner of this match will be Sonny Silver's opponent at Culture Shock for the Intense Title! Any words?

Asa: Girl, if there's one thing that's always been outta my reach in the wrestlin' world, it's singles gold. Now I got a chance to show the fans that I can rock a singles belt, not just tag titles, ya feel me?

Angelica: Absolutely! Now, saying you do win the title shot tonight, do you have any words for Mr. Silver?

Asa: Nothin' I ain't told that jive turkey already. Once I win the title shot tonight, nothin's gonna stop me from puttin' my shoe in his ass and takin' his gold. You can take that to the bank. Now, I gotta get ready to get groovy. Catch ya later, suga.

Asa walks off down the hall toward the locker rooms.

Angelica: Hey!

Asa turns back. Angelica, smiling wide, gives him the "call me!" gesture. Asa smiles, nods, throws her a wink, then continues toward his locker. Angelica claps excitedly, absolutely glowing. She looks to her camera crew, who give her "that" look.

Angelica: What?

As the scene starts, Chainz is seen walking down the hallway, somewhat visibly upset. Maybe rotten.com hasn’t updated in the past hour…who knows. Regardless, once he arrives to his usual locker room door, he notices a piece of paper taped over where his name would be. It reads…

"The Poet."

Chainz looks at this and rips it down with a look of surprise on his face. Soon after he pushes the door open and, there he is, Fred Cook, also known as the poet. He is hanging from his feet, his long rain boots somehow managing to perfectly match the leopard-spotted thong underwear and army surplus jacket he adorns. Silence, though, is the theme of the room, and even while Chainz is making a racket by slamma-jamming all around the room, Fred manages to stay still with eyes closed, hands crossed, and a faint humming noise from his lips.

Chainz: And who the fuck are you?

The Poet: *opens one eye* Disturb me no more, friend, for I sleep with my thoughts.

Fred closes his eye and continues to hang. Chainz grabs him and stares into his eyes.

Chainz: We ain’t friends, in fact I’ve a mindset to bury you six feet under. This is my locker room.

Immediately, both of Fred’s eyes shoot open.

The Poet: Chainz! Oh, of course with a z. I pondered once I laid these two pearls upon that title, Who could possibly don that name upon oneself? Alas, it is you. You look cold…why, I ask?

Chainz: I choose to be this way.

Fred slides his feet from the ceiling and falls with a thud off camera. Moments later he springs up into a pose with his left hand behind his head and his right on his hips. He stares at Chainz, pushing his own eyebrow as far up as he can. What a character, this Chainz.

The Poet: You speak of empty downfalls. The wind has dawn a breath of stale, cold solitude that freezes my bones. May you explain to me, fine sir, what true quarrel you have with me?

Chainz: No quarrels. I see nothing but an inconvenience here, an inconvenience that I plan on taking care of.

Chainz slowly starts to walk towards Fred, creeping closer and closer. Fred is backing up at the same speed towards the wall.

The Poet: Well, that is quite excellent to hear…

Chainz: Then again, I suppose I had no "true quarrel" with Francine Jenkins back in ’06…

The Poet: Francine, eh? A MARVELOUS name! Now, if I may…

Fred tries to squeeze past but Chainz stops him with one hand and pushes him against the wall. Slowly Chainz moves his head closer to Fred’s, who is trying to get as far away as humanly possible.

Chainz: Where you think you’re going fag? You waltz into my life and want to leave so fast. Now that’s not very nice of you. I may like veal, but I’ve never said no to steak either. Picking up what I’m laying down?

The Poet: Veal? Such as…uh…that’s the most horrible analogy ever…*gack*

Fred starts to dry heave, trying to shoot the non-existant projectile from his throat over Chainz’ arm. Chainz starts to lick his lips.

Chainz: I’m actually a bit hungry now…

Quickly, Chainz attempts to close his arms around Fred who, in a moment’s notice, slips down to the ground and runs out of the room. From the hallway, screaming and crying can be heard. Back inside, the camera zooms in on Chainz.

Chainz: No problem…plenty of veal in the freezer.

Easton Hall stands before the curtains, rubbing his taped wrists. His eyes are closed and he seems restless, shifting his feet constantly. One can only wonder what's on his mind.

Voice: Easton.

Easton's eyes open and he glances behind him to see Bastille standing there, giving him a slight nod. The big man glanced towards the curtains.

Bastille: Looking forward to the match, huh?

Easton smirks.

Easton Hall: Looking forward to whipping the rest of your asses and getting my much-deserved title shot.

Bastille cocks an eyebrow.

Bastille: Oh yeah?

Easton turns towards Bastille, hair shaking as he nods his head.

Easton Hall: Yeah, figure it shouldn't be too hard.

Bastille: That a fact?

Bastille turns slowly, looking down at the Canadian Dragon.

Bastille: You saying you're gonna get past me?

CanDrag nods again, his smirk never leaving his face; Bastille can see it clearly from the immense tangle of the smaller man's beard.

Easton Hall: Remember last time? Knocked you down with the flying back elbow and took home the W.

Bastille narrows his eyes.

Bastille: Your mom.

Easton blinks.

Easton Hall: What?

Bastille: Er… your mom… with the elbow… uhh…

Bastille coughs and glances away.

Bastille: So yeah, ain't scared at all?

Easton Hall: Nice save.

Bastille cracks his knuckles, flexing his arms and obviously trying to cow Easton. Easton turns back to the curtains.

Bastille: Last time, E, you didn't get the full experience is all I'm saying.

Easton Hall: That so?

Bastille: 'Course. Once I've got you up for the Rebellion… well, it's all done from there, man.

Easton Hall: We'll see.

Easton glances back at Bastille and shakes his head a bit. Bastille looks past Easton towards the curtains again, waiting for the cue.

Bastille: Be careful out there, man. Don't get yourself crushed, huh?

Easton chuckles a bit.

Easton Hall: Watch the elbow.

Vince Howard: THE FOLLOWING CONTEST IS SCHEDULED FOR ONE FALL AND IT IS TO DETERMINE THE #1 CONTENDER TO THE ALIAS CHAMPIONSHIP AT CULTURE SHOCK!

The entire arena is plunged into darkness, leaving intense beams of white and purple to slash randomly across ringside. Pulses of synth then lay a trail for pounding drums, while licks of base trigger lights to flash in series around the arena. Joining in with the "WHOOO!" chants that escape from the beats, the fans rise in expectation of the entrance.

'SUPERCALIFRAGIALISTICWHENWEDROPWEGOBALLISTIC~!'

A deafening eruption of white and purple pyro shoots out from either side of the curtain, unleashing Overseer's 'Velocity Shift' in full throughout the arena, speakers distorting with bass.

A spotlight breaks from the swirling pattern around the arena to focus on the scaffolding above the entrance, where glimpses of a sleek figure slipping between the poles can be caught. Finally emerging from the steel jungle, the K-Wolf leaps over the PRIME logo and down onto the stage, long, patch-work coat rippling in the air behind her. As she lands, crouched, a final burst of white pyro shoots high into the arena from either side of the curtain, sending Wolfenden on her way down to the ring.

"WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

Gliding down the aisle, the K-Wolf reaches out either side of her to slap the out-reaching palms of the PRIME fans, before leaping up onto the apron .

Vince Howard: Introducing first… from Albany, New York… weighing in at 159 pounds… she is THE K-WOLF… KARINA WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLFENDEN!!!

Gloved hands grab the top rope, slingshotting the K-Wolf into the cable, where she balances for just long enough to remove her purple-tinted sunglasses, clipping them onto the collar of her coat before hopping down into the ring.

The lights are assassinated like they're riding through Dealey Plaza in '63. The crowd lets out an anticipatory thrill of noise.

A single spotlight shines down on the entrance ramp as a vocal, piano, and bass sample repeats over the speakers. On the WAL*TRON, a sun rises slowly over a mountain horizon.

Cue GZA.

"Yo
Too advanced
Digistance
Made the CD enhanced
I move with the speed and strength of ants"

Easton Hall bursts through the curtains, marching down the ramp at an accelerated pace, the GZA's rhymes flowing and prodding him on over the repeating sample. His eyes are focused directly on the ring, his countenance severe, intense. The crowd showers him with cheers as he positively motors down the ramp. The spotlight follows him down as he leaps easily up onto the apron and slips into the ring.

Vince Howard: And the opponent… from The Glorious North, weighing in at 213 pounds… he is "THE CANADIAN DRAGON"…. EASSSSTOOOOOOOOOONNNNNN HAAALLLLLLLLLLLLL!

"See the logo?
A monument in hip-hop
Carved out
In a giant landscape of broken rocks"

Easton paces about the ring in a quick circle before darting towards the corner. He climbs up onto the second rope and slams his gauze-wrapped forearms together three times. He then grabs a loose end on each and unravels the gauze, dropping the heap to the ground and thrusting his bare, tattooed arms into the air, showing off the Wheels-and-Dragons to a pop from the crowd. He jumps down again, turning around and flexing his wrists and limbering up arms and legs.

As Karina and Easton stare at one another…

"Plus 1" by Octane.

Soon enough, the gentle giant known to many as Bastille parts the curtains and earns the awe of the spectators before him. He looks a bit more focused than he has in weeks past as he tries to snap the unfortunate losing streak that’s been plaguging him ever since he set foot in PRIME. He acknowledges a few pops from the crowd and marches down proudly. Both Karina and Easton take the time to notice the big man as he power walks down to the ring, climbs up the steps and steps over the ropes with relative ease.

Vince Howard: AND THE THIRD ENTRANT… FROM WEST CHESTER, PA, WEIGHING IN AT 332 POUNDS… HE… IS…. BASSSSSSSSSSSTILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLEEEEEEEE!

The music fades as one more person gets to join this little dance.

"Phoenix Rising" by Annihilator.

The curtains part for one last time, signifying the entrance of the man who made it to the finals of the world-renowned GTT6 tournament!

Vince Howard: AND THE LAST ENTRANT… FROM FLAGSTAFF, ARIZONA, WEIGHING IN AT 215 POUNDS! THIS… IS… JAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYY PHOENIXXXXXXXXXXXXX!

With a big mixed reaction (more cheers than jeers) Phoenix rolls underneath the bottom rope and hops to his feet, focused on this task. With a new career in PRIME ahead of him without the Ember moniker, Jay Phoenix wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip from his fingertips.

The bell rings.

Both Jay Phoenix and Easton Hall nod to one another and immediately jump all over the big man, Bastille, burying boot after boot in the corner. Karina, deciding she isn’t going to waste this opportunity sits back and waits for the perfect time to assault somebody. Jay and Easton both attempt to whip Bastille out of the corner, but the big man finds his ground, then shoves Hall aside with a big hand. Phoenix tries to kick out one of his legs with a repeated set of blows, but Bastille grabs him by the leg and measures up his target before POWERING him off the ground, then hurling him 2/3 across the ring with a big Biel Throw!

The (not-so) Gentle Giant waits for either man to make a move, but gets damn near taken out of his boots when The K-Wolf flies out of NOWHERE and blasts him with a Springboard Dropkick to the back of the head, sending him wobbling to the ropes. Easton Hall recovers and measures up the big guy, then slams a big running back elbow to the head… the very same blow that he landed once before to slay the giant. Both men finally join in and successfully knocks the big man over the top rope, spilling him onto the floor!

With the biggest threat in this match temporarily out of the equation, Easton Hall takes Jay down to the mat with a sharp headlock before trapping him up in a rear chinlock. The Canadian Dragon wasn’t going to let go anytime soon, so Phoenix tried to fight back by throwing several violent elbows into the chest to try and free himself.

Finally, he gets himself free and uses the ropes to bounce towards Hall. He wraps him up and twirls himself around into a crucifix pin!

ONE!

TW… BROKEN UP BY KARINA!

The Negasonic Lupine herself broke the pin attempt by dropkicking Phoenix in the face, sending the veteran rolling off to the side. Karina takes two handfuls of Easton Hall’s hair and drives several knees into the face of CanDrag before whipping him to the corner. However, he reverses it and sends K-Wolk HARD into the corner back-first. Hall runs towards her, but finds himself eating a HUGE high kick to the mouth that stuns him.

K-Wolf takes him to the corner an follows him in with a BIG set of Double Knees, then drives him down to the mat with an Inverted Lungblower. Once he’s down, Karina measures up her target and gets a running start off the ropes, crashing down all her weight on him with a big Standing 450 Splash! She goes for the cover.

ONE!

TWO!

NO!

Hall kicks out, but before Karina can mount another offense, Jay Phoenix comes out of literally NOWHERE and blasts her with a huge clothesline that nearly decapitates the former PRIME Universal Champion. Once that’s done, he picks up the Canadian Dragon once again and flings him off the ropes, leaping into the air and crashing a big HHH-style Knee Strike into the skull of his intended target.

With the match full in his control now, he wastes no time picking Easton Hall up by the head again and delivers a huge boot into the gut before planting him mid-ring with a high-impact DDT! Hall crumbles over onto his back just as Phoenix rises to his own two feet, absorbing a nice pop from the crowd. On the outside, he can see that Bastille is coming around, so he says a little prayer and gets himself ready for an attack. Jay bounces off one set of ropes and comes back, sailing through the ropes with a Benoit-style tope.

The air. The speed. It was all perfect…

Except for the fac that Bastille regained all his faculties and caught Jay around the chest, then turned him around up and over the shoulders before connecting with a big Snake Eyes on the outside barricade! With the giant now back in the mix, he prepares to climb back into the ring when suddenly, Karina leaps into the fray with a springboard Jericho-style dropkick that makes Bastille teeter on the edge of the ropes. Quietly fuming under her breath that Bastille wasn’t down yet, she tries for a second one, but this time Bastille uses his mammoth hand to swat the K-Wolf away.

Bastille climbs into the ring and with all other parties at his mercy, he starts with the K-Wolf of all people. After looking almost sorrowful for having to put the hurt on a girl that meant very well a few weeks ago with him and his daughter, he tells himself that it’s a match and that he desparaltely NEEDS to turn his bad luck around. He powers Karina up and holds her high into the sky with a Delayed Vertical Suplex… soon, he uses only ONE hand and uses the free hand to get the crowd to lend him their energy before falling back and splattering Karina into the ground. He rolls over and goes for the cover.

ONE!

TWO!

SAVE BY EASTON!

Easton drives a huge kick to the temple of Bastille making him roll off Karina. Easton continues the assault by throwing several stomps into the head of The Gentle Giant, then measures him up for some sort of assault. He backs up a few steps and attempts the BURNING WITCH… NO! Bastille goozles him and then powers Easton Hall high overhead before throwing him down to the mat vehemently with a big double-choke slam. Hall rolls through and gets back to his feet, but finds himself wobbly in the corner. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Bastille charging at him like an angry rhino, but he gets out of harm’s way, letting the giant get in his daily dose of turnbuckle.

Easton runs at the giant once and throws another big-time back elbow to stun him, but Bastille doesn’t go down. He then goes off the opposite ropes and connects with a second one to the stomach of the giant, but the PA native doesn’t fall. He goes to the well for the third time, but Bastille is ready and presses Hall high above his head, ready to bring him back down to Earth…

PHOENIX WITH THE FLYING KICK FROM NOWHERE!

The man formerly known as Ember knocks Bastille down, which forces Easton Hall to fall on top of the giant for the cover.

ONE!

TWO!

SAVE BY JAY!

Jay grabs him by the leg and drags Easton off him, then connects with a big standing moonsault across the chest of Bastille.

ONE!

TWO!

NO!

Karina rocks Jay with a big leg drop to the back of the head, making him fall off the giant. Finally, Karina bounces off the second rope and connects with the GOODNIGHT MOON! The Asai Kneedrop landed picture-perfect (as perfect as an ugly kneedrop could) and she goes for the pin!

ONE!

TWO!

SAVE!

Both Jay Phoenix and Easton Hall grab Karina and pull her right off the giant. Once she’s eliminated, Jay returns the favor from earlier and chops Easton in the chest several times. A couple red welts form on the chest of CanDrag, but Hall returns the blows in kind and SMACKS Phoenix hard in the chest with a few big chops of his own. Soon, the two trade blows, but it’s Jay who momentarily gains the advantage with a sharp kick to Easton’s knee. Jay tries for a German Suplex, but Hall gets the leg up to block it. Easton switches it up and gets behind him, then DUMPS him hard on his head with a big German Suplex!

Easton gets up, but The K-Wolf runs at him, slamming both boots into his face with a big Dropsault! She lands into a moonsault across the chest of Jay and hooks both legs!

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT!

Phoenix gets the shoulder up, but Karina stays on the assault by sitting him up and delivers a stiff Muay Thai kick to the back that makes Jay arch in pain. As he lets out a yell, Karina follows through with a second shot. Then a third. And finally, a big low roundhose kick that knocks Phoenix onto his back once more. She tries to finish up the assault, but Easton grabs her in a rear waistlock and pushes her to the ropes. K-Wolf hangs on, sending Easton into a slow roll backwards… INTO THE ARMS OF BASTILLE!

Easton gets flung high into the sky, then comes crashing back down to the canvas with a mighty big Full Nelson Slam.

Now in the center of the ring stood two.

Bastille, the giant with a daughter he had to take care of at all times and needed to succeed in this business to giver he the life he wants for her.

Karina Wolfenden, the thrill-seeking daredevil with a heart of… something.

Both wrestlers started to circle one another for several moments, both expecting the other to make a move. Karina fired the first shot, connecting with his thigh, then backing off to keep at a distance. She pops off two more hard Snap Kicks which cause Bastille to flinch. She backs a step, then unloads with a hard one-two combo that stuns the giant and brings him to one knee. Once he’s grounded, Karina strikes him hard in the head with a nasty Spinning Backfist that makes Bastille teeter. The giant had already taken some brutal headshots, but Karina wasn’t one to relent her offense no matter how nice she was to the competition. She tries for another big kick that would’ve found its mark had Bastille not got his arm up to block. He holds onto the leg for a few moments and Karina then tries for a leaping Enzuigiri that he ducks. Bastille wraps both arms around her waist, then THROWS her halfway across the ring with a modified Spinnign Wheelbarrow Suplex!

Wolfenden is now on the ground, cradling her back from the sheer force she’d been driven into the mat with. Before she can recover, Bastille tries to wrap this up as fast as possible by putting the weight across her shoulders.

ONE!

TWO!

THR…SAVE BY EASTON!

Finally, The Canadian Dragon springs to life, catching Bastille in the rib cage with a hard Double-Axe Handle. Now, Jay recovers and both men lift the big man back onto his feet. They manage to toss him to the ropes and both men try for a double elbow, but he plows right through them both with a wicked Double Clothesline! The fans roar to life once more now that Bastille has managed to tear through all comers in this match-up. Phoenix tries to get up, but a Polish Hammer from Bastille plants him back down. Karina starts to come alive as well, but finds herself the victim of another high-impact move in the form of a big Belly-to-Back Suplex.

Out of the corner of his eye, though, he fails to see the very last body in this match climb to the top rope.

FLYING BACK ELBOW!

The Flying Back Elbow off the top rope knocks Bastille down for the count. Easton used that very move to seal the giant’s fate last time they met. Would it do so again?

ONE!

TWO!

KICK-OUT!

Bastille wasn’t about to let the same move be his end twice in PRIME. Easton gets back to his feet, but Jay Phoenix grabs him by the head and knees him several times before grabbing him and driving him into the mat with a big Double Underhook Suplex! Karina was next on the list. As he picked up the Negasonic Lupine and got ready to strike her down with a big Powerbomb… NO!

Karina rolls through and catches him with the Hurricanrana! She finally gets back to her feet, as does Phoenix, and pops him right in the jaw with a NASTY Jumping Roundhouse Kick to the head. He goes down in a heap, but she doesn’t go for the pin. The Eternal Sunset picks him up once more and whips the bigger man into the corner before following it up with a big Handspring Heel Kick to the face! Jay falls over and Karina goes for the cover.

ONE!

TWO!

THR… SHOULDER UP!

She grits her teeth that the succession of kicks didn’t get her the win and the title shot, but she shook the thoughts out of her head and measured up Jay once more. She flies in for one more kick, but he ducks at the last second. Before she has time to recover, Jay grabs her by the head and plants her into the mat with a hard Reverse DDT! He rolls her up into an Oklahoma Roll.

ONE!

TWO!

TH—SAVE BY BASTILLE!

The giant scoops Jay up over the shoulder with a double leg and PLOWS him across the ring, sending the Native American crashing into the nearest corner. He drives several shoulders into his sternum and drives the air out of the former Ember before setting him up in the center of the ring for a big Powerbomb attempt. Maybe the REBELLION was up?

Unfortunately, we’ll never know, for Easton took the big man down with a big Chop Block, making him let go of Phoenix. Easton takes advantage of the positioning of Jay and before he knows what hits him…

BURNING WITCH!

The MASSIVE Running Knee Strike connected perfectly. That had to be all.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE…!

Karina pushed him off, but only a second too late.

The fans let out a big cheer for the Canadian Dragon as he rolls out of the ring, taking a minute to catch his breath. Both Bastille and Karina exchange glances, realizing that one moment was all that Easton Hall needed to secure the victory and said victory slipped from both their grasps.

Vince Howard: HERE IS YOUR WINNER… AND THE #1 CONTENDER TO THE ALIAS CHAMPIONSHIP AT CULTURE SHOCK… EASTON HAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!

Hall stumbles to his feet, raising both hands in the sky. He found just the perfect mark he was looking for and by God, the Canadian Dragon did it. Easton slowly makes his way up the ramp, looking on at the scene before him. He’d just faced his toughest challenge to date in PRIME and once more, he came out on top.

The Canadian Dragon is about to leave, but not before looking into the camera and making that universal "That belt is MINE!" motion that’s known throughout wrestling.

Whether you love him or hate him, Easton Hall was climbing up the ladder and it didn’t seem like he was gonna fall off anytime soon.

The arena lights slowly grow dim and the crowd come alive, every pairs of eyes darting toward the entrance way and every set of ears patiently waiting for the inevitable entrance music to initiate, desperately hoping it to be their favorite superstar. This time they are disappointed as "Aerials" by System of a Down hits on the pa system.

Nick: Winters? Oh god, what does he want now?

Richard: Shut up, Nick. I like Winters he’s edgy.

Nick [sighing]: Sure he is.

The crowd begin to react unfavorably at first, but as the general mood grows and Jonathan Winters and Charity emerge on the entrance platform, the boo’s rise to almost deafening levels.

Life is a Waterfall,
We’re one in the River,
And one again after the fall...

Nick: Quite a reception your friend is picking up here…

Richard: Bah! These peons no nothing, nothing I say!

Nick: You could use an evil laugh to finish that sentence off.

Richard: I can’t.

Nick: Why?

Richard: Last time I did one of those, I scared myself.

Nick:…

Swimming through the void we hear the word,
We lost ourselves,
But will we find it all...?

With that, the fireworks ignite, a beautiful combination of blue’s and white’s and the dust has settled, Winters and Charity persevere to the ring, undeterred by the reaction of the crowd.

Cause we are the ones that want to play,
Always want to go,
But you never want to stay,

The pair reach the ring and promptly climb the ring. Charity props herself upon the second rope, effectively holding it open for Winters to climb through.

Richard: Now that’s a manager right there! Holding the ropes open for her client like that…it’s a beautiful sight, Nick.

Nick: What are you talking about?

Richard: Didn’t think you’d understand the aesthetical value of it, Nick. Over your head. Completely.

Nick: Well, that is something I’m more than prepared to live with, Richard.

As soon as Charity climbs into the ring after her client, she signals for a mi and Winters props himself up in the corner. Vince Howard hands Charity a mic and she throws him a sultry smile in response, which doesn’t fail to bring a smile to his face. Winters roll his eyes. It isn’t the first time he’s seen her do it and it certainly won’t be the last.

SLUT! SLUT! SLUT! SLUT! SLUT! SLUT! SLUT! SLUT!

Winters grins and nods in agreement with the crowd, but when Charity turns to face him, he quickly develops an angered expression and mouths something off to the first row of the crowd, directly behind him.

Charity: Shut the fuck up!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: Looks like everybody here has figured this broad out already!

Richard: As I said. Peons. All of them. Especially the children.

As the crowd slowly die down, Charity brings the mic up to her lips.

Charity: Last week, my client here was affronted by one of PRIME’s alleged ‘rising stars’.

DUSK! DUSK! DUSK! DUSK! DUSK! DUSK! DUSK! DUSK!

Winters glances around rapidly, this time his anger expression is not false. Charity shakes her head in disgust and visibly mouths ‘can you believe this’ to Winters, although it is barely audible, with the mic so far away from her mouth.

Charity: Yes. That’s right, another of PRIME’s scar faced morons. I mean, where are they picking these deforms cretins up from anyway? Cuba?

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: Ouch. Bad joke.

Richard: I think it went over well.

Nick: Then why isn’t anybody laughing?

Richard: Morons. What do you expect?

Nick: That explains you, but what about the audience?

Richard: That joke was worse. Considerably.

Charity: Yeah boo me. See where that gets you.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Charity: You morons are deluded. Your ‘hero’ pulled off an underhanded sneak attack and you boo us?

Nick: It was neither underhanded nor sneaky…

Richard: Ah, but you do admit the attack?

Nick:…

Charity: Well, fuck you! Fuck every single one of you little dipshits! I--

Winters snatches the mic from her hands and glares at her disappointedly.


SLUT! SLUT! SLUT! SLUT! SLUT! SLUT! SLUT! SLUT!

She turns and continues to verbally berate the crowd, this time without the aid of an audio amplifying device. Winters lays a gentle hand upon her shoulder and shakes his head.

Winters: Charity, Charity, Charity. What are you doing?

Charity develops a confused expression and mouths the word ‘what’, as the crowd remain unsure how to react.

Winters: You’re letting these people get to you? These people?

Winters shakes his head again.

Winters: I wouldn’t waste my discarded saliva on these inbred fuckwits.

Nick: What? He can’t say that!

Richard: Well, he just did, Nick. He just did. Handle it.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Winters grin is echoed by Charity, who is now visibly a hell of a lot calmer. Just then a mobile phone audibly sounds and hurriedly Charity fishes inside of her business jacket pocket. She flicks the phone open and answers it.

Nick: What the hell?

Richard: When you’ve got a call, you’ve got a call.

‘Hello? Hey, how are you doing? Yeah, yeah, I can’t talk at the moment. Yes. Later.’

Winters glares at her and shakes his head.

Winters: Him again? Now?

Charity shrugs and Winters gets back to matters at hand.

Winters: Now that unpleasantness is behind us and we all know where we stand, you people the fuckwits, me the master of all your dreams, let me get to my point.

FUCK YOU WINTERS! FUCK YOU WINTERS! FUCK YOU WINTERS! FUCK YOU WINTERS!

Winters grin widens. He’s gotten under their skin and he knows it.

Winters: As my lovely manager, Charity has previously highlighted, last week I was attacked backstage.

DUSK! DUSK! DUSK! DUSK! DUSK! DUSK! DUSK! DUSK!

Winters gently rubs his jaw.

Winters: And I have to admit, Dusk packs one hell of a punch with that little ol’ superkick he decided to steal from me. But that’s no surprise to me. I use that move on a regular basis and have done for years. You hear me, Dusk? Years. You’ve been on the scene for what? A month? Two? And now you think you can stroll in and just scoop my move and my heat right up with you?

Nick: Heat? What heat?

Richard: You’re blinded by your insecurities, ya know that Nick?

Winters: Well, Dusk. Fuck you!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Winters grins at the audience disapproval.

Winters: I’ve requested you kindly to quit using my move and you simply ignored me. Now, I’m making it so you can’t ignore me. Not ever again. At Culture Shock, we’re going to have us a little match. One on one, with an added stipulation.

Nick: A stipulation?

Winters: It’ll be you’re version of my super kick, up against my pride and your superkick.

Nick: What? That makes no sense!

Richard: Really? I understood it perfectly…

Nick: Care to explain?

Richard: No.

Winters: That means if I win, you will stop using my superkick and I will retain my pride. If you win, then you’ll stop using the super kick, but you will embarrass me.

FUCK YOU WINTERS! FUCK YOU WINTERS! FUCK YOU WINTERS! FUCK YOU WINTERS!

Richard: Nice, I like it…

Nick: You like it? Why? It’s not a fair stipulation and it still doesn’t even make sense!

Winters: So, what say you Dusk? You’ve got the balls to accept this match? Or, are you just going to sit back th—

Before Winters can even finish his statement, Headstrong by Trapt erupts in the arena, getting fans up on their feet as the new PTC Extreme Champion walks out dressed in a rather nice suit. A smile is on Dusk’s face as he looks at his left shoulder where that very title is resting comfortably. In Dusk’s right hand is a microphone that he’s already got to his lips.

Dusk: Jonathan Winters, it seems like we’re going around and around in circles now. You want me to stop using your superkick and yet you haven’t been able to make me quite yet. So, your solution to all of this? At Culture Shock, you want a match with me where win or lose, I have to stop using the superkick. Does that really make any sense to you? Because, if it does, then I need to smoke whatever the hell you’ve got.

Richard: Now that’s just rude.

Nick: And nothing that Winters said wasn’t?

Richard: Winters didn’t imply that Dusk was under the influence.

Nick: The way Winters is talking, Dusk has every right to imply that.

Winters: Now, you listen here –

Dusk: No, you listen. Let’s remove the bitterness for a minute. Because, I’ll be damned if this doesn’t have anything to do with me holding this Extreme Title.

Winters: You’re damn right that’s what it’s all about! It was all cute before, you trying to mimic my move and all, but now you have that damn title because of MY MOVE!

The fans immediately boo Winters, wondering what could possibly be going through his mind. Dusk just stands there, a smile on his face.

Nick: And now the truth comes out.

Richard: He’s got a good point!

Nick: No he doesn’t.

Dusk: Do you hear the insanity that spews out of your mouth? It’s not your move! So, get over the petty jealousy. You want me in a match, that’s more than fine. But, this stupid superkick vs. pride shit? Not happening. You want me to give up my superkick? You must be out of your mouth. But, Winters, you and me at Culture Shock, it’s happening. Because it’s time for you to learn something. You don’t mess with me. You don’t get in my face and belittle me like you’ve done time and time again. No, it’s time you learn a lesson, and that lesson is this.

It’s only so long before the sun sets and it all turns into… DUSK!

Dusk then drops the microphone as Winters and Dusk just stare each other down. Dusk raises his PTC Extreme Title as Headstrong by Trapt plays once again as the fans cheer Dusk on. He stands there, looking at his adversary, knowing that this is slowly starting to become something bigger than just a feud over a superkick. It’s turning into a war where neither man will give up ground. Instead, they’ll destroy everything in their path until the other one is done for good.

Hey, want to read a segment? No? Well, too fucking bad, you’re gonna! =D

The scene finds us once more at the all-too-wonderful PRIME backstage area where fans are greeted with the visage of the PRIME backdrop. Standing in front of it is backstage interviewer Lisa Tyler, dressed rather conservatively… for a whore. Low-cut blouse, black skirt, black "do me" pumps. Ah, yes. She’s dressed to kill.

Lisa: Ladies and gentlemen, I’m standing by with the Intense Champion and the man that won under questionable circumstances last week in a Gauntlet Match against Asa Fountain… Sonny Sil…

Before she gets in another word edgewise, two bodies – one on either side of her – appear. The Fife Posse of Slash and Burnie McCoy are both dressed to impress in Armani suits. Soon enough, the OLD SKOOL MIC~! Lowers from the ceiling once again, leaving rise to the aforementioned Intense Champion. Wearing both the original and bastardized versions of the Intense Title, Sonny stands in the center of the backstage area with a single spotlight shining over both he and Lisa Tyler as he takes verbal weapon of mass destruction in hand.

Silver: Miss Tyler, I thank you for… well, nothing. I’m the gun that runs this shit and if I want to take an interview, I’ll fucking do it!

She tries to speak to him, but he waves a hand in front of her.

Silver: Allow me to handle your job, young replaceable piece of ass. Oh, why? Why did I challenge Asa Fountain to a Gauntlet Match? Why would I DARE challenge Asa Fountain to fight me and my lackies? Do I have the balls to face off against Asa Fountain myself? OF COURSE I DO! WHAT KIND OF GAY QUESTION IS THAT, LISA?! YOU SHOULD BE FIRED FOR ASKING SOMETHING SO STUPID!

Tyler: But I didn’t say…

Silver: QUIET, MEALS ON HEELS! Now as for your little question, I can beat the shit out of Asa any time I want to. If I want to walk up to Asa’s house and slap the shit out of that Dolemite ripoff, I’ll do it. If I want to take a piss on the graves of Asa’s parents, I’ll do it. Shit, if they haven’t killed themselves because their son grew up to be such a waste of space, I’ll piss on them anyway. Asa needed to man up and prove he was worthy of challenging me. Not just anybody is getting a shot at MY Intense Hardcore Legend Championship. I needed to see if Asa’s balls were as big as his fro… turns out they were smaller than his win column for his entire career.

Once again, Tyler tries to get in a question, but this time Slash extends his hand to cut off the interviewer.

Silver: Now you’d like to know what’s next for me? I’m done with Asa Fountain slash Disco Inferno slash whatever he calls himself. He might as well call himself "Mr. Silver, Chairman of PRIME’s Bitch" now. Now, I can march forward to the Dual Halo and make MY wish come true… but I wonder… what DOES the guy who has it all in PRIME really need to wish for? I mean I can do whatever the fudge I want…

AGAIN, Tyler wants to say a few words, but Burnie McCoy pinches her ass. In retaliation, Lisa kicks him in the balls while Slash McCoy snickers. The King of Sports Entertainment presses onward.

Silver: 2007 is going to be MY year and I don’t give a rat’s ass what people are saying about the Jewel in the Crown winner Tony Gamble. Last time I checked… I BEAT Tony Gamble last year. Want to know how many matches I’ve lost since the New Year started? What’s that, Lisa Tyler? I can’t hear you objecting me.

That’s because she’s currently busy stomping on Burnie’s nuts once again after he tried to look up her skirt. Mr. Silver continues.

Silver: You’re right, miss Tyler! Zero! That’s how many matches I’ve lost. I’ve beaten EVERY last person I’ve booked in my way. The formerly undefeated 5-Star Champion Sun Tzu? Beat her. The Alias Title holder Vangelus Olsig? Beat him, too. AWC Megastars… shit, THAT’S an oxymoron… Garbage Bag Trashcan Man and Chainz? Beat them at the same time. I’m untouchable. Shit, the way I’m going, I MIGHT… just book myself in a Universal Title match for fun. But I digress. I have slain the Fuckfaced Fro-bro and now I’m ready to move onto greener pastures. From what I understand, both Sun Tzu and Vangelus Olsig have pretty free dance cards come Culture Shock? Maybe I should challenge them both to a match where all our titles are on the line? Sound like a good plan, Slash.

Slash: Sounds like a plan, boss.

Silver: As it should… where’s Burnie?

Whimpering in the corner for fear of never being able to procreate again, that’s where. Lisa brushes herself off and FINALLY picks up her microphone. She walks over to Sonny and taps him on the shoulder.

Tyler: Didn’t you know that Asa Fountain is competing against Chainz and Devin Shakur to name the #1 contender to the Intense Title at Culture Shock?

For ONCE in his life… Sonny has nothing to say. He looks like he’s going to, but he simply shakes his head, throws the microphone off-camera and turns on his heel to leave. Slash follows him, but not before speaking up.

Slash: Boss, where DID Burnie go?

"OUCH!"

Slash simply walks over Burnie’s crumbled form and leaves while Burnie mumbles something…

Burnie: Rose… bud… I mean… I hate this job…

The Extreme Title.

That was the only thing on Dusk's mind as he walked through the hallway, dressed up in a pair of dark blue jeans and a white linen sweater. All night, he had been congratulated on his victory over the likes of Nova, Karina Wolfenden, and Jonathan Winters. For him, it was a huge step in the right direction. Unfortunately, the world didn't stop spinning, and now being back in the swing of things with PRIME, he had other things he had to focus on. A war was brewing and he had looked on long enough. Things had to start changing.

As he walked down the hallway, he saw a door on his right with a plaque right next to it. The name on it was simple enough yet evoked several emotions from him.

Lindsay Troy it read. He paused as he read it, thinking back to what Troy said last week to Nova. He thought about the very war that was slowly starting to tear up PRIME and the very meaning behind it. He had been involved in a war of his own back in Global, but he had stood alone in it. He saw Troy standing alone in this war and his heart went out to her. Then, a voice spoke behind him. A female voice. A very familiar voice.

"I don't think you're gonna melt the metal, no matter how long you stare at it."

Dusk stands there and just smiles as he turns around and sees the illustrious and remarkable, Lindsay Troy. She is standing about a foot or two away from him, her hands on his hips, with a smile of her own on her face. Dusk just nods his head for a few seconds, knowing he deserved that one.

Dusk: Lindsay Troy. A pleasure to finally get to meet you.

Troy: Sure. Likewise. Heard about that Extreme Title win...good one.

She winks and makes a clicking noise with her tongue.

Troy: So...do you normally hang out in front of other people's locker rooms? Or am I just the lucky one?

Dusk: I guess you would be the lucky one in this case. Saw your name, and it just reminded me of something.

Troy: Mm...hmm. How very vague of you.

She steps over to the door, opens it, and walks inside. Dusk stands there for a moment, wondering if he'd just been dissed or if he should follow her in.

Troy: You just going to stand there?

Guess that answers that question.

Dusk: I just don't put out on the first meeting. Thought I should let you know that first.

She laughs and he then follows her inside, taking his time to walk through the threshold. Once he finally does, he closes the door behind him. Troy stands there, waiting for him to speak his mind after he's finished looking around the room.

Dusk: And about the vague thing, I tend to do that. It's kind of a trademark thing, so don't think about taking it. You, you're the verbose one, so it wouldn't fit on you anyways.

Dusk then walks over to one of the lockers and leans up against it while folding his arms across his chest.

Dusk: I see that you stand alone in a war that has already taken it's victims.

Troy: I can be both vague and verbose at different times, depending on the situation. You're not the only one who can cloud things up and make it difficult to glean meaning.

Troy turns and flops down on a chair.

Troy: It's nice to see that you don't count Ferg as a person either, though.

Dusk's eyes land upon Troy, the bright red not bothering Troy in the least bit.

Dusk: I'm not even sure he's an object at times. Regardless, you know you can't trust him. He doesn't have honor. He doesn't have nobility. You stand alone in a war and I know how that is. I know how it feels to look around you while you're in that ring and know that you're all alone. You feel like your back is up against the wall and you're doing the only thing you know how to do.

Troy: The situation I find myself in is a situation I've been in countless times before. So yeah, you're right. But let me ask you something.

Dusk: Shoot.

Troy: Why exactly are you here? Did you really stop at my door to give me this pitch? Because I'm getting the impression that this is some sort of bonding exercise which may be accompanied by "You Are Not Alone" by Michael Jackson any minute now.

Dusk smirks at hearing this.

Dusk: I could sing it if you really want me to. I've been told I have a rather beautiful singing voice.

Troy: You can save it for the PRIME ReVolution Musical, which I heard Chet muttering about after he saw the cast of Scrubs of do it.

Dusk then gets rather serious as he stands up straight and unfolds his arms.

Dusk: I'm not one to back down from a fight, Lindsay. You talk about the lack of nobility at your side, Fuck You talks about the lack of honor in PRIME, and yet I stand here. Not to brag or anything, but there is a deep sense of honor that was drilled into my head as I grew up. I'm pro-PRIME and it kills me to see you standing there, by yourself, against a war that isn't going to get any better for you for quite a while.

Dusk clears his throat, though never removing his eyes from Troy.

Dusk: I've got a serious issue with Snow, Rollins, Deville, and Nova. It's that they think they can do anything they damn well please. I told Snow just to give me one reason to get myself involved and I look at you, and I have that reason. You stand for something. You have the honor and nobility that you rarely see when you come across people. I respect that and I refuse to let you stand there alone anymore, because that's not the kind of person I am. I'm tired of looking on.

Lindsay just sits silently in the chair, looking at Dusk and thinking about every dishonorable and un-noble-like thing she's done over the past month...year...three years...five years, and realizes that none of them really matter right now. Maybe it's because Dusk doesn't really know her all that well, and neither do a lot of people anyway, but as far as he and PRIME are concerned she's standing up for something that has a bit of integrity and righteousness to it. And everyone's a sucker for a feel-good story.

She rises to her feet and moves closer to Dusk, standing in front of him with chin regally raised.

Troy: Alright then. Since you asked nicely, and clearly aren't the scum of the earth, if you want to help I'm not about to put up a fight.

Dusk's red eyes refuse to stop looking at Troy even as she moves up to him. The two look at each other, trying to figure each other out. Yet, each one is an enigma not only to themselves, but to the world around them.

Dusk: That easy? I could've sworn this was going to be much more difficult then this. You sure you don't want to crack open a bag of sarcasm, do some Troy-isms, and all of the usual Lindsay Troy tricks?

Troy (smirking now): Sometimes I don't put out on the first meeting either.

Dusk can only nod his head, smirking as well.

Dusk: Yet, trusting someone isn't something you naturally do. I look into your eyes and I know exactly the kind of person you are. A loner. What about me makes you want to trust me?

Troy: You wouldn't have stopped at my door and given me the speech you did if you didn't want me to trust you. I'm a loaner...but I'm not dense.

Silence. The two competitors just stare at each other as they've done the entire time they've been in each other's presence. Dusk's right hand reaches up to his mouth and he just scratches his face, trying his best to figure Lindsay Troy out. Yet, like many before him, he can't quite put his finger on it though he feels rather close to doing so.

Dusk: You and me, Lindsay, we're the same side of the coin, just two different halves. We've got a challenge before us that is going to test us and push us to our very boundaries. But, tonight, things will start to change. No longer do they go untouched. It's time for a rude awakening.

Inside the Ferguson luxury suite, we are introduced to Danny’s surprise, and Nova/FU’s distraction, a little redheaded number in a tight green dress whose appearance I won’t describe in any more detail because this is a male-dominated hobby and that feels a little creepy. Her name, though, is Connie Lingus, and you might remember her from such movies as Seein’ Red 45, Naughty Night School 31, and This Is a Pornographic Movie 57. Yes, she is an adult film actress and yes, Danny has a lifelong crush on her. Well, crush in the Hollywood sense, which meant he wanted to bang her once and then pretend it never happened.

Danny Ferguson: I still can’t believe you made it down here, babe. All for me?

Connie Lingus, Porn Starlet: Of course, Dave, anything for you.

Danny Ferguson: It’s Danny, but whatever. Did you get enough to drink?

Connie Lingus, Porn Starlet: I don’t know if I could ever have enough to dri-

She falls off her stool and Danny catches her.

Connie Lingus, Porn Starlet: ...drink.

Danny Ferguson: Words to live by, darling.

They pause momentarily to gaze into each other’s eyes, and she smiles the kind of smile that says she won’t remember any of this tomorrow - exactly what Danny was looking for. Without breaking his faux-romantic gaze, he raises his voice to everyone else in the suite.

Danny Ferguson: Get out. Now.

No one moves initially. The high-rollers and hangers-on don’t quite know what to make of their eviction.

Danny Ferguson: This is now a private room, so get the hell out! I’ve got...uh...business...

Connie Lingus, Porn Starlet giggles as she is laid down in a more comfortable chair. Danny turns to his bodyguards and starts unbuttoning his shirt while his now-former guests begin filing out of the room.

Danny Ferguson: Stand at the door, make sure no one gets in.

At that moment, Blaine Blair, whose position of moderate responsibility still entails bitch work for lack of a replacement Chet Worth lackey, squeezes past the exiting cavalcade to join their conversation.

Blaine Blair: Danny, I-

Danny Ferguson: (to bodyguards) What, did you need a count of three to get started?! Go! Guard! Tell this guy to get the f’ out, too!

Blaine Blair: But Danny, I have a message from Chet-

Danny Ferguson: Who are you? What’s your name? I’m going to have Blaine Blair fire your ass.

Blaine Blair: (trying to brush it off, pausing momentarily to collect himself) Danny, Chet has asked that you-

Danny Ferguson: How about you give the memo to one of the two goofs who are supposed to keep you out of the room, m’kay? I’m going to be busy for at LEAST the next 2-5 minutes, and I’ll deal with Chet later.

Blaine Blair: But-

Danny Ferguson: Dude, I know. I see the glasses and the purple shirt. You’re batting lefty; I get it. But I’m not trying to give you the ol’ Tim Hardaway bounce pass, if you know what I’m saying, I just need you to appreciate a choice opportunity like the one I have slumped in a chair behind me, and desist with the cockblocking.

Blaine crains his neck over Danny’s shoulder. Ferg raises his eyebrows to add a little emphasis.

Blaine Blair: Isn’t that the girl who was with Nova earlier?

Danny Ferguson: Say what?

His expression sours. That was not good news.

Blaine Blair: Yeah, I think she came in with his group. Unless there’s another loaded-up redhead skank somewhere in the building, excuse my French.

Danny Ferguson: It’s ok, you people are usually catty like that.

Blaine Blair: Yeah, I’m not gay, by the way.

Danny Ferguson: (turning his attention to the girl) Sure, I’ll bet. Hey, Connie?

She perks up a little, and by that I mean her head rolled slightly.

Danny Ferguson: Do you remember how you got here tonight?

Connie Lingus, Porn Starlet: Theres’is niceman wif no hair named..uh...Chicken Ceeeeshur Salad.

Blaine Blair: I assume she means Caesar Veg-

Danny Ferguson: Thanks for the tip, Watson. I’m not retarded.

He begins buttoning his shit back up. With a knock on the doorjamb, he summons the bodyguards.

Danny Ferguson: (to bodyguards) Get this girl a taxi to a hotel. Tell the guests they can come back. And get this gay guy out of here. I need to take care of something.

He disappears out the door. Blaine, flustered, shouts after him.

Blaine Blair: This is discrimination!

Danny Ferguson: (from down the hall) I thought you weren’t gay?

Blaine Blair: I’m not! I just...I was trying to...prove a...dammit.

He looks at both bodyguards. Dametreyus raises an eyebrow at him, and both men turn to angle their rear-ends away from Blaine.

Blaine Blair: Oh, grow up.

He stomps out and we cut away.

"Burn" by Nine Inch Nails.

Nick: And there's our queue, Richard! Folks, time to get ready for the Intense Contender's match!

Richard: It's a three-way, intense style brawl, people! And the winner will be Mr. Silver, Chairman of PRIME!'s opponent at Culture Shock!

Nick: And just like the earlier Contender matches of the night, only ONE will get the shot. For the Intense Title shot? It'll either be 'The Reject' Devin Shakur, The Monster Michael "Chainz" Sloan, or The Ayatollah of Funk n' Soula, Asa 'Fro' Fountain!

Devin Shakur, The Reject, steps out onto the ramp to the murmuring of the crowd, clad in his usual dark dress shirt and pants.

This world rejects me.
This world threw me away.
This world never gave me a chance!
This world's gonna have to pay.

Vince Howard: Our next match-up is a Triple Threat, Intense rules match, and is scheduled for one fall! Making his way to the ring, standing at six feet, two inches and weighing in at two-hundred and nineteen pounds, from Raleigh, North Carolina...DEVIN SHAKUUUUUR!

I don't believe in your institutions!
I did what you wanted me to.
Like cancer in the system!
I've got a little surprise for you.

Shakur walks straight ahead, a poker face worthy to face Doyle Brunson. He walks quickly up the stairs, climbs through the top ropes, and walks to his corner, arms folded and ready for the match.

Nick: Here's the first of two newcomers to PRIME in this match-up, the so called "Reject," Devin Shakur.

Richard: And if he wins this one, that's just what he'll be after the whuppin' Mr. Silver, Chairman of PRIME!'ll give 'im!

"Burn" cuts out.

"For You," by Korn.

Nick: Uh oh, and here comes the second one.

The audience, as if on queue, turns from constant murmur to a chorus of boos as Chainz, hand in hand with Tracy, steps onto the ramp, shirtless and wearing his usual jeans.

Vince Howard: Second, from Hell's Kitchen, New York, standing six feet, five inches tall and weighing in at two-hundred and ninety-five pounds...CHAAAAAINZ!

Chainz and the beautiful Tracy make their way down the ramp as Korn hammers across the arena. He stares down a few choice audience members, but wastes no time stepping into the ring, Tracy finding her spot outside. Chainz throws a glare toward Shakur, then stands in a corner, cold eyes staring out to the crowd.

Nick: Arguably the scariest man in wrestling today. For as much of a pure psycho-path that Chainz is, he is terrifyingly cold and collected in the ring.

Richard: I can't doubt you there, Nick. If there's one man Mr. Silver, Chairman of PRIME! has to think of worrying about, it's Michael Sloan.

GET DOWN, GET DOWN!
GET DOWN, GET DOWN!
GET DOWN, GET DOWN!
GET DOWN, GET DOWN!
GET DOWN, GET DOWN!
GET DOWN, GET DOWN!
GET DOWN, GET DOWN!
GET DOWN, GET DOWN!

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Nick: And here's the funkadelic cat that would agree with you, Rich!

"Jungle Boogie" by Kool & The Gang wails over the speakers as the people of Melbourne roar their lungs out for The Most Happenin' Cat in PRIME! Asa 'Fro' Fountain, clad in the usual olive green t-shirt and jeans, dances out onto the ramp, jukin' and jivin' for the fans.

Vince Howard: Finally, hailing from New Orleans, Louisiana, standing six feet, two inches tall and weighing in at two-hundred and twenty pounds, "The Sultan of Soul,"....ASA 'FRO' FOUNTAAAAAIIIIINNN!!!

JUNGLE BOOGIE!
JUNGLE BOOGIE!
JUNGLE BOOGIE!
JUNGLE BOOGIE!

Asa points to the crowd, groovin' down to the ring.

JUNGLE BOOGIE!
JUNGLE BOOGIE!
JUNGLE BOOGIE!
JUNGLE BOOGIE!

He steps in and throws a quick glance to Shakur and Chainz, but maintains a bright white smile. He steps onto the ropes and throws his arm in the air to the adoring fans of Melbourne.

Richard: Half of me wishes that Asa would win this match so Mr. Silver, Chairman of PRIME! can tear him a new one at Culture Shock. The other half hopes he gets put in the hospital tonight and is outta our sight for good.

Nick: ALL of me hopes Asa comes out on top for this one, Rich, so he can waste Silver at Culture Shock and put the belt into the hands of someone who can bring a little dignity back into this business. It's bad enough that our Universal Championship is in the hands of Fuck You.

The music cuts out, and the three contenders stand in a triangle. Vince calls for the bell.

Ding ding ding!

Nick: And here we go, for the number one contender for the Intense Title!

...and the three stand still. Chainz eyes Shakur, while Shakur glances to Asa. Asa trains a funky eye to Chainz.

Richard: Aaaaaand...ratings drop?

Nick: Give em' a second. Quite a range of technique here.

And in a blinding moment, Chainz sprints to Shakur, clotheslining him to the ground, while at the same time Asa rushes Chainz and puts him to the mat with spear.

Richard: Yeee haw! Game time!

Chainz and Asa exchange blows on the floor. Shakur recovers from the clothesline and walks over to to the two, throwing his foot into the back of Michael Sloan. Chainz and Asa get to their feet. He throws Asa into a turnbuckle, then turns his attention to Shakur, who moves to Chainz's abdomen, striking it with extended knuckle punches. Chainz backs up a bit, the blows to his gut nastier than they looked. Asa shakes the cobwebs out and smashes into Shakur with a elbow, pushing him into the corner and putting the boxing gloves to use. He throws lefts and rights into Shakur's chest and neck, but that leaves him wide open for the recovered Chainz, who grabs Asa up and hammers him to the floor with a sidewalk slam!

Nick: Nasty blow given to Asa early on! Chainz pancaked him with that one!

Asa stirs on the floor, holding his back as Chainz turns to Shakur. Shakur, dazed from the punchfest given to him by The Fro, reacts as quick as he can and throws a few kicks to the sides of Chainz. Sloan ignores the strikes, however, and throws a huge chop to Shakur's chest. The Reject cringes in pain as Chainz grabs him around the throat and lifts him high in the air. The small Shakur kicks a bit as Chainz holds him a little longer, then hurls him into the middle of the ring.

Nick: Chainz looking unstoppable early on!

Richard: He's a monster alright. Did you see how far he threw Shakur?

Asa is on his feet, and Chainz takes a step toward him, but stops when he hears a sharp whistle and a giggle. He turns to see the beautiful Tracy up on the apron, leaning over the ropes with a big smile on her face, her arms pushing on her monstrous rack.

Nick: What is Tracy doing? Trying to distract her own boyfriend?

Richard: I think she's just lonely...

Well, Richard's right. Sloan smiles and lumbers over to her, giving her a kiss. She whispers something in his ear. He nods, then leans on the rope next to her, turning to watch Asa and Shakur.

Richard: Is he just gonna watch?

Nick: Who knows?

Regardless, Asa sees the display and takes a step toward Chainz, only to drop after Shakur, now standing, kicks him in the back of the knee. Asa turns on his back as Shakur goes to work, striking him in the shoulders and chest. Asa tries to block the strikes, and manages to put a fit to Shakur's chest and push, sending him back the other way. Asa hops to his feet from his back, rushes the now turned-away Shakur, and buries his head with a beautifully executed bulldog! The crowd roars, and Chainz simply watches, flirting with Tracy as Shakur and Asa go to work on each other.

Nick: And here comes the veteran! Asa's found the funk!

Sure has! He hops to his feet, throwing down an Ali shuffle for the crowd. He then throws a few stomps to the side of Devin's body as he tries to stand. Asa drops a quick elbow to the reject, then hops up and walks toward Chainz. Sloan smiles at him, making no attempt to retaliate. Asa stops, raises an eyebrow, and starts to spit a little trash. Chainz returns the insults. Asa takes a few steps closer, Sloan making no attempt to return the threat. Instead, he points behind Asa. The Sultan of Soul turns, confused, and runs right into a now standing Shakur, who sends The Fro to the mat with a snap belly-to-belly suplex!

Nick: Ooooh, Asa walked right into that one!

Richard: And Chainz is STILL chilling at ringside!

Indeed, Sloan gives Tracy another kiss as Shakur goes on the offense, striking at Asa with snap kicks to the ribs. Chainz gets an idea, however, and hops outside the ring. He reaches under the apron and retrieves, you guessed it, a steel chair!

Richard: Oooh, shit! Here comes the hurt!

Nick: It IS an intense match. Chainz loves nothing more than to bring the pain, ESPECIALLY with foreign objects!

However, instead of rushing the two with a flailing chair, he simply slides it toward them, and again takes his spot next to Tracy on the ropes.

Nick:...

Richard: I don't get it either.

Shakur takes a moment to acknowledge the chair, but kicks it away. He kneels low and starts smashing Asa in the back with palm strikes. The Reject then hops to his feet and throws himself off the ropes. He runs at Asa, but before he can get a slide to the ribs, Asa retaliates and sends Devin flying with a drop-toe hold!

Nick: And now Asa takes offense!

Asa jumps to his feet, the crowd getting behind him. He looks to the chair, then to Chainz. Chainz gestures as if to say "I insist." Asa picks up the chair, but drops it, uninterested. He waits for Shakur to get to his feet. He does, and Asa immediately rushes him, pushing him into the corner and working him with left and right boxing punches. He jabs twice with the right, backs up, spins around, and clobbers Shakur in the mouth with a hard right hand!

Nick: The ol' one two from Fountain!

Shakur grabs his aching jaw, but not for long as Asa throws him into the other corner, following him and spearing him in the stomach as Shakur hits the turnbuckle. The spear forces him into a sitting position, and Asa capitalizes with a few stomps to the gut. He backs up, claps, spins, and throws his arms up to the crowd, the stadium erupting.

Richard: He's such a show-boat. It makes me sick.

Nick: This is coming from a guy who worships Sonny Silv...

Richard: MR. SILVER, Chairman of PRIME!

Nick:...right. I give up.

Asa turns to taunt Chainz again, who is quite content at the side of the ring. Seeing no reaction, he shrugs and turns back to Shakur, who is up and ready. The two exchange blows in the ring. A right from Asa, and jab to the gut from Shakur. Another right from Fountain, a kick to the thigh from Shakur. Then another kick, another punch, and another punch from Shakur. He pushes Asa back against the ropes. Shakur then throws Asa off the other end of the ring. Asa comes back off the ropes, only to meet a humongous dropkick from the Reject! The nasty strike combined with the momentum Asa had gained throws Asa to the ground violently, his head crashing directly onto the chair!

Crowd: Oooooooooooooooooooooooooh!

Richard: Ooooooooooh, shit!

Nick: Holy hell, that looked nasty.

Asa is slow to recover. He clutches at his head, and Chainz has taken an interest. Shakur doesn't waste time and continues to strike Asa. He rolls Asa over, smashing him in the chest. Blood is spilled over Asa's forehead and in his hair due to his close encounter with the chair. Chainz's eyes light up.

Nick: What the...oh no.

Richard: What? WHAT?

Nick: Chainz sees blood.

Richard: Oh...no.

Too late. Chainz gives Tracy one last kiss and hops out of the ring. He once again goes under the apron and drags out a ladder. The crowd starts booing as he slides it into the ring. Shakur's eyes bulge when he sees Chainz roll into the ring and hoisting up the ladder.

Nick: Ooooh, no, this isn't gonna be good!

It isn't. Chainz crushes the ladder into Shakur's chest, throwing him to the ground. Even the resilient Shakur stays down for a bit, catching his breath. Chainz, wild eyed, turns to Fountain and drills the chain down onto his fallen body.

Richard: Holy SHIT!

Nick: And Chainz is all of a sudden on a rampage! This does NOT look good for Shakur OR Fountain!

It's not. Asa can hardly breath after that shot. Chainz grins, setting up the ladder in one of the corners. Satisfied, he lifts the bloodied Asa to his feet and hurls him at the chair. The Most Happenin' Cat in PRIME collides with the ladder. Dazed, Asa falls to his back, and the ladder starts to fall...

Nick: No! ASA! GET OUT OF THE WAY!

Richard: TIMMBEEEERRRRR!

The ladder tits slowly, then crashes down onto The Fro's fallen body. It rests on top of him, Asa too out of it to push it off. A lightbulb pops above Chainz's head. He walks over to Shakur, who has started to get up. He drags Shakur next to the ladder, then slams his head between his legs.

Nick: Oh no, oh GOD no!

Richard: Jesus, is he serious?

Chainz looks about as if in a frenzy, and lifts Shakur up in the air.

Nick: Mother of god!

Chainz lifts Shakur high, and absolutely HAMMERS him onto the ladder, which squishes Asa further.

Crowd: OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!

Richard: Holy SHIT!

But it's not over, Chainz continues by lifting Shakur up again, and crashing him down once more onto the ladder.

Nick: Oh my fucking word!

Richard: Chain Reaction on the fucking ladder that happened to be on top of the Fro! They're BOTH out!

Satisfied, Chainz tosses Shakur into the middle of the ring. He bends down and hooks the leg.

One!

Two!

Thre.....kickout!

Nick: He kicked out of it!

Richard: Are you serious?

It's true, Shakur's shoulder is off the mat. Chainz stares at the ref, enraged. The ref shrugs, then escapes back to his corner. Frustrated, Chainz leaves Shakur to the ground. He lumbers to Asa and tosses the ladder off of him. He hooks ASA's leg, and the ref counts once more.

One!

Two!

Thr...another kickout!

Nick: YES!

Richard: FUCK!

Chainz grabs at his bald head in rage. The Ayatollah of Funk and Soula holds his shoulder as high as he can, breathing heavy. Chainz spits, throws a shot to Asa's head for good measure. He stands and retrieves the chair he had snagged earlier. He turns toward Shakur, but Shakur is no longer on his back. In truth, he is dropkicking the chair into Chainz's face!

Crowd: Whoooooooooooooooo!

Nick: Ooh, and Chainz is down!

Chainz's head is busted open as well. Shakur immediately mounts the big man, striking him in the neck with leopard paw style strikes. Chainz loses his breath, and Shakur takes the opportunity to pin.

One!

Two!

Asa is up and interrupts the count!

Nick: Here comes The Fro! He is NOT out of this one yet!

Richard: Christ, would they finish up already?

The Fro goes on the offensive, leg-dropping Shakur quickly before throwing a few stomps to Chainz. Shakur stands, but Asa is ready for him with hard-hitting clothesline. At this point Chainz has stood, clutching his head, but Asa is ready for him as well, charging at him and bringing him back to the mat with a running-swinging-neckbreaker! The crowd goes nuts as Asa immediately jumps into a clap and spin.

Nick: Fromania is back in business!

Asa hops over to Chainz, dropping for the cover.

One!

Two!

T...no!

Shakur interrupts the count! Without wasting time, he applies a Tongan Death Grip to Asa's jaw! Asa flails in pain as Shakur holds relentlessly.

Nick: Oooh, the submission is locked! Asa better hope for a miracle!

The miracle is delayed, but there. Chainz is up, and before Asa can think about tapping is met with a big boot to the face, and Shakur finds the big mitts of Michael Sloan around his neck! Enraged, Chainz lifts Shakur and hurls him outside the ring! Shakur finds the outside barricade rather unpleasant. Chainz follows while Asa stands to his feet, grabbing at his aching jaw. Chainz picks up Shakur and tosses him into the barricade. He picks him up once more and tosses him back into the ring. He then reaches under the apron and pulls out...

...a guitar.

Nick: Doesn't look like Chainz's preferred weapon to me.

It isn't, and Chainz tosses it into the ring with disgust. He reaches under again and pulls out a steel chair. Satisfied, he climbs in with his new weapon. Asa being the only one standing, he attacks, swinging the chair from up high, aiming for Asa's hair-covered head.

But the chair doesn't find Asa's head at all.

Richard: Oh, god damnit!

Nick: Oh yeah!

At the last moment, Asa is able to throw a quick super-kick! He connects with the chair right on time, sending it to the nose of Chainz. Chainz drops the chair, clutching at his now bleeding schnoz, and falls onto his back. Asa, with a second wind, turns to the now standing Shakur, who runs at the Sultan of Soul. Asa is ready, however, catches Shakur, lifts him high up, and crashes him down onto the ladder with a violent spinebuster!

Crowd: Ooooooooooooooooooh!

Nick: Hoooly god! I didn't know Asa was capable of violence like that!

Richard: It's bullshit, that's what it is!

Shakur, as tough as he is, lies broken as only the back of his head hit the ladder. Asa, the only one standing, sees opportunity, and drops to cover. However, before he does the crowd all of a sudden errupts into a chorus of boos.

Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: You gotta be kidding me...

Richard: YES! YES YES YES!

The Chairman of PRIME! arrives, Burnie and Slash McCoy at his sides. He barks orders and points to the ring, and the two brothers charge as fast as they can. Asa sees this, stopping his pin on Shakur. However, the McCoys aren't his only problem. He turns to see Chainz is standing. Thinking quick, he runs over to Chainz and throws a knee in his gut. The Sultan of Soul throws an arm in the air, then drapes his right leg over the back of Chainz's head.

Asa: Whoooooooooooo!

Asa drops, putting Sloan's head through the guitar with The Soul Train! The guitar strings make funny broken guitar sounds as Chainz lays still.

Nick: HOOO, DAMN!

Asa doesn't waste time. The McCoys hop into the ring from the same side, and Asa is ready for em'. They run at him going for a double clothesline, but Asa ducks. The brothers bounces off the opposite ropes. Asa stops in the middle of the ring, throws out his arms, and is able to grab each of them around the neck, swiftly and fluently driving each of their heads into a chair on either side of him!

Crowd: OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!

Nick: DOUBLE FUNKADELIC! HOLY GOD!

Richard: Oh, FUCK NO! Get 'im, Mr. Silver, Chairman of PRIME!

Sonny grabs his hair in frustration and anger, then darts toward the ring. He's too late, however. Asa quickly rolls Chainz onto his back and hooks his leg.

One!

Two!!

THREE!!!

The ref calls for the bell!

Vince Howard: Here is your winner, and number one contender for the Intense Title, ASA 'FRO' FOUUNNTAAAIIIIN!

The crowd goes absolutely ballistic. Sonny stops halfway down the ramp and stamps his feet in anger. He spikes the old Intense Title belt to the floor. Asa stands in the middle of the ring, amidst the utter carnage. He stares at Sonny, jaw set and balled fists at his sides. He breathes the fire out of his lungs as Sonny returns the glare.

Nick: And the veteran wins it! What an incredible match! That seals the deal! Asa 'Fro' Fountain! Sonny Silver! Culture Shock! Intense Title ON. THE. LINE!

Richard: Where we'll see Mr. Silver, Chairman of PRIME! be the holy FUCK out of that has-been!

Nick: It's sure to be one bloody brawl! We've got commercials! We'll be right back!

Asa and Sonny continue their stare-down as the cameras fade to commercial.

Nick: This crowd has been hot all night and we still have two matches to go. The perennial underdog Adam goes for glory tonight and all that stands in his way is Nova.

Richard: That’s a pretty big hurdle to jump if you ask me.

Nick: Well I didn’t. So keep quiet.

Richard: You know what Nick… FUHHH…

*BANG BANG BANG*

Richard: … OU!

Nick: Sorry, couldn’t hear you!

The crowd jumps to their feet after witnessing the stage lighting up in pyrotechnics. The lights dim down and the giant Wal*Tron in the cricket ground flashes to black with an image in red.

Welcome to the show...

Nick: We saw this last week Richard. I was digging around since then and couldn’t find a single person who knew anything about this.

Richard: Yeah, there is that. Or perhaps no one wanted to tell you eve if they did know… dumbass.

Nick: I… shut up.

The lights begin to flash and the sound system comes to life with the opening to Saliva’s "Ladies and Gentlemen". The crowd wait in anticipation to see who will be appearing in front of them next.

Richard: Damn, these Australians sure are rowdy people. I just got hit by a beer.

Nick: All part of the excitement partner.

Ladies and gentlemen please!
Would you bring your attention to me?

Richard: I’d be excited to… if someone would finally get their ass out here.

The some of the crowd begin to settle into their seats, while others remain on their feet waiting.

The lights begin to change color and the Wal*Tron shows a computerized image of a brightly lit tunnel lined with silver, gold and red. The image stops and random letters quickly fall into place.

_ _ R _ _ _ _ _

_ I _ R _ _ _ I N

The crowd explodes as the other letters slide in while the song comes to the chorus.

Welcome to the show, please come inside!

SIRRAJIN!!!

Bursting through the curtains comes the PRIME Legend and the Australian crowd is absolutely ecstatic.

Nick: This is a surprise! We hadn’t heard from Killean since his brutal match with Jason Snow at King of Kings and this crowd sure didn’t expect to see him here tonight!

Richard: That’s because Snow and FU handed him his ass once already. Is he really back for more punishment?

Killean, wearing a black hood and his leather jacket and jeans moves around on the stage with the energy of a teenager. The crowd eats it up as he comes to the center of the stage and points to the ring. He makes his way down the aisle, arm outstretched for a couple more seconds. He then slaps hands with the crowd on the rails and jogs to the ring. "The Supreme Machine" comes around the camera side and gets up on the apron and the few people who were still seated now stand, leaving no chair warm in Melbourne. He leans against the ropes looking out at the crowd, only part of his face visible which contains a smile and the reflection of lights of his trademark sun shades. One leg at a time he steps through the ropes and goes to the far corner and climbs the turn buckles.

Nick: Listen to this place! I doubt a cricket game has ever been this loud!

Richard: What do you expect? The more against FU, the happier they will be. Although it won’t help much.

The chorus of the song comes again and with Killean helping the fans along with fists in the air, they enjoy the reunion with the Hall of Fame superstar.

Crowd: BOOM!

Do you want it?

Crowd: BOOM!

Do you need it?

Crowd: BOOM!

Let me hear it! LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!

Sirrajin climbs down from the turnbuckles and moves over to Vince Howard who is reaching into the ring with a microphone. The crowd is still loud as Killean gets the mic and moves to the center of the ring. His hood is up and tied in the front but the smirk is lighting up his face. The thousands in attendance know he has something on his mind during his first appearance in 2007, but they cannot bring themselves to settle down.

Nick: Killean has been completely absent without explanation for the 52 days of 2007 and today would have made 53. But it won’t get that far as an explanation is surely coming.

The crowd finally begins to settle down and Killean takes that opportunity to speak.

Killean Sirrajin: You know, I have never been to Australia before.

Cheap crowd pop. Yeah so? He’s not below it.

Killean Sirrajin: Up until just over a week ago, I had absolutely no idea that I would be here tonight in front of all you people. I’m grateful for this opportunity, and I’ll tell you why.

"The Supreme Machine" pauses for a moment as he moves about in the ring. The fans wait ever so patiently to hear his explanation.

Killean Sirrajin: Let’s make this short and sweet. Back in August, I had just gotten finished with one of the most exhausting and physically devastating matches I have ever been in. Of course, you know I am talking about Colossus III against my friend Matt… Tchu. After that match, simple as anything I was being treated for numerous injuries I suffered and I was given pain killers. That’s where it all started.

Killean paces around the ring a little.

Killean Sirrajin: Plain and simple, I never actually came off the pain killers. In order to come back to battle Fuck You, in order to join back up with Matt, I needed all the help I could get. I was a broken, tired and sore person. I was on these pain killers for months and during my match at King of Kings, I once again was involved in a physically draining match with Jason Snow. We beat the hell out of each other and this was where it got worse.

Killean Sirrajin: I became reliant… addicted if you will to these pain killers. The problem got so serious over time and culminated at King of Kings after the match. I found myself maxing out my prescriptions and needing more. Not only was this a serious misuse of the drugs, I was practically overdosing. That all came to a head one faithful night back home.

Sirrajin held his chin in his hands and paced a little more. The fans were quiet now, hanging on his every word. He was spilling his guts to tens of millions of people in the crowd and watching on TV at home. He was spilling to people he didn’t even know.

Killean Sirrajin: I ran out and as is common with an addiction, I went out to find more, any way I could. I went so far to get what I needed, what I craved. I found myself with black market dealers in the streets, lowering myself to such disgraceful standards. But it all came back to bite me in the ass so to speak. During a disagreement of sorts with the dealer, I was attacked and proceeded to… well… I’ll just show you.

Killean lowers the mike and unties his hood. He quickly lowers in and opens the front. The fans gasp at the sight before them, clear and in focus on the Wal*Tron.



A large scar is prominently displayed across the neck of The Prime Cut.

Killean Sirrajin: I was jumped and left for dead. I was not that far from home, which in turn meant I wasn’t far from my friends home. Vegas saved me. He called 911 and got an ambulance there right away. I was this close…

Killean puts his fingers together with very little space between them.

Killean Sirrajin: THIS CLOSE… to dying from major blood loss. But I fought, I survived. I was immediately checked into rehab and spent over a month getting over my major addiction. I have been through hell and back and I have no one to blame but myself.

The fans break into applause for the life changing betterment Killean has undergone. He holds his face in one hand, still clearly upset by what happened to him in the past half year since Colossus.

Killean Sirrajin: But I have come back for a few reasons. First and foremost, I came back to prove to myself that I could be clean, over my addiction and still kick some ass like I can only do between these ropes. Second, I am here because I made a promise… a promise to Matt Ward and a promise to Lindsay Troy that I would stick by them, battling Fuck You. I have a lot to make up for and I can only start by coming back and picking up where I left off.

The crowd is once again silent.

Killean Sirrajin: But I am also here for the reason that almost every other superstar in the back is here for… Glory. THAT’S RIGHT! I officially enter my name in to participate in the Dual Halo!

The crowd pops big.

Killean Sirrajin: I officially throw my name in the hat to resume the battle, a battle that we will win mind you, against Fuck You!

The crowd pops again.

Killean Sirrajin: And for all of you and for myself most of all, I am going to WIN the Dual Halo!

Big pop from the sold out crowd.

Killean Sirrajin: I am going to win the Dual Halo. I am here on a mission. A mission that I vow to fulfill. I have given everything to create my legacy here in PRIME. I have worked, sacrificed and brutalized myself and others to get to where I wanted to be. Now, I want to be standing tall in the middle of a Halo, the soul victor of quite possibly the biggest, toughest match to ever take place anywhere. I need to do this for myself.

He paces the ring once more, ready to end this little reunion of sorts with the fans and move on.

Killean Sirrajin: I need to do this, because I have a lot to prove to myself and everyone again. I survived this…

Sirrajin points to the large scar across his neck.

Killean Sirrajin: I cheated death… I challenged the reaper and won! Now, there is nothing that anyone in the backstage area, or anyone in this business can do to stop me from attaining this goal. This is my event, and you can guarantee, that guys like Jason Snow, Angelo Deville and the rest of Fuck You, PRIME and the world will be watching in awe as I ascend to the top of the Halo, throwing my hands high in the air and proving that I am the best there is. You can quote me, print it in the papers and on all the websites you want. Quotes will soon become fact.

Killean tosses the mic outside the ring towards Vince Howard as Saliva starts up again.

Nick: I really don’t know what to say. This man revealed plenty tonight.

Richard: I have liked the guy before and I have despised him, but I wouldn’t wish what he went through on my worst enemies.

Nick: What a reunion tonight. Killean is back and is going to be at Culture Shock in his third Dual Halo match.

Killean poses a few times on the turnbuckles as the music plays. He the climbs through the ropes, walking all around the ring, slapping hands with the fans. He continues to do the same all the way up the ramp while the crowd continues to shower him with cheers and adoration.

Oh how he missed this…

Looking out from under the dark confines of his hood, Killean makes his way through the backstage area. He is not being unfriendly, but he is also not acknowledging the numerous stage hands who have been welcoming him back. He has one thing on his mind, and nothing is going to stand between him and that goal.

Or so he thought.

From around the corner comes one of PRIME’s newest talents from the world of AWC. Pierce Lavelle is not acknowledged by the former Universal Champion either, so he takes it upon himself to ignite a conversation.

Lavelle notices the hooded man and momentarily continues walking but just like Einstein an apple falls on his head, a light goes off and he recognizes the face of the hooded character. Turning on the heels of his fancy shoes, dressed in a suit and shirt combination looking a little like Devin Shakur, he attempts to gain the man’s attention.

Lavelle: Killean Sirrajin. The man. The myth. The legend. Or so it would seem!

Coming to a stop, Killean turns and rubs his chin. He only stopped because the kid addressed him in a rather respectful tone, a rarity these days.

Killean: Pierce Lavelle, abandoned by a closing, sinking ship. What made you come into the lion’s den known as PRIME?

Lavelle looks surprised. He didn’t think Sirrajin would stop for his comment, presuming all facts on the hooded clothing, his dark sulking stature and the determination in his face. Yet here he stood, provoking conversation. Think, think, think before you speak next time you twit! Lavelle thought. He stuttered under his breath. The last thing he needed was another enemy.

Lavelle: This AWC baggage is going to ruin my chance of a career here! Let me straighten this out. I came to PRIME because it is the superior company out there. It’s like a promotion from a minor desk job to becoming a CEO or partner. PRIME is the top of the rung, there isn’t any better and now that I’m here I hope to make a name for myself… Doesn’t help with the sunken ship.

Nodding slowly, Killean silently admires the drive of the individual standing before him. If anyone knows how to make an impact in PRIME, he does. Moving a little closer to where Lavelle stands, he shrugs and moves his hand to the hood and removes it. His black hair is still tied back and his trademark sunglasses are in their place. However, Lavelle’s vision is drawn to the eyesore that is now visible on the neck of the PRIME Hall of Fame Superstar.

Killean: Sounds like you have all your facts straight kid. But I have to wonder if you actually know how to make a name for yourself around a place like this. You need to sacrifice and risk yourself to make an impact. However, as you can see by looking at me, there are also risks associated with that. You heard what I said in the ring earlier. Are you ready to take that kind of weight on your shoulders?

Lavelle for a moment lingers on the large line sliced across Sirrajin’s neck. His hand immediately brushing against his own wound, a bullet to the shoulder.

Lavelle: Sacrifices? Unless they are for a good cause then there is nothing I would sacrifice. Played that role once and I ended up in a hospital room with a piece of searing metal in my shoulder. Mistakes of the past. I will work to prove myself. I just won’t sacrifice my body for any boss or growing faction again.

Inside, Sirrajin wishes he could somehow remove the obvious scar from his body, but curses himself shortly after. It’s his constant reminder to never do something so stupid again. If not for himself, then for the younger fans as a role model and for his own growing daughter. He does however notice Lavelle rubbing his shoulder, and can make his own conclusions off of the words Pierce spoke alone.

Killean: Well there are other ways as well, just might not shoot you up the ladder as fast though. Can I drop you a hint?

Lavelle notices Sirrajin eye his shoulder, he doesn’t even realize he’s rubbing, a subconscious habit. Nerves. Worry. They all cause the same reaction. He shoves his hands into his pockets and stares toward the professed Hall of Famer. Something they have in common.

Lavelle: If it’ll help me remove these damn shackles and get me started, then by all means, go ahead. I’m all ears.

Killean: The shackles are your own creation my friend. You forge them when you don’t forge ahead in this business. Everyone else is waiting for you to make an impact and soon, someone hungrier will step up and try to make that impact and end up making an example out of you. Don’t wait for that to happen. Make the example out of them first. Ultimately, your destiny is in your own hands. That’s the most important thing you can remember.

Lavelle nodded, some of what Sirrajin made sense. He only had to think of Chainz’s assault on Malachi to understand the effect of having an impact here. He needed to create a name for himself. That’s the beginning of his adventure.

Lavelle: That’s some good advice, Dr. Phil! You got experience in that department? Seems you’re pretty well made here.

Killean: I’ve done enough and been here long enough to know Pierce. You know what you need to do and I know what I need to do…

Voice: KILLEAN!

The two men look off in the direction of the yell, laced partially with anger and partially with concern. Further down the hall, Lindsay Troy had appeared from an adjacent corridor, where she had been conducting her own search for the Supreme Machine after his in-ring revelation. She starts jogging toward them as Sirrajin looks back at Lavelle with a sigh.

Killean: And right now I NEED to deal with some estrogen based anger…

Lavelle: You’re right Sirrajin. Thanks for this insightful talk. I’ll leave you to your estrogen issues!

Pierce leaves Killean to deal with the ball of fury heading his way, and Sirraijn inhales deeply, preparing for the verbal barrage. Troy stops in front of him, breathing sharply, eyes blazing. She looks at his sunglass-covered eyes, then at the scar across his neck, then back to his eyes....and she shoves him. Hard. Like Elaine Benes shoving Jerry Seinfeld hard.

Killean: You’d think I’ve been through enough recently. I was just on my way to find you.

Troy: Really.

Killean stepped back and scratched his head. He really didn’t think Lindsay would be so hard to confront.

Killean: Yeah, really… what is this anyways? A battle of wits? Did you not listen to a word I said in the ring?

Troy: I heard what you said. But my mind's still trying to rationalize your whole "I woke up this morning and decided that now would be a good time to get back in contact with the rest of the world" deal. Do you even have a clue what's gone on since you've been missing?

Killean: Well unfortunately, being in rehab and being cut off from the rest of the world includes… well, being cut off from the rest of the world. Not to mention that I was half dead on arrival at the hospital from blood loss. So you know, haven’t exactly been brought up to speed and it’d be nice to have a tad bit of leeway here.

Troy: I should just give you a lecture on how completely stupid and irresponsible that was of you, ESPECIALLY since your DAUGHTER nearly didn't have a FATHER anymore....

Killean's face starts to crack at the mention of Des, and Lindsay just sighs, her shoulders sagging from the weight of the scolding she wanted to give but couldn't.

Troy: ...but that's not going to get us anywhere, really, and I don't think you need me to play mom. I'm exhausted enough just from being forced to play nicey-nice with Ferguson. Matt's been hospitalized for a month now, thanks to Deville, Gamble, Snow and Rollins.

Killean: Tony?

Troy: Yeah. He thought FU was what all the "cool kids" were doing, so he went and joined up with them. You've been gone, so that left me. Then Chet thought that getting Ferguson on our side would be a swell idea...NOT...then he threw the tag belts at us. Dusk came forward a little while ago, wanting to help me out, but I don't know if that's going to be enough.

Killean: Bastards…

He rubs his cheek and looks at the floor for a second. Then he takes off his glasses and looks Lindsay right in the eye.

Killean: Look, Lindz… I know what I did and I’d like to think that you would understand that I’m human and I make mistakes. I had no idea Matt was gone and now that I do, I’m sure he’s wondering why I haven’t been to see him. And the last person I figured would join up with us would be Ferguson. Hell, had I been left alone to play nice with that bundle of ego and fuck-up-erry, I’d have shot myself…

Killean noticeably cringes, talking about repeating the same act he almost committed on himself at the lowest of lows during his dependency. Lindsay knew nothing about that and he’s hoping that he didn’t let another cat out of the bag.

Troy: I do understand that you're human, but human or not nothing's worth getting addicted to shit. And despite my penchant for tough love, I am glad to see you back. Hopefully this group now can pick up where we left off before.

Killean: Hey, you know I would absolutely love to stand here all damn day and apologize to you until I’m buffing your boots with my lips, but I’d like to remain a united combo for more than five minutes. So if we are going to talk, I think we should do so in a more private setting, outside this arena… to avoid Deville and company.

Troy thought about this for a minute. She wasn't one to normally leave the arena early when there was a show going on, and she could count on one hand the times she actually did. But Killean did have a point, and it wasn't like Chet booked her in a match or really needed her in any great capacity.

Troy: Alright, just let me get my stuff and let Worth know that I'm cutting out early. I think he'll understand, given the circumstances.

Killean nodded, knowing that he had to go get his own stuff too.

Killean: You gonna let Chet deal with dickhead Danny?

Lindsay shrugged.

Troy: He's the one that wanted him in the group in the first place. I just have to deal with the decision by tagging Fergdor's greasy hand every now and then.

Killean: That is unless you’d rather tag my greasy hand. Either way, meet me in the parking lot when you’re done. My rental car is out there, I’ll park near the talent entrance.

Alone to veg...or bake...or both...in the Fuck You locker room while his homies go wreak havoc on one of TCM’s co-habitants, Nova tries to screw with the monitor to see if it gets BET. Of course, he’s got a big match, but this is part of the preparation - really being able to chill before you warm up.

But lo! A knock at the door?

With his co-conspirators all out on their own, and no one else in the locker room in the mood to fraternize with him, who could possibly be at his threshold?

Nova: CURRENTLY TRYING TO LOCATE THE JAMS. IF YOU DON’T KNOW THE CODE-WORD I’M IGNORING THE SHIT OUT OF YOU.

Voice: Danny Ferguson eats one turd sandwich for breakfast, two turd sandwiches for lunch, and a double turd burger special ordered with cheese, onions, mayonnaise, and nothing else.

The Risen Star scratches the back of his head.

Nova: Well, that wasn’t a word, technically…more of a phrase, I’d say…but it showed ambition and I like where your head’s at. Who is it?

Voice: Pizza man.

Nova: I didn’t order any...pizza...

While the suggestion is tempting, no man on the wrong side of his co-workers would dare accept free food, and Nova knows this. Surely this is the work of Chet Worth, or the Illustrious Face-Eater, or possibly even Adam…but simply refusing and letting their plan fall on its face would not be satisfactory. No, Caesar Christopher Vega is a man who knows an opportunity for vengeance when he sees one, and by playing into their plot, by stringing them along just enough to find out who’s at the bottom of it, he can return fire with a volley so heinous it would make one beg for a simple Testigram instead.

Yes. This is going to be sweet.

He cracks the door just slightly to see a mildly harmless-looking pizza boy standing in the hallway, piping-hot pie in hand. Sneak Attack #1: Enemy dressed as deliver man - avoided. Convinced that he’s reached this safety checkpoint, he opens the door and steps out to claim the food.

The tricky part is Sneak Attack #2: Enemy having doctored pizza with poison, laxatives, anthrax, STDs or bad peanut butter. To properly foil that plan and trace it back to the originator, he would need the kind of home chemistry set he kept on the late FUNK SHUTTLE (RIP…Damn you, Olsig!). No, he’ll have to get creative. But the first step is to procure the pizza. Besides, he can probably eat the crusts, right? No one interferes with the crusts.

Nova: (fake-acting for effect) Well thank you, suspicious-looking pizza boy, I-

Out of nowhere, Danny Ferguson spins around from his hidden position just beyond the door and punches the Risen Star right in the face. With a pained yelp, Nova tumbles back into the locker room.

Danny Ferguson: Just like in the movies...

He turns to the pizza boy, produces a wad of bills and peels off a Franklin.

Danny Ferguson: Thanks for the help, kid. Don’t spend this all in one place.

Pizza Boy: My name is Diego Delgado; I’m a wrestler here.

Danny Ferguson: Okay, fine.

He peels off another $100 and stuffs it in Delgado’s do-rag.

Danny Ferguson: Skip an indy booking this weekend. You deserve it.

He steps into the locker room and slams the door shut.

Nick: We’re getting set to kick things off now with the 5-Star match-up.

Richard: Sun Tzu’s romantic flirt is in the match tonight.

Nick: She’d probably lie down and give him the title if he won this match.

Richard: She’s communist; he’d lie down for her. They’re the superior leadership, remember!

Nick: Oh because Stalin prospered so well out of his reign!

Richard: Exactly…

The crowds begin to warn up, testing out their vocals, having strained them with the previous matches. The chants soon begin. The banners raise and the time for going to the toilet ends as the lights dim and the crowd hushes to the beating drums of excitement.

Nick: Let’s get ready to rumble Dick!

Richard’s mumblings become incoherent as the bass system kicks in. "Sympathy for the Devil" by The Rolling Stones rocks the sound waves as the fans boo coherently to the beat of the song. Angelo Deville waltzes out from behind the curtains, a smug grin lining his lips as he gazes toward the sea of heads bobbing before him. He takes a deep breath, the smell of victory, he wanted it.

Nick: Deville looks confident.

Richard: He should. He gave up a chance at the Universal title because he’s friends with the hippie.

Announcer: Making his way to the ring, he is one part of "FUCK YOU". Weighing it at 241lbs … ANGELO DEVILLE

Angelo Deville ignores the fans whimsical boos and slides into the ring. Deville let a grin merge along his lips as he waited patiently for his two opponents to arrive.

Richard: Don’t you just love The Rolling Stones.

Nick: You in love with Angelo Deville too?

Richard: He’s quite a guy!

The commentator’s thoughts and somewhat homosexual comments are silenced by the heavy guitar styles of Slash as "Right next door to hell" by Guns N’ Roses rampages through the arena.

Nick: Here comes our proud GTT6 winner.

Richard: Now here is a competitor worth standing for.

There is a mixture of chants for Snow. His eyes lay on the ring; they are transfixed on Angelo Deville as he continues with a steady pace down the ramp while he enjoys the musical stylings of his entrance.

Announcer: Making his way to the ring. His is the winner of GTT6. From Blackwater, Canada…JASON SNOW

Jason Snow rolls into the ring. Angelo Deville now perched outside as he gives Snow his props. Snow steadily looks around the mountain of faces before settling down in the turnbuckle eyeing Angelo Deville with suspicion.

Richard: Snow is Deville’s biggest threat to winning this match.

Nick: Deville lays down for great men. Perhaps Snow won’t have to break a sweat.

Richard: Deville is a sportsman and gentleman. Snow is nothing but a bully at times.

Nick: Now we’re onto the debut of Jumpin’ Jack Flash.

The lights go completely out as Keith Richards' familiar opening rift begins. The bass line kicks in as a fury of yellow, orange, and red pyro explodes over the entrance ramp.

I was born in a cross-fire hurricane
And I howled at my ma in the driving rain,
But its all right now, in fact, it's a gas!
But it’s all right. I'm Jumpin' Jack Flash,
Its a gas! gas! gas!

The smoke clears and we see Jumpin' Jack Flash, back turned to the audience, showing the words "SEXIEST MAN ALIVE" spelled out in red sequins on the back of his pristine white leather trenchcoat. He slowly spreads his arms and spins around before doing only what we could call a dancing strut as he makes his way down the ramp.

I was raised by a toothless, bearded hag,
I was schooled with a strap right across my back,
But its all right now, in fact, it's a gas!
But its all right, I'm Jumpin' Jack Flash,
Its a gas! gas! gas!

He leaps up on the apron, spinning back around as he shrugs off his coat, revealing the skintight red, orange, and yellow jumpsuit beneath, slit to the navel, glitter sparkling on his bare chest as he soaks in the response of the crowd.

I was drowned, I was washed up and left for dead.
I fell down to my feet and I saw they bled.
I frowned at the crumbs of a crust of bread.
Yeah, yeah, yeah
I was crowned with a spike right thru my head.
But its all right now, in fact, it's a gas!
But its all right, I'm Jumpin' Jack Flash,
Its a gas! gas! gas!

Grabbing the top rope, he pulls himself up to the top rope and twists all in one smooth motion, balancing for the briefest of moments on the top rope before he springs into a backflip, landing on his feet, his arms again thrown wide as his confident grin sweeps out over the audience.

Jumpin' Jack Flash, it's a gas
Jumpin' Jack Flash, it's a gas
Jumpin' Jack Flash, it's a gas
Jumpin' Jack Flash, it's a gas
Jumpin' Jack Flash, it's a gas

The music fades away and Jack is ready to go.

Nick: Now that’s an entrance!

Richard: What? I can’t hear you! My ears are still ringing with the pain of his music.

Jack Flash immediately goes on the assault and clobbers Snow from behind sending him hurdling into Angelo Deville. Both men are a little off put by the speed at which Jack Flash works. Suddenly Deville has taken the chance and drills his knee into Snow’s gut.

Nick: Jack Flash is quick to start things off.

Richard: Well it’s a great debut.

Snow coils in pain for a moment, Flash eyes up Deville and the two seem to agree on a solution. Flash turns his back and Deville and Snow line him up and hit him with a double bulldog. Flash’s face imbeds itself in the mat.

The fans aren’t impressed and the boos erupt through the arena.

Nick: Cunning from Deville and Snow.

Richard: Flash’s face is in the mat!

Flash doesn’t stir, allowing Deville to turn his attention to Jason Snow. Snow turns just in time to catch a spinning kick from Deville. Snow raises Deville’s leg higher than it should, a creeping squeal emerges from Deville’s mouth as Snow stretches Deville’s groin muscles. Snow suddenly unleashes a punch right to Deville’s crown jewels.

The crowd make an "OUCH" sound.

Richard: Oh, I’m feeling for Deville right now.

Nick: Referee didn’t see it, Snow gets away with it.

Richard: The dirty moves of Jason Snow.


Snow lets go of Angelo Deville’s leg and he collapses to the floor, gripping his sack. Flash is up and sneaking behind Snow. Snow feels arms wrap around his waist but he’s too late. Flash hoists him into the air for a German suplex.

Nick: Stealth from Jack Flash.

Flash hits the german suplex with precision, he doesn’t let go as he spins his legs and hoists Snow up for a second and connects with a bang.

Flash goes for the pin.

ONE!

Deville slices the back of heel of his boot into the side of Flash’s head.

Nick: Flash not taking advantage here.

Richard: He’s a novice. What did you think would happen?

Flash rolls off of Snow, breaking up the pin. Deville pummels into Flash’s back, causing the Jumping man to yelp with the shots to his kidneys.

Snow slowly rises to his feet, feeling a little groggy after the double German suplex from Flash. It was quick momentum builder but with no follow up allowing Deville and Snow to regain their strategic positions and cunning.

Nick: That is Thrash right?

Richard: He’s got so many different faces, I’ve lost count!

Snow stares down Deville as he approaches. Deville during Snow’s rising has managed to set Flash carefully on the second rope and hurls the novice over the ropes with a startling clothes line.

Nick: Jumping Jack has fallen with a devastating clothesline from Deville.

Richard: He’s in it to win it, like I told you.

Deville doesn’t notice Snow creeping up behind him, he’s proud at his prior move as he watches Flash lie motionless in a less comfortable position on the mat outside the ring. Fans are hurling abuse at Deville but he doesn’t care, he just gives them the look.

Snow grapples Deville from behind, lacing his arms around his neck he pulls him down with a sleeper hold. Deville squirms under Snow’s grasp, but his attempts at retaliation are futile. He pummels the mat in frustration.

Flash is staggering onto his feet on the outside and spots the hazard in the ring. He smiles, thinking of cunning plan and mounts the turnbuckle from the outside. He launches his body without looking to deliver a perfect Corkscrew moonsault on top of Deville and Snow. Snow is crushed underneath Deville and Flash slowly rolls off Deville.

Nick: Blimey, did that just happen?

Richard: My eyes must be deceiving me; Jack Flash performed a corkscrew moonsault!

Flash is proud of himself and takes a minute to digest the cheers he’s receiving from the surrounding fans. The flashes of camera bulbs allures him, mesmerizing him. He crawls on all fours and pulls Deville’s leg up for the pin.

ONE!

TW-!

Snow’s arm shoots across, poking Flash in his eye. Flash breaks the pin and squints as the pain surges around him. Snow is up but coughing violently and holding his ribs. He drills his knee into Flash’s abdomen, sending Flash bent over. Snow retaliates as he hooks Flash under the arms and hoists him into the air for a quick and powerful powerbomb. Flash’s head bounces on impact.

Snow rises off the floor and turns to Deville, sending a heavy punch to his cheek, followed by a second. Deville staggers backward and grapples at Snow’s long blonde hair, preventing a further assault he sends his knee hurdling toward Snow’s gut and hoists him into the air for a stalling brainbuster.

Deville stalls in the air, Snow dangling perfectly straight upside down, Deville’s circles a second but suddenly Flash is up and drives his head into Deville’s abdomen. Deville has no choice but to drop Snow. The GTT6 winner lands awkwardly face first on the mat, blood oozing from his lip.

Flash is smiling and runs carefully around the wheezing Canadian. He latches on and Irish whips him against the ropes. Deville comes shooting back and dodges an attempt at a big kick. He slides under Flash’s leg, but its no good. Flash sits down on the Canadian, his ass landing close to his face as he delivers a ten punch ensemble.

The fans all count in unison.

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

Flash rises off a bedazzled Deville and raises his arms to the crowd, receiving a belting cheer.

Nick: Don’t turn around Flash.

Flash has once again forgotten about the third opponent. While Deville wobbles to his feet, Snow has regained his equilibrium and is stood in a wrestling stance, awaiting Jumping Jack.

Flash turns around only to feel the force of Snow’s boot to his face as Snow spins with a shocking roundhouse kick sending Flash sideways. He counters on the momentum and catches Flash’s legs turning them quickly for a figure four leg lock.

Richard: He’s going to tap.

Flash is in his own land at the moment, arms spread eagled as Snow tightens his hold and pulls upward with Flash’s legs. Deville has slid out to the ring and is watching with a cocky smile.

The referee turns his attention to Deville, ordering him into the ring, meanwhile Flash has fallen limp and Snow is furious. Snow lets go on Flash and races toward the referee. He jumps the bent over referee and lunges toward Deville with a 450 splash. Snow’s legs collide with Deville. The two colliding.

Nick: Amazing. Snow performing acrobatics.

Richard: Damn Deville is knocked out.

The referee is startled and tries calling out to the two but his calls are masked by the "HOLY SHIT" chants from the crowd, finding a new found respect for Jason Snow.

Deville is out cold, collapsed on the floor. Snow is moving ever so slightly, the move having put a little pain through his body he grabs Deville by the trunks and slides him into the ring with a forceful shove. Flash is beginning to stir and grabbing at his left thigh.

Deville is waking up slowly, the flashing of lights blurring him. Snow is up and marches toward Flash who suddenly turns with a leg sweep and sends Snow backwards to the mat.

Nick: What a surprise.

Richard: He’s full of them tonight.

Snow lands hard on his ass and Flash laughs with amusement. He rises onto his feet and limps, jumps and connects with a dropkick to Snow’s face sending the man to the outside through the second rope, his body contorted as it collapses onto the floor.

Deville is startled and is using the ropes for leverage. Flash turns to see him and a smirk lines his lips. Flash marches toward Deville. Deville throws a swinging punch but misses. Flash hits Deville hard in the gut, with Deville bent over Flash attempts what looks like a hammerlock with his left hand. A cheeky smile lines his lips.

Nick: Oh no Dick … This can’t be!


Flash licks his right hand and smacks Deville square on the butt cheek. The crowd burst into laughter as Deville kicks out and storms to the outside, furious.

Richard: The audacity of Jack Flash.

Nick: I believe it’s called "Marking His Territory".

Deville rolls back inside and dashes toward Flash; Flash sidesteps and slaps Deville once again on the ass. Deville shoots around, blush red in the face. He’s not playing anymore games as he blind sides Flash with a foot to the groin. Flash keels over and Deville catches him before he falls shooting his knee in Flash’s face causing his nose to combust with blood.

Nick: Uncalled for!

Snow is racing up the turnbuckle and lunges into the air, shooting Deville with a moonsault sending the Canadian upside down halfway across the ring. Deville shoots up and runs toward Snow, Snow catches him and flings with a technically efficient belly-to-belly suplex.

Deville collides with the mat again and this time isn’t as quick to rise.

Snow stumbles slightly, a little fogged. He moves forward rubbing his hands together as he watches Deville stumble to his feet. Deville turns around and Snow unleashes a shooting jaw-breaking superkick to Deville’s chin.

SNAKE EYES!!!

Deville spits out saliva and blood as he stumps to the floor.

Snow smiles and moves forward, suddenly a hand latches around his groin pulling him backwards. Flash rolls Snow up for a schoolboy.

Nick: Snow was so close. He hit the Snake Eyes perfectly.

Richard: I think Deville is seeing tiny Sun Tzu’s floating around him right now.

Flash goes for the pin.

ONE!

TWO!

Snow shoots out of the schoolboy and thumps Flash in the face with the heel of his boot. Flash stammers backward as Snow jumps up. Flash turns to him. Snow runs at him. Flash dodges and Irish Whips Snow into the turnbuckle, he turns and spears Snow.

Snow drops to the floor and the fans cheer Flash on.

Richard: He wouldn’t … Not twice!

Flash smiles and takes a few paces backward.

He runs and jumps, legs spread onto Snow, hitting the bronco buster.

He rides Snow like there was no tomorrow and jumps off, Snow flops forward.

Nick: Flash hits his "Face to face with greatness".

Flash is stood looking at Snow when suddenly Deville swings him toward him.

Deville grabs Flash and hoists his knee into Flash’s gut. Flash bends over and Deville hits a bulldog sending Flash face first into the mat. Deville rises attempting to continue with the momentum he’s now got. He rolls Flash over, now lying face up.

Richard: Pin him damnit!

Nick: Snow, get up!

Deville grabs Flash’s ankles and places his feet against Jumping Jack’s crotch, then heaves and rolls back onto his shoulder-blades, thrusting his legs straight and perpendicular to the mat.

Richard: Ouch!

Flash is now perched atop Deville’s feet, with Deville pulling down on the ankles to intensify the pain and hold the victim in place.

Nick: Deville just hit the Soprano.

Richard: Flash is knocked out.

The referee checks on Flash who is lying motionless with his crown jewels pierced by Deville’s boot. Deville unrelenting in the hold as the referee raises Flash’s arm. It flops once.

Nick: Flash isn’t looking too hot.

Snow is slowly rising to his feet, his tongue stuck out and gagging.

Flash is shaking his head as Deville bites down on his lip as he grabs harder.

Flash yells "I GIVE UP".

Snow’s eyes widen, his instinctive thought "damnit".

Deville releases the hold and Flash collapses to the floor. Deville rises onto his feet, wearily.

Announcer: Here is your winner … ANGELO DEVILLE

"Sympathy for the Devil" by The Rolling Stones engrosses the arena.

Slowly, Nova comes to, since it was more of a stunning blow than a knockout blow, but when it catches you off guard it always hurts a little more, same as how bumping your head against the freezer door while you’re on your hands and knees reaching for the last can of Dr. Pepper in the back of the fridge always feels like you have yourself permanent brain damage.

The Risen Star is still in his locker room, sitting in a chair. He shakes the cobwebs off and reaches up to rub the small bump on the crown of his head...but his arms are handcuffed behind him, to the back of the chair. Likewise, his legs are tied crudely to the seat…nothing painful or uncomfortable, more of a deterrent than anything else.

Danny Ferguson: Just wanted to make sure you sit down and listen...

Danny strolls around in front of the Universal Champion, not making eye contact but making it clear who he’s speaking to.

Nova: Yeah, take all the time you need…um, you know, because kidnapping a guy in his stable’s locker room is pretty air-tight.

Danny Ferguson: I’ll be done before trouble starts. Anyway, here’s the thing, Brandon...

Nova: Oh, no you didn’t.

The Risen Star twitches, as though his instinctive reaction at that moment was to raise an arm and snap his fingers...but being tied to a chair prevents the sassy measure.

Danny Ferguson: What? You’re not Brandon? Brandon Youngblood? Title-hungry loner type with the Mr. Clean look? Signing checks before you check your bank account to see if you’ve got the capital?

Nova: You’s a’ just wait until I snap through this shit out of PURE RAGE~!

Danny Ferguson: Relax, kid, I know who you are. I also know who you aren’t, and that’s the Britney Spears-looking bitch in front of me. You went with the Extreme Makeover so people couldn’t connect your sudden change of mind to the stoner comedy guy you used to be. This is a different legacy, and when you finally get it all out of your system and decide to grow your business out again, you’ll want people to go easy on you, to just accept that all the bad things you did or said weren’t you. They weren’t Nova. So what does that make you now? Simon Dean?

Nova’s PURE RAGE~! technique doesn’t appear to be working as he struggles against the restraints. He shoots an infuriated glare up at his unlikely captor

Nova: Oh, what the fuck?! Danny-freaking-Ferguson is giving locker-room lectures now? Huh?! You can cut that shit out, Spiffy, and feel free to drag me into one of your sermons the day that I attempt to ruin, on every level, the life of a co-worker who’s been diagnosed with cancer!

Danny Ferguson: The heroes gotta be heroes, champ. When someone like the Old You does something harmless like send a chick to an opponent’s room, it’s endearing; it’s cute. When the Fuck You You does that shit, it’s laughable. You’re sky-hooking water balloons across the battle lines. You just don’t know how to play the game from that side of the tracks. You’re not making smart business decisions.

Nova: From the KING of smart business decisions! Field this one, Billy Graham…where the fuck is the A-List now? I mean, you love pulling your pork about how great your group was, but where are they now? Seriously, I don’t know! Facey? Tsonda? Anybody other than your lame-ass bodyguards? And another thing…

The Risen Star pauses to cough out an oyster onto the floor. Ferguson winces.

Nova: …another thing…you DID try to claim a spot in Fuck You back in South Africa, didn’t you? And since we politely informed you that we were full, now you want someone to vacate their spot under the assumption that that’s the only reason nobody will let you in their kickball game?

Danny hadn’t been listening to much of Nova’s speech, or if he had, it was a second priority. Behind Nova’s back, he had been fishing around in the lockers, and finally came up with a prize: a wooden cricket bat, cracked and taped as if it had been used years over.

Nova: Excuse me if I don’t drop to my knees and let the power of the Holy Face Spirit overcome me, Lipnicki, but I’m occ...u...pied...

His voice slows as Danny walks around in front of him, brandishing the bat. His stomach turns a little and his mind races.

Danny Ferguson: (twirling the bat) People always thinks that because we’re in an industry where you get paid to fight, that everyone is just cavalier about rules, that no one’s in control, that no one has to answer to anyone else. Of course, you and I both know that’s ridiculous.

Nova: I’ve got a match tonight, you cock-goblin, so if you dare try to do something to me beforehand, we will have an injunction down on Worth faster than any of your La-La-Land lawyers can process, a-

Danny places the flat end of the bat under Nova’s chin, quieting him down. The Universal Champ reluctantly complies.

Danny Ferguson: What I’m saying is that people here, just like any place else, answer the dollar. Spots on this show are won and lost at the merchandise table. When you’re a hero, like my de facto comrades, you don’t sell t-shirts by dirtying yourself up. And when you’re on the other side of that line, my preferred place of residence and your current vacation spot, you push the gear by reminding everyone that you aren’t soft.

He stands back, pulls up the bat and readies for a mighty swing. Nova, without much choice in his current predicament, ducks his head and grits his teeth...but the blow never comes.

As Nova slowly lets his muscles relax and opens his eyes, he finds Ferguson staring at him from an uncomfortably close distance, all up in his grill.

Danny Ferguson: Lucky for you, I fall into just enough of a gray area to know that’s a bad business decision. But while everybody else is fighting this war and trying to stay hard or stay clean, it’s the line-walkers like myself that swing the battle. So tell me, Nova, are you really a good guy who’s seen the light...or are you just a sheep in wolf’s clothing?

The hallway door to the locker room jiggles, then swings open as Snow and Deville return following their match. They find Nova, cuffed and fuming, and an open rear door just over his shoulder.

Garbage Bag Johnny is walking down a corridor backstage, humming some incomprehensible tune to himself. He looks at something behind the camera, pointing at it with a perplexed look.

Garbage Bag Johnny: Hey...you?

The camera turns to see a sobbing Fred Cook, otherwise known as The Poet, with his head half way into the fountain.

The Poet: OH CRUEL WORLD! OH TERRIBLE DEMONS!

Fred is attempting to kill himself via the slow, painful method of water to the lung, eventual suffocation, otherwise known as drowning. While this usual thirst quencher fails to effectively do the trick, Cook stays diligent.

The Poet: If only I died a man could I live with being a failure!

Garbage Bag Johnny, who is tired from walking up and down corridors and eating sandwiches week in and week out, rubs his hands together mischievously before twirling his mustache and stroking an imaginary beard that stems from the bottom of his actual beard. He learned from Violence Jack that to get someone to join a sect, you just have to find someone vulnerable with a weak mind. And since it takes one to know one, GBJ pulls out his watch and decides that he’s going to try doing some brainwashing of his own. Unfortunately, GBJ has a cheap Casio wristwatch instead of an actual hypnosis timepiece with a gold chain and whatnot. Whatever; this will have to do.

Garbage Bag Johnny: I couldn’t help but overhear that your life needs some structure. Have you considered the possibility of joining an extremist sect?

The Poet: You speak in warm tongues but my ears stay cold! *gargle* A dying voice, yes, but I wonder...what colors can the stars shine?

Fred Cook continues to lie there in the fountain with both men saying nothing. Fred nonchalantly glances up at Garbage Bag.

The Poet: Ay...uh...a cult?

Garbage Bag Johnny: Nonsense! If the Sect of Black Wisdom was a cult, it would be called the Cult of Black Wisdom. Anyway, I see you like water. Water’s not black enough. It’s not black like this portrait of funk legend George Clinton!

Garbage Bag Johnny takes the familiar portrait out of his robe. He’s vowed to carry it with him through all of February to honor his black ancestors. He places the portrait on an easel and starts swinging his Casio watch in front of the Poet’s face.

Garbage Bag Johnny: Pay no attention to this sweet fucking watch. I want you to stare deep into the eyes of George Clinton and let his blackness consume you!

The Poet: George Clinton?...*gargle*...Sweet fucking watch? That's a Casio!

The poet rips his head from the water and shakes his head, water going everywhere. He coughs and hacks for a minute, causing some water to spit out of his mouth.

The Poet: If you believe it, I almost died there! What is it the fates had in store for me? Or maybe you arrive to only torment me? I AM AFRAID THE REASON IS THAT!

Garbage Bag Johnny gets frustrated because the hypnosis isn’t working and also because some fag insulted his sweet fucking watch. Who does this guy think he is? GBJ turns to the portrait of his Nubian homeboy, the portrait of George Clinton.

Garbage Bag Johnny: Tell me this fool did not just say that about my watch!

Garbage Bag Johnny then takes an aside, the hallway lights dimming as a spotlight shines on him. The background freezes, and Garbage Bag Johnny delivers a fierce soliloquy- fiercer than a swordfish on PCP!

Garbage Bag Johnny: Here’s what I’ll do. I’m going to use my superior powers of hypnosis to convince this timepiece elitist that he should take his own life in the most ironic way possible. Apparently, this Fred Cook character was going to take his own life by drowning himself in a water fountain, but according to the official Handbook of Black Wisdom, the proper course of action for me to take is to kill Fred Cook with his own squelched bladder. If I hypnotize him to believe that urination is unacceptable, his bladder will explode in a glorious piss bomb. How blackly dubious! NEEEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HA!

By the way, all the stuff about the background freezing and the hallway lights dimming was just hyperbole. That didn’t happen, and Fred Cook could hear Garbage Bag’s soliloquy just fine.

The Poet: He speaks like a waterfall...flowing...*gargle*...choking, terrible water...*gargle*...

Fred pulls his head up. This time he coughs some water up right on Garbage Bag's face. He makes a face like he was sorry, but then he notices that Garbage Bag made no reaction whatsoever. Fred freezes.

The Poet: Uh...um...as I was saying, a heh...Being! Man of many smells! I pray of you, can you fill my soul with knowledge? What is it you mumble on? Can a man not wallow in his sorrows in peace and drown on the fruits of mankind? HAS THE WHOLE WORLD GONE MAD?!

Out of nowhere Fred violently launches himself against the wall, clinging onto the concrete and scratching at it with his finger tips. With all his might he is pushing himself against the wall.

The Poet: You haunt me, stranger! I am a child rejected and you cast shadows on my feet--and now I walk no more! Oh the terror! The horror! Why can I not just dissolve like the city trash I am? AM I NOT WORTHY OF YOU, FAIR DEATH?!

Garbage Bag Johnny consults briefly with the portrait of George Clinton, but neither one of them understands what the hell this dude’s talking about. GBJ doesn’t really care, though, because whatever it is, it won’t divert him from executing his insanely nefarious plan concocted in the deepest mixing cauldrons of the blackest of black wisdom.

Garbage Bag Johnny: Say, my friend George here told me why you’re here. You’re going to be in that Dual Halo, right? Well, anyway, I don’t know what you’re upset about, but the winner of the Dual Halo supposedly gets a golden ticket for whatever he wants. I’m sure that will cheer you up.

GBJ gets in really close and starts whispering loudly (let’s just say he’s using his regular speaking voice) behind a shielding hand.

Garbage Bag Johnny: I’m not supposed to be telling you this, but since your loud and your sudden actions frighten me, I’m going to let you in on a little secret passed down from the branches of black wisdom ever since the dawn of time. Do you want to know how you can win the Dual Halo?

Fred grabs his head...what in the hell? This crazed homeless man was speaking the preach to Freddy boy without really laying it down.

The Poet: Dual Halo? George? What is all this? Do you lie to me? Am I a maiden to be treated like a tramp?

Fred grabs both of the Garbage Man's shoulders and starts shaking them ferociously.

The Poet: WHAT IS THIS YOU SPEAK OF? Lay no more black wisdom upon me and I shall die a million deaths, all without fret...*sniffle*...Dual Halo? Explain, being.

Fred leans against the wall of the corridor coyly yet seemingly interested, stroking his mouschstache with a shaking hand. Jesus Christ, that’s the worst misspelling of moustache I’ve ever seen. I’m going to leave it in there.

Garbage Bag Johnny: Well, I’ve never seen you around here, but since you’re here, I’ll assume that they’re going to throw you into the cage too. They throw us all into the cage, and they make us fight, and whoever wins gets whatever they want- a hot air balloon trip around the world, an endless supply of musty newspaper smell, eternal happiness, a weekend pass to the hooker farm- you name it.

Garbage Bag lifts the Casio watch up in front of Fred Cook’s face again.

Garbage Bag Johnny: I’d really like to tell you the secret of winning this thing, but I’ll have to hypnotize you first so that you’ll only remember it subconsciously and won’t tell anyone who isn’t supposed to know.

The Poet: Not only do I barely even UNDERSTAND "this thing", but it was only earlier today that Chainz fellow threatened to make me his sex steak! And I think I saw some wretched man masturbating himself with a toaster oven while I was passing another locker room! Is this all it is, dirty man? Dirty foul acts, non stop? DO I LIVE ONLY TO DIE OF RAPED ASSHOLE?!

The Poet breaks back into tears.

The Poet: I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHY I BOTHER TO THINK OF RAPED ASSHOLES! WHY DO YOU TEASE ME, FOUL FATE?!

Garbage Bag Johnny: Ah, so you’re Chainz’ friend, huh? He’s a hell of a guy; great sense of humor. I hear he’s going to be in the Dual Halo, too. But anyway, why aren’t you looking into my hypnotic watch so I can convince you to hold in your pee until you die from bladder explosions?

The Poet: Wait, what did you say? I believe I heard...was that...that...

Garbage Bag Johnny: That...?

The Poet: Oh my GOODNESS! Speak of your cult! Enlighten me! Ring death into my ears!

Garbage Bag Johnny looks kind of confused. Now that the Poet is willing to be hypnotized for some odd reason, Garbage Bag Johnny really doesn’t know where to go from there.

Garbage Bag Johnny: Well, uh, I was just thinking it would be nice to give something back to Violence Jack after he let me join his sect, and I know how much he likes human sacrifice. I’ll be honest. I don’t know anything about hypnosis. Hell, I don’t even know how to set this watch. Look, just don’t pee. No matter how bad you have to pee, just don’t do it. This way, when your bladder combusts, you’ll be dead and I’ll have a corpse to present to Violence Jack, and Jack won’t know that I didn’t kill you with black magic except that you’ll probably smell like the guest of honor at a piss party. We’ll all be winners.

Fred grabs Garbage Bag and pulls him close for a hug.

The Poet: I don't even care what diseases I'm currently receiving through this right now, I need to...THANK YOU! You saved my soul, fair prince. In your words of misery...*sniff*...

Fred lets go and steps away.

The Poet: Heh, well, there is only so much stench a man can take. But, anyways, in your words, stranger, I felt hope for the first time since I entered this arena of battle. In you, your dirty demeanor and negatively hopeless, foolish ways I have seen that, yes, the men and women of PRIME need this master of the arts!

Fred drops to a knee and puts both hands to his side. As his eyes clothes and his right hand goes to his heart, the Garbage Man watches and just scratches his head.

The Poet: Now no longer shall I trudge! In future bouts I shall tread with no fear! There shall be no rape, no nothing! Deprived, how may I thank you for opening the lock on my heart and soul? Shall I recite my most recent poem for you?

Garbage Bag Johnny: Well, uh...

The Poet: Canaries, sitting in a bush. A yellow tree, dotting the suns. When the moon breaks, who will watch the canaries fly? WHO WILL WATCH THE YELLOW TREE DIE?!

Garbage Bag Johnny: ...

The Poet: Fin.

Garbage Bag Johnny starts scratching his head. Your guess is as good as Garbage Bag Johnny’s, because GBJ has no idea what the hell is going on. He’s hungry and he wants a sandwich, and he’s sick of this whole hypnosis business. Also, he’s sick of standing in the corridor. He’s been standing there for a long time, and nothing really makes sense to him now…except that he was hugged by a man; a very delicate man at that. Garbage Bag Johnny looks at his watch- the one that he doesn’t know how to set.

Garbage Bag Johnny: Gee, look at the time. I better get going, but to set the record straight, I’m not into dudes.

As GBJ begins to walk away, Fred grabs his shoulder and spins him around.

The Poet: Stranger, walk on today knowing that you convinced The Poet to stay here in PRIME while all other horrible rape-influenced forces said otherwise. Now, move away relay before the sun rises yet again.

Fred closes his eyes and crouches into a flower petal stance, remaining in complete silence. Garbage Bag Johnny starts backing away slowly, mumbling to himself.

Garbage Bag Johnny: What the hell was that shit? Crazy mofo rubbing all up on me and shit! I try to hypnotize him so that he holds in his pee until he dies, and he’s thankful? I tell you. You meet some crazy folks. If I could figure out this damn watch, I’d want the last seven minutes of my life back.

Nick Stuart: The next match that we are going to see is one of the last two chances that Chet Worth has to get the World Championship off of Nova. He will be taking on Adam, who recently lost the Alias Championship and you know he has got to want to be able to get a belt back on his shoulder.

Richard Parker: Nobody has been able to legitimately take down Nova. So what he lost the Extreme Championship. He was probably having a bong off with Rollins right before and lost focus.

Nick Stuart: The last really big match Adam was in was at King of Kings when he went against Tony Gamble in a wild match. Adam is going to have to bring that kind of game again, and then more to defeat Nova.

Richard Parker: I would put a better chance on Tony Gamble being able to have sex with Lindsay Troy.

Nick Stuart: …

Richard Parker: I…I didn’t mean to say that! I’M SORRY JOHN!

Nick Stuart: You know Gamble is going to pwn you for that.

Richard Parker: TONY GAMBLE NEEDS TWO FOOT STILTS TO RING A DOORBELL!

Nick Stuart: I think he’s possessed, but by what?

Richard Parker: IT TAKES HIM SITTING ON FIVE PHONE BOOKS TO SEE OVER THE STEERING WHEEL WHEN HE’S DRIVING!

Nick Stuart: DEMON BE GONE!

Richard gets smacked in the ear which causes an earpiece to fall out. Nick grabs it and looks under it.

Nick Stuart: Property of the PhD of Matchwriting…Ah, Chris, get on with it, you can’t do this all day.

Earpiece: You want to find out?

Nick Stuart: Just start writing the match.

Earpiece: Fine. You better hope I don’t get the Universal Title match at Culture Shock though.

A searing guitar riff tears through the arena, signalling the arrival of PRIME's Scottish contingent.

'One-two-three-four!'

He strides out from behind the curtain at the count, title strap over his shoulder, and stalks his way down the ramp, hand slaps the whole way.

'Let's get something straight;
You are gonna be nothing...
And I am already Great'

After a quick roll into the ring he bounds up from turnbuckle to turnbuckle, shouting along with Arty Shepard's cries;

'You are gonna be nothing...
And I am so fucking Great!'

He leans in his corner, tying his hair in a ponytail as the music fades down.

The lights cut out in the arena, and a stormy sky appears on the video screen.

As thunder booms over the speakers and lightning lights up the darkened clouds on-screen, a voice can be heard speaking in soft, reverberating tones.

"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; but I was not offended, for I knew I had to rise above it all…or drown in my own shit."

The stormy sky fades, replaced by a field of stars. One of the stars shoots across the screen, and as the field of stars comes together to form the word "NOVA," Funkadelic's "Maggot Brain (Live '71)" roars over the loudspeakers, Eddie Hazel's guitar screaming with emotion.

At this moment, a spotlight hits the entrance ramp where Nova is knelt, one hand raised in the air clutching the Universal Title as blue and white pyrotechnics explode around the entrance ramp. The smoke from his cigarette wafts irridescently above his head. He rotates the Universal Title around, the light reflecting off it's golden surface shooting a beam out over the crowd. Climbing to his feet, the spotlight follows him to the ring, where he rolls under the bottom rope and stands, taking a last drag before flicking the cigarette away. The lights come up.

DING! DING! DING!

"FUCK YOU NOVA!"

CLAP, CLAP, CLAPCLAPCLAP

"FUCK YOU NOVA"

CLAP, CLAP, CLAPCLAPCLAP

Adam and Nova start walking to the center of the ring, ready to begin the pre-match ritual, when suddenly Adam gets a burst of adrenaline and delivers a vicious uppercut to Nova, stunning the champ, before backing him up into the corner, and delivering five more right hands, before delivering another uppercut that sends Nova stumbling out of the corner, which gives Adam enough time to hook Nova up quickly in a Rock Bottom esque position, Adam gets behind Nova, hooks the half Nelson quickly, and gets Nova’s other arm around for an Original Sin that shocks the crowd.

"OMGRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Nick Stuart: Adam going for the win right now! Original Sin!

Nova, not expecting such a quick attempt at the finish, is left trying to figure a quick way out of the submission hold. The referee is right there, asking if he wants to give it up, but Nova is not going to relinquish the Championship that easily. Nova moves his right leg behind Adam’s, and then pushes backwards with his weight, causing Adam to trip, and Nova to end up in the ropes, effectively breaking the hold.

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"

Nick Stuart: Nova did not see that one coming so fast that’s for sure.

Adam and Nova both get back up to a vertical base, with Adam leading Nova by a step, giving him enough time to deliver an elbow to the back of Nova’s head, hook both of Nova’s arms behind his back quickly, lift him upside down, and then drop him down in a Dangerous Driver. Adam exits the ring quickly, and scales up to the top rope, attempting to go for the Fall From Grace, Nova on the other hand, having not been worn down, is able to roll like hell out of the ring and onto the opposite side of the ring, while Adam jumps down from the ring onto the floor back into the ring.

"NOVA IS A PUSSY"

CLAP, CLAP, CLAPCLAPCLAP

"NOVA IS A PUSSY"

CLAP, CLAP, CLAPCLAPCLAP

Nick Stuart: Nova is going to have to rethink his game plan here. Adam is not giving him any chance to build offense. He’s going for the quick win right out of the gate.

Richard Parker: Nova will know what to do, relax about it. The title’s not going anywhere.

Nick Stuart: After seeing what Adam has just done, I don’t know how you can accurately say that.

Richard Parker: I’m the heel commentator bitch, that’s how I can say it accurately.

Nova looks up at his competition as the referee is laying the count down: 1…2…3…4…5…6…7…Nova climbs back onto the apron and re-enters the ring, Adam charges forward and attempts to kill Nova in the face with a kick, but Nova spins away from it, gets behind Adam, hooks him around the waist and delivers a German suplex. Nova holds onto the hold, bringing Adam back up, Adam attempts to counter by stepping behind, but Nova beats him to it, steps around to the other side, grabs Adam by the arm and underneath, and then heaves him over in a T-Bone suplex that makes Adam crumble in the corner.

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Now they remember that he’s the big heel in the fed.

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"

Nick Stuart: Adam could have fucked up his neck real bad with that one.

Richard Parker: It’s on like Donkey Kong with a bong singing the ‘Because I Got High’ song.

Nick Stuart: What?

Richard Parker: I’m trying to help you speak cool.

Nova stalks over to Adam, brings the Number one Son up to his feet, and then proceeds to get behind Adam again, hook both of his arms under Adam’s and then behind the head. Nova then pulls backwards, throwing Adam over his head in a release dragon suplex that has Adam folded up like-

JR: AN ACCORDION! BY GAWD!

Jeremy Jenkins: LOLLOLLOLLOLOL!

"DIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE"

BOOM

Pete just shot Jeremy Jenkins in the face with a shotgun.

Oh sorry, back to the match.

Nova goes over to Adam, and since his legs are already up in the air, Nova grabs them, and flips Adam over for a Texas Cloverleaf submission hold, making sure to put extra pressure on the back of the neck. Adam is trying to get to the ropes, but even though he’s not in the middle of the ring, Nova’s knee in the back of his neck is really hindering any chance that he has of moving over toward the ropes. The referee is right in Adam’s face asking him if he wants to give in, but he’s shouting out No to the delight of the crowd. Nova just applies more pressure to the neck area with his weight, which causes Adam to grind into the mat even further, attempting to think of a way out of this.

"FUCK YOU NOVA"

CLAP, CLAP, CLAPCLAPCLAP

"FUCK YOU NOVA"

CLAP, CLAP, CLAPCLAPCLAP

Nick Stuart: Nova is not going to give up on this hold. That knee is planted firmly in the neck and even if Adam does manage to get out of this, Nova is just going to fixate on the neck until he’s blue in the face.

Earpiece Chris: Nova can’t turn blue in the face, he’s pale fucking white.

Richard Parker: He’s got us there.

The crowd is starting to get behind Adam, trying to fuel his intellect into getting out of this hold. Adam starts to feel the adrenaline pumping from the crowd, and begins to start moving his feet back and forth, trying to get the off balance Nova to fall down, since he’s kneeling. Adam keeps swinging, breaks Nova’s concentration, and is able to get out of the hold by sending Nova down to the mat.

"RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Nova goes over to Adam and doesn’t even allow him to catch his breath by putting the boots into the back of his neck. Nova then pulls Adam up to a vertical base, attempts to deliver a right hand, but is unexpectedly hooked around the waist and thrown over the ropes down to the floor in an overhead belly to belly suplex. The crowd once again marks the fuck out while Adam kneels down to catch his breath, and looks out at Nova on the ground holding his back in pain.

Nick Stuart: Adam has now created some separation and he’s going to need to capitalize on this quickly.

Nova really does not mind the count of the referee, as he would keep the title: 1…2…3…Adam is up to a vertical base and he’s stops the referee from counting. Nova looks up when he doesn’t see the count continuing and grunts, before attempting to make it back up to a vertical base. It is at this point where Adam runs to the opposite side of the ring, bounces off the ropes, comes charging hard at the ropes, leaps completely over the ropes without assistance, Nova gets out to catch him, and perhaps throw him over in a Northern light or belly to belly suplex, but Adam hangs onto the head, swings Nova around, and plants him hard in the aisle way with a DDT!

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

Nick Stuart: I think he did enough to capitalize and then some. Nova’s ass isn’t going to get up for another five minutes.

Richard Parker: Somebody get him a cigarette and I think he’ll be fine.

Nick Stuart: I don’t think many fans are going to offer him one.

Richard Parker: A hit on the bong then?

Both competitors are groggy in the aisle, but Adam is managing to drag Nova back toward the ringside area. Adam grabs Nova tight by the right arm and then whips him hard into the guardrail, sending Nova down on his knees and then on his face. Adam walks over, picks the Universal Champ up and delivers a forearm to the jaw, and then an elbow to the top of the head before delivering a hip toss that puts Nova’s back across the guardrail.

"YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

"FUCK HIM UP ADAM, FUCK HIM UP"

CLAPCLAP

"FUCK HIM UP ADAM, FUCK HIM UP"

CLAPCLAP

Nick Stuart: Much like Adam’s neck, Adam has found a weakness on Nova and is now exploiting it to the fullest.

Nova is now in the front row, Adam grabs both of his arms, puts them behind him, and then runs backwards, which brings Nova back first into the guardrail. Adam then lets Nova move back out into the crowd, still holding onto the arms, before running backwards, letting Nova’s back slam into the rail again. Adam then hops over the barricade and now we officially have a crowd match, which means the count out rule doesn’t apply. Adam brings the Universal Champ up to a vertical base, gives Nova a knee to the gut, bends Nova over, brings Nova’s hand in between his legs, grabs the other arm, lifts upward into a pumphandle position, and instead of a Piledriver or a slam, Adam brings Nova down across his knee.

"Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiice"

Yeah, that’s a new one. I’ll use it whenever a move comes up that is unconventionally done. Adam brings Nova back up to a vertical base, turns him around, then Adam reaches around to get an arm around the neck, and then bends Nova back in a modified dragon sleeper with the knee into the back. Nova is trying his best not to scream out in pain but Adam is putting as much force into that knee as he can. Nova attempts to find some kind of way out, and attempts to pull something Adam did, try to get the Number One Son off balance, but Adam is a step ahead and lets Nova stumble back, before tripping his leg, and making him land on the concrete back first. Adam now grabs both of Nova’s legs, lifts them up, and turns Nova over in the Texas Cloverleaf submission hold. Nova is now screaming like a virgin on night if she found out her date was Chainz. The fans aren’t making this experience any easier. Here are just some of the random slurs being thrown at him.

"FUCK YOU BITCH"
"TAKING IT LIKE A BITCH, EH NOVA?"
"DOES DEVILLE DO YOU LIKE THIS TOO?"
"HERE’S MY SPRINKLER SYSTEM BITCH"

One fan then proceeds to pour an entire bottle of Bourbon down on the Champion, which gets the rest of the crowd marking out, and his ass eventually thrown out by security. Adam eventually releases the hold and then stomps down on Nova’s back, before bringing him up to a vertical base, and delivering a stiff back elbow to the jaw before a fan turns Nova around and nails him in the face with a punch.

"RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

"FUCK YOU NOVA!

CLAP, CLAP, CLAPCLAPCLAP

"FUCK YOU NOVA"

CLAP, CLAP, CLAPCLAPCLAP

Another fan is thrown out. Adam turns Nova around, and takes him back to the steel barricade. Adam gives Nova one more hip toss over the barricade before hoping over himself, and bringing the pain back to the champ with an elbow in the lower back. Nova is brought up to a vertical base, and then whipped into the ring apron, Adam comes charging in, and crushes Nova’s back against the apron, sending him down again. Adam goes to pick Nova up when another fan throws his beer at Nova.

"FUCK YOU NOVA"

CLAP, CLAP, CLAPCLAPCLAP

Adam then rolls Nova into the ring, rolls under the bottom rope, and goes for the cover.

"ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE"

"TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"

"THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE"

"RAHHHHHHHBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"

The champion has enough sense of mind to put his right foot on the rope, to prevent Adam from winning the Championship. Adam looks up at the referee, then over at the foot, brings Nova back up to a vertical base, grabs him by the right arm, acts like he is going to whip the Champ into the ropes, but instead Adam clubs Nova in the back, sending him down. Adam then looks over at the ring post and gets a really sick idea.

Richard Parker: I don’t like the look of that look after what Adam has already done to Nova’s back.

Nick Stuart: I’m surprised the son of a bitch managed to kick out after that hold.

Adam grabs Nova by the left arm, and slowly backs his way out from the ring under the bottom rope. Adam brings Nova up against the ring post back first. Adam then brings Nova’s legs to make sure that everything but his torso is outside the ring.

Richard Parker: …Oh dear God he’s not going to do what I think he’s about to do.

"FUCK YOU NOVA"

CLAP, CLAP, CLAPCLAPCLAP

"FUCK YOU NOVA"

"CLAP, CLAP, CLAPCLAPCLAP"

Adam then proceeds to grab a hold of both Nova’s arms with his left, and both of Nova’s legs with his right arm. Adam then falls backwards, puts his feet up against the ring post and has Nova in a bow and arrow with Nova’s back going into the ring post!

"RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Nick Stuart: Good fucking God, he could break his back!

Richard Parker: Something tells me that is just what these fucking maniacs want!

There is no way that Nova can escape from this hold, but there is no way Adam can win the title from it either. Nova is trying to find the inner fuck you in him so that he won’t scream like a virgin on prom night when she sees that her date is Charles Manson…Wait, a virgin would be manipulated by that…Chainz? No, I used that…Um…Jeffrey Dahmer?

Ed McMahon: HIYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

"DIE NOVA DIE"
"DIE NOVA DIE"
"DIE NOVA DIE"

Nova seems to be about ready to oblige to the fan’s request, as the referee has to scream at Adam now to even get him to think about releasing this hold.

Richard Parker: I don’t give a flipping shit if you are the toughest man alive, this fucker Adam has a shot now and it’s pissing me off. I threw down all of my vCash on Nova winning this shit.

Nova is now shutting his eyes and hoping that he will not pass out from this hold, or maybe he wants that, and for the match to be stopped. Adam is not going to relent on the submission hold.

"DIE NOVA DIE"
"DIE NOVA DIE"
"DIE NOVA DIE"

The referee finally has no other choice but to say the following:

"IF YOU DO NOT RELEASE THE HOLD BY THE COUNT OF FIVE, I WILL DISQUALIFY YOU!"

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"

"ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIV-"

Adam drops down to the ground and releases the hold on Nova, apparently someone up there likes Nova. Adam rolls back into the ring and once again goes for the pin attempt on Nova.

"ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE"

"TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"

"THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-"

"WHAT THE FUCK?"

Nova somehow managed to kick out after all the pain that was put on his back. Adam even seems befuddled at the kick out. Adam, nonetheless, brings Nova up to a vertical base, but Nova slumps back down to the ground, holding his back in pain. Adam goes to pick Nova up again, but Nova slumps back down to the ground again. Adam goes to do it again, and Nova catches Adam by surprise with a jumping calf kick that stuns the challenger. Nova somehow brings himself up to a vertical base, charges at Adam and catches him with a clothesline that sends Adam inside and out down to the ground.

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"

Nova gives the double middle finger salute to the audience before exiting through the second and third ropes, climbing up to the top rope, back flipping into the air, and delivering a Shooting Star Press on Adam. Nova does not go for the cover, instead he slowly pulls Adam back up to a vertical base, kicks him one time really hard in the face, grabs him by the wrist, grabs one of his legs, and delivers a modified version of an Exploder suplex without leaving his feet.

"FUCK YOU NOVA"

CLAP, CLAP, CLAPCLAPCLAP

Nick Stuart: Nova cannot afford to come slamming down onto his back. If he does, he’ll pretty much kill any offensive momentum that he might have. Then again, pretty much any impact is going to kill his back.

Nova then goes over to Adam and starts putting the boots to his neck, since he refuses to bend down and lift the challenger up. Adam gets up to his knees, Nova to bounce off the ropes and give him a really sick kick to the ribs that makes Adam do a flip. Nova then lets Adam expend some of his own energy by getting up. Nova then bounces off the opposite side ropes, runs toward Adam, and delivers a vicious Yakuza kick that sends Adam over the ropes and down to the floor. Nova takes this time to stand in the ring and get a breather, only for some fans to start pelting him with various cups. One fan even throws a sneaker in the ring, which Nova kicks back out in the fan’s direction.

"FUCK YOU NOVA"

CLAP, CLAP, CLAPCLAPCLAP

Nick Stuart: Nova needs to go for the win in this match right now. The longer he goes in this match, the more his back is going to hurt.

Nova, ignoring what Nick just said, because he can’t hear the commentator, bounces off the opposite side ropes, comes charging at Adam, and once the Number One Son looks up, he deals with 256 pounds of Universal Champion coming down on him in a somersault splash, but he lands on Adam’s back with his ass, promptly stands up, and rips up a fan’s "Nova is 1336" sign, turns around, and kicks Adam in the back of the head before walking up the ring stairs, and then dropping an elbow down onto the floor on Adam’s neck. Nova, while down on the ground, brings Adam up to a vertical base, drags him over to the ring steps, Nova goes behind the ring steps, has Adam face away from them, Nova grabs Adam’s hair, turns away from Adam, and then drops him in a modified neckbreaker, Adam’s neck slamming into the stairs!

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Nick Stuart: The sides just got evened up.

Richard Parker: This match is a fucking wild one.

Nova slowly gets up to a vertical base, walks over to Adam, and proceeds to kick him once more in the neck, before bringing the Number One Son up to a vertical base and throwing him into the ring. Nova walks up the ring stairs, goes up to the top rope, and waits for Adam to get up to a vertical base. Once he does, Nova comes down off the top rope with a double axe handle that sends Adam down in a heap in the middle of the ring. Nova stomps down on the neck one more time before kicking Adam in the side, causing him to roll over. Nova drops down for the cover.

"ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE"

"TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"

"THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-"

"RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Nick Stuart: The match is still on!

Richard Parker: God fucking damnit

Nova looks down at Adam and shakes his head before bringing Adam up to a vertical base, Nova kicks in the midsection, hooks both of the challenger’s arms behind his back, and then drops him down in a No Vacancy DDT that puts both of the competitors down on the mat. Nova is able to turn over and get the cover.

"ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE"

"TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"

"THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-"

"RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Nova, now with a burst of adrenaline, lifts Adam up one more time, whips him into the ropes, and catches him with a hard elbow to the jaw, which sends Adam stumbling back into the ropes, Adam then comes back forward, which allows Nova to grab Adam by the left arm, pull both of them down to the ground, and then wrench back on Adam’s neck before locking the arm in a ‘The Horizontal Face Pull Neck Stretch Inverted Hurt Plex Lock Bomb’

Nick Stuart: This is the perfect move for Nova to do at this point in the match. Adam is pretty much trapped in the ring.

"FUCK YOU NOVA"

CLAP, CLAP, CLAPCLAPCLAP

"FUCK YOU NOVA"

Nova is pulling back on the hold for all that he is worth, wanting to follow in the footsteps of his boy Deville and get a submission finish, that and he really hates Adam for fucking his back up. Adam is refusing to give in, not wanting to give up on his World Title hopes after he has come so far, but he’s probably not going to have a choice in a couple of seconds.

"FUCK YOU NOVA"

CLAP, CLAP, CLAPCLAPCLAP

The referee is asking Adam if he wants to give up, Adam can’t respond verbally, but his right hand is coming up…

…
…
…
…

Adam uses it to grab Nova’s right hand from around his face and he uses it to get Nova off balance by pulling on the hand as hard as he can, which gets Nova to use his left arm to attempt to put a choke on Adam, but Adam gets to the ropes and the referee intervenes, much to the delight of the crowd. Nova grabs Adam off the ropes, and attempts to put the hold back on him, but Adam slips out the back, grabs Nova by the right arm, locks his arm underneath, drives a knee into his back, gets Nova’s left arm and ties it up, putting him in an on the ground Original Sin, with a knee in the back that has Nova with a face full of pain.

"RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Nick Stuart: Adam with the Original Sin again! We’re back to where we started in the match! Nova has that knee into his back also! He might not have a choice.

Richard Parker: NO! NO! DON’T GIVE UP GODDAMMIT!

"TAP, TAP, TAP, TAP, TAP, TAP, TAP"

Nova is trying not to pass out from the hold, but Adam makes it seem like a more favorable option when he puts both of his knees on Nova’s back.

"TAP, TAP, TAP, TAP, TAP, TAP, TAP"

Referee: NOVA, DO YOU GIVE UP?

Nova: FUCK YOU!

Richard Parker: I think that’s a no.

Adam continues to bring the pain to Nova, who is still refusing to give up. Nova slowly moves over to the ropes about three inches. He’s got a long way to go if he ever hopes to get there. Nova makes another attempt at getting to the ropes, but in hindsight doesn’t get very far.

"TAP, TAP, TAP, TAP, TAP"

Nick Stuart: He’s fighting it hard, but he might have to give it up!

Richard Parker: DON’T TAP! THE VCASH, THINK OF THE VCASH!

…
…
…

Nova is now about to fade out into the night. He knows that if he doesn’t either get to the ropes or make a move soon, he’s going to pass out. With the last burst of energy that he has, Nova pushes upward with his knees, and manages to turn Adam over onto his back. Nova has a pinfall

"ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE"

"TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"

"THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-"

"RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Nick Stuart: Adam lives again!

Nova and Adam are both very slow to come up to their feet as they have both been through sheer hell tonight. Adam is the first one up to his knees, followed by Nova who is holding his back in serious pain still, Adam is now in a three point stance. Adam charges forward to nail a throat strike that sends the crowd into apeshit marking out mode. Nova goes down and Adam looks over to the top rope.

"RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Richard Parker: Oh uberfuckage

Adam walks over to the ropes, climbs out between the second and third, holds onto the top turnbuckle, climbs up, and looks down at Nova who is about three fourths of the way across the ring. Adam gets to a full standing position.

Nick Stuart: If he hits this it is over!

Adam gets every ounce of energy that he can from his knees and takes flight into the air...

…
…
…
…
…
…
…
…

Only to miss as Nova takes a desperation roll right before the elbow was supposed to hit him in the chest.

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"

Nova slowly brings himself up to a vertical base and is grinning from ear to ear, he grabs Adam by the hair, brings him up, turns him so that Adam is facing away from him, grabs him by the neck, lifts him up and you know what comes next…BOURBON FOR BREAKFAST!

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"

Nova goes for the cover

"ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE"

"TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"

"THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE"

DING! DING! DING!

Vince Howard: THE WINNER OF THE MATCH…AND STILL UNIVERSAL CHAMPION…NOOOOOOOOOOOVA!

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"