A red backdrop with a single stool serves as the UltraViolence Pay-Per-View opening.

Devin Shakur is the first person who sits down.

Devin Shakur: UltraViolence is the show where careers are made.

At UltraViolence 2008, The Man in Black gets up seconds before Cozen and Lindsay Troy to capture the Universal Championship for the first time in his career.

Tyler Rayne is the second man who sits down.

Tyler Rayne: UltraViolence is the show where careers are ended.

Devin Shakur leaps from a ladder and shatters both of Tyler Rayne's legs to the horror of all those in attendance.

Boda adjusts himself onto the stool.

Boda: But tonight, UltraViolence symbolizes revenge.

Steve Starr stands next to the stool.

Steve Starr: UltraViolence 2010 provides a stepping stone for a return to greatness.

Castor V. Strife sits down on the stool.

Castor V. Strife: It is the show where realizations are made inevitable.

Emilio Rage plops down.

Emilio Rage: It is the show where second chances come to light.

Vangelus Olsig sits down on the stool and glares at the camera with the heart of a lion. He says nothing.

All of the voices come together in a weird harmony.

"UltraViolence is a show where all the rules are thrown out."

"The boundaries of violence are pushed to their utmost limits."

"Ruthlessness is the name of the game."

"Bodies will be broken."

"Blood will be spilled."

"Legends will be made."

"And legacies will fall."

"All in the name of UltraViolence."

A rapid fire series of images show all the competitors in tonight's festivities: Shawn Hart, Skylar Montgomery, Steve Starr, Tchu, Hush, Boda, Elise Ares, Garbage Bag Johnny, Emilio Rage, Castor V. Strife, and Vangelus Olsig.

The red backdrop fades away. The next shot scene is a wide span shot from the top of the entrance ramp. A loud wave of pyrotechnics introduce those in the American Airlines Center to UltraViolence.

Multiple cameras scan the crowd and give certain fans a few milliseconds of fame. No doubt a lot of the people in attendance have DVRd this event at home and will be looking to boast to their friends about being caught on camera.

A few signs get prominent airtime.

"Vangelus Olsig...Have I ever told you that yourrrrrr my emoooooo"

"I came here to see WCW"

"Where is Ian English? That fucker owes me 20 bucks."

And with that, the camera pans over to the announcers table where Nick Stuart and Richard Parker sit. Parker is the more enthusiastic of the bunch, pretending to stack papers in a rough fashion. Stuart is stoic, a professional look on his face. He's been doing this for a while, but once the show gets going his emotions will kick into another gear.

Nick: Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to UltraViolence 2010!

Richard: Now in 3-D!

Richard puts on 3-D glasses and stares into the camera.

Richard: Amazing, your penis somehow got smaller.

Nick: Lovely to be back on Pay-Per-View isn't it Richard?

Richard: Oh yeah.

Nick: Tonight, we have five matches for you and they are surely to be pretty significant in changing the landscape of PRIME.

Richard: Meaning that they will do absolutely nothing for my boner.

Nick: Three Championship matches, and folks we are guaranteed to have a new Universal Champion by the end of the night.

Richard: Welcome the Hollywood Era of PRIME. Castor V. Strife for Universal Champion. The campaign starts right here, baby.

Nick: We've got four matches to get to before that, though. The opening contest will feature three up and comers in PRIME, one making his return to the ring after quite some time. Steve Starr will take on Shawn Hart and Skylar Montgomery in a Triple Threat Match.

Richard: Avant-garde to the max, baby. I've gotta go Sky for the W there.

Nick: The second contest features a match issued by Devin Shakur on ReVolution 224, and is solely based on his hatred for Tchu.

Richard: I hate that little prick too.

Nick: Hush, the third place finisher for the New Era portion of the Born Again bracket, takes on the Intense Champion. But fans, it is possible Tchu won't make it to the match as the Intense Champion, because Devin Shakur placed a 24/7 rule on his head. Anybody, anytime can try to pin Tchu and take the Championship.

Richard: I've got some business to take care of.

Nick: Yeah, right.

Richard: Ok...BUT MAYBE I DO!

Nick: Although, if someone pins Tchu prior to the contest, Devin Shakur has ordered that the person must compete in the match against Hush. So if someone goes after Tchu, they better make it count and not turn the ambush into an actual match.

Richard: I'm sure there are plans of action as we speak.

Nick: Then...The third match of the evening. Boda will take on his mystery assailant and I'm being told we'll delve into that momentarily.

Richard: Boda for President.

Nick: The sub-Main Event of the evening features Elise Ares defending her 5 Star Championship against Garbage Bag Johnny. The Commissioner of GCW will be trying to gain PRIME gold.

Richard: I somehow doubt Ares is going to come in here without a bag loaded with tricks. She'll be able to come out on top.

Nick: And in the Main Event, Emilio Rage, the Stalwart Winner, Castor Strife, the New Era winner, and Vangelus Olsig, the Dual Halo winner, will square off in a Triple Threat match. No countouts. No disqualifications. The man who gets the first pinfall or submission will be declared the new Universal Champion.

Richard: Tonight, we finally find out who’s been targeting Boda.

Nick: Indeed. But that’s if Boda even makes it to the show? After all... He kidnapped someone two weeks ago.

Richard: Come on. He grabbed the man that was stalking him for months. Boda deserves to unveil that sick person on his terms. Besides… Look at the monitor.

The PRIMEView lights up with the words ‘EARLIER TONIGHT’. The words fade out and we see a oncoming view of a Ford Expedition entering what looks to be the backstage garage area of the American Airline Center. The SUV comes to a stop.

And sits there……

And sits there……

And sits... nope, the driver side door opens and out steps the near 7 foot tall monster, Boda. Turning to face the camera in his presence, Boda smiles that evil smile he possesses. Boda shoves the camera out of his face as he walks to the back of the black SUV.

Muffled screams comes from within the rear of the Expedition.

Opening the hatch of the SUV Boda reaches inside and pulls out the man he took hostage 2 weeks ago. The mystery person is still clad in all black, his face not seen.

Boda: "Tonight, tonight I will go medieval on your ass. No one... And I mean no one pulls that shit on me and gets away with it... You wanted to make a name for yourself tonight... Well... here’s your name tag."

With the explosive power only Boda possesses, he lays a quick overhead right hook into the person.

Boda: "That’s keep you quiet till I’m ready to let you talk."

The former PRIME champion throws the man over his shoulders, in a fireman’s carry, and makes his way into the Americans Airline Center as the video package ends and Richard and Nick take over.

Nick: Why hasn’t Boda been arrested for taking that person hostage?

Richard: I don’t know, and I don’t care... All I care about, is tonight, Boda will reveal who the person is that’s harassed and embarrassed him for the past month.

Shawn Hart stands in the corner, ready for his match when...

THE LIGHTS IN THE ARENA GO DEAD.

Blackness.

Darkness.

However you want to put it, it persisted.

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

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

Skylar Montgomery.

Arena fades to black once more. There's mostly silence until "I'm Back" by T.I ripples through the PA system bringing the fans to their feet. There is an emphasis on the following lyrics:

I know in the lead it may seem he might be,
But no matter what they doing, they don't do it like me,
Like a G I hold it down for the town I'm at,
And I flash like that,
Recognize I'M BACK!
Strike a Match Catch a Fire

BOOM!

A titanic pyro erupts and a sweat drenched Steve Starr appears. He walks down to the ring quickly, not acknowledging the surrounding rabid fans around him. He's in a zone, focused solely on the upcoming bout. As he prepares to enter the ring, he hops onto the apron and then hops over the top rope, sort of a ritual. He walks over to one turnbuckle, stretches out a bit and prepares to go to work.

Nick: Nice welcome for Steve Starr there.

Richard: I thought he died.

Nick: You're really something, you know that.

Richard: Yes, and it is about time that you did.

All three men slowly circle each other in the ring. The bell sounds and immediately Hart and Starr charge Montgomery who jumps back out the ring and to the floor. The crowd boos as Montgomery taps the side of his head and walks around ringside looking very pleased with himself.

Nick: Didn't take long for Skylar to show his cowardice, did it?

Richard: Cowardice? The man's a genius. All he has to do is let Starr and Hart tire themselves out before sliding in for the kill. It's a sound strategy.

Nick: It's a cop out.

Skylar signals to Hart and Starr to get to it. Hart starts mouthing off to Montgomery, but Starr grabs him in a school boy roll up from behind.

1…..


2…


RAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!

Nick: Shawn Hart kicks out!

Richard: Strange, he looks like the type of guy that would lay down and take it...

Nick: I'm going to go ahead and stop you right there.

Montgomery is furious. He slides in the ring and charges Starr, who takes him over in a deep arm drag. Montgomery pops off the mat and Hart gets him with a hip toss. The Protagonist is up again and is arm dragged by Starr again, he staggers against the ropes and both Starr and Hart nail him in the chest with drop kicks that send Montgomery backwards over the top rope and to the floor!

Nick: Looks like the fans aren't the only ones that don't like Skylar Montgomery.

Richard: People tend to envy someone of higher stature.

Nick: Skylar's in a class all his own alright.

Richard: Don't try to jump on the bandwagon now, Nick.

Nick: I wasn't... You know what, forget about it.

Starr points at Montgomery and goes to dive through the ropes, but Hart blindsides him with a stiff forearm shot to the side of the head and then whips him off the ropes and nails him with a spinning heel kick.

1…..


2….


Nick: And now Starr kicks out!

On the outside Montgomery is up and looking dazed, he gets on the ring apron as Hart whips Starr into the ropes, but he nails Montgomery with a back elbow sending him down to the floor again, Hart charges Starr and he back drops him over the top rope and onto Montgomery to a big crowd reaction! Starr then points to his two opponents on the floor to a big crowd pop before hitting the opposite ropes and then diving through the middle and top rope with a suicidal elbow drop that knocks both Montgomery and Hart to the floor!! The crowd goes nuts for Starr who hops to his feet and yells in triumph. He grabs Hart and nails him with some European uppercuts to the chest, before chopping him a few times and then whipping him into the steel guard rail with some serious force! Starr then rolls Montgomery back into the ring and then makes the cover on him...

1….


2….


Nick: And now Montgomery kicks out!

Richard: Steve's been out of the game too long if he thinks that's going to win him a match. It's not like we're back in eighty nine where a leg drop could win you a match.

Starr lands some forearms to the side of the head and then goes for a suplex, but Montgomery nails him with right hands to the ribs, before slamming a hard knee into Steve's midsection. He then whips him off the ropes and goes for a big boot, but Starr ducks it and then chops Montgomery in the chest a few times backing him against the ropes. He goes to whip Sky off the ropes, but the Imaginary Man reverses it. Starr hits the ropes and leaps with a flying forearm shot to the face of Skymont to a big pop. Starr makes the cover...

1……


2…..


Nick: Montgomery kicks out in time! This match has started out at a frantic pace with Steve Starr looking like he is in the best shape of his PRIME career. He's had the upper hand since the opening bell and Hart is still down on the floor.

Richard: It's early still, don't wet your pants. Montgomery is playing Starr perfectly, let him tire himself out early, then use his superior intelligence to walk out of here with a victory.

Nick: Here comes Shawn Hart!

Hart is back on the ring apron and he is brought into the ring by Starr, but as he does so Hart gets in a low blow behind the referee's back to some huge crowd heat and he then drops Starr with two knee strikes to the head and a swinging neckbreaker. As Starr clutches at his head, Hart and Montgomery agree on teaming up against Starr and the two start putting the boots into Starr big time as the crowd boo mightily.

Nick: It seems the numbers game is catching up to Starr.

Richard: I told you Skylar had a plan. He knew the outcome of this match as soon as it was announced.

Hart picks Starr up and whips him off the ropes before dropping him with a drop kick to the face. Montgomery nods his head in appreciation before lifting Starr up and whipping him off the ropes, catching him with a flying shoulder tackle on the return! The two men then take turns suplexing Starr, before Hart whips Starr into the corner and nails him with a double knee strike to the chest. Montgomery follows up by sprinting at Starr and nailing him with a running European uppercut!

Nick: Shawn Hart and Skylar Montgomery sure have turned this match around.

Richard: They look like they've been teaming together for years.

Nick: You may be the only one enjoying this.

The crowd are all over Montgomery and Hart as they again put the boots into Starr while he is down. Montgomery drags Starr up and plants him with a back drop driver as Hart comes off the middle rope with a knee drop right to Starr's chest!! Montgomery is laughing, talking trash to the fans and walking around the ring like he won this match three seconds ago. Unfortunately, he didn't. Hart throws the battered Starr to the floor, then rolls Montgomery into a school boy roll up from behind...

1……


2….

Nick: Montgomery just kicks out in time! Hart caught Skylar off guard right there.

Richard: Hart couldn't catch a cold if someone coughed in his face.

Montgomery leaps to his feet looking seriously pissed, but Hart is waiting with an inside cradle...

1…..


2….


Nick: Skylar Montgomery with another kick...Shawn Hart just rolled through with a sunset flip and...

1…..


2….

Nick: Shawn Hart with another near fall!

Richard: This is what Skylar calls the apex. The tides will change here in a bit, and Shawn Hart is going to wish he didn't even show up to the match.

Skylar gets to his feet just as Hart charges, but Montgomery uses his power against him and turns it into a wicked tilt-a-whirl backbreaker. The crowd is booing as Montgomery wails away on Hart with kicks, stomps and punches. He lifts him up and whips him into the corner, then follows in with a wicked shoulder tackle to the mid section. SkyMont continues to ram his shoulder into Hart's gut over and over before sending him flying across the ring with a belly to belly over head suplex. Skylar rushes over and drops down, hooking Hart's leg as he makes the cover.

1…..


2….

Nick: Hart gets his shoulder up!

Montgomery signals that the match is over and lifts Hart up, putting him in a stunner position to hit 'The Skunkbuzz'. He starts to lift Hart up, but Shawn fires off with some right hands that stagger Montgomery toward the ropes. Hart then clotheslines Montgomery over the top rope to the outside as he himself lands on the apron. Starr is up and bleeding from the mouth but he nails Montgomery with a running elbow strike before planting his face with a double arm DDT on the floor. Just as Starr gets to his feet in triumph, Hart leaps onto the top rope and springboards back with a twisting summersault plancha that wipes both men out to a huge crowd reaction.

Nick: Wow what a match! The twists and turns in this one just keeping coming. Starr starts out like a house on fire. Then Montgomery and Hart team up to take him out! Then Hart turns on Montgomery before getting a serious hurt put on him! And now all three men are down on the outside and this crowd is going nuts! This is what UltraViolence is all about!

Richard: Skylar had Hart beaten there but...but he cheated, somehow! At least that moron Starr is down as well!! Come on Skylar, show Shipley what he's missing out on!

With all three men down on the outside the crowd begin to stamp their feet as Hart slowly gets to his feet. He is up first and grabs Starr and rolls him into the ring. Hart climbs onto the ring apron and then vaults in with a twisting elbow drop and makes the cover.

1……


2….

Nick: Starr kicks out, and this crowd is going really getting behind the veteran here.

Hart picks Starr up and nails him with a right hand, but Starr responds with one of his own! Right hand from Hart, right hand in reply from Starr! The two trade over twenty right hands, until Starr gets the advantage and backs Hart into the corner. He whips him into the opposite corner but Hart hops onto the middle turnbuckle and leaps back at Starr; who is waiting with a brutal superkick to the face! Hart is down, but Starr doesn't wait and heaves him up before planting him with a t-bone suplex! He hauls Hart back up and hits a release German suplex into the turnbuckles!

Nick: Starr is on fire here, Richard!

Richard: He's just lucky Skylar called kings.

Steve drags Hart up and heaves him over with a Tiger suplex with a bridge.

1…….


2…..

Nick: NO!

At the last possible second, Montgomery dives back in and breaks up the pin attempt.

Richard: What did I tell you.

The crowd can't believe it, but Starr is still on the offensive, he nails Montgomery with forearms shots and chops to the chest before dropping Montgomery with a drop toe hold. He quickly moves in for the kill, locking Skylar in a cobra clutch, then rolling to the side into a cobra stretch. Montgomery is bent right back and looks in tremendous pain, as Starr cranks on the hold as hard as he can. The Imaginary Hand is just above the mat, and he looks ready to tap, but he is able to gut it out and twist his body around to get his foot on the ropes and stop the submission attempt.

Nick: Close call for your buddy there.

Richard: He was in control the entire time.

With Montgomery hurting, Starr turns back to Hart and looks to set him up for a German suplex, but Hart gets a standing switch. He swings back a leg looking for a lowblow, but Starr has it scouted and moves to the side. Steve catches Hart around the back of the head with an enziguri that staggers him. Starr then runs to the corner and hops onto the middle - then top rope - before leaping backwards and landing in a seated position on Hart's shoulder's before snapping him over with a hurricanrana.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Starr gets to his feet just as Montgomery charges in. Steve catches Skylar with a kick to the gut, grabs him by the head and plants him face first with a sit out facebuster.

Nick: That's the Starr Factor, Richard!

Richard: No! No! NO! NO! NO!

Steve kips up and points to the corner, and the crowd goes wild! He rushes to the corner and hops up to the top turnbuckle, pointing straight at Hart before leaping into the air with a backflip.

Nick: STARRY NIGHTS! STEVE STARR JUST HIT THE STARRY NIGHTS ON SHAWN HART!

Richard: GET UP SKYMONT!

Starr clutches at his mid section as he drapes an arm over Hart's chest.

1.....


2......


Richard: YEEESSSSS! SKYLAR MONTGOMERY WITH THE SAVE!

Nick: SON OF A.......




*DING* *DING* *DING*




Richard: WHAT THE HELL!

Nick: HE DIDN'T MAKE IT ON TIME! STEVE STARR JUST MADE HIS TRIUMPHANT RETURN TO PRIME!

Richard: Who's reffing this match, Koman Coulibaly?

Nick: I don't know who that is, but I can tell you that it wouldn't have mattered in this match. Steve Starr just proved that an old dog can teach the young pups some new tricks, and Skylar Montgomery looks livid.

Richard: I'd hardly call Shawn Hart a young pup.

Nick: I was talking about Skylar.

Richard: I'm surprised you had Starr's nuts out of your mouth long enough to say anything.

Devin Shakur is sitting on pins and needles, a bit infuriated after having watched the opening contest. He doesn't feel the competitors in the match gave enough effort to keep some of the fans interested. He can already hear the phones ringing in his head, voices on the other end demanding refunds. He will certainly have a talk with all three wrestlers once the night is over, lambasting them about how to properly open a show. He knows about such a thing, since once upon a time he was an expert in that field.

Wait, he was a champion within his tenth ReVolution. Well, he'll just yell at them.

Instead of the usual side antics going on with Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas and Christian Daniels, Matt Mills has taken the place of Dam. The Coolest Cat in PRIME decided to embark on his actual security duties and turned down The Biker's standing offer for their card game. They still have some side bets on the World Series of Poker which is currently going on. Christian is really enjoying his pick of John Juanda in the overall betting pool. He'll certainly be taking some coin from Mills, Dam, Shakur, and a few others on the roster who won't admit their gambling addictions on screen.

Mills and Daniels are engaging in a game of No Limit Seven Card Stud. Daniels is infuriating the longtime interviewer by shoving all his chips forward whenever he has an ace or king showing. Mills is forced to fold unless he has a respectable pair. Most women will attest he doesn't.

A knock on the door interrupts the poker game, giving Mills a brief respite and chance to look down at his CrackBerry to see how much is left in his poker bank account. The figure doesn't tickle his fancy and he lets out an audible sigh. The Boss in Black barely looks up from his state of signing over papers and spinning a pen between his fingers.

Christian throws open the door and expects to find some intimidated delivery boy standing there with an envelope or some sort of package.

He finds nothing of the sort. The Biker glances down the hall both ways and goes around the corner, ignoring the box he kicked across the narrow corridor. Nobody is there. It's like the person delivered the box and then vanished into thin air.

Upon walking back toward the office, Daniels then looks down and notices the box. He gives a frown and picks up the box, putting a bit more effort into holding the box than he would like to. Inside, he finds a few strange items and places the box on his left shoulder before shutting the door. The Biker walks over to Shakur's desk and drops the box in front of him. Shakur glances up when his desk almost breaks in half.

Devin Shakur: I see now why you aren't in the delivery business.

Christian Daniels: Doubt'was fer me, neway.

Devin Shakur: What the hell is it, and why did it almost break my damn desk?

The Biker and Boss in Black simultaneously look down in the box and observe the items.

An anvil.

A hunting knife.

A pair of BFF bracelets.

Both men are perplexed.

Devin Shakur: Who in the hell dropped something like this off?

Christian Daniels: Ain't see'em. Want me'ta put Dam on'tha case?

Devin Shakur: No, but I want someone to get this stupid thing off my desk.

Christian Daniels: Mills, do yer damn job'n help out'tha boss.

Matt Mills gets up from his comfortable chair and strolls over to Shakur's desk. He wraps his arms around the box and lifts up, letting out a massive grunt while placing it on the ground.

Shakur pretends to ignore the contents on the box and the small inscription on his side that Christian didn't look at.

Christian Daniels: So ya wan'let'it go?

Devin Shakur: For now, but keep an eye on things.

Christian Daniels: Gotcha.

The small inscription read 'Box of Your Stuff'

Shakur sits there with his poker face and ponders who could have sent such a box to him. It wasn't Sunny, she wouldn't drop and run.

So who is it?

PRIME Hall of Famer, The Inhuman Being, moves his Intense Championship from atop his gym bag. Rummaging through his belongings, he starts to pull out all the essentials of a professional wrestling career. Trunks, boots, knee pads, wrist tape. They are the garbs of war. And in a few moments, the man who has achieved more accolades over the course of his 5 years in PRIME than any other superstar, will dawn his battle gear.

The thought of another night, another match, starts to fill his mind. He begins to picture the action in the middle of the ring.

Given his current status, it is a mistake. Preparation for a battle that has already begun.

While Tchu begins to separate the articles, a violent blow from behind knocks his elbow pad from his hands.

Nick: What the hell is he doing?! This match hasn’t started yet!

Richard: Doesn’t have to wait for the bell, or their spot on the card, or any of that garbage. 24 – 7 rules for the Intense title so long as Tchu is champion.

And Hush, #1 contender to the Intense Title, is fully aware of that mandate handed down by PRIME top dog, Devin Shakur. Tchu is sent tumbling to the cold, concrete floor of his locker room, courtesy of an assault that’s come about an hour before the scheduled title defense.

Nick: Tchu isn’t even dressed to wrestle!

Richard: T-shirt and jeans are good enough. Besides, this isn’t necessarily a wrestling match. It’s a fight! Intense Championship, pal!

PRIME referee, Bernie Roberts, the closest official to the scene, immediately comes sprinting down the hall towards Tchu’s locker room. Hush wastes no time in capitalizing on his early, unscheduled advantage. As Tchu scurries to his feet, Hush grabs the Intense Title from the mess of the champ’s belongings and smashes the belt into the back of its owner’s skull.

Nick: Right to the back of the head!

Richard: This may be one of the shortest matches in PRIME history.

Hush drops the belt and rolls Tchu onto his back, making the pin.

ONE…





TWO…





T…

Nick: Kickout by Tchu!

Hush goes back to the attack, pulling Tchu off the floor and shoving him face-first into the wall. Tchu bounces back in almost comical fashion, straight into a back suplex that leaves him smacking across the unforgiving floor of the locker room.

Nick: This is entirely unfair! Tchu wasn’t even ready for this… he was just starting to gather up his wrestling gear. He coulda been in the middle of some pre-match meditation.

Richard: Yeah, guy really strikes me as the meditating type. And this is absolutely fair. Last week on ReV, with the attack at Chuck E. Cheese’s… maybe not so much. But Ward had his warning then, and he knew at that moment, he would have to be on his toes at all times. That’s exactly what twenty-four-seven is all about. And it makes for exciting, unexpected television. Sorta like this.

Hush could go for the pin, but opts instead to leave the locker room, heading out into the corridor. He makes his way over to a table covered in cables and equipment. With a swipe of the arms, he clears the table and begins to drag it back towards Tchu’s locker room. The Inhuman Being, having regained his senses, meets Hush halfway with a stiff right to the jaw.

A second shot follows, then a third. Grabbing Hush by the back of the head, The Inhuman Being slams his opponent face first into the table. As Hush bounces off, Tchu grabs him and throws him straight into the wall of the hallway. Then back to the table, then face-first into the wall again.

Nick: And now the fight is on! Tchu is pinballing his challenger back and forth across the hall.

At the end of the table, Hush tries to fight back, swinging with a big right, but PRIME's Wrecking Ball ducks under the shot, and now it is his turn to execute a back suplex. Only the Hall of Famer doesn't drop Hush on his shoulders and neck. Tchu heaves Hush up and over, releasing at the apex, sending his opponent flipping through the air. Hush lands on his face and stomach, crashing down length-wise on the table. It doesn't break, but the legs buckle, causing the table to collapse to the floor. The impact jars Hush's body, bouncing him off and rolling him onto his back. The Inhuman Being drops down and hooks a leg, making the cover in the narrow hall.

ONE






TWO






THR...

Hush fires a shoulder off the ground at the last moment.

Richard: I'm guessing this was not how this was supposed to go down. Hush was supposed to be our new Intense Champion by this point.

Walking over to the mess of cables and equipment that Hush had shoved off the table's surface, Tchu grabs a long piece of wire and marches over to his opponent. As Hush rolls back over onto his stomach, Tchu leans down and wraps the cord around Hush's throat. Looping it around once more for good measure, Tchu drops a knee into the lower spine of Hush and wrenches back with the cable.

Nick: And now the Ihuman Being is in firm control, rearing back and choking the life out of Hush with that cable!

Richard: He better be careful or he's gonna get himself AmDrag'd.

Nick: ...

Tchu continues to pull back, the wire tightening around Hush's throat, and though it's all perfectly legal under Intense rules, Bernie Roberts still tries to convince Tchu to break the hold on moral grounds. The pleas are lost on a man who's earned the nickname "Inhuman Being"

Nick: Hush has got to find a way to break the hold...

Richard: choke

Nick:...before he loses consciousness!

Frantically, Hush starts flailing his arms, reaching out to fins something, anything, that can save him. Eventually, his fingers find a small piece of steel tubing. probably used in bracing under the ring. Pulling the tube towards him, he finally gets a firm grip. Lunging over his head, he stabs wildly, but his target is easy to find. The rod jabs right into Tchu's shoulder, causing the Intense Champion to release his hold.

Richard: Thank God! No wonder our boss doesn't like this guy. Who wants their champion walking around trying to kill a guy?

Nick: Do we really want to get into some of the things Devin Shakur has done on PRIME televsion? Pot. Kettle. Black.

Richard: Bah.

Tchu stumbles away, clutching at his shoulder, checking for a puncture wound. Meanwhile, Hush untangles the cable from around his neck and struggles to regain his breath. After a moment, he climbs to his feet and stalks after the champion. When Tchu turns around, his ribs are greeted with a baseball swing. The steel rod practically bends around Tchu's torso from the force of the blow.

Richard: Hoooommmeee Ruuuuuuuuunnn!

With the Inhuman Being doubled over, Hush wraps his arm around Tchu's head and drives him into the concrete floor with a DDT.

Nick: Good. Night.

For the second time, Hush makes the cover, looking to win the Intense title and make short work of Tchu's twenty-four-seven nightmare.

ONE...






TWO...







THRE...

Nick: Kickout!

Richard: We were about a tenth a second away from a new champ.

Hush pulls Tchu to his feet with two fistfuls of hair and marches him down the hall. With an Irish whip, he sends the Hall of Fame into a nearby vending Machine. Tchu bounces off, and turns, where he is met with a huge roaring elbow.

Richard: An even bigger swing than he took with that steel pipe!

Nick: He nearly took off the champ's head with that one.

Hush again peels Tchu off the floor. Grabbing hold of Tchu's shirt sleeve, and with his other hand on Tchu's belt, Hush sends the Inhuman Being barreling head-first into the vending machine again. This time, Tchu's skull and shoulder bust straight through the face. Plastic pieces splinter off as the champion collides with the cold guts of the machine.

Nick: Good Lord!

Richard: Pepsi is gonna be pissed!

With a fistful of shirt, Hush pulls Tchu from the inside of the machine and fires off a series of snap kicks to the injured ribs of the former two-time Universal Champion. As Tchu doubles over a bit, clutching his sides, a rising kick snaps Tchu back to vertical, a roundhouse cracks his jaw and knocks him clean off his feet.

Nick: What a series of kicks... and now Hush goes for the cover.

ONE...






TWO...






THRE...


Nick: Another kickout!

Richard: C'mon!

Hush goes back on the attack, delivering a series of blows as the two men fight down the various halls and corridors backstage of the American Airlines Center. For a moment, the two men exchange punches, eventually fighting their away around a corner and out from behind the entrance set for UltraViolence.

RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!

The crowd roars as the two superstars spill out in front of the crowd for the first time.

Nick: And now the actions heading our way!

Tchu gains the advantage and executes an overhead belly to belly suplex.

Nick: Good God! Tchu just tossed Hush halfway up the entrance way!

Richard: That's a good way to cover a lot of ground fast.

The Inhuman Being follows up the aisle, not giving Hush a moment to recover. Bernie Roberts jogs toward the ring, following the warfare.

Tchu grabs Hush by the arm and drags him toward the square circle. An Irish whip sends Hush charging forward, and though there is no vending machine waiting to halt his progress, there are a set of steel steps. Hush hits shoulder first, dislodging the top section from the bottom.

Nick: I'm not sure how after being driven head first through a vending machine, then spiked into the concrete with a DDT... but Tchu managed to turn the tides in his favor as the two men battled out from backstage.

Richard: He probably cheated.

Nick: How do you cheat in a match with no rules?

Grabbing the top half of the ring steps, Tchu waits for Hush to climb to his feet and rushes forward, crushing the massive steps into his opponent's face.

CLANG

Nick: That could be heard through the entire arena!

Tchu drops to the mats and hooks a leg as Bernie Roberts is quick to move into position.

ONE...








TWO...








THRE...

Richard: Not this time!

Hush gets his shoulder up at two and a half, showing a nice bit of resiliency. Tchu looks to connect with a second shot, but as soon as Hush is to his feet, he drops right back down, ducking under the charging champion. The steps connect with the ring post and send a jolt through Tchu's body. Hush moves in and executes a German suplex, smashing Tchu's upper back and neck onto the thin protective mats around ringside.

Marching over to the timekeepers table, Hush grabs a steel chair, stirring the crowd.

Nick: You know he has bad intentions with that.

Sure enough, as Tchu starts to push himself to his feet, Hush brings the chair down across his spine. The crack echoes through the building, then is followed by another. The second shot sends Tchu collapsing back to the ground. A third, fourth, fifth follow, the steel punishing the champ's torso.

Nick: What an assault by the Intense challenger.

Finally dropping the chair, Hush walks over to the lower half of the ring steps and pulls them away from the corner. Lifting them into the air, he slides them under the bottom rope and into the ring. Then he turns and does the same with the Inhuman Being, following right behind.

Richard: This match may have started back in Tchu's locker room, but Hush is going to end it right here in the middle of the squared circle.

Hush picks up the steps and hoists them up overhead. Trudging towards his fallen opponent, he prepares to drives the steps down, squashing the Inhuman Being like an insect. But, as he approaches, Tchu fires off a quick kick to the right knee. Hush's leg buckles and Tchu rolls out of the way as the steps drive into the canvas, Hush falling, his jaw cracking down on the edge of the steps.

RRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!

The crowd roars to life as the momentum swings back in favor of the Hall of Famer.

Nick: What a heads up play!

The Inhuman Being climbs to his feet and peels off his shirt, drawing cheers and whistles from all the female fans, and maybe a couple of guys who swing that way.

Richard: What the hell is he taking his shirt off for?

Nick: That's what professional wrestlers do, Richard. Tell ya the truth, if I was built like that, I'd probably never wear a shirt.

The Inhuman Being waits for Hush to climb to his feet, and when he does, a massive spinebuster plants Hush right back into the mat.

Nick: Spinebuster! And the ring ropes are shaking from the impact of that one.

With the crowd roaring, Tchu grabs Hush and yanks him to his feet. Wrapping his arms around Hush's waist, Tchu lifts his challenger into the air, rotates him 90 degrees and drives him down across the steel ring steps with a gutwrench powerbomb.

Nick: BROKEN SOUL! My God... on the steel steps! There is absolutely no give in those. Hush may be dead!

Tchu drags Hush's lifeless body off the steps and makes the cover, hooking both legs for good measure. Bernie Roberts goes to work and makes the count.

ONE...








TWO...








THREE!

'DING DING DING'

YYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: He got him!

Richard: I don't believe this.

"I Fucking Hate you" roars through the American Airlines Center as the fans jump to their feet.

Vince Howard: Ladies and Gentlemen, your winner of the match... and STILL Intense Chaaaammmmpppiiioooonnnn.... TCCCHHHHUUUUUUUUUU!

A stagehand comes rushing down the aisle, having retrieved the championship belt. He slides it into the ring, and Bernie Roberts hands it to its rightful owner.

Nick: It was a helluva fight. To be honest, there were a couple of moments where I thought for sure Hush had won this thing, but at the end of the night, Tchu has yet again survived this twenty-four-seven anywhere, anytime rule implemented solely for his title reign!

The Inhuman Being stands in the middle of the ring, holding his championship high above his head as the fans roar, fighting with the sounds of Godsmack's "I Fucking Hate You"

Devin Shakur has gone from being angry to downright irate. The Boss in Black figured the incentive of making the 24/7 rule on Intense Champion Tchu would spark interest amongst the roster and give someone the motivation to take The Inhuman Being down before the Pay-Per-View. Nobody decided to step up. Shakur figured Hush, being the silent assassin that he is, would be capable of handling someone like Tchu with such a precision based offense. Shakur thought wrong yet again.

The Boss in Black slams a fist through the mahogany wood and slides a plethora of office supplies off the table. He wanted to send Tchu off into the sunset in one of the most degrading manners ever done to a superstar, but now he won't get that luxury, at least not for a while. Now, whenever the two superstars pass in the hallway, Shakur is going to have to eat some crow. He already put Tchu as one of the top people to deal with on the PRIME roster, and now he's going to have to find someone else to dispose of the still Intense Champion.

Meanwhile, over in the corner, Matt Mills is emptying out his jean pockets of the little remaining change left. He didn't have enough to cover the last bet made against Christian, but The Biker is being a nice guy and letting him off with whatever is in his pocket. The interviewer hopes Shakur or Daniels will pony up enough money to let him get a limousine ride to the hotel, or at least give him a twenty for a taxi. The likelihood, however, is not high and he should be contacting someone on the crew for a ride home in their trunk.

Devin Shakur: I'm getting sick and tired of putting faith in people who can't convert. Hush was supposed to be the ace in the hole, and he comes up short. What am I going to have to do to get this miserable old geezer to quit?

Christian Daniels: I could go'n handle it fer ya.

Devin Shakur: No, although that would be a nice gesture, if anybody from the front office is going to handle removing the Championship from Tchu's shoulder, it's going to be me. Hoyt knows it would be nice to hold the Intense strap for the third time.

Matt Mills: Why don't you put on some music? Perhaps that'll calm you down.

Christian Daniels: Why'oncha keep emptyin them pockets, punk, or I'ma stuff ya'n'da damn locker'n lock'ya up until'tha next time PRIME does'a show here.

Devin Shakur: No, the little twerp does have a point.

Mills shows a smile.

Devin Shakur: Still keep emptying your pockets though.

Matt Mills: You guys are nothing but card sharks.

Devin Shakur: Go to rehab for your problems and stop trying to win it all back.

Shakur slams his feet onto the desk and flicks a button on a remote control, activating the speakers in the room. He'll perhaps listen to some smooth jazz and calm his nerves.

For the first few seconds, Shakur hears nothing. It's not unlike a jazz song to start off slowly but Shakur pressed a button for music to start right away.

A guitar rift gets louder and louder and louder before the chiming of drums mingles in and makes a weird beat.

A beat Christian Daniels recognizes all too well.

Christian Daniels: Reload, Metallica, finally ya done come round'ntha music thing, eh?

Devin Shakur: I didn't put this in my system.

Shakur pushes a button to make the music stop and then hits another button. A different button.

"I look at you, then you me"
"Hungry and thirsty are we"

Devin Shakur: What the crap?

Christian Daniels: Liar. I knew ya were a fan.

Devin Shakur: I'M NOT DOING THIS!

Shakur hits the Off button once again, waits five seconds, and then hits a third button.

"Holding the lion's share"
"Holding the key"

Devin Shakur: Ok, what the hell?

"Holding me back cause I'm striving to be..."

Christian does a headbang.

"BETTER THAN YOU (BETTER THAN YOU)"
"BETTER THAN YOU (BETTER THAN YOU)"

Shakur gives The Biker a double take.

Devin Shakur: Is this your idea of a practical joke?

Daniels holds his hands up in a defensive manner.

Christian Daniels: I'm just enjoyin'a tune, brother.

Shakur flips off the switch again and opens up a drawer on the desk, which shows him all the songs on his iPod.

The iPod is his, has his name written on it, and is encased in his custom cover, but all of the songs have been changed to "Better Than You" by Metallica.

Shakur slams the remote down.

Someone is playing a bunch of fickle but effective mind games with The Boss in Black.

The arena lights dim down, engulfing the fans in darkness. The opening of 'Remedy' by Seether hits.

"Throw your dollar bills and leave your thrills all here with me
And speak but don't pretend I won't defend you anymore you see
It aches in every bone, I'll die alone, but not for you
My eyes don't need to see that ugly thing, I know it's me you fear
If you want me hold me back"

A series of white pyro explode from the ring posts lighting up the arena momentarily……

Richard: Well we’re about to find out the identity of the person responsible for tormenting Boda for the last month or so.

"Frail, the skin is dry and pale, the pain will never fail
And so we go back to the remedy
Clip the wings that get you high, just leave them where they lie
And tell yourself, "You'll be the death of me"

Some more pyro lights up the arena………

Nick: We all saw what happened at the last ReVolution when Boda walked in on the person ‘responsible’.

"I don't need a friend, I need to mend so far away
So come sit by the fire and play a while, but you can't stay too long
It aches in every bone, I'll die alone, but not for pleasure
I see my heart explode, it's been eroded by the weather here
If you want me hold me back"

In the shadows of the pyros, Boda appears on the ramp, with the mystery person draped over his shoulders.

"Frail, the skin is dry and pale, the pain will never fail
And so we go back to the remedy
Clip the wings that get you high, just leave them where they lie
And tell yourself, "You'll be the death of me"
Frail, the skin is dry and pale, the pain will never fail
And so we go back to the remedy
Clip the wings that get you high, just leave them where they lie
And tell yourself, "You'll be the death of me"

Two sets of pyros shoot down from the rafters to the stage at the top of the ramp…..

Nick: And earlier tonight, we saw Boda drag that person into the arena.

Vince Howard: From Orlando Florida, weighing in at 325 pounds and standing 6'11.......

"Hold your eyes closed, take me in
Hold your eyes closed, take me in"

As "Remedy" by Seether fades out, the lights come back on, simultaneously with a thunder of pyros from the stage……

"Frail, the skin is dry and pale, the pain will never fail
And so we go back to the remedy
Clip the wings that get you high, just leave them where they lie
And tell yourself, "You'll be the death of me"
Frail, the skin is dry and pale, the pain will never fail
And so we go back to the remedy
Clip the wings that get you high, just leave them where they lie
And tell yourself, "You'll be the death of me"

Vince Howard: He is a former Universal Champion, a legend of the squared circle... BODA!

The fans let out the loudest chorus of boos thus far as Boda walks to the ring, fireman carrying the mysterious person that’s been targeting him for weeks. The big man stops at the ringside and tosses the person into the ring like a rag doll. The black clad person rolls to the middle of the ring before stopping.

Richard: I can’t wait to see who is under that mask.

Boda walks over to Vince Howard and takes a microphone from him.

Boda: SO…

The crowd boos louder, drowning Boda out. The former champion pauses and shakes his head, waiting for the noise from the PRIME fans to die down.

Boda: Like I was saying… So... That piece of shit in the ring thought he could outsmart me? He thought he could use me to make a name for himself.

Boda climbs into the ring and stands over the person he helped to the ring.

Boda: You said two weeks ago that at UltraViolence that you’d take me for a ride. We’ll since then, you’ve taken a ride courtesy of me. And tonight… This ride will come to a crashing halt.

Reaching down, Boda pulls the person up into a choke slam position.

Richard: Shear power from Boda.

Nick: That person is helpless.

Boda walks the mystery person to the corner and leans him against the turnbuckles, propping him up. Boda stands a foot taller than his tormentor.

Boda: How’s it feel? How’s it feel to be tormented, to be a target? For the last two weeks, I extracted payback on you for what you did to me. And in mere moments… I’m going to reveal to the world the kind of scumbag you are. Now… Let’s make this match official… get a referee down here so I can kick this pussy’s ass.

Richard: Looks like Boda vs. the unnamed opponent is happening now.

Nick: This is unethical. Only Boda would stoop to wanting to face a person he’s held hostage and did only God knows what to.

One of PRIME's zebras jogs to the ring. As he climbs into the ring, he tries to convince Boda to not go on with the match. The mystery person can’t even stand on his own in the corner. Boda ignores the ref’s pleading and walks over to the corner he placed his upcoming opponent in.

Boda: Are you ready jackass? I told you I was going to go medieval on you, and now here comes the pain… take that mask off him and let me welcome him to PRIME.

Boda walks away from the man in the mask, as the referee moves in and reluctantly pulls the all black mask off to reveal the identity of the man that’s been a thorn in Boda’s side.

Richard: Who the hell is that?

Nate: I have no clue.

The crowd is quiet, not recognizing the person that was just uncloaked.

Boda turns around to charge the corner, then stops short. Looking at the unmasked stalker as if he’s seen a ghost. Boda picks up the microphone from the mat.

Boda: Rusty? It was you?

Richard: Wait… that’s Rusty, the guy that helped Boda get through his rehab two years ago.

Nick: Why would he go after Boda? He’s not a wrestler. This makes no sense. According to interviews with Boda, Rusty saved helped turn his life around when he was in rehab. I’m totally baffled.

Nick and Richard aren’t the only ones that are baffled. Boda walks towards Rusty and helps him up.

Boda: Why Rusty? Why?

Rusty: Chris… You blind sided me in your locker room two weeks ago. I was there visiting you, to surprise you.

Boda: Rusty… I don’t know what to say… I’ve been in a blind rage as of late, and really thought you were the person responsible for the mind games. But… if it wasn’t you… Who the hell was it?



The music plays and Boda literally stalks the ring back and forth waiting for something to happen. Rusty still slumps in the corner, and Boda glances back at him every few moments or so, but narrows his eyes as someone steps out onto the stage. The fans, the ones who aren’t PRIME-centric in their viewing habits… gasp.

Nick: Holy hell, I can't believe it!

Onto the stage walks "The Ego Buster" Dan Ryan. 6’7", 325 lbs. Jeans and a black sleeveless tee, microphone in his hand. The music comes to a stopping point and Ryan raises a microphone. The crowd is buzzing, and Ryan waits as they calm down a little bit.

Richard: Stewart, you look like you've just seen the ghost of your dead grandfather.

Nick: No, Richard, but if you don't know who that man is you've been living under a rock. He's not that well known in our neck of the woods but across the wrestling world as a whole Dan Ryan has seen it all and just about done it all.

Richard: You mean to tell me some stranger from the Hinterlands has been the one screwing with Boda for the past two months?

Nick: Dan Ryan doesn't just show up places without some sort of an agenda, Richard. I do know that much.

Inside the ring, Boda looks extremely agitated at the arrival of a guy he's never seen before in his life.

Boda: I don't know who you are, boy, but what gives you the right…

Dan Ryan: NO.

Boda is cut off, but gives an incredulous look to the man at the top of the ramp.

Dan Ryan: You don’t talk, boy. You’ve talked enough. You’ve talked enough to bore an entire locker room, arena, town, county and state of people… and now it’s my turn. First of all, let me attend to some business. Rusty?

Rusty perks up a bit in the corner and Boda looks back at him.

Dan Ryan: You’re free to cash your check now. Well done.

Boda snaps his head back around at Ryan as his eyes narrow and then back to Rusty again. Rusty now has a small grin on his face and shrugs his shoulders as if to say "sorry" and rolls out of the ring. Boda fumes.

Dan Ryan: Now then, back to you, Little Boda Peep. You sir, are easy. You are a very easy man to play mind games with. Clearly, detective work is not your strong point. Now I’m sure you’re wondering what the point is in all of this. We don’t have a history. I don’t even know you. I know you’re reasonably important to PRIME… or you WERE. But I figure, before I connect all the little dots for you, since you want a match so badly, you’re all worked up, and I have nothing better to do, I say… why not?

Ryan holds the microphone down by his side as Boda in the ring yells "Come on!". Ryan stares him down for a moment, smirks, then takes off on a full sprint to the ring.

He gets about five feet away from the ring and stops almost on a dime and turns his back to the ring and the former Universal Champion, then raises the mic again.

Dan Ryan: Only thing is … I’m not the one you should really be worried about.

Ryan glances over his shoulder with a smile.

Dan Ryan: She is.

TRAMPLED UNDERFOOT

LED ZEPPELIN

Richard: Hell no. Fucking HELL NO. Not her. NOT HER AGAIN!

That all-too familiar intro blasts through the American Airlines Center and the crowd roars to its feet. Black, red and gold pyro explodes from the stage as a face not seen on PRIME TV in over a year strides out from behind the curtain, looking like a sight for sore eyes.

QUEEN
OF
THE
RING

Gone is the cranberry-colored hair. Gone is the ring attire of the same color. Lindsay Troy steps out onto the stage, ever the golden child, wearing the old school "Platinum Grit Bitch Patrol" tee, tight black bootcut pants and her hair the brown, blond and red of old. The Queen of the Ring stomps down the ramp with a shit-eating grin on her face, reserved just for the Big Bad Boda Daddy.

Nick: It was never Dan Ryan at all! It was Troy! The Queen has returned and the crowd is going wild!

Richard: Things were going great, Nick. Now she's come back and it's all going to go straight to hell.

Nick: Boda. Shakur. Even Tchu, her long-time friend. Those men have been her targets. But why?

Richard: Don't ask that question, we might actually have to hear her talk to get the answer.

Troy strides past Ryan, who gives her a quick pat on the back. The duo circle the ring, eyes on Boda. Rusty's long since disappeared over the barricade and into the crowd. Boda looks like he's ready to blow a gasket in there. Ryan hops onto the apron and starts to move inbetween the ropes, which causes Boda to charge toward him. Ryan quickly hops off the apron and wags his index finger disapprovingly. With Boda distracted, Troy slides into the ring and makes a beeline for Boda.

Nick: Troy with a kick to Boda's kidneys! Tommy Giles is calling for the bell and this match is underway!

Richard: Illegal tactic! Disqualify her!

Nick: It's a Grudge Match, Richard, and if I were a betting man I'd hazard a guess that both Boda and Devin Shakur are going to want this to be a no-DQ affair!

Richard: Shak Daddy is going to kill the Queen for those pictures of him and Sun Tzu. This may end up being her shortest PRIME tenure since she first got here.

Boda reaches around to grab his lower back and swings a fist towards Troy, hoping to catch her unaware. The Queen ducks the potential blow and follows up with straight shots to Boda's ribs. Boda stumbles back towards the ropes. Troy grabs his arm and heaves him into the corner. Troy assaults Boda's chest with vicious knife-edge chops. His chest starts to turn a nasty shade of red, but that doesn't deter the Queen in the slightest. She drives a knee into Boda's midsection, doubling him over. She quickly backtracks to get a running start, then charges back towards Boda. She leaps into the air, hoping to land a flying knee to his face, but Boda catches her and dumps her hard to the outside of the ring.

Richard (laughing): WELCOME BACK, TROY!

Nick: Troy landed straight on her side. Might have had the wind knocked out of her.

Richard: I'm surprised she didn't land flat on her back. She's probably used to--

Nick: You don't want to test your luck with Dan Ryan walking over here.

The 6'7" Houston, Texas native walks purposely over to the other side of the ring, where Troy landed. Boda hops down off the apron and cuts Ryan off, jawjacking with him. Boda also manages to grab a hold of Troy's hair while he's standing by her, but what he doesn't notice is what she's got in her hand.

Troy didn't land as awkwardly as previously thought. Before Boda stepped down to meet her, she managed to fumble around under the apron to produce a kendo stick. Her body hid the discovery until Boda started to drag her up to her feet. She yanks her hair out of Boda's grip, winds up and brings the weapon down across Boda's back.



Crowd: OOOOOH!

Nick: Troy with repeated shots to Boda!

Boda now has welts on his back to match the welts on his chest. Troy moves to face Boda and lands a spinning roundhouse heel kick to the side of his face, which sends Boda to the mat. She motions to Ryan with her head to get Boda back in the right and Ryan walks over to help. They stuff Boda underneath the bottom rope and Troy climbs into the ring to make the cover.

1...

2...

Kickout!

The crowd boos as Boda kicks out, but this doesn't deter Troy. She starts laying into Boda with stomps, putting as much force into them as her much smaller body will allow. She manages to land a few before Boda is able to gain enough composure to grab her foot with his hands. Troy tries to jerk her foot away but Boda's much more powerful than the Queen. She's at his mercy as she hops on one foot while he gets to his feet. She tries to get her hands up to block any potential punches but she's not quick enough. A hard right hand comes at her, clipping her jaw. She wavers and Boda drops her foot, grabs her arm and Irish whips her against the ropes. As Troy rebounds, Boda catches her and powerslams her down to the mat. Troy's head bounces off the mat and Boda goes for the cover.

1...

2...

Kickout!

With Troy groggy, Boda drags her to her feet and lifts her up in a vertical suplex. Boda walks around the ring, showing off his strength with Troy up in the air, before dropping her torso-first onto the top rope. With Troy hung up, Boda lifts his knee and connects with Troy's chin. Boda grabs Troy by the back of the neck and flips her over into the ring. Troy lands with a thud and Boda nudges her over onto her stomach. He takes the opportunity to stand on her back, all of his weight crushing the Queen and flattening her like a pancake.

Nick: This really doesn't look good for Troy and Tommy Giles knows it. He's starting with the 5 count to make Boda break the hold.

Richard: This is a no-DQ match, he can't do that!

Nick: He can if he thinks Boda's going to break her back!

Richard: Oh what's wrong with a severed spine every now and then?

Boda steps off Troy's back once Giles reaches the count of 4 because Dan Ryan tried to take a swing at Boda. The Big Bad Boda Daddy merely chuckles and, to add insult to injury, lands a swift kick to Troy's ribs. The Queen groans in pain, which only makes Boda laugh harder. He drags her to the center of the ring and covers.

1...

2...

Thr--KICKOUT!

Crowd: RAAAAAAHHHHHHH!

Boda drags Troy up to her feet and slingshots her into the ropes. As Troy rebounds, Boda catches her and throws her down with a sidewalk slam. Boda picks Troy back up and sends her into the corner. Troy hits chest-first, and as she exits the corner, Boda locks his arms around Troy's waist and attempts to launch her across the ring with a belly-to-belly overhead toss. Troy, however, manages to wrap and arm around Boda's neck and her momentum carries the both of them to the mat making Boda the recipient of a nasty neckbreaker.

Richard: That's a desperation move if I've ever seen one.

Nick: Troy is taking a lot of punishment during her unexpected return. I'm still in a little bit of shock that it was her behind all of this.

Richard: Troy's shown glimmers of craftiness, I'll give her that much. Too bad it may be a little too late for her here.

Dan Ryan pounds the mat to get Troy to move faster. The crowd starts clapping along and both competitors start to stir. Boda is just a hair quicker. He hooks his arms around Troy's waist and tosses her into the corner, following up with calculated punches. Boda grabs Troy's arm and whips her across the ring to the opposite turnbuckle. Troy hits hard, and Boda charges across the ring, looking to follow up with a clothesline, but Troy rolls out of the way just in the nick of time. Boda hits chest first, and the impact causes the ropes to shake violently. Troy quickly capitalizes and hits an inverted DDT on Boda. She goes for the cover.

1...

2...

Thre--NO!

Troy back up to her feet and she's eying the corner turnbuckle. Ryan smirks as Troy walks over and ascends to the top. On the mat, Boda is struggling to get to his feet.

Nick: Troy could be looking for the Crowning Glory here. It's been sorely missed!

Richard: Speak for yourself, Stuart.

Boda staggers to a vertical base and Troy takes flight, but Boda manages to move out of the way. Troy adjusts herself in mid-air and lands on her feet. Boda rushes in to decapitate her with a clothesline, but Troy ducks out of the way and trips Boda up. She whirls around.

Nick: BOOM, HEADSHOT!

Richard: NO!

Troy tries to throw a lightning quick Cro Cop-esque head kick to Boda's temple, but Boda pulls Tommy Giles into the line of fire. Troy's foot connects with Giles instead and the referee goes down like a shot.

Richard: INSANE REF BUMP!

Nick: Tommy Giles might be out cold here. We need a medic down here stat!

Troy looks horrified but she doesn't have much time to react. Boda's coming back at her. Troy throws a boot into his midsection, doubles him over, and lands an awkward Final Judgment on Boda.

Nick: She was running on instinct there, Richard, and couldn't get all of that move.

Richard: That's what she gets for picking on someone who outweighs her by a hundred plus pounds!

The crowd is cheering for Troy to go for the cover, but with Tommy Giles in la la land there's not much else she can do. She walks over to check on him while, in the meantime, Boda's stirring on the mat. Troy looks over to Ryan with a "nothing I'm doing is working" look.

Nick: Boda's to a knee now.

Richard: Look who's coming down the ramp!

Elvis Nixon comes sprinting down the aisle, motioning for Boda to go after Troy. Sensing some sort of urgency, Boda dives at Troy, kicking her in her stomach. He brings her up over his head and sends her to the mat with a hard-hitting powerbomb. He quickly folds her up like a pretzel and puts all of his weight down onto her shoulders. Elvis slides headfirst into the ring while Troy struggles. The crowd, sensing something isn't going right, starts to boo.

1
2
3!

Elvis Nixon quickly executes that three count before Dan Ryan can dive in for the save. He exits the ring as quickly as he came and starts running back up the ramp and out to the backstage area. Boda rolls off Troy and exits the ring, a grin on his face. The fans boo even louder as Troy sits back on her heels, seething at the quick count.

Nick: That may have been the fastest count in PRIME history.

Richard: Hahahaha like it matters how fast it was! Boda gets his revenge on the duo who've been messing with him, come hell or high water!

Indeed, Boda's quite the happy camper as he makes his way up the aisle while "Remedy" by Seether plays. Ryan glares at him as he walks away and Troy gets to her feet. Ryan looks down at her while she looks up at the PRIME*View and mouths one word.

Shakur.

The battle has just ended, the blood and sweat not even dried. The roar of the crowd still echoes from wall to wall.

And he waits for her.

He waits, ready to meet her at the first possible moment.

Around him, members of the crew and staff buzz, running from table to table, some on headphones, others waving papers in the air furiously. The gorilla position is a manic place, it's own brand of crazy, separated from the chaos of the ring by a thin curtain and a hundred feet.

But he'll stand in middle of that chaotic environment, surrounded by screaming suits, because the second she pushes through that curtain, he wants to be there.

Anxiously, Tchu bites at his fingernails. Waiting.

How long does it take to walk up the damn aisle?

Quite a while after a grueling battle.

"What's next? Keep things moving. Somebody tell Richard to plug Colossus in the next segment."

The voices rattle around his ears.

And then he sees the curtain part.

Tchu: Lindz!

He's halfway to her before the curtain has even fallen closed again. The Queen of the Ring looks up with tired eyes, Dan Ryan just a step behind her. A small smirk begins to form across her face, but it's gone in the blink of two narrowing eyes.

Tchu: You sure do know how to surprise a guy!

Troy: I do what I can.

Matt moves in for a hug, but his embrace is returned half-heartedly, Troy barely wrapping one arm around his back while standing straight and stiff. Ryan looks on with a stone gaze as Troy pulls free.

Tchu: How crazy is this? The two of us back in PRIME, like the good ol' days.

Troy: Yeah. It's something.

She takes a step forward, casually shouldering past her long-time friend.

Tchu: We should get a beer after the show. Big fella can come too.

Troy: No, we've got a plane to catch. Sorry.

Tchu: Raincheck then. Good to see ya Lindz.

Again, she smirks, but she can't hold it for more than a fraction of a second. Troy turns and heads off down the hall. Dan Ryan just looks at The Intense Champion for a second, then shoves past him, just as Troy had done. They leave Tchu surrounded by the frantic backstage nature, sometimes every bit as cold and brutal as it is in the middle of the ring.

Even in times of great pressure, Devin Shakur can show he still has a trick or two up his sleeve. He won't confirm or deny that he had a hand in what just transpired, at least not until the time is convenient, but at least something has gone right for him this evening.

Christian Daniels, the last person Lindsay Troy faced before taking her long hiatus, gets a good chuckle of the situation as well. It's no surprise that he was part of the long waged war between Rayne/Troy and Shakur.

At least, the rest of the evening is going to run smoothly for the most nefarious duo in PRIME.

Although, judging by the image that just popped up on the screen, Shakur and Daniels might have thought a tad prematurely in that judgment.

It is a picture of Kevin McCallister, Home Alone's star, with his mouth wide open and hands on his cheeks. He just found out what after shave feels like and is screaming... like a kid.

Devin Shakur goes to switch the channel, but views the same image.

Devin Shakur: Alright, we're going to do this again?

Matt Mills: Isn't he going out with Mila Kunis? That bastard is so lucky I tell-

Shakur/Daniels: SHUT UP, MILLS!

The interviewer keeps his mouth shut.

Shakur flicks the switch again. He doesn't receive another image this time, but instead a highlight package from Home Alone.



Devin Shakur: I DON'T WANT TO SEE THIS! TURN IT OFF!

Christian Daniels: Guy really don't know how'ta make'a video, lemme tell ya.

Devin Shakur: Switch the damn channel.

Shakur flips another button. This time he gets something from Home Alone 2.



Devin Shakur: GAH!

Shakur stands up and storms out of the room.

Devin Shakur: We're going to settle this in the ring.

Christian ushers Mills out of the room and then follows his brother down the corridors toward the main entryway.

Devin Shakur: I don't care if I get the chair, I'm gonna fucking kill this kid.

The sweaty hands of Devin Shakur glide along the wall next to a tunnel covered in black sheets. Underneath, a bunch of technicians are staring at monitors and speaking with stagehands through headsets with the intent of ensuring the show runs smoothly.

Right now, The Man in Black could care less whether or not the show runs without a hitch. He just wants to find the man responsible for pulling three different pranks on him and beat him to a pulp.

The Black Plague has tapped all his known resources in the backstage area and come up empty. Nobody knows the identity of his mystery assailant.

So Shakur is going to figure the answer out in a manner that should lure his antagonist into revealing themselves.

By going out to the squared circle and demanding their presence.

Shakur scoots by – well scooting would be an inaccurate and too passive a term – The Man in Black shoves and kicks anything not nailed to the floor. A step behind, denim trenchcoat hovering over the floor is Shakur's enforcer, 'The Biker' Christian Daniels. With a menacing scowl on his face, he wraps a two inch thick steel chain around his fist and pats his open left hand. He's ready to pound some skulls.

Fingers glide over a guitar, signaling Shakur's arrival on the PA system. Those in the American Airlines Center riot as if they have been told their favorite band will be unable to perform. Peter Frampton's guitar wails while a wall of black pyrotechnics ascend fifteen feet from the stage. Shakur and Daniels walk up the stairs and emerge through the curtain, forgoing any of the taunting measures which usually accompany their entrances.

Nick: Those two do not look like happy campers.

Richard: What's that phrase an old announcer would say? Business is about to pick up.

Nick: Three different times, very early in the show, Devin Shakur has been taunted and prodded by a mystery person.

Richard: Whoever this is has a death wish. Shakur might have a laundry list of enemies, but dude has handled every one of them effectively.

The few kids who managed to get into the show and are sitting on their parents shoulders give Shakur the Home Alone taunt, hands on an exasperated face. Daniels shoots a few of them nasty glares, which causes the parents to play their role as protectors.

The Man in Black yanks a house microphone from a stagehand and steps up the steel steps, refusing to acknowledge the crowd before stepping through the ropes and standing in the center of the ring. Christian straddles over the top rope and walks behind The Boss in Black. Shakur raises the microphone to his lips.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Devin Shakur: Sure, go ahead and boo the greatest thing to ever happen to the industry of professional wrestling. Boo the man who paved the way, literally, for all of you to be sitting in those seats this evening.

These people don't need an incentive to hate.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Devin Shakur: I can even see that little pompous ass Cuban about six rows back. Why don't you go out and sign LeBron, then at least everybody will know beyond a shadow of a doubt you suck dick as an owner and should never be associated with an NBA franchise.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Shakur swats a box of popcorn away and points out toward a fan in the fourth row.

Devin Shakur: Throw that prick the fuck out of my building.

A three deep line of security guards emerge from different spots and escort the fan out of the arena, who gives Shakur the double bird before going out of camera view.

Devin Shakur: I'll get his name and address on the way out to ensure he never attends another PRIME event as long as he lives. The next one of you hicks who pulls a stunt like that will receive the same consequence.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Richard: Now this is a boss I can get behind and lend my full support to.

Nick: Shakur threw the fan out because he's trying to gain some semblance of power back into himself.

Devin Shakur: You know, there are times in my career when people have decided to take stands against me and jump me from behind. I can deal with things of that nature. After the sting goes down, at least I'm granted the fortune of knowing the identity of the idiot who put his heart before his brain and decided to attack me. But tonight, tonight is a different tale and one I'm not particularly fond of.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Devin Shakur: I've had a box of things left at my door with the claim that these items once belonged to me.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Devin Shakur: My sound system is screwed up to play only Better Than You by Metallica.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Devin Shakur: And if that isn't enough, every television monitor in my office is playing either Home Alone or Home Alone 2.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: To be fair, those aren't bad movies.

Richard: If Shakur is disgusted with them then so am I. I agree with whatever he agrees with.

Devin Shakur: So to the person who wants to have their name inscribed on a tombstone next to Tyler Rayne, Bryan Dawkins, Hessian, Jonathan Winters, Dusk, Tyler Nelson, Pierce Lavelle, Chandler Tsonda, Danny Ferguson, and so on, why don't you come out here and face me like a man... Actually, wait, hold that thought. What kind of a MAN would pull such foolish pranks on another human being? This sort of mindless bullshit reeks of someone with a feminine taste.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: Shakur channeling his inner Jason Snow there for a moment.

Devin Shakur: Until this person decides to make their presence known and face me one on one, I'm going to stand out here in the middle of the ring and halt production of the show. Considering the amount of money that flows into my bank account on a daily basis, I can give three ounces of a shit how much money waiting out here costs me and the company.

Nick: Of course Shakur doesn't care. He's a self made billionaire and gambling addict.

Richard: A successful gambling addict. You know, a phrase Matt Mills believes to be an oxymoron.

The Boss in Black taps the microphone against his shoes and points at his watch. He looks over his shoulder and points down at the floor, instructing Christian to get two metal folding chairs so the experience of waiting can be a tad bit more pleasurable.

The Biker does as he is told and hops over the top rope, pawing underneath the ring for steel chairs. He's deciding to be the nicer of the group and not flip a time keeper or ring announcer out of their seat.

Shakur puts the microphone up to his lips.

Devin Shakur: We've got about five angry competitors back there who I think are dying to get out there and relieve the pressure from their shoulders of a big match. I've been in their shoes before and waiting for someone who doesn't have the guts to show their faces isn't something I'd like to have on my plate as well. A note to any of you, if you end up coming across this little piece of shit who has been bragging about that, I'll give you a handsome bonus for bringing him out here. Dead or alive.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Richard: I'll be right back. I've got some business to take care of.

Just before Richard can go into his routine of pretending to stand up and rush to the back, hoping to get him some of the Benjamins, an awkward sight dazzles the crowd on the South side of the ring. Christian Daniels is forcefully yanked underneath the ring. The sight of a man standing over seven feet tall and weighing close to three hundred and twenty pounds being yanked under a ring with relative ease is mind boggling. No sign of his fingers clawing onto the edge of the ringside mats is seen. He's been completely swallowed underneath the ring.

It doesn't stop the fans who aren't on the South side from showing their appreciation.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: Well, that's one less time we have to look at the biggest Yes man in the company.

Shakur's eyes scan the ringside area, wondering what all the commotion is about. It is at this moment he realizes Christian isn't around and mouths "What the fuck" before leaning over the ropes and shouting down at Richard and Nick.

Richard: He got pulled under the ring!

Shakur (off microphone): GO UNDER THERE AND FETCH HIM OUT!

The frightened announcer removes his headset and cautiously takes a step toward the ringside area.

Nick: I guess this is one time Richard doesn't enjoy being the friend of Shakur. Now, he's going to have to encounter the beast underneath that ring.

Richard Parker's job description doesn't include receiving an ass kicking from an unknown figure. If bodily harm is done to him, the contract negotiations will definitely reflect a pay raise if he should have to endure such pain again.

Just as Parker is about to lift up the apron, the arena lights flicker and send the crowd into a riotous state. Whoever is taunting Devin Shakur is about to make their presence felt.

On the PRIME*View, a picture of Kevin McCallister with hands over his face after realizing the effects of shaving cream is shown. This is the same image Shakur has had burned into his brain the entire night.

The audio is added in.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

And in the background, subliminal images can be seen.

Devin Shakur throwing a knife at full speed toward a dart board. A man has to duck out of the way to avoid getting struck.

The same image and audio is seen and heard again.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Another subliminal image. Devin Shakur balancing himself on tiles above a ceiling, an anvil in his hands, prepared to drop on an unsuspecting victim.

Another image is shown, but not of Kevin McCallister.

Instead, it is of this man.



Nick: Oh My God.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Rolling out from underneath the bottom of the ring like a straight up gangsta is The One. The Only. The Man. The Myth. The Legend.

Tony Gamble.

Over the PRIME speakers, music begins to play. A tune The Boss in Black is quite familiar with.



While the furious heavy metal blasts through the building, Tony Gamble gives a "sup" nod to all his peeps in Dallas and rolls from underneath the ring. In the meantime, a shell shocked Devin Shakur is caught staring at the PRIME*View and waiting for Gamble to come out from behind the curtain.

The Grin points and laughs, getting a great response from the audience, at The Man in Black. Shakur is still oblivious to Gamble's presence.

Nick: Tony Gamble has returned to PRIME! These two were set to collide at Culture Shock, but Shakur called off the match and indefinitely suspended The Grin during the Pay-Per-View.

Richard: Oh man, Shakur is going to blow a fucking gasket.

A weary and battered Christian Daniels army crawls out from underneath the North side of the ramp, into plain view of Devin Shakur.

Shakur looks down at his brother who is pointing behind him in the ring.

The realization hits The Boss in Black and he swings around.

But not fast enough.

DING! DING! DING!

Nick: We're going to have a match. Devin Shakur going one on one with Tony Gamble.

The Grin with a small package.

Shakur is caught completely off guard and without his brother to give him any kind of assistance.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: Oh My God! Ladies and Gentlemen, that is the quickest match in PRIME's history. Three seconds!

Richard: NO! NO! NO! THAT'S RIDICULOUS! COME ON! SHAKUR GOT BLINDSIDED!

Vince Howard rises from his seat and announces the winner.

Vince Howard: THE WINNER OF THIS MATCH...TONYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY GAMBLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Before Christian Daniels or Devin Shakur can regain any sense of their bearings, The Grin dives out of the ring and takes a house microphone with him. He leaps over the barricade and backpedals deep into the stands, celebratory fans surrounding him. He takes all the pats on the back and high fives in stride while raising the microphone to his lips.

Tony Gamble: Sup buddy?

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

The look of death Shakur is giving Gamble right now could melt ice caps and kill penguins.

Tony Gamble: Guess in the midst of all that boasting about career ending you forgot about lil ole me?

WEL-COME BACK! WEL-COME BACK! WEL-COME BACK!

Tony Gamble: For real, I'm back in PRIME and ready to make your life miserable. Tonight was just the first step...

Gamble goes to hand the microphone back but keeps a finger on it and brings it back.

Tony Gamble: You remember that whole cliché about big things, Dev?

Shakur stands up, violently kicking the ring ropes. He's been around Gamble long enough to know his humorless wit and the next line that is about to come from his lips.

Tony Gamble: They come in SMALL PACKAGES.

A loud and uplifting wave of laughter from the Dallas fans engulfs the arena while The Grin drops the microphone and continues re-introducing himself to the fans of PRIME.

Devin Shakur is irate.

Nick: Well, ladies and gentlemen, I guess we now know the identity of Devin Shakur's mystery man. None other than his former best friend, Tony Gamble!

Richard: I can't believe that little midget would have the set to do something like this.

Nick: Well, Gamble knows better than anybody the consequences of going against someone like Devin Shakur, and I believe based on what he just said, he's ready to take on the challenge head on.

Richard: He damn sure better be.

Nick: Folks, we're going to cut away for a brief moment and then come back with our next contest. Boda will finally get to meet the person who has been stalking him for close to a month.

Richard: If it's Tony Gamble, he's definitely blown the element of surprise.

Tony Gamble sea of fans with his arms extended high in the air. Devin Shakur and Christian Daniels glaring menacingly at The Grin. His day will come.

Shakur mutters something under his breath.

Devin Shakur: Just for that...Someone's night is going to be ruined. Walk with me, C.

The two men storm out of the ring and head up the ramp, evil intentions on their minds.

Nick: I guess...we go to the next match.

There's all sorts of fanfare to mark the arrival of this 5 Star Championship clash. Amidst all the streamers, pyro blasts, chanting and hype from commentators Nick Stuart and Rich Parker, the challenger, Garbage Bag Johnny, seems to have wondered to ringside like a homeless man looking for shelter. Before his name can even be formally announced by Vince Howard a song hits the airwaves and cuts in with it's electronic whine.

SWAGGERIFIC by Verbz

The Havana Harlot, Elise Ares, breaks onto the scene with that shiny gold prize strapped around her sexy little waist. The crowd jeer, Nick and Rich natter, Vince Howard bellows the formalities, all whilst the little electro-rap theme powers forward alongside its owner.

At some point Garbage Bag Johnny appears to have spilled from the ring, dozily stalking the champion with intent to cut the crap and get this fight underway. The Dirtiest Dude in PRIME doesn't think twice about swinging his forearm at a woman's blind-side, as she jawjacks with the crowd, but she spots the incoming threat in her peripheral and ducks the lunging blow at the last second.

Ares' theme song still chiming in the background, Garbage staggers to recoil from the effects of his swing, miss and many years' drug abuse – he finally finds his feet only to get clapped in the back of the SKULL with a solid PRIME 5 Star Championship Belt! His eyeballs roll towards the point of impact, his legs give in from underneath his torso. The bell ring. Elise Ares' theme music stops playing and The Havana Harlot quickly gets to work on hoisting the comatose Johnny from ringside.

If she wasn't gonna have to carry this drugged-up lump through the match to begin with, then she definitely is now. He's sprawled out on the canvas as the camera zooms close up to show the red-stained patch of hair on the back of his scalp. Referee Tommy Giles flaps his arms about to express his disapproval of the fact that Ares beat the system by beating her challenger with a foreign object technically before the match had officially begun. But now it has begun, so she places the sole of her boot on GBJ's chest and demands Tommy Giles drop and count for her.

1...

2...

No. Garbage Bag's left shoulder twitches. Ares drops to the canvas, hooks his right leg with her arm and his left with both of hers.

1
2...

No! GBJ explodes from the tight cradle, throwing Ares away from his person and beside Tommy Giles, whom she doesn't waste time in starting to bitch and moan at. They squabble whilst both climbing to their feet, then Giles dives out of the way to avoid the oncoming spear. The move hurt so hard, Ares has tears coming from her eyes and is writhing on the mat in agony.

His head looks to still be in pain but can GBJ crawl over and make the cover?

Before he even can - referee Tommy Giles scampers out of the ring to retrieve the blood-stained 5 Star Championship belt Ares hastily discarded seconds earlier – then he does the official job of folding it neatly and placing it on the commentary desk. However, this means he didn't just see Elise Ares strike Johnny with the most blatant Low blow! Before Johnny can even crumple to the mat, Ares twists him around and plants him with a Rude Awakening Neckbreaker, landing seated, and sending GBJ to the mat clutching the back of his head in agony. She climbs to the top rope, favouring her back a little, and flies off with a DOUBLEFOOTSTOMP onto GBJ's HEAD! she covers:

1...

2...

Garbage Bag Johnny gets a shoulder up! Elise Ares look more surprised than a botched liposuction patient. The crowd is still trying to get over how disgusting the connection was on that last move, the commentary team drawing attention to Ares' focus on GBJ's cranium as a target of attack, all starting with her striking the championship gold into the back of his SKULL before minutes ago.

Rich: She doesn't wanna just win this match with a 1 2 3. She wants to knock him out cold

But Johnny is a hard-headed son of a bitch and so this isn't easy to do. He sways back and forth, on the spot, in a daze, when Ares measures him up then connects a picture-perfect Step-Up Enziguri! He falls to his knee and she follows him with a Shining Enziguri to send him off on his way to lying face-down on the mat! The people jeer their hearts out as she does that sultry little dance of hers, then just looks down at Garbage Bag Johnny with disgust and spits on him.

She picks him up and Irish Whips him into the nearest set of turnbuckles... BUT HE REVERSES! But she wall-runs up the corner, backflips out of the corner and over his head, grabs him like she's going for a Bulldog, runs and hits her trademark COLUMBIAN NECKTIE, snapping his neck over the top rope with a jerk. She climbs back to the ring apron in the time it takes GBJ to climb back to his feet, then she re-enters the ring by way of a double diving knee drop from the top rope. She goes for the cover!

1...
...2...
...

NO - The challenger just will not give up.

The crowd start a slow rhythmic clap to bring Garbage Bag back to life. Elise Ares screeches like a banshee for everyone to shut up and this has the complete opposite effect. GBJ pumps his fist into the canvas once, twice, thrice. Elise Ares tries to grab him by the hair, he slaps her hands away and lifts her onto his shoulder's in Fireman's Carry preparation to hit his patented 'Tragically Hipbuster'! But Ares slides out to her feet behind him! Grabs him! Then hits a rear chancery backbreaker into an inverted DDT.

"ONE!
TWO!
AHHHHHH!"

She picks him up. Sends him off the ropes, chases him and ducks his Clothesline. Baseball slides through his legs. Snatches a headlock. He shoves her into the ropes, she rebounds into a HUGE SpineBuster!

Crowd: YEAAAAAAAH

Ares: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

GBJ: [to Tom Giles] COUNT!

1...
2...
...

NO!

Ares kick out with force but Johnny is up too meet her with a Falling Clothesline! Then a Back Elbow! Throws her into the ropes and bends over for a Back Body Drop, but she kicks him in the face, grabs his arm, hits an inverted arm lock neckbreaker RIGHT TO THE BACK OF THE SKULL!

ONE!
TWO!

GBJ Kicked out! He kicked out! But he's in the throws of a the most agonising fit, cupping the back of his head and rolling about on the floor. Ares puts her hands on her hips and looks horrified.

She racks her brains, pulling her hair out. When Johnny tries get to his feet she hits him with a Basement Dropkick to the head. She leans him against a corner, climbs the ropes behind him and hits THE CALF BRANDING.

Cover!

1

2

3

NOWAIT! Tommy Giles didn't finish the count as he noticed GBJ's left foot hung on the bottom rope.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

The battle doesn't slow down. Garbage Bag Johnny will not quit but Elise Ares isn't even giving him room to stand up. She hits a low kneedrop bulldog. Then spins around on his head with the sole of her boot on his open cut. When she skips away to seduce the crowd with her dance the camera zooms in on GBJ's face, showing blood coming from a busted lip as well as the cut on the back of his skull. His eyelids struggle to stay open.

The Havana Harlot drags him like a dead body setting him face-down by the corner. She climbs the ropes to the tope, turns her back to him and calls for her finishing move 'YOUR FEATURE PRESENTATION'

Nick Stuart: NO ELISE! YOU'RE GONNA LAND ON THE BACK... OF HIS... SKULL!

She dives and spins, but GBJ rolls out of the way. Ares lands on her feet and rolls through with the momentum. Johnny and Ares run at one another with Ares reeling off a snap spinning wheel kick.

She turns him on his front and climbs the top rope facing to the crowd. GBJ summons a burst of energy from god only knows where, Double-Jumps the ropes and CATCHES ELISE ARES WITH A TOP ROPE BACK CRACKER!

She cries out in pain. He covers her as tightly as he can. Tommy Giles skids to the their side on the mat.

ONE!
TWO!
THREE!

Nick: HE DID IT!

The crowd goes crazy.

Vince Howard: Your winner and NEEEEEWWWWWWWW FIVE-STAR CHAMPIOOON... GARRRRRRBAGE BAG JOHNNNNNNAYYYYYY!

The camera zooms in close and comes into focus on this new champion. His eyes bloodshot and winced, his lip busted and flowing claret; and, in one hand he holds the PRIME 5 Star championship high into the air, with the other he holds the back of his head.

To say Emilio Rage has been waiting a lifetime for the moment he's about to embark upon would be an understatement. Ever since walking into the land of PRIME eons ago, he's been dreaming about what is to come. The chance to chase for the top prize in the game is no longer an arduous journey where he must topple superstar after superstar, being denied shots just because of demeanor. Now, it is a reality.

He was able to get through three of the toughest challengers in his life and come out on top. Now, he's sitting comfortably atop the UltraViolence card.

The Pay-Per-View holds a special place in the lore of PRIME. Careers have been made and ended on this very Pay-Per-View over the last two years, and Emilio is hoping to add his list to those who have been made by the Pay-Per-View.

Although, in order to do so, he must go out and give the performance of a lifetime. He must go through two unorthodox opponents in order to claim the biggest prize in the game.

One could be considered like a brother to him. They go way, way, way, way back.

And the other is someone Emilio couldn't pick out of a six person lineup if The Nicaraguan Nightmare was given the number.

But all the tricks of the trade he's amassed over the years will have to come into play this evening if he wishes to come out on top with the Universal Championship.

A knock on the door grabs his attention. A head pokes itself into the door and gives him the signal that he will be coming out onto the stage in ten minutes.

Or so that is what the stagehand would want Emilio to believe. It's actually what the stagehand believes as well, because both of them aren't able to see what is storming down the hall like a tornado.

The stagehand is knocked to the ground and two figures dressed in dark attire sprint through the door, overwhelming The Nicaraguan Nightmare and slamming him against the locker room where his gym bag has been placed.

Nick: What the? What in the hell is going on here?

Richard: Somebody is putting the screws to Emilio Rage!

The Nightmare goes to his first instincts and starts to fight back, pushing away and looking for some distance between himself and his attackers. However, he's getting next to no where. The two men, one substantially taller than the other, keep moving forward and throwing powerful right hands. When each strike connects, Rage can feel the intensity of the blow and he becomes disoriented. Enough of the blows make him incredibly disoriented and send him down to one knee.

The shorter man of the bunch goes and grabs a steel chair just off camera while the bigger man holds Rage down and drives short elbows into the top of his head.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: What in the hell? What is the meaning of this?

Richard: Justice. Emilio Rage has pissed somebody off in a major league way.

Nick: Why in the hell would they do this? Why now? Just before the biggest match of his PRIME career!

The shorter man, one dressed in darker clothing than his associate, winds up and wails Rage across the face with the steel weapon.

Rage slumps to his left side and the sound of his head smacking against the concrete floor resonates throughout the hall.

"Pick that son of a bitch up"

The familiarity of the voice causes the crowd to go nuclear with hatred.

Nick: No, that can't be.

It now becomes apparent to the audience in attendance who the attackers are. The taller man, with a coat dangling just inches off the floor, picks Rage up from his prone position and holds his arms in place. The former Alias Champion squirms and tries to get away, but he's not gaining much ground. The strength of his attacker is too much for Rage to handle.

And the left leg high kick from his other attacker straight to the exact same place where the steel chair connected only seconds ago worsens the fate of The Nicaraguan Nightmare.

He slumps backwards, right foot dangling centimeters off the ground. The lights are on, but nobody is home.

A boot finds Rage's unconscious head from the taller attacker, just for good measure.

Enemigos and Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas throw open the door and are prepared to break up the scenario until they too get a glance at the individuals standing over Emilio Rage.

Two of the Enemigos rush down to the medical station and request assistance while Dam can only stare and wonder why his superiors would do such a thing.

Yes, his superiors.

Devin Shakur and Christian Daniels.

The Boss in Black crouches down and snaps his fingers over Emilio's face.

Devin Shakur: You see Emilio, there are consequences in this world for everything. For even the most mundane things, and even for being just who you are, a walking human being. You never see those consequences on the horizon because certain people look for the first person they can find and decide to vent their anger. You happened to be the first person I saw, and as a result, I highly doubt you are going to be competiting in tonight's Main Event. I made a lot of money out of your comeback trail over the past few shows and now I'm showing you my gratitude. If you want somebody to thank, go and find Tony Gamble. He'll provide you with all the thanks you can handle.

Shakur delivers an evil smirk.

Devin Shakur: I know a man like you has great pride, a big ego, and doesn't like being shown up. Someone of your caliber is going to be very angry at me and want to seek vengeance. Well, Emilio, I'm not a very hard man to find, and the list of enemies I've made is a mile long. I can handle another one. Unfortunately for you, the list of enemies who've come through to the other side unscathed can't be counted one one hand, or even one finger. You've just made your first enemy since coming back. Welcome home, motherfucker.

The Boss in Black stands up and walks away from the body of Emilio Rage. The Nightmare is just starting to come back, but has no idea where he is at or that he's got blood trickling down the side of his forehead and from his nose.

Nick: We've already had a blockbuster night to say the least, Richard.

Richard: There's a woman in the fourth row calling my name pretty loudly so I'd rather we just get this match over with so I can go get with my tail.

Nick: That's not a woman, Rich.

Richard: Oh sure, in your eyes, just because she doesn't have an hourglass figure, blonde hair, and blue eyes she isn't a woman. I might have lower standards than you Stuart, but I'm willing to accept women of all shapes, sizes, and colors.

Nick: What about Adam's apples?

Richard: De...

Richard stands up and further inspects the mystery "woman".

Richard: Son of a bitch.

Nick: Way to take one for the rest of us all night, big guy.

Richard: For the sake of my sanity, let's not call me that the rest of the evening.

Nick: Sure thing, partner.

Richard: Or that.

Nick: Buddy

Richard: Especially not that.

Nick: Bosom pal

Richard: NOT THAT EITHER!

Nick: Alright, Richard... Mister Parker if your nas-

Richard: Just call me Rich!

Nick: Fair enough, Rich. We've seen some monumental events transpire this evening. A new 5 Star Champion in Garbage Bag Johnny-

Richard: One part of the night I can actually live with, even if Johnny is a complete and utter tool who runs the rival empire.

Nick: I thought you were the biggest Elise Ares mark on the planet.

Richard: ...Look, the two things I covet the most are pussy and food. Johnny damn sure can't provide the first one, but he can put it DOWN when sandwiches are involved. The dude knows how to throw together a sandwich better than sex.

Nick: We also saw the returns of Lindsay Troy-

Richard: In a losing effort, ha. That'll show her not to mess with The Big Bad Boda Daddy.

Nick: And the return of Tony 'The Grin' Gamble.

Richard: I'm not so sure how I feel about that one. I do love midgets because... you know... you don't have to get them to do anything special when sucking your di-

Nick: --And coming up next, we have the conclusion of the Born Again tournament. A device to bring new blood into PRIME, and give everybody a chance at the Universal Championship. The road culminates this evening with two competitors.

Richard: We would have three competitors, but Devin Shakur and Christian Daniels eliminated Emilio Rage from the competition.

Nick: In case you missed the earlier attack folks-

Richard: The fuck were you doing if you did? Stop trying to put your dick in the popcorn bucket. That trick went out the window in the 80s.

Nick: Emilio Rage was blindsided earlier by a jealous and angry Devin Shakur. He knocked Emilio unconscious and I've just been told by doctors he will be unable to compete this evening, despite urgings to the contrary from Mr. Rage.

Richard: Serves him right for thinking he could just waltz in here and take over the ship.

Nick: He's one of the most talented people on the roster right now, even at the age of 40. He went through the last two 5 Star Champions and the man with the longest winning streak in the company's history just to get here. Shakur and Daniels, just because they got played by Gamble, decided to rob him of that glory. That's a damn shame and disgusting.

Richard: He wouldn't have known what to do with the Championship and we both know that.

Nick: Rage had a ton of supporters here this evening, yearning for him to walk away with the gold, and now none of them are going to witness that possibility. But folks, in the brief time we've been re-introduced to Rage, you can bet everything you have he'll get his hands on Devin Shakur and when that time comes, he's going to show Shakur an entire new world of pain. I, for one, can't wait to see that happen.

Richard: He might need his long range glasses to catch Shakur. Rage ain't exactly the fastest cat on the block anymore.

Nick: True class from Mister Richard. Nonetheless folks, the show must go on and so much the match. Two other competitors have made it this far-

Richard: Well, to be fair, only one has actually gone through the trials and tribulations of the Born Again tournament. The other has rarely been seen on television.

Nick: Castor V. Strife is quickly becoming one of the most hated men, not only by fans of PRIME, but those in the locker room. He's one of the least approachable people on the roster--

Richard: And tonight they'll have to accept the fact he's walking out of here with fifteen pounds of gold over his Hollywood shoulder.

Nick: He's got a chance. The talent is there, no question about it. However, his opponent is one of the most underrated talents in the lore of PRIME, Vangelus Olsig. He's vied for the Universal Championship during the 2007 heyday of PRIME, but never managed to climb the mountain because of the likes of Nova and Tchu. He is the longest reigning Intense Champion, and second longest Champion in the history of PRIME, clocking in at an impressive 361 days of holding the strap.

Richard: Stop kissing his ass and just admit you want him to win so these morons can have a hero.

Nick: Olsig doesn't play the hero card often, and I doubt he will wish too tonight. These two do not have a lot of personal animosity between one another, but that doesn't mean we aren't going to see their best efforts under the bright lights. Whoever gets the first fall or decision will walk away with the Universal Championship. They will have the 18th reign, become the 28th holder if you count the Global championship, of the most prestigious prize in PRIME.

Richard: All hail the soon to be golden era of Castor V. Strife.

Nick: With that in mind, let's send it up to Vince Howard for the in-ring introductions.

Vince Howard: Ladies and Gentlemen, the following contest, scheduled for one fall, is for the vacant Universal Championship of PRIME!

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Vince Howard: In this contest there are no count-outs and no disqualifications. Introducing first...

The arena lights dim, but do not go black.  Pale white lights shine from both sides of the entrance as the opening acoustic chords of David Bowie's "Starman" begin to play.  As the lyrics begin, Castor V. Strife emergences and walks down the entrance ramp.  His sharp green eyes stare out ahead at the ring where he seeks to do the impossible- win the PRIME Universal Title in only his third singles match.  The fans give a mixed reaction, mostly boos but with scattered cheers for the NFW veteran, watching as he walks to the ring in his shimmering black robe and white spandex with black nail marks down each leg.  Once in the squared circle, he drops to both knees and extends his arms in triumphant glory.  His hands drop and he leans back, looking around the arena in confusion- "Why don't they express their love?  Are they shy?  They hold back too much..."  Castor is back on his feet and waiting against the turnbuckles.

Vince Howard: And introducing his opponent...

Faint by Linkin Park blasts over the speakers. The Dual Halo winner, Vangelus Olsig, emerges from behind the curtain. He's not one for the flash and flare of dramatic entrances, so he elects to simply walk down the aisle and step through the ropes. He's ready for a fight.

DING! DING! DING!

An electric buzz resonates through the American Airlines Center when the bell rings. Over twenty-thousand fans have jam packed the building to see a new Universal Champion crowned. They are witnessing history in the making. The King of Hollywood and The Prince of Delusion waste no time in going after one another, immediately coming to the center of the ring and engaging in a collar and elbow tie up. Strife, being the heavier competitor, drives his weight forward and throws Olsig on his heels, maneuvering the smaller man into the corner. With an arrogant smirk on his face, Strife backs away before the referee can come over and instruct him to release the hold. The Prince of Delusion is a tad perplexed at what just transpired, but before he can say anything, Strife rifles off a left handed forearm, collapsing Olsig against the turnbuckle.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: With the fan favorite out of the contest, people have decided to ride the Olsig bandwagon all the way to the bank.

Richard: I sense wheel trouble in their future.

Strife follows up with a big left handed punch and grabs a hold of Olsig. The God of Snuff shuffles Olsig over toward the ropes, and whips him to the opposite side of the ring. Strife emerges from his stance and sticks a big boot into the face of Olsig. The Prince hits the deck and collects his wits.

Nick: Castor V. Strife displaying some brawling abilities here in the early going. This will likely be the wisest strategy going forward. He wants to hit Olsig hard and he wants to hit him quick, eliminate the high flying acrobatics which got Olsig through the Dual Halo.

Olsig makes his way back up to a vertical base and gets clobbered with another forearm strike. He retaliates with a boot to the midsection, but Strife doesn't lose a second. The God of Snuff shifts forward and military presses The Prince of Delusion overhead. The perplexing strategy continues to work in his favor when Strife flips Olsig over the ropes and onto the floor. The resounding thud is heard throughout the building.

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: Even though he is one arrogant individual, Olsig should not take Strife lightly or he will end up with his name in the wrong column when the results are tallied for this contest.

Richard: Olsig knows he can't come out on top in a match like this. The pressure is too big. Strife lives for these type of moments while Olsig has only gagged.

The Prince of Delusion goes into the mental tank while the referee stands near the ring ropes. Being unable to be counted out allows Olsig more time than usual to stare into the ring and study his opposition. Strife motions and taunts Olsig to join him in the ring. After a few seconds, Olsig hops on the apron and through the ropes. The Prince of Delusion mimics like he's going for a lockup, but when Strife commits, Olsig takes the right arm, pulls on the wrist, spins through, locks his arm around the neck, and falls backwards with a Russian leg sweep. Olsig scurries to his feet and drops an elbow across the chest, going for a quick cover.

ONE

Strife doesn't respect the offense of Olsig, at least not this early in the contest. The God of Snuff shoots to his feet, but Olsig shoves him into the corner. The Prince charges ahead, looking to hop on the second rope and perform a monkey flip. However, he's denied the opportunity when Strife lands a massive uppercut. Olsig is taken for a loop, stumbling backwards into the center of the ring. Once Olsig gets sturdy legs under him, Strife whirls Olsig's body 180 degrees and lands a spinning back kick. Olsig hits the mat and Strife elects to go for his first cover of the contest.

ONE

Much in the same token Strife wasn't going to respect Olsig's offense, the same can be said when the situation is reversed. Olsig is yanked from the canvas by The God of Snuff and shoved into the corner. Strife bolts into the corner and elbows Olsig across the top of the forehead. Olsig will have a giant bump and need a bag of ice once this is all said and done.

Nick: Strife has the ability to delve into any wrestling realm out there. He's got many disciplines under his belt and he is showing his versatility this evening. The hard hitting style is keeping Olsig grounded, but the question remains for how long?

Richard: I'm sure if worse comes to worse, Strife can always bribe Olsig into taking the fall.

Nick: Being this close to capturing the crown, I sincerely doubt Olsig would take any kind of cash consideration.

Strife keeps the onslaught coming with a headbutt to the forehead. He then takes a hold of Olsig's arm and whips The Prince across the ring into the opposite side buckle. Once Strife hears the sweet sound of back smacking against steel, The God of Snuff runs across the ring and leaps into the air, looking for a Stinger Splash.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

But Olsig steps out of the way and is already scurrying off the ropes before Strife can turn around. Snap clothesline. Strife gets up. Dropkick. He's a little flustered. Another dropkick.

Richard: HE CHEATED!

Nick: How did he cheat?

Richard: Somebody check those shoes!

The adrenaline coursing through Strife, mixed in with a heapton of confidence, keeps pulling him to a standing position each time Olsig knocks him down. The Prince follows through with a knee to the midsection, doubling Strife over. Olsig acquires wrist control and flings Strife across the ring, catching him on the rebound and landing an Oscar worthy back body drop on The God of Snuff.

Richard: Strife is just letting him have his moment in the sun before breaking his spirit. It's something Olsig should be accustomed to by now.

Strife flails about in the ring, trying to recapture his bearings. Olsig crouches down and explodes from the corner, tearing into Strife's midsection with a nasty spear.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: You call that a moment in the sun before breaking spirits?

Richard: ...Strife does like the art of conflict and the art of conflict has to include two people, Nick.

Nick: Whatever you say, Rich.

Taking an insulting page out of the dazed Strife's playbook, Olsig decides to unleash a series of thunderous right hands. Strife looks for a means of escape, a second to get underneath the bottom rope, but Olsig is having none of it. He came here tonight looking for the fifteen pounds of gold and he's not settling for second best. A snap kick to the ribs keeps Strife on his back long enough for Olsig to launch into a standing shooting star press. A cover from Olsig.

ONE

TWO

Strife manages to push himself away from the pinning predicament, but not from Olsig. The Prince keeps on the attack, going back to the melee style that seems to be the theme of the match. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Strife won't be making any press conference appearances with a face like this if Olsig keeps pouring on the punishment.

Nick: Realllllllll good?

Richard: You know...

Nick: I don't.

Richard: It's all about the drama.

Nick: Of course it is.

Richard: Strife knows Olsig doesn't have talent. He's probably in there coaching him on how to become the next big action star.

Nick: How many more excuses you got in that play book buddy?

Richard: I'm improvising at the moment.

The God of Snuff is getting a little desperate and tries for a right hand of his own. Olsig denies Strife's chance, picking up the pace and keeping the pressure on. The final right hand delivered by Olsig opens up a small cut on the forehead of Strife. Blood trickles down onto the forehead.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Richard: And listen to these savages. What a bunch of brutes. They are cheering when someone is busted open.

Nick: Perhaps all of these people were set to be extras in a Strife production and ended up getting snubbed.

Olsig is able to land five more clean shots, further opening the wound, before Strife is able to grab hold of the ropes and squeeze himself out onto the floor. The tide of the match has been drastically altered. Not to mention the fact Olsig is still following him. A harsh kick to the sternum and a forearm shiver sends a reeling Strife into the barricade. Proving that he still has knowledge from his days as Intense Champion, Olsig grabs hold of Strife and gets a running start toward the ring post. At the last second, Olsig stops, but the momentum of Strife sends him forward, face first into the post.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Richard: And now Olsig wants to kick a man when he's down! What a class act.

Nick: I'm sure Olsig is all about being a fine gentlemen in the eyes of you and your public, Richard.

Richard: As well he should be.

Strife forgot where he was about forty-five seconds ago, and he's not going to remember for the next few minutes. No matter for Olsig, he just rams Strife head first into the announcer's table.

Richard jumps like someone just pushed the Acme 'Eject' button on his chair.

Olsig muscles the bleeding Strife away from the table and stomps over toward the stairs, lifting the head up and slamming it down into the steel. The God of Snuff is able to shove away from Olsig, take a few steps forward, and then fall flat on his face.

Nick: I think the lesson we can learn from this is--

Richard: Screw off Stuart, we know there are lessons to be learned but nobody cares about them at this point.

Nick: Well, I'm still mentioning them. Strife needs to find another style, one Olsig won't be encouraged to imitate. He especially shouldn't have taken himself down to the floor with someone of Olsig's caliber. If Strife doesn't get back in the ring very shortly, he's going to find himself with a giant payday but no Championship.

Richard: It's all part of the big picture, Nick, all part of the big picture.

Nick: A lot of people in attendance are standing and applauding the beating of Castor V. Strife. Is that like the audience during the movie when the villain gets his due justice?

Richard: They have no right to do so. This man should be a God amongst these idiots and he is being treated like dirt.

Nick: I wonder if he was behind that show as well.

The God of Snuff is yanked to his feet and looks desperate, although that could just be the far away look in his eyes. Exerting more force from his body, Strife shoves Olsig away and tries to make some room for himself. Strife plays the smartest card in the deck and rolls back into the ring. Olsig hops onto the apron and leaps onto the top rope, jumping over The God of Snuff and landing a leg drop across the back of his head.

Nick: Strife could be all but finished here if Olsig keeps cooking on all cylinders.

The Prince grabs hold of Strife's shoulder and launches him into the corner. He winds up and delivers a big right hand. For some reason, the crowd shouts--

ONE

Olsig glances out, a tad confused. He's not expecting this kind of treatment, but he wasn't planning on quitting after one punch. The wind up and pitch.

TWO

Another, quicker, glance into the stands from Olsig before he fires the third shot.

THREE

Now, he's not even looking and starts wailing away.

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

The God of Snuff is flipped vertically a few feet with a hurricanrana. Strife rolls around and ends in a seated position, blood pouring down his face. Strife can't give Olsig a chance to keep shooting offense. Strife smacks the mat and tugs on the ropes. He's stuck in the mentality that he needs a knockout blow to gain even some semblance of control. Dude has about as much idea of his whereabouts as Richard Parker does in the Playboy mansion. Strife gets to his knees and is sliced with a right hand. Strife goes back to all fours, but Olsig muscles him up and lands a jawbreaker. A Kodak moment with Strife spewing blood high into the air is had for those with the benefit of flash photography.

Nick: Strife is getting torn apart right now and there's nothing he can do. Olsig is flying high.

Richard: I demand a fucking restart, right now.

Another wave of excitement resonates throughout the building. Strife takes a kick to the midsection and a knife edge chop across his chest.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

And one more.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Strife grunts and groans as he comes out of the corner. Olsig rushes across the ring, hits the ropes hard, locks Strife's head, and slams him into the canvas with a whipping DDT. Strife rolls over onto his back and Olsig has the perfect attempt for a cover.

ONE

TWO

THRE-

Strife somehow manages to get the left shoulder up. Groups in the crowd vent their frustration while Elvis Nixon holds up two fingers, the sign that Castor V. Strife still has life in him.

Richard: The man simply refuses to lay down for someone like Olsig. He’s not going to give Olsig the satisfaction of pinning him one, two, three.

Even though he is groggy, Strife is still persistent. If he regains control, Hoyt help Vangelus Olsig. The Prince puts a little English on a boot to Strife's head, sending him back down to the canvas. A standing legdrop leads into a backwards roll and dropkick to the side of the head.

Nick: This is turning into a one sided beatdown. All it took was Olsig acquiring control of the match.

Richard: Piss off. You still won’t give Strife any kind of credit for actually getting this far. I’m the only one in this damn building with some faith in the man’s abilities.

Nick: Probably because you are so damn biased.

Strife smacks the mat and once again tries to get up on his own. He's blocked by Olsig, who levels The God of Snuff with a boot to the ribs. He grabs a hold of Strife's arm and twists it around. The Prince of Delusion wastes no time in walking over toward the ropes. Accompanied by a sea of flashbulbs, Olsig leaps up onto the top rope and jumps over Strife, performing a sick arm drag that slams Strife below the ring ropes into the ring post.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: Strife slammed into the ring post violently. That might be one of the more creative arm drags I’ve seen in the business. There also might have been some damage done to the hips and legs of Strife there.

Olsig gets a sick smile on his face, strolling over to the corner and picking up the bloody Strife. He elbows Strife across the forehead and shoots him into the ropes. Olsig hits the opposite side and goes for a flying elbow-

Ball shot.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Richard: SOMEONE CALL THE FLOOR MANAGER BECAUSE CASTOR STRIFE JUST WON THE JACKPOT!

Nick: Vangelus Olsig was only moments away from scoring the victory, and his first Universal Championship, when Strife took such a cheap shot--

Richard: Quit your whining you prick. There are no disqualifications in this match. The move executed by Strife was perfectly legal and boy did he ever nail it point blank. The money shot.

Strife rolls away from Olsig, clutching his ribs and back while starting his ascension back into the dominant position. He's been cut in several places and needs to ensure Olsig doesn't get another wave of momentum. Strife might have been taking Olsig lightly earlier, but now the velocity is going to get turned up. Pushing off the ropes, Strife turns around and readies himself for Olsig, who is doubled over but crawling toward him.

Nick: I don't like the look on Strife's face. He's got something dastardly in mind for Olsig.

Richard: After all that little emo freak has done to him, Olsig deserves what he’s about to get.

Strife soccer kicks Olsig in the shoulder and yanks him to a vertical base. Locking his arms around the waist, Strife doesn't hold back on the big moves, throwing Olsig overhead in a belly to belly suplex that bounces his legs off the ropes.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Strife confidently walks over, takes Olsig by the shoulders and lands a solid forearm shot on the chin. He whips The Prince of Delusion into the cables, takes position in the center of the ring, grabs the forward arm and leg, pushes up and drives Olsig back in a tilted Samoan Drop. Olsig momentarily reaches for his neck, but Strife isn't giving him any breathing room. A double ax handle finds the shoulder and Olsig finds more comfort on the outside of the ring. Strife's boot ensures that he is fully on the floor with his back to the ring.

Nick: Strife has taken the unorthodox method of going back to the floor. We all know what happened the last time he ventured into this area.

The God of Snuff hits the ropes, dashes forward, and looks for a devastating dropkick to the back of the head.

Nick: Uh oh!

The feet go through the ropes with flawless execution, seconds before Olsig would have received his second wind and spun around to counter. Olsig is propelled into the announcers table. Strife slides under the bottom rope and lands an elbow across the forehead. He then hoists Olsig up, putting his midsection into Olsig’s shoulder and driving him back first into the ring post.

Richard: A taste of Olsig’s own medicine at work here. I love this.

Olsig lets out a grunt of pain, but Strife isn’t exactly going to give him a sympathetic ear. Strife pushes forward and squishes Olsig into the post for a second time. Keeping his grip locked on The Prince of Delusion, Strife takes a few steps back and drops Olsig across his knee in an atomic drop. Quickly, Strife hoists Olsig back into the air and overhead for a crude belly to belly suplex. Olsig lands back first on the steel stairs, momentum sending him over into the front row.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Nick: Well, you wanted me to finally give Strife some credit? Here it is. What he just did is one hell of a tide turner in any match.

Richard: You damn right it is, Nick.

Nick: Strife broke even with that well timed move. The lower back of Olsig has to be in pain, counterbalancing the blood loss Olsig put on The God of Snuff earlier.

Olsig lies on the concrete in front of a pile of fans, hovering over him and trying to give The Prince some form of support. He wants to respond, bash them all and praise himself, but the pain shooting up his back doesn't allow for that. The God of Snuff dares hop over the ropes and gives Olsig an assist, shoving a few fans out of the way and taking Olsig by the hair. A right hand swells the jaw, twisting Olsig's legs around. Another right drops The Prince of Delusion to a knee. Strife reaches over and hooks his right arm around Olsig's neck. He hooks the gear and pulls, sending Strife into the apron back first.

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Strife lands the most rudimentary vertical suplex, bouncing Olsig off the ring apron, leaving his feet underneath the bottom rope inside the ring.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The God of Snuff walks over to the timekeeper’s station, the furthest he can get back in terms of distance, and crouches down. A small part of him relishes in the fact that the former Intense Champion is in such agony because of his handiwork. Olsig tries to lift his upper body up and either free his feet or move completely into the ring. Strife isn't going to give him the chance to recuperate and turn into a high flying maniac. He lumbers forward, sticking his right foot out and places a horrifying boot into Olsig's head, spinning him off the ring apron onto the ringside mats.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Nick: The sickening sound of boot meeting skull for you folks. Strife has hijacked control of this contest from Vangelus Olsig. His resilience will be put to the ultimate test here.

Richard: There is no resolve to test. Olsig is about to get put out to pasture.

With a hand on his kidneys, Olsig doesn't expose his back to The God of Snuff, wanting to minimize long term damage to his lower back. Strife reaches down and hoists Olsig from the ringside mats, dumping The Prince on the apron and shoving him into the squared circle. Strife slips in underneath the rope and throws Olsig onto his back, putting all of his weight on the shoulders and a forearm on the throat.

Richard: Strife continuing to use the tactics taught to him by the great heel forefathers of wrestling.

Nick: The ropes don’t matter and neither does the choke, but Strife is going to use them to his advantage anyhow.

ONE

TWO

Nick: Could Strife steal this while choking Olsig lifeless?

THREE-

Apparently, Strife will not be able to capture the Championship this way. Olsig somehow finds the strength to kick out, coughing up blood as he rolls away from The God of Snuff. Strife decides to keep business as business and forge ahead, tugging Olsig up. Strife puts an elbow onto Olsig’s cheek. The Prince teeters back. Strife decides to rifle a straight boot to the head, which puts Olsig on his back again.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

With Olsig down once again, Strife puts another boot just above the eyes. He decides to bring Olsig up again and switch tactics, firing him into the ropes. Strife assumes a ready position and catches him in the air, swinging him around 720 degrees and planting him dead center of the ring with a Black Hole Slam. Cover. No forearm across the throat.

ONE

TWO

THREE-

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

With a face full of agony, Olsig gets his shoulder out before the three.

Nick: Olsig is now starting to bleed like Strife was moments ago. Truth be told, if neither man can gain the definitive advantage over the other, the winner might be the man who ends up losing the least amount of blood.

Blood trickles from the tip of Olsig's nose onto the canvas, painting his face with more crimson in the process. Strife smoothly rises from the canvas and stomps Olsig in the back of the head. Olsig is caught in no man’s land and needs a bit of respite in the worst way. Grabbing Olsig around the waist, Strife hoists him into the air and onto his feet. Olsig shoots an elbow backwards, but Strife checks it with a palm, Strife shoves Olsig chest first into the ropes and connects with a shoulder into the lower back. Olsig arches his body and leaves himself vulnerable to Strife's assault. The God of Snuff doesn't disappoint, pulling Olsig back and landing an elbow to the mouth. Olsig drops backwards and tries to roll away. He's not getting the luxury though. Strife yanks him back up and throws him into the ropes one more time. Olsig attempts to reverse one second too late, hits the cables and is caught in the grip of The God of Snuff. Strife swings Olsig into a horizontal position and sticks out his leg, digging the kneecap into the lower back. Backbreaker. Strife hoists Olsig back up and launches him backwards in a fall away slam. Another cover from Strife.

ONE

TWO

THREE-

Olsig sees the hand of Elvis drop and pushes the shoulder underneath Strife's sweaty palms. If he got on this kind of run earlier in the match, Olsig might not have been able to kick out. Strife looks up at Elvis with a glare of discontent, holds up three fingers, motions for him to count a little faster, mixes in a few F bombs, and goes back to work. Olsig spits out a wad of blood while Strife clutches his back and slings Olsig out into the ropes. The God of Snuff hears Olsig come back and puts his head down, looking to put the finishing touches on Olsig's back and his night.

Nick: OLSIG HAS LIFE!

Olsig digs down deep, grabs the head of Strife and swings his body up, using his 223 pounds to drive the head of Strife into the canvas with a DDT. It will cost Olsig some more time in the medical room, but he knows the situation could be worse if Strife kept up.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: Olsig pulling himself back into this contest. We might be seeing another changing of the guard.

Richard: Get real.

The most important thing is coming out with a victory. Strife lifts his head off the canvas and sees two Elvis Nixon's looking down at him, asking if he wants to continue. The Prince of Delusion decides to play the role of uber dick, ignoring Elvis and dropping his head. Olsig paws at the canvas, feeling around for a rope or something to help him up. After being ignored by both competitors, Elvis stands back and watches.

Nick: That DDT caught Strife flush on top of the head.

Richard: Not to mention Olsig's back probably resembles a Jenga board after five minutes, nothing is in the right place.

Nick: Way to pull that one out of your ass.

Richard: I felt vintage.

Olsig’s fingertips touch the bottom rope. The God of Snuff rises off the canvas, wrapping his entire arm around the rope and pulling. Strife rolls onto his stomach and feels the bright lights from the ceiling invade his vision. The Prince of Delusion wipes the water from his eyes and grunts up to his knees.

Nick: Both have endured and put the other through a lot of punishment already.

Richard: With the most devastating round yet to come.

Looking at each other makes both competitors push even harder. Olsig yanks down on the top rope, stretching the cable. Strife pushes off his right foot and staggers to a standing position. He looks around for Olsig and finds him in the corner, one foot on the canvas, the other foot looking for the same spot. Strife charges ahead, arm ready to deliver a knockout blow.

Nick: Strife going for pay dirt.

Richard: OLSIG GOING FOR MONEY! WATCH OUT CASTOR!

Olsig sends his foot up and goes for a standing side kick. Strife has to pull his hand down and duck to the right, wrapping Olsig into his arms and backing him into the corner. Strife opts to put Olsig on the top rope. A right hand is blocked. Olsig kicks valiantly at the midsection of Strife, backing him away from the corner and giving The God of Snuff enough room to bring his whole body onto the top rope. Olsig soars through the air. Strife puts his arms out, intent on grabbing Olsig and swinging him down for a backbreaker.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

The God of Snuff crashes into the canvas thanks to Olsig's cross body block. The bloodthirsty Dallas crowd eggs Olsig on. Olsig hits the ropes hard, jumps over Strife, bounces off the second cable and flips through the air, landing a Lionsault. Olsig drops for the cover.

Nick: Olsig going for the win!

ONE

TWO

THREE-

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Strife throws a shoulder out in time to keep the match rolling. Olsig rolls off The God of Snuff and looks up at Elvis Nixon, only to get a peace sign. Olsig is ready to kick this match into a higher gear, pushing through his back anguish and dragging Strife to his feet. A right hand hits on the chin, sending spit flying into the front row. Strife goes for his own shot, but Olsig ducks, lifts Strife up at the hips, and sends him down in an atomic drop. The former Intense Champion fires off into the ropes, and upon getting back to Strife, leaps into the air, lands on the shoulders and flips Strife over the ropes onto the floor.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: Olsig putting it all on the line, if he missed with that, Strife could have done an array of moves to end the contest.

Richard: This crowd makes me want to puke.

Strife collides into the front of the announcers table while Olsig manages to hang onto the apron. The God of Snuff loses his footing, slipping to a knee, and gives Olsig more time to recover. The Prince of Delusion turns his back to the action, preparing for another high risk endeavor.

Nick: Olsig is definitely not afraid to take it aerial if he feels the need to. This is also where he shines the brightest.

Strife smacks Nick's television monitor and uses the device to slowly rise. Olsig looks over his shoulder and observes The God of Snuff moving. When Strife's right foot reaches the mats, Olsig springboards onto the second rope and flies backwards, sending flashbulbs off through the building. Strife' head looks up at the last second to see 223 pounds of Hall of Famer toppling onto him. The velocity and momentum carry Strife over the announce table, only peeling off the top section. Strife sprawls out over the table while Olsig takes both commentators down in a heap.

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

Olsig puts his hand against the padded barricade for some extra space, but with three bodies crowded in such a small space, its almost impossible for breathing room. Strife looks like he's been on an all night bender and Olsig's broken nose might have just gotten worse if he hit anything with a solid foundation.

Strife opens his eyes and finds the position that he's in. The table could break at any second. He's not concerned with that, because he has a vantage point on Olsig, who is shoving Richard and Nick separately with his hands and feet to create room. Nick is resisting, not sure where he's at while Richard gets pushed behind the timekeeper.

Richard: I'll make the damn toast in a minute, stop shoving.

Nick: Am I still on? What the hell happened?

Richard: Best damn night of my life, that's what.

Olsig shoves Nick's chair on top and palms the barricade, pressing off and moving to his feet. Strife thrusts his right hand upward and catches Olsig with a shot, but The Prince of Delusion puts a thumb into the eye and swings Strife off the table. A right hand lands between the eyes. Olsig moves around and throws Strife back into the ring, sliding in a second after. Strife feels the agony from having a thumb stuck directly in his eye, but continues to persist and moves to his feet. He can't win the match from this position unless Olsig gives it to him on a silver platter.

Nick: Fans, we're going to have to watch the replay, but Olsig and Strife are back in the ring. Olsig over in the corner and he looks ready to end this bad boy.

Strife jumps up and prepares to brawl. He sees triple of Olsig raising his right foot and preparing to land the boot in the midsection. Strife has done enough scouting to know what comes after a boot to the midsection when Vangelus Olsig is the antagonist. Strife does what comes natural in these kind of situations, grabs the one in the middle.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Strife literally throws Olsig off and halfway across the ring. The God of Snuff grunts and groans, pushing through the pain up to a standing position. Olsig continues to bring the pressure, landing a standing back kick and lifting Strife onto his shoulders. Olsig swings Strife around and drops him in a Death Valley Driver. The head shot doesn't seem to terminate the resolve of Strife, who is immediately pulling on the ropes and fighting back to his feet. The Prince of Delusion is a little perplexed, not having expected this much out of Strife.

Richard: You all might be witnessing the second coming of Castor V. Strife. He's not ready to go down unless its in a blaze of glory.

Olsig rushes off the ropes, going for another attack to try and keep the bigger man down. Strife explodes out of the gate, catching Olsig by surprise and slamming him into the canvas with a vicious spinebuster.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: You might have been correct Richard. Strife is coming back in a massive way here. If this keeps up, Olsig might not be able to last much longer.

Richard: Some days you can give it everything you got and still come up a mile short. It might be one of those days for Olsig.

Strife takes a hold of Olsig's right arm and yanks him up from the canvas, shifting his leg around behind Olsig, kicking him in the back of the knee, and concluding the combination with an STO. Strife rolls away from Olsig, bounces off the cables, and drops his head right across Olsig's forehead, opening the cut on Olsig's hairline even further and bloodying himself in the process. The God of Snuff only produces a smile and moves around to Olsig's legs, lifting him up so that his 223 pounds is working against him, all the pressure solely on his neck. Strife swings Olsig around and contorts his legs in the Texas Cloverleaf position.

Nick: Now this--

Richard: Yeah, eat some crow now Stuart.

Nick: This could be the smartest move Strife has done in the entire match. I don't know if Olsig is going to submit, but a move like this could sap the remaining strength from Olsig and get the strap.

Strife lowers his center of gravity and puts even more pressure on Olsig's back, causing him to shriek out in agony and try to reach closer to the ropes. The most he gets out of Strife is maybe a foot, but it's not enough to get closer to the ropes. Olsig tries crawling on his arms, but Strife yanks him back to the center of the ring and puts all of his weight on Olsig's lower back. Elvis Nixon gets all up in Olsig's grill and asks him whether or not he submits, but gets a resounding "No" that inspires the crowd.

Olsig! Olsig! Olsig! Olsig! Olsig! Olsig! Olsig! Olsig!

Nick: Olsig is desperately trying to get away from Strife here. The pain has got to be excruciating.

Richard: We haven't seen a submission victory in PRIME to end a Pay-Per-View in quite some time, let alone a submission victory to end a match in a long time.

Strife sinks down even further into the hold and shifts the legs of Olsig so that he can pummel the hamstrings with his free arm. The transition doesn't have any effect in strength with Strife holding deceptive strength at such a critical point in the contest. Olsig produces some muscle of his own, scrambling the few feet that he is given from the switch. Strife tries to reach around and grab Olsig's neck, contorting the move into a modified bow and arrow, but Olsig is able to reach away and get a few more feet. His fingers can almost reach the ropes. Strife grinds out the last bit of agony he can from the hold and tries to move back to the center of the ring, but the last ditch effort from Olsig gets him to the ropes and breaks the hold.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: Olsig showing a great amount of effort in fighting through the hold, but that had to take a lot out of him.

Richard: Strife probably moving in for the kill.

Olsig receives a double ax handle to the back and drops down to the canvas in a heap. His hand grasps the ropes but Strife stomps on the fingers, slumping the hand off the mat. The God of Snuff drags Olsig up by the hair and locks him in a reverse DDT position. He grabs a hold of the pants and lifts Olsig upside down. Dropping straight down, Olsig gets a mutilated, and possibly more violent, Bourbon for Breakfast. Strife slings himself over Olsig for the cover.

ONE

TWO

THREE-

Olsig muscles his shoulder out just before the count of three. Strife rolls his eyes and looks down at Olsig, shaking his head. If he wants to inflict more damage upon himself, so be it.

Nick: Olsig on the verge of collapse here. He's going to have to string together a miracle to fend off Strife.

Richard: A miracle might not even work.

Strife grabs a hold of Olsig from the canvas in a chokehold and launches him into the air, transitioning him into his arms and going for another spinebuster-

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: Olsig with a DDT!

Elvis Nixon looks at both competitors and can't tell which one of them is in a worse state. The Prince of Delusion is mumbling under his breath and trying to give his back some rest by lying on his stomach. The God of Snuff is cradled on his side, a sickening sight for those in the front row who get the chance to watch his wound clot. Olsig pushes off to all fours while Strife's hand slips on the bottom rope. Olsig pushes up to his knees and then off his knees to get up. Strife gets a surge of adrenaline and pushes up, wobbling into a side headlock, one that he can't escape from since Olsig transitions beautifully into a bulldog.

Nick: Olsig about ready to jump start the offense.

Richard: He's going to need some higher quality jumper cables.

Strife lands face first in his own blood and something about the sight seems to startle The God of Snuff. He doesn't like it. Or perhaps he likes it and really wants to admire it from a standing position. We're not sure, but nonetheless, he leaps to his feet.

Richard: Strife is a human pin cushion.

Nick: I think he's exerting all his energy to try and stay upright for a lucky shot. Olsig is showing that he's got more technical prowess when it comes to big time PRIME wrestling.

Richard: If we're talking big time PRIME wrestling, Strife has a better chance to come out victorious.

Olsig catches Strife on the hip and lands a monkey flip. Another shot directly to the back. Both men have had their backs diligently worked on this evening. Olsig bulrushes off the ropes and leaps into the air, landing an axe kick on the back of Strife head and sending him forward.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Olsig takes charge, leaping onto the shoulders of Strife and flipping backwards, landing a rarely seen reverse hurricanrana and putting Strife in an actual spot of danger. Another head spot and Olsig goes for the W.

ONE

TWO

THREE-

Strife throws his shoulder up and escapes in the knick of time. Olsig pushes onward and upward with his attack, bringing Strife back to a standing position and going for another kick. Much to Olsig's dismay, Strife catches the foot and goes to put Olsig in a legbar. Using quick thinking, Olsig extends off his plant leg and puts his shin into the back of Strife head for an enziguri roundhouse. Strife staggers back, dropping to a knee and finding solace in the corner. Bolting like someone just stole his wallet, Olsig collapses Strife in the corner with a brutal knee to the head. Strife tries to slip out of the ring for a moment, but Olsig is showing no mercy, much like Strife did earlier. He grabs Strife around the waist and flings him backwards in a man's game German suplex.

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Strife receives another head shot and possibly some free neck surgery courtesy of PRIME's insurance. Olsig waits for Strife to recuperate and come forward, walking right into his next move. The Monster unknowingly abides by this, leading Olsig to walk up the ropes and twist around in mid-air, pushing his feet forward into the corkscrew dropkick and sending Strife halfway across the ring. Olsig rises up and is breathing hard. He wipes a little blood from his eyes and seeks out the finish.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Nick: Olsig looks ready to end the contest right here and right now.

Richard: Let's see if he can actually convert. My money is on no.

Olsig groggily reaches down and pulls Strife up, but meets resistance. He isn't able to pull him up. The corkscrew dropkick might have sucked all the remaining pull from his body.

Castor Strife isn't one to pass on a free opportunity. He reaches up and tries to pull a Tony Gamble/Devin Shakur finish by curling Olsig in a small package.

ONE

TWO

THREE-

Olsig barely gets his shoulder out before the three count. The Prince, trying to keep his composure, trying to keep his focus, glares over at Strife, who looks ready for one more battle. The final battle. The one which will end the contest and declare a victor and the new Universal Champion.

Both men strain their already fatigued muscles and rise to standing positions. They are weary, wobbly, and probably won't remember anything other than holding the Championship gold from this moment on. Strife lands a stiff right hand. Olsig counters with a wild haymaker. Strife lands a jumping side kick to the back of Olsig's head, giving The Prince of Delusion a Michael Flatley moment, legs flailing as if independent from his body.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Strife springboards to his feet one more time and tries taking advantage. He shoves Olsig away and hits one of the first trademark moves either man has executed on the evening, a No Place Like Home hurricanrana. Olsig's momentum slides him along the canvas, a perfect segue into Strife's roaring elbow forearm to the head. Strife hoists Olsig over his shoulders and lands The Cult Classic, dropping Olsig in the corner. Strife takes the opportunity and goes for another cover.

ONE

TWO

THREE-

Olsig perserveres one more time and pulls a shoulder up. Strife curses under his breath and rolls away. He doesn't want to go through anymore of the bullshit and motions to everybody in attendance that the time to end the contest isn't near, but here.

Nick: Strife calling for The Director's Cut. Olsig better be prepared for this one.

Richard: He isn't going to be. Olsig is going to gag once again in the big moment.

Strife reaches down and grabs Olsig, but The Prince of Delusion makes one last ditch effort and holds onto the bottom rope. Like a child clutching his mother, Olsig is hanging on for dear life. Strife pulls harder. Olsig clutches harder. Strife. Olsig. Strife. Olsig. Strife grabs the hair, punches Olsig in the groin, and gets a running start in pulling him away.

He takes hold of Olsig's head and goes for the snap swinging neckbreaker.

The movements are all accurate.

But Olsig swings around and manages to land a boot to the midsection.

He picks Strife up over his shoulders in the Outsider's Edge position, holding him there for a brief second.

This one is for all the people who said he couldn't do it.

Sacrifice.

The crowd roars with approval while Olsig makes the immediate pinfall.

ONE

TWO

THREE!

DING! DING! DING!

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: VANGELUS OLSIG HAS DONE IT! HE HAS CAPTURED THE UNIVERSAL CHAMPIONSHIP! HE IS AT THE TOP OF THE PRIME MOUNTAIN!

Richard: NO! NO! NO! STRIFE MANAGED TO KICK OUT!

Nick: He got a shoulder up just a second too late. Vangelus Olsig has won the Universal Championship.

Vince Howard: Your winner of the match...AND NEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW UNIVERSAL CHAMPION OF PRIME... VANGELUSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS OLSIGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!

Referee Elvis Nixon awards Vangelus Olsig the Universal Championship. The feeling of holding the Championship is foreign to him. He is now the top dog in PRIME.

And realizes that the bulls-eye is going to be on his back. Everybody is going to want a piece of him.

He is ready to take the challenge.

Nick: Hats off to Castor V. Strife, he was able to take Olsig to the limit and almost came out on top several times. You have to think he's going to be back in this position sometime very close down the line.

Richard: He should get a rematch immediately, like right now.

Nick: Well he's going to have to wait, because there are a number of people who are going to want a piece of that championship.

Richard: Hard to make a case against him.

Nick: We'll see what happens with the ruling of Devin Shakur, but for now Olsig reigns supreme over PRIME. For UltraViolence 2010, Nick Stuart and Richard Parker, PRIME is signing off. We'll see you when PRIME returns to HBO on Independence Day from The Bud Walton Arena in Fayetteville, Arkansas.