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"Maybe, and I'm just dancing in the dark here, shoot yourself and see if that'll make anyone give a shit about you."

Lindsay Troy

ReVolution 152

20 Feb 2008 / Don Haskins Center, El Paso, Texas (seats 12,222)

Uni vs. Uni

As the strange glow of fireworks gives way to the smokey haze the explosive start wrestling’s top show always leaves behind, well over ten thousand-strong voice their excitement, anxious for the events of PRIME’s 152nd edition of ReVolution.

What they get… is a surprise to kickoff the show.

In a scene very different from the bright hues that had just filled the Don Haskins Center, the arena is plunged in darkness, before an ol’ familiar sound rips through the building.

"I Fucking Hate You" by Godsmack

Richard: What the HELL?!

Each and every fan in attendance jumps to their feet (Nick and Richard too, though they’ll deny it) as blue lights begin to blink on and off. The roar from the crowd shakes the very earth under El Paso, Texas as arguably the most dominant superstar in PRIME history emerges from behind the curtain.

Nick: The Inhuman Being! Tchu is BACK!!!

The cheers from the fans turn to chants of the chorus to Godsmack’s tune as PRIME’s Wrecking Ball makes his way towards the ring.

Richard: What is he doing here?! He’s not on the active roster, and he’s already cashed in his ticket. Can’t he just get lost?!

Nick: He’s a PRIME Hall of Famer, and in my book, that makes him PRIME for life.

Stepping into the ring, Tchu climbs to the second turnbuckle and releases a truly inhuman roar as he throws his arms apart, a large gold belt in his right hand.

Nick: The former two-time Universal Champion and reigning PTC Unified Champion is rocking the Don Haskins Center tonight!

A moment later, the sounds of "I Fucking Hate You" have vanished, the lights have returned to normal, and PRIME’s Wrecking Ball is standing center ring, mic in hand. With a small smile, he tosses his Unified Championship across his right shoulder. Decked out in a black suit, with a fine pinstripe, a lavender shirt and matching tie, its not the typical attire PRIME fans have come to expect from The Inhuman Being, but god… does all that gold look good against a thousand dollar suit.

Tchu: Ya know… back in December, I thought I’d stepped foot in a PRIME ring for the last time. And truth be told, had it not been for, oddly enough, a match that occurred on GCW television, I probably never would have shown my mug on ReVolution again. But things have changed, and now for the third year in a row, I find myself in a colossal match at the Culture Shock PPV.

Nick: Indeed, it was just recently announced, PRIME’s Culture shock will play host to Tchu’s first PTC Unified Title defense.

Tchu: I know a thing or two about big-time matches at Culture Shock. Two years ago… I came up just short of winning the single biggest match in pro-wrestling, finishing second in the Dual Halo. The next year, I took it that extra step, outlasting over 50 other individuals and capturing immortality. So, as we head towards the 2008 Dual Halo… I can safely say that I know how big that match is and just what sorts of opportunities it can help lead to.

As the crowd cheers, The Inhuman Being glances at the gold belt laying across his shoulder.

Tchu: This year, however, its not the Dual Halo I’ll be a part of… instead, I’ll be defending one of the most coveted prizes in this business. And I’ll be defending it against one of PRIME’s very own.

There is a loud and long cheer from the thousands of fans in attendance as they pop for the thought of an "all-PRIME" Unified Title picture. The PRIME Hall of Famer adjusts the prize at stake, repositioning it a bit before continuing.

Tchu: And the person I’ll be defening this title against is someone I know very well. Someone I’m quite close to and consider a true friend… something that’s hard to come by in this industry. So right now… I’d like for that person, if they’d be so kind, to come stand face to face with me in this ring.

The crowd buzzes, filling the silence that's being left by a lack of music, until the scratch intro to "Adrenaline" by The Roots blasts through the arena. Gold pyro erupts all around the stage and ramp in time with the back beat and the crowd's buzz turns to a loud and raucous roar.

Once again 'gain
Once again 'gain
Once again 'gain 'gain
Ladies and gentlemen

Once again 'gain
Once again 'gain, 'gain, 'gain, 'gain
Yo, Adrenaline


The chorus repeats as swirling spotlights start to roam around the entrance area, all snapping to the curtain once Black Thought's rhyme drops. "The Queen of the Ring" Lindsay Troy parts the fabric with authority and saunters out onto the stage, Universal Title strapped firmly around her waist. Dressed in street clothes, she pauses for a moment, looking out amongst the fans screaming their heads off while the fireworks display continues to boom all around her. Finally, Troy walks purposely down the ramp, keeping her eyes locked on Tchu while a smirk curls from her lips.

Hopping into the ring, she motions for a mic and is tossed one by Vince Howard. "Adrenaline" dies out and, with the crowd buzzing, the former stablemates stare eye to eye, each sporting their own prized possession. Troy is the first to lift a mic to her lips.

Troy: Didn't realize we were playing dress-up tonight, Matt. Would've broken out the power suit myself.

Tchu chuckles, nodding his head while looking down at his threads.

Tchu: Been awhile, Champ.

Troy: Likewise. So, what's on your mind.

Tchu: I wanted to apologize.

There's a pause then as Troy and the rest of El Paso digests what the Inhuman Being just said.

Troy: 'Scuse me?

Tcu: Two months ago, at King of Kings, I promised you that you’d be first in line for a shot at the Universal title if I should win it. Unfortunately, I didn’t bring my ‘A’ game to KoK, and came up short of capturing my third Uni title. Obviously, that didn’t stop you from getting your hands on the title anyways.

The Inhuman Being points towards The Queen of the Ring’s belt.

Troy: Well, when you've made Kicking the Fuckhead's Ass hobby number one, it comes with the territory.

Tchu: I’ve noticed. Nonetheless, I wanted to apologize on not being able to make good on my promise, and I hope you’ll consider this first shot at the Unified title my way of making amends. A suitable replacement of sorts.

Now it's Troy's turn to nod her head.

Troy: I think I can accept that sort of apology.

More cheers from the crowd at the nice little happy moment.

And then, (snap) just like that, some of that happiness fades away.

Tchu: Good. I also hope you’ll realize that just because we may have teamed up to rid PRIME of the collective group of jerkoffs known as FU… and just because at the end of the day, when I walk away from this ring, I consider you a friend… that doesn’t mean that while we're between these ropes, I don’t fully plan on kicking your ass.

The Universal Champion gives a short laugh before responding.

Troy: If I were you, friend, I'd be worrying about keeping up before thinking about kicking anything with those knees of yours.

The crowd OOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!s as she flips the mic against Tchu's chest and backs toward the ropes. Her ever-present smirk morphs into a Cheshire Cat grin as she hops out of the ring, giving Tchu a little shrug while she walks backwards up the ramp.

Richard: Talk about SASS!

Nick: Looks like the Universal Champ just turned the friendly rivalry up a notch! Folks, we've got a hell of a show lined up for you tonight. Let's take it backstage!

Tension

We head to the backstage area of the Don Haskins Center. Workers with headsets buzz around briefly before two men that have been absent as of late walk into view. Ian Nackedy and Aaron Andrews come around a corner, side by side. Ian is still visibly unhappy about being stuck with Aaron as a partner, but seems to be putting up with him.

Aaron: All I’m saying is that we don’t HAVE to defend the titles at Culture Shock. I mean we’ve done a lot as champions recently. I don’t think anyone would have a problem if we took the night off.

Ian: But that’s just it. It’s only in your own little imaginary world that we’ve done a lot as champions. We haven’t done anything at all but beat a couple of jobber tag teams. That does not earn us the right to take Culture Shock off.

Aaron: And that’s where you suck at being a wrestler Ian. When you’re a champion, you take any and all short cuts that come about. Doing so will give you longer title reigns, more money, more fame and even more women.

The two continue walking into the catering area where food is laid out on long wooden tables, just begging for someone to be powerbombed through them. That would have to wait, as Ian and Aaron were at their peak of agreement for the evening.

Ian: It just doesn’t seem right.

Aaron: You have a lot to learn from me Ian. A lot.

Suddenly, a hand falls on Aaron’s shoulder as he reaches for a few carrots. He is able to grab a handful of the vegetable before he is spun around. The face looking up at him is that of his real partner, Tyler Chance. The look being broadcast from his face was easy to perceive.

Aaron: Whoa Tyler. You look constipated. You should buy some Exlax or something.

Or not.

Tyler’s expression of anger only worsened at this point as he looked up to his partner.

Tyler: I’m not constipated dumbass. I haven’t been in the ring in over a month now because you are too busy hanging around with this poor excuse for a wrestler. You guys are spending so much time together anymore I was beginning to think you’d become life partners.

Ian shows an expression of impressment at Tyler’s statement. Aaron on the other hand isn’t worried at all as he bites a carrot and looks back to his partner.

Aaron: Tyler you know me and Ian are the tag champs right now. I would love to hold the belts with you, but it just isn’t in the cards right now. Me and Ian are a pretty unstoppable force right now. Maybe somewhere down the road.

Aaron bites another carrot and turns back to grab some other assorted finger foods as Tyler’s face fills with more anger. Ian takes a step back, allowing the two partners to have the room they might need.

Tyler: So that’s it? After all those years we dominated the independent scene and kicked so much ass it’s somewhere down the road?

Aaron pops another carrot.

Aaron: Yeah. That’s it. I’m glad you understand.

Aaron motions for Ian to move along and begins to push past Tyler, but is stopped by an arm on his bicep.

Tyler: No I don’t understand Aaron. In fact, I think this is bullshit. After everything I went through to help you get possession of that belt and now you want to tell me later on down the road we might be able to be tag champions? Complete and utter bullshit Aaron.

Aaron bit off the first piece of his last carrot and looked back to Tyler.

Aaron: Everyone has their own opinion. You’ll soon realize this is the best thing.

Tyler stops Aaron from walking away once again.

Aaron: You look like you want to hit me. But I know you won’t because you’ve always been a chickensh—

His words are cut off as Tyler knocks him backwards with a right hand. Aaron spits the ABC carrot to the ground and holds his jaw as Tyler moves closer. Aaron springs forwards and goes after his "partner" but Ian steps in and stops him.

Ian: Cool it Aaron.

Aaron: You are a little piece of shit. You wouldn’t have been anything if it hadn’t been for me!

Tyler backs off and smiles towards Aaron.

Tyler: Oh really? Then put your money where your mouth is. Put those belts on the line and I’ll find myself a partner. We’ll see if I can ride without you or not.

Ian: Aaron, don’t do it. Remember? Let’s take the night off.

Aaron: Forget that. I want to wipe that smile off his face. Go looking buddy, cause we won’t cancel if you don’t have a partner.

Tyler: Fine with me.

Tyler smiles smugly one more time and turns away as Ian lets go of Aaron. Aaron straightens his shirt out and grabs more carrots before they begin to walk away.

Ian: You sure you want to do this Aaron?

Aaron: Damn sure Ian.

Gold Leash and Key

Easton Hall steps out of his black rental car, pulling his dufflebag from the passenger seat and hoisting it onto his shoulder. He slams the door after him and the press of a button locks the car. He doesn't get to move much, though. A stagehand in a PRIME tee and jeans hustles over, waving his hands frantically. Easton doesn't disregard him. He brushes a bit of curtaining hair away from his eyes. His beard tightens up.

Stagehand: Mr. Hall, glad you made it early.

Easton Hall: What's this business?

The stagehand is not in shape. Several feet from Easton, he stops and grips his knees and huffs into the air. Easton starts to walk around the man and towards the arena. The stagehand groans, forcing himself to straighten up and follow the Canadian Dragon.

Stagehand: Lisa Tyler wants you.

Easton's beard does not relax around his lips. A triple threat tag team match with Devin Shakur on his side was not his idea of the shot he deserved, but Lisa Tyler was still in charge. Very likely she was just helping him remember that.

Easton Hall: What for?

Stagehand: Didn't say. Just said it was important.

The door comes closer and Easton grips the doorknob, pulling it open and stepping into the arena's corridor. The stagehand manages to push himself in the way of the closing door and slink in after him.

Easton Hall: How important?

Stagehand: She seemed pretty tense.

Easton Hall: That doesn't tell me anything.

Stagehand: She said to tell you that she's got the key to your locker.

Easton stops short and the stagehand crashes into Easton's back. Apologizing profusely, the skinnier but marginally taller man moves around Easton, which is a mistake; Easton locks those furious eyes on the man once he can.

Easton Hall: She said to tell me? Well, does that mean she does or she doesn't?

Stagehand: I have to assume she's telling the truth, don't I?

Easton studies the man for a bit before turning his head.

Easton Hall: I guess you do. Where's her office?

Of course, he won't enjoy this. But at the very least, he might be getting his shot. Finally.

OH, THE DRAMA! :O

Do you hear that rumble? That’s the double-patter of every woman across the nation as her heart revs up just a notch or two. The high-pitched wail coming from the auditorium? That’s the sound of a couple thousand female PRIMEates trying not to soak themselves as the WAL*TRON lights up to produce one of the single most sexiest images ever in ReVolution history.

Tyler Rayne.

What is it he’s doing, you may ask, that’s so damn sexy and irresistible? Breathing, mostly. Existing. His simple state of being a kind of orgasmic catalyst the likes of which Jason Snow has only dreamed about. So, ladies, I believe we have your attention now. Feel free to watch your 5-Star Champion in action. The taut muscles and rippling features of a body carved from granite. And then, you know, subsequently chipped and scraped at by the very pick used for carving. But, um, chiseled nonetheless. Blindfolded, wearing nothing but a pair of ripped and comfortable looking jeans, the favored son of PRIME’s new blood showcases a physical specimen worthy of epic poetry as he executes the seventh of thirty-five tai chi movements.

It takes a while to center your chi, kids. Give us a break.

So intent is he in his movements, so focused and centered, your 5-Star Champion doesn’t even notice as the door quietly opens and the object of all his dirty little fantasies quietly sidles in. Ladies and gentlemen, PRIME’s Universal Champion and a girl that would look hella-sexy in one of them Princess Leia slave bikinis…Lindsay Troy, fresh off her in-ring reminiscence with Tchu.

Troy: This is new. Didn't figure you for a blindfold kinda guy.

He smiles, pulling the cloth from his eyes as he executes one last maneuver.

Rayne: Yeah, well, wait ‘til I pull out the handcuffs.

Troy: (smirking) Let's try to show some restraint of the non-metal variety.

She leaves the door slightly ajar and moves more into the room.

Troy: Before I got sidetracked by Matt coming back, you texted and said you wanted to go over strategy? I didn't think you actually wanted to employ anything besides "go out and win."

Rayne: Well, what I really meant was…why don’t you come to my locker room while I’m half naked and just tell me what you want to do. Because, yeah, my plan is…go beat some dudes up.

Troy: Who am I to argue with a fool-proof plan like that?

He laughs, snatching a towel from the couch to dab what little sweat he’s worked up.

Rayne: Fair enough. So…what the [bleep] we doin’ with the rest of our evening?

Troy: Well, I imagine I'll head to the weight room to get some warm-ups in, then I told Danny I'd be up in the Suite for a bit.

Rayne: And here I was hoping near-nakedness would be enough to keep you around. What’s Hollywood up to tonight anyway? Making plans to steal yet another main event from me and Tsonda?

Rayne's frown doesn't go unnoticed, causing Troy to make one of her own.

Troy: Hey, let's not forget who moseyed up to his skybox campaigning for votes and trying to get me to wear something made for a Barbie doll. You said you didn't want to cause trouble, remember?

Rayne: Yes, well, as I recall, my campaign wasn’t conveniently timed to interrupt his first match back. I suppose Ferguson didn’t bother to think that he wasn’t the only one making a big comeback that night. (sighs) Looks, I know you and him are all buddy-buddy, and kudos to you. It’s cute. Kid just rubs me wrong, that’s all.

Troy: (matter-of-factly) You don't see me giving your boy Tson the same treatment, Tyler. If you don't like Danny, that's fine. Not many people do, and God knows that I didn't for a long time myself. But let's save the pointed jabs for when I'm not in earshot.

"Rayne, I just heard the craziest rumor about Brooks. Confirm for me whether she's got an actual piercing on her...what the fuck?"

Chandler Tsonda. Two words: Uh. Oh.

The Model Citizen had started to breeze into Rayne's locker room, interrupting the awkward pause that had settled between him and Troy, but Tsonda pulls up short after seeing the Universal Champ in the room.

Rayne: What's got your panties in a bunch?

Shooting a glare at Troy, the Jewel in the Crown answers without saying anything. Avoiding the elephant in the room, Tsonda acts like nothing's wrong.

Tsonda: Nada, don't sweat it. Just like I won't sweat beating you and...whoever you're partnered with tonight.

Another venomous glare towards Troy. Tonight, the Sultan of Style's working with all the subtlety of a chainsaw.

Troy: Something you want to share with the group, Chan Chan?

Tsonda: Oh heeeeeeey Lindsay! Cool belt, it new?

Troy: A trophy from the departed Fuckhead. Took me hours to clean the slime off it.

Tsonda: Strange. I thought I gave that belt out as a gift recently. I've even got the receipt so you can return it. Say, two weeks from now?

Troy: Sorry to disappoint, David BlowMe, but I think I'll be keeping my prize for quite awhile.

Stepping in between the two, the Underground Pimp tries to pull both back into the friend zone.

Rayne: Heh, my two most recent tag partners for the Uni Title. Ya think you might wanna throw the lowest common denominator into the mix?

The grin that Tyler emits will later be blamed for several young female fans fainting back in the arena. It's a diplomatic effort but damn if isn't sexy, ya know, like Kofi Annan.

Tsonda: Never congratulated you on pickin' up my old rags, TR. Guess my lessons been paying off.

Rayne: Yeah, sorry about skipping last week's Metrosexuality 101. Schedule got crazy.

Tsonda: Don't think that PRIME's forgotten who the original sex symbol around here was.

A loud snort from the previously quiet Troy reveals her stance on the subject. Without a second of hesitation, Tsonda's got barbs to spare in her direction.

Tsonda: My bad, I didn't say sex object. No one's trying to usurp your throne as Queen Hooker. Never before has such a small mouth been used to such large gain.

It looks like Tyler Rayne might be ready to defend the honor of one friend against the vile, but with a half-cracked smile, Troy fires back with the same lack of hesitation.

Troy: I'm really sorry you can't go the prom anymore with the Fuckhead. I know he's far more your...gender..., but his mommy doesn't really like interracial dating after the Eme Incident.

Tsonda: Gay jokes! What won't they think of next?

Troy: Ya ever think, Tsonda, that maybe the reason the jokes haven't stopped in the two years you've been here is because those damn stage hands keep talking? They say you're quite the-

Rayne: Hey, ladies and gentlemen! This locker room ain't no damn battlefield. Keep it PG-13. Unless LT wants to include some adult content. In which case, Chan, you gotta scram.

Even the trillion-dollar smile at the Uni Champion doesn't defuse things. Both participants in Culture Shock's title matchup direct their looks at Rayne, instead of staring holes through one another. The 5-Star Champion sighs.

Rayne: People, I'm not gonna play peacekeeper here. If you two need to rip each other apart, totally hunky dory. But not here. Besides, I'm not about to live in a world where Devin Shakur and Easton Hall have any chance of winning a main event.

Tsonda: I can be civil if the fluke champion can.

Before the claws can fly back out, something unexpected happens, changing the dynamic of the entire room. Danny Ferguson shows up backstage. Start gathering water, children, for the Apocalypse nears.

Pushing the door open with no interest in waiting for welcome, Ferguson takes a half-step in the room and gives a nod to Troy.

Ferguson: LT, heard your voice from out in the hallway. Heads-up, I got moved to another suite. Apparently THE Don Haskins is here tonight.

Rayne: Hey, we were having a conversation here, pal.

Danny tips his aviators down slightly and assesses Rayne head-to-toe.

Ferguson: And I'm sure it was delightfully faux-charming. (back to Troy) Maybe we can chat up the coach later. You can get that Glory Road DVD autographed.

Rayne: Just what do you think you're doing?

Ferguson: (frustrated, back to Rayne) It's called a ratings bump, champ. Your Lorenzo Lamas act might deliver the American Idol crowd, but you're missing some key demographics. And as the voice of experience, I assure you that standing shirtless next to Chandler does NOT bring in the males like you'd think.

Troy tries to hold back a laugh, Rayne fumes inwardly, and Tsonda adopts a wicked sneer, ready to pounce on his opening.

Tsonda: Good one, chokejob.

Ferguson: (brushing it off) I hope you know that loitering around the Universal Title is as close as you'll come to it.

Tsonda: I could say the same to you after you spent six months as the Royal Manservant. Difference with me is that I'll take the belt when I want it. Once again, I'm doing everything you did, but BETTER.

Ferguson: Back the fuck off, Ch-

Now it's Lindsay's turn to be the mediator, so she steps in front of Danny and tries to act as a buffer. Which kinda works, ‘cause she’s taller than both of them.

Troy: Don’t let him get to you.

Tsonda needles a little bit further, eager to see how much it takes to set Danny off. More or less, their relationship was the same as it had been when The A-List was intact, except now it had 15, maybe 20% more malicious intent.

Tsonda: That’s right, man, don’t listen to me. If I were a borderline washout like you, I wouldn’t want to hear the truth either.

Troy: He's just trying to be an asshole to get you to start something. Believe me, (she glares at Tsonda) I got the same treatment.

Tsonda: Trying? You’d be surprised at how much of this comes natural.

Ferguson: (to Troy) You'll have your moment next month. Step aside and let me have mine.

Troy: Danny-

Tsonda: What, are you gonna handle your own battles for once? You broke your rule about fighting when Troy's within a 2-mile radius two weeks ago and got jack shit for it; maybe you should just go back to being a sackless wonder from now on.

Troy: The only sackless wonder in this room, besides yours truly, is the guy who had his chopped off in order to prance down a runway to Right Said Fred. Hint: it wasn't Rayne during his last drunken bender.

Rayne: It was actually "Beat It" by Michael Jackson, but you were close, Uni.

Troy offers him a knowing smirk.

Troy: I'll catch up with you later, Rayne.

With plenty of animosity to spare, she throws Tsonda another look and ushers an unwilling Ferguson out of the room.

Tsonda: PFFT. You sure this is what you want, Tyler? Sounds like she always wears the pants.

Rayne: I'm okay without pants.




Out in the hallway, Ferg swivels and punts a nearby trash can halfway down the corridor, trying to keep his anger in check…and clearly failing miserably at it.

Troy: Let it roll off your back, Ferg. He's trying to rile you up, because he knows that if you go after him, Rayne will have his back.

Ferguson: And you won't raise up against Tyler.

She stops short and glares at him, the fire of 1000 suns rising behind her eyes. The response is sharp and agitated.

Troy: Yeah, except I just did it last week. Tsonda's in there trying to MAKE me choose sides. Are you really gonna do the same thing?

Danny throws his hands up and raises his eyebrows, trying to send off a "we cool" signal.

Ferguson: No. I don't care about Rayne, and to be honest, I don't care too much about Tsonda.

Troy: Could've fooled me.

Ferguson: I know he says what he says to push buttons. Trouble is, he's right.

Danny spins on his heel and starts walking down the hallway, presumably towards the elevators and the suite level. After a few steps' lead, Troy gives chase.

Troy: Right about what? That he's an asshole?

Ferguson: I screwed up, Lindz. I broke my personal rule for the promise of gold, and got nothing for it. Now I’m just a chump who’d compromise his principles for the brass ring.

Troy: You gave it your shot and came up a little short. Believe me, I'm glad you got over that "not hitting girls" crap, it made things more fun. Besides, you can't be mad at yourself...

She gives him a soft punch on the shoulder.

Troy: You just underestimated my desire to kick the Fuckhead's face in for the umpteenth time.

Danny gives her a smirk, but one wrought more out of humoring her than of actual enjoyment. He seems momentarily distant - not quite lost in thought, but considerably sidetracked in thought.

Ferguson: Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t a crisis of faith or some shit. But a year ago I was on top of things and Chandler was kicking around one tier down. Now he’s the top dog and I’m reeling. I used to call myself PRIME’s best big-match performer; since Shakur knocked me out, I’ve lost three straight.

Troy: If you think you're the first guy to hit a slump, I've got news for you. It's just one of those things you gotta wait out.

Ferguson: Nah, I’m gonna fix it at Culture Shock. I'm going to win the Dual Halo.

Troy: Yeah, you and everyone else.

Ferguson: No, I'm serious. Tchu came in second in ’06 and won last year. I was the runner up. Now I’m due. I’m not wrestling until the Dual Halo. Everything is going to be about winning that ticket and putting myself back on track...back where I belong.

Troy: Listen, Danny, I have the utmost confidence in you, but don’t you think you’re painting yourself in the corner? I mean, most PRIME Hall-Of-Famers haven’t even won the Dual Halo.

Ferguson: Most PRIME Hall-of-Famers had a legacy to speak of. I gotta win to cement my place in history.

He gets a few steps ahead of Troy and looks back.

Ferguson: The Dual Halo is it for me. It's about my future...and my present. Either I get that big win for people to remember...

He taps the faceplate on Troy's title belt.

Ferguson: Or I become PRIME's most well-known also-ran.

Danny turns and continues his walk to the elevators. Lindsay slows to a stop and looks down at the belt, then back up at Danny. With a sigh, she starts walking again.

Tyler Chance vs. Aaron Andrews & Ian Nackedy

"LOUD AND ANGRY" by the J. Nathan Raby/Leon J. Perniciaro Acoustic Guitar and Heavily-Edited Vocals Supergroup hits the P.A. and the crowd lets out a mixed reaction for the tag champions. They emerge together with the belts draped over their shoulders.

Vince Howard: The following tag team contest is scheduled for one fall and it is for the PRIME Tag Team Championships. Introducing first, they are the PRIME Tag Team Champions Ian Nackedy and Aaron Andrews!

The crowd continues their mixed reaction as the two men walk to the ring and enter.

Nick: How about this match up Richard?

Richard: I think Tyler Chance is an idiot for this. He’s going to get what’s coming to him.

Nick: I can’t help but have some sympathy for the guy. I mean his tag team partner, or should I say former tag team partner, used him and then threw him out like last Tuesday’s garbage!

Richard: Why last Tuesday’s? You have to be different than everyone out. It would have been yesterday’s garbage for everyone else, Nick. But past that, I would do the same thing. Wrestling is a dog eat dog world.

The champions get into the ring as their music fades. It is soon replaced by the opening chords of "Down" by Stone Temple Pilots. The crowed let out an equally mixed reaction for the smaller of the former team as he slowly walks out from behind the curtain.

# PLEASED TO MEET YOU #
# NICE TO KNOW ME #
# WHAT’S THE MESSAGE #
# WILL YOU SHOW ME #

Tyler is alone for the moment as he slowly walks down the aisle and around to the back of the ring. He asks for a microphone and looks up at the champions before climbing onto the apron.

Nick: Look at this kid, he’s a solid worker. What has he done to deserve this kind of treatment from Aaron Andrews, a man that is supposed to be his friend and Tag Team partner?

Richard: He let another wrestler into the equation.

# I’VE BEEN WAITING #
# A LONG TIME NOW #
# NOW HERE’S THE ANSWER #
# YOU’RE ALL MINE NOW #
# YA, I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR MY SUNDAY GIRL #

Tyler ducks into the ring and looks at Vince Howard.

Vince Howard: And their opponent, first from Easton, Pennsylvania "Photogenic" Tyler Chance!

Tyler holds up a hand at Vince Howard and lets him know he can exit the ring as Ian and Aaron watch on. They stand on the opposite side of the ring.

Tyler: There’s no need for you to continue Vince. The truth is, I don’t have a partner. And just like you said Aaron. You aren’t stopping the match because of that. So I’ll take you both on by myself!

The crowd pops at the courage of the smaller wrestler as he hands his microphone outside and prepares for battle.

Nick: This takes guts. This kid is going to vie for the tag titles by himself against his former partner.

Richard: It’s dumb. I already said that.

The referee signals for the bell and Tyler and Ian begin circling each other to start the match. They come together with a collar and elbow tie up that Ian comes out of with a wrist lock. Tyler walks around the ring in pain before cartwheeling forward to relive the pressure and spinning under Ian’s arm to reverse the hold.

Nick: Solid reversal there by Tyler.

Richard: It had poor form. I’m surprised it worked.

Ian holds his arm in pain for a moment before inching towards the ropes and grabbing the top rope. He uses it as a brace for him to backflip to relive the pressure. He turns Tyler around and takes him over with an arm drag. Tyler gets to his feet and rushes towards Ian. Ian leapfrogs Tyler, allowing him to hit the ropes and rebound back. When he does return, Ian attempts another arm drag, but Tyler flips all the way over to his feet and spins Ian around, applying a backslide. Tyler takes him down and gets one and a half before Ian kicks out.

Nick: Both of these guys are just so quick on their feet.

Richard: I personally don’t care for either of them thank you.

Both men get to their feet and come together again. Tyler fires a clothesline, but Ian ducks and grabs his wrist, twisting into another wristlock. Tyler is quick to roll forwards and then back into a headstand before rolling to his feet. He stands and swats the hold away from Ian before leaping into the air with a dropkick. Tyler crawls over and covers Ian, getting another one and a half count. As Tyler gets to his feet he stares across the ring to Aaron before heading back to Ian. Tyler grabs a side headlock and applies pressure for a few seconds before Ian backs him into the ropes, shooting him off. Tyler races across the ring and ducks under a leap frogging Ian before rebounding. He comes back and jumps over the downed Ian Nackedy and hits the ropes again. This time when he rebounds, Ian leaps into the air and takes him down with a dropkick.

Nick: Nice dropkicks from both competitors there.

Richard: Sloppy again. Why do you have such a hard time recognizing good skill, like Aaron Andrews has?

Ian covers but gets only one and a half before Tyler kicks out. Ian pushes himself to his feet and then lifts Tyler up as well. He grabs Tyler’s arm and begins backing him towards the corner with some chops. Ian gets him to the corner and lands a few more chops before Tyler turns it around and lands a few of his own. Tyler grabs Ian’s arm and sends him across the ring into the opposite corner. Tyler sets himself and races across the ring, leaping into the air and nailing a clothesline as his body slips through the second and top ropes to the apron. Ian stumbles from the corner as Tyler turns around and grabs the top rope, leaping onto it and spring boarding into the ring. Ian turns just in time for Tyler to land on his shoulders and snap him over with a hurrincanrana.

Nick: Beautiful springboard by Tyler Chance there! This kid has some of the crispest stuff I’ve seen in recent years. Even if he can’t win the tag titles here tonight, I have to imagine he will be a force in the singles ranks in due time.

Richard: Look at how tiny he is. There’s no way he could stand up against the likes of Tony Gamble or Devin Shakur.

Nick: Chance is an inch taller and almost thirty pounds heavier than Gamble!

Tyler scrambles over and covers Ian, getting two before he kicks out. Tyler gets to his feet, allowing Ian to crawl away and stand up near his corner. He extends his hand to Aaron, but Aaron shakes his head as he looks across the ring to Tyler. Ian looks to Aaron with a disgusted look but is snapped back to the moment as he sees Tyler charging out of the corner of his eye. Ian sidesteps the one man wrecking crew and shoves him into the ropes. Tyler rebounds and gets snapped over by an arm drag from Ian. Nackedy holds on to the arm and locks in an arm bar like submission. The referee is in position asking Chance is he wants to end it, but Tyler stays strong and shakes his head no. After a few moments of wiggling and inching he grabs the bottom rope and breaks the hold.

Nick: Ian breaks the hold immediately as Tyler grabs the bottom rope. Class act right there.

Richard: And where has that ever gotten anyone? All the successful and important athletes have been assholes. Mike Tyson, Terrell Owens, Tom Brady and Ron Artest. All assholes. And all very rich. Point proven.

Ian lifts Tyler to his feet and grabs a front face lock before snapping him over with a suplex. Ian gets back to his feet and lifts Tyler back up, backing him into the corner with more loud chops. Ian finishes the chops off and grabs a hold of Tyler’s head, scaling the turnbuckles. He pushes off and spikes Tyler down with a DDT. He doesn’t cover though. Instead he gets to his feet and backs into the corner, allowing himself some room to gain some momentum. But as he preps to take off, Aaron slaps his back, tagging into the match.

Nick: Oh how convenient. Now that Tyler is down Aaron wants into the match. He couldn’t tag in earlier when his partner was in trouble. What a rat. A disgusting disgraceful rat.

Richard: My kind of guy.

Ian looks on as Aaron steps into the ring and pushes past to get to his fallen former partner. Aaron lifts Tyler to his feet and begins laying forearm after forearm to the side of his head. Aaron pushes Chance back into the ropes and sends him across before leveling him with a clothesline on the return. Aaron covers, but Tyler gets his shoulder up at two. Aaron looks to the referee and briefly complains that it was a slow count but then turns back to Tyler. Andrews lifts him up and backs him into the corner where he begins scraping his forearm across Tyler’s face. The referee calls for the break but is forced to start to count when it doesn’t happen. Aaron finally breaks it off at four and a half and holds up five fingers, indicating he has until five.

Richard: You see Nick? Andrews knows all of the rules in wrestling. That mean’s he’s got a competitive edge.

Nick: You call knowing you can cheat for five seconds a competitive edge. I’d hate to see where you rank taking anabolic steroids at. I’m guessing somewhere in between expected and required.

Andrews goes back on the attack, hauling Tyler from the corner and sending him to the ground with a chop. Tyler crashes to the mat where his former partner begins laying boots to the back of his head and neck. Soon enough Aaron picks him back up and whips him into the ropes again before nailing a back elbow that sends him back down. Andrews takes the opportunity to throw his arms up in a pose for the crowd, who respond by booing. He continues his pose as he walks over and sets his foot on the chest of the fallen Tyler Chance. The referee counts, but only gets two from the cocky cover. Andrews looks down to Tyler and drops a knee across his face before covering and getting two.

Nick: It sickens me to see how egotistical Aaron Andrews is. I think I can say the same for Ian Nackedy as well.

Richard: He doesn’t have an ego. He’s just confident, Nick. Get it right.

Aaron argues with the referee again before getting to his feet and lifting Tyler up as well. He lands a few clubbing blows to the back and shoves him under his legs, setting up for a powerbomb. As he lifts Tyler to his shoulders, the smaller and quicker man flips right over and slides down Andrews’ back, taking him over with a sunset flip. Andrews flails around and gets his shoulder up at two. He rolls to his feet and runs forward LEVELING Chance with a mafia kick to the face. The crowd groans at the sound and impact, fearing the end for Tyler. Aaron covers, looking to put his former partner down.

ONE…TWO…THR—KICKOUT!

Nick: After that vicious kick to the face Tyler gets his shoulder up! This kid feels like he has something to prove tonight!

Richard: He should lie down and prove he’s smart enough not to die.

Andrews is visibly more upset with the referee now as he takes longer to yell at him before turning back to Tyler. As he brings the Photogenic one to his feet, he nails a few right hands to the gut that only slow Andrews. Aaron lifts Tyler to his feet and grabs a rear waist lock, lifting him up for a German Suplex. Tyler flips all the way over and lands on his feet, waiting for Aaron to get up. He does and charges towards his former partner, who charges forwards too. Just as they meet Tyler leaps and spins his body horizontally 360 degrees, nailing a nasty kick to the side of the head that sends both men back down.

Nick: ARACHNID KICK!

Richard: That looked like it hurt…but Aaron is immortal! Get up!

With both men down, the referee begins his ten count. At three, neither man has moved much. At five, they are both slowly crawling to the side of the ring, looking to the ropes for help to get to their feet. At seven Andrews is almost up but Tyler is still on one knee. Andrews gets up and measures the groggy Tyler Chance as he stands up in corner. Andrews charges forwards but Chance leaps into the air and lands in an electric chair position on Andrews’ shoulders. Aaron steps out from the corner and Tyler swings his weight back, snapping Aaron onto his head with the reverse hurrincanrana. Tyler crawls over and covers.

ONE…TWO…THRE—KICKOUT!

Nick: I thought the young man had the win right there!

Richard: Aaron Andrews will not go down to such a sloppy move!

Tyler gets to his feet as does Aaron on opposite sides of the ring. Aaron preps himself in the corner, and gets tagged by Ian Nackedy before he takes off and races across the ring. Tyler side steps, allowing Andrews to crash into the turnbuckle. Tyler backs up a step and then runs to the ropes right of Andrews’ position. He leaps onto the second rope and springboards backwards, nailing a kick to the back of his former partner’s head. Just as Tyler gets to his feet, Ian meets him with a boot to the gut. He grabs front face lock and preps himself, leaping forward and driving Tyler’s head into the mat with a modified DDT.

Nick: Oh and there’s the Don’t You Dare. This kid tried his best but I have to imagine that is going to be it.

Richard: I don’t like Ian, but a pinfall for him means Andrews is still a champion.

Ian scrambles over and covers as the referee comes in.

ONE…TWO…THREE—

Nick: NO! Tyler got his foot on the ropes! The crowd is getting behind the young man now!

Richard: ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Why didn’t you pull him away from the ropes? You suck at life and more importantly ring psychology!

Ian stands and lays a swift kick to the back of Tyler. Tyler pushes himself to his knees and asks for more. Ian fires another kick to the back of the head and watches as Tyler takes the kick and asks for another. Ian goes to fire another kick, but is suddenly stopped by the hands of Aaron Andrews wrapping around his waist as he ducks under his arm. Aaron lifts Ian up and spins him 180 degrees vertically, dropping him with a piledriver.

Nick: What in the hell?! Aaron Andrews just attack his partner and drilled him with the Omega Driver!

Tyler looks to Aaron with a confused look as Andrews backs away. Tyler pulls Ian closer to the corner before scaling to the top rope. He sets himself and leaps off, landing with a beautiful Shooting Star Press and hooking the leg. The referee slides in for the count.

ONE….TWO….THREEE!

DING

DING

DING

Nick: Tyler Chance did it! He pinned Ian Nackedy! Tyler Chance has won the PRIME Tag Team Titles! But what in the hell set Andrews off on Nackedy?

Tyler’s hand is raised by the referee as he looks across the ring to his former partner. They hold their glares at each other for a few moments before the referee presents both tag title belts to Tyler.

Richard: I…..HOW COULD YOU LOSE TO A MIDGET LIKE TYLER CHANCE?! I want to know why Aaron Andrews attacked Nackedy when it seemed as though he had the match in control!

Tyler gets to his feet, both belts in hand and stares at his former tag team partner as she slowly raises them both into the air. The crowd lets out a mixed reaction as Tyler does so and then drops them back to his side. He looks to the belts and then back to Andrews, the look of confusion still on his face. Suddenly, smiles break across both men’s faces and Tyler walks forwards, shoving one of the belts into Aaron’s hands. They embrace each other with a hug as the crowd erupts in a chorus of boos.

Nick: It was a damned set up! The entire time Tyler and Aaron were still on the same page! This is just awful.

Richard: This is great! They had everyone fooled. Even you Nick. But not me. I knew it all along!

Nick: Oh bull.

Tyler and Aaron raise their title belts into the air and then look to Ian Nackedy who has begun to get to his feet. It seems as though he still doesn’t know what’s going on as Tyler approaches him from behind and lays a hand upon his shoulder. In one quick movement, Tyler grabs Ian and takes him over with a Half and Half Suplex that rolls Ian back to his feet and into the clutches of Aaron Andrews.

Nick: Oh the match is over and you’ve done your work! Leave the man alone!

Richard: Do whatever you were going to do to him!

Aaron scoops Ian up and drapes his legs over the top rope so that he hangs inside. Andrews steps to the apron and faces the crowd, grabbing Nackedy’s legs in a Boston Crab like hold. He then ties up the arms of Ian with his feet and begins wrenching on the legs, stretching them. Inside the ring Tyler hits the ropes on the opposite side of the ring and comes back nailing a dropkick to the exposed and vulnerable face of his foe. He repeats this three or four times as the referee tries to get Andrews and Chance to break off the attack.

Nick: Look at the look on Nackedy’s face! They are doing serious damage to his legs with this attack!

Richard: This is perfect! Win the titles and eliminate the only other tag team!

But Aaron and Tyler have forgotten about Gil Gilderstein. He runs from the back, much to the fans approval. Andrews and Tyler grab their belts and scramble as Gil slides in to check on his tag team partner. Ian writhes in pain, holding his right upper leg.

Nick: It looks like Ian is seriously injured. We need help out here! Get the damn medics!

Richards: All hail your new tag team champions!

Aaron and Tyler hold their title belts high into the air once again as they back up the entrance ramp. At the same time trainers have started to help Ian from the ring, as well as Gil. Ian drapes an arm over Gil's shoulder and avoids putting any weight on his right leg as they help him to the back.

A Word From the Icon

Fade in on a PRIME banner.

A few seconds tick by…and Simply Beautiful walks out in front of it wearing his brand new "Sexy Sexy" t-shirt, shades, Italian Flag bandanna, and black Adidas track pants. He flashes the million dollar smile that’s broken hearts all over the world, from New York to New Delhi.

SB: People have been asking me…"SB, why go to PRIME? You’ve got some good stuff going on in other companies – why spread yourself so thin?" Well, I’ll tell ya why, sfacime. SB is the marquee name in professional wrestling. PRIME is the marquee promotion in professional wrestling. All the stars come to play right here. Why would I be anywhere else, jack?

SB: You see, I’m on a quest. A hunt, if you will. SB will be a World Champion in A1E and EPW both, I can assure of that. But there’s only one place SB can go to if he wants to be the champion of the UNIVERSE. Lindsay Troy – she’s not just sexy bitch, she’s the top wrestler in the world. Well… at least the top wrestler who doesn’t have a penis. As much as I’d love to nail her, I’d like even more to take her title. After all – what says I love you better than a kick to the vagina?

SB: But I all seriousness, folks, there’s only one reason that I’m here. It’s fairly basic. I’m the best wrestler of all-time – you can put that in print, broadcast it to the four corners of the Earth, and beam that shit up to a fuckin’ satellite.

Simply Beautiful is gonna win the Dual Halo, and then I’m gonna go on to be the next Universal Champion. You think you can stop me?


Prove it, sunshine.


SB winks to the camera, and we fade into commercial.

Only $399.99!

Majestic silver engulfs the first shot of the camera. The sound of stagehands preparing for some event is heard in the background. A stagehand with glasses and a five o clock shadow steps in front of the camera with a film marker.

Glasses Guy: Devin Shakur Commercial Take 49, marker!

The marker slams down and Devin Shakur enters the scene with seven men lumbering in his 6’6 Number 2 Contenders trophy into view. They place the gigantic mass of metal behind Shakur while he holds a miniaturized version about ten inches high in his left hand.

Devin Shakur: Hi, kids, my name is Commie Emo, or as you might better know me today…THE NUMBAH 2 CONTENDER OF THE WOHDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD to the Universal Championship. I’m here today to talk to you about greatness and how you can obtain a piece of it for a small price.

Shakur clears his throat and goes into the sales pitch.

Devin Shakur: Are you tired of all your friends badmouthing you behind your back because you aren’t hip? Do women run away from you whenever you open your mouth because you got some FUNKY bad bref? Do you make dogs howl endlessly and cats crawl under cardboard boxes just to avoid you? Well all of that isn’t going to change. You are still going to be the dumbest and fugliest looking douchebag on the block, but you can now feel a little bit more comfortable in your role with the…

Shakur holds the miniature trophy up real close to the camera, and adapts the best Don West ‘selling Beanie Babies ala 1999’ voice ever heard.

Devin Shakur: THE NEW DEVIN SHAKUR MINIATURIZED TROPHY! FOR ONLY 399.99 YOU CAN OWN A PIECE OF HISTORY! DURING THE NEXT THREE WEEKS THESE BAD BOYS ARE ON SALE AND YOU CAN OWN ONE! SUPPLIES ARE LIMITED BECAUSE THOSE CHINESE KIDS CAN’T WORK TWENTY FOUR SEV…Because the manufacturers can’t produce enough…THEY ARE FLYING OUT IN BOXES! BOXES! THIS ITEM IS TEN INCHES LONG JUST LIKE MY COC…Can’t say that either? Ok, TEN INCHES LONG, MADE OF REAL SILVER, AND SOME HAVE BEEN TOUCHED BY ME PERSONALLY!

People who fix windows are going to make a killing tomorrow morning after that.

Devin Shakur: Now some of you might ask, what can this do for you? How are you going to become all that is cool by owning this? The Devin Shakur miniaturized trophy can give you style and grace where before you would have to rob someone at gunpoint to get a taste of either. You can turn the trophy into the most extravagant paperweight money can buy. Your papers are guaranteed never to move because I’ll be whooping their ass just like I did Hoyt Williams at Revolution 150.

A holy thumbs up from the chief of emo.

Fade to a man sitting depressed in his gloomy office staring down at a pile of unorganized papers. He looks like a fucking joke and then some. SUDDENLY, an attractive woman with huge knockers enters the scene and hands him the Devin Shakur trophy. His eyes light up. A moment later his office is illuminated with exuberant colors, his papers are mad organized and looking very stylish with Devin Shakur’s presence sitting atop them, and the man is giving a sign of approval, the cheesy thumbs up.

Devin Shakur: You can put it on your mantle and look mad cool after lying to your "friends" by saying you have beer.

Fade to a balding thirty year old man living in a middle class suburban house. Four people enter the house with eager looks on their face, ready to become intoxicated. Sad looks manifest when they see an empty fridge, and all hope is lost. SUDDENLY, their eyes light up like Christmas trees when they see the NEW Devin Shakur miniaturized trophy atop chrome dome’s mahogany mantle. All of the friends give congratulatory high fives and man hugs before posing in a picture, everybody pointing encouragingly at baldy with a massive smile on his face. He’s cool.

Devin Shakur: And most importantly, if you ever feel the need to hit someone upside the head, you can do that.

A stagehand walks by talking on his cellular phone. One or two seconds after appearing on camera, Shakur glares menacingly at the man.

Devin Shakur: What you say about my mama?

Stagehand: Huh?

Shakur BASHES dude’s face in, sending him down to the ground in a heap! Commie Emo leaps atop the stagehand and starts to pound him even more with the trophy all while playing to the camera.

Devin Shakur: THE…DEVIN…SHAKUR…MINIATURE…TROPHY…ONLY 399.99!

Shakur gives a stiff kick to the man before turning back to the camera.

Devin Shakur: And if you act NOW, RIGHT NOW, an impersonator of mine will autograph my name onto your trophy.

Jared Leto walks into the shot.

Jared Leto: Where the fuck is my 3000 bucks for this cameo?

Shakur looks at the camera and starts to fumble around with the trophy in hand.

Devin Shakur: I…Uh…Thing about that issssss…

Shakur pulls another home run swing out of his ass and belts Leto in the head, dropping him like a ton of bricks. Somewhere Tyler Rayne is sobbing uncontrollably, all the while wondering how Leto and Shakur are appearing at the same place at the same time.

Devin Shakur: CALL 1-800-EMO-1234 TO GET YOURS!

Shakur starts unleashing Kawada kicks on Leto and the stagehand.

I'm Not Putting My Pitchfork Anywhere Near Your Medulla

Chandler Tsonda is steaming off a recent encounter with several nemeses. How do we know this? Well, him storming into the camera shot and flipping over a catering table should be tip-off number one. It seems without rhyme or reason, but sometimes a man’s just gotta get these things out.

Chandler Tsonda: Those two fuckers…

The aforementioned enemies of the Jewel in the Crown? Pals D-Ferg and L-Troy. They’re low on the power rankings of the Chandler Tsonda universe. Before any more innocent tables can be hurt, something catches his eye. He glances up and sees the passing form of Wade Elliott. The Bad Dog looks over and doesn’t lose a step, continuing his stride down the hallway.

Chandler looks at the downed table, then up at Wade. Deciding that Wade > table, he pursues the former Intense Champ for some unknown purpose.

Chandler Tsonda: Wade! Hey, you mangy mother-

He’s cut off not by words, but by Elliott’s stop. The sudden stop almost causes a fender-bender of people. Instead, Tsonda sidesteps, barely avoiding a scary confrontation.

Chandler Tsonda: What’re you doing sulking around backstage? More importantly, don’t you have anything to say about the tantrum I was just throwing?

Wade lifts an eyebrow to the Number One Contender for the Universal Championship.

Wade Elliott: Well, I was a li'l curious 'bout a pretty boy like yerself gettin' all uppity on some furniture, but as far as I'm concerned, that ain't a bad thing. An' I'd think ya'll'd get the hint that skulkin' 'round the halls is sorta what I do...

The Model Citizen shrugs, launching into another train of thought.

Chandler Tsonda: Surely you must have some sort of opinion on what just happened between me and the ol’ lady. One of your wacky drunk guy opinions?

Wade Elliott: She ain't the "'Ol' Lady," an' we ain't been on the best've terms lately, what with Rayne an' all, that fuckin' cunt...whatever 'appened 'tween you two ain't my fuckin' business...'less ya got to blows, then I'll fuckin' kill ya.

Tsonda chuckles as if there’s been some joke made, but the unchanging face of Wade says otherwise.

Chandler Tsonda: Erm…no, I didn’t pull out my domestic violence card just yet. Funny, isn’t it? Given everything that’s happened…it could have been you in that showdown with your friend-but-not-friend in two weeks. We thought we were fighting for a shot at that douche Silver, eh?

Wade heaves hot air out his nostrils.

Wade Elliott: Yeah, would've loved to git my paws on 'im one more time 'fore he tucked tail an' ran off, fer that belt or not.

Chandler Tsonda: You and me both, homes. Probably almost as much as you wanna get your tentacles on Rayne, eh?

A grin from the Sultan of Style says that he’s not looking for a fight, just picking Wade’s brain.

Wade's eyebrows furl.

Wade Elliott: Somethin' like that.

Chandler Tsonda: We’re pretty good at this "I ask a question, you give a dismissive non-answer." So instead of awkwardly moving towards the real question, I’ll come out with it. What happens when I put my hands not just on, but all over Troy at Culture Shock? You gonna put a pitchfork through my medulla?

Wade reels back, throwing his hands up in defense.

Wade Elliott: PItchfork in yer what? Sorry, pal, I don't swing that way.

Chandler Tsonda: Great. So glad we had this little fireside chat.

Wade lifts another eyebrow, but lowers his hands, returning to "stern, badass Wade."

Wade Elliott: Son, a one on one match in that there ring is legit as far as I'm concerned, an' it ain't none've my business. Beat the fuckin' piss out've each other fer all I care. It's when ya decide to play dirty, blindside 'er backstage, bring a li'l extra to the ring, that I fix to beat yer skull in

Wade claps Chandler on the shoulder, goatee raised with a malicious little grin.

Wade Elliott: So you play nice, an' so will Ol' Wade.

Chandler Tsonda: Noted. I’m thrilled we’ll still be best buds when I win the Uni Title. If I have anything to say about it, I’ll let you and Rayne duke it out, legit-style, in the ring.

Wade snorts, amused.

Wade Elliott: Why thank ya fer yer charity.

The Blue Collar Brawler then proceeds to squint his keen blue eyes at The Model Citizen. Chandler looks to the left and right, his facial expression reading "what'd I do?"

Wade Elliott: How is it the only asshole 'round here I can have some sort've fuckin' real conversation with is the fruitiest fucker on the roster?

A wry smile emerges for a fleeting second on the face of the Viet Viper.

Chandler Tsonda: Probably the same way that the only dumbass who says anything real to me is a fuckin’ redneck.

After that frank exchange, there’s no need for handshakes or daps between these two, dare we say, frenemies. Tsonda gives a nod which Wade returns before both men slink off for other extracurricular activities.

A Birthday Surprise

The invitation sits in his hand, a surprised look on his face, and a pondering thought as to what the hell is going on in his mind. The words are simple, the meaning behind them take on a whole new life.

You're cordially invited to High Flyer's locker room for a birthday surprise.

Please come as soon as possible.

Sincerely yours,

Team V.I.A.G.R.A.


Dusk sighs before wiping his right hand over his face. He'd hoped that no one would remember that his 31st birthday was just two days prior, but as he gets up he resigns himself to that it just wasn't meant to be. Now though, he had to wonder what someone as wacky as High Flyer had gotten him for his birthday. He walks over to his locker room door and pulls it open, an agenda freshly imprinted upon his mind on what he has to accomplish tonight, the foremost being a victory over Tom Walczak.

With each step, he sees someone different, someone who looks at him a little differently. Times were changing in PRIME and fears were starting to settle in. Yet, not one iota of doubt had crept into his mind so far. He felt secure knowing that he would still have a job when it all finished, even if no one was talking about it. A smile appears on his face as he turns the corner and finds the locker room of High Flyer and the rest of Team V.I.A.G.R.A.

As he opens the door though, he's not prepared for the giant box in the middle of the locker room. Sitting on a bench is the legendary High Flyer and in the corner rests Tony Davis and Mary-Lynn Mayweather. Tony looks shocked, but not at Dusk, instead about something else. Mary-Lynn seems to be restless while High Flyer looks to be getting ready for his upcoming match against Wade Elliott. As Dusk walks in though, the mood of the room changes, almost as if it's party time.

High Flyer: Birthday boy!

Dusk just looks at the trio and shakes his head.

Dusk: Honestly, I'd rather forget that today is my birthday.

High Flyer: Why? It's one of the greatest days! It's the day you emerged from your mother's vagina!

Dusk: Seriously?

Tony Davis: I remember one birthday... weed... pills... strippers... shemale strippers... robot clowns... abortions... good times.

Dusk looks at Tony Davis with this freaked out look on his face.

Dusk: Okay, remember what I was saying about keeping him away from me?

High Flyer: C'mon Tony. What did I tell you about talking. [to Dusk] He oversteps his boundaries sometimes. Let's just say he's not welcomed in Canada.

Tony Davis: Canada sucks anyway.

Dusk: She-males?

High Flyer: All Mary-Lynn's idea.

Dusk: Sounds like Shakur would've had some fun though.

High Flyer: Very true, very true. But, yeah, Happy Birthday!

Dusk nods his head as he leans up against the wall, a smile on his faec.

Dusk: Thanks man. I'm honestly surprised, especially after last week.

High Flyer just shakes his head and waves his hand at Dusk to tell him it's in the past.

High Flyer: Oh, don't even worry about it. You came out hot and had every right to be so. In that ring, it's all about competition. It's in the past and you and I are still going to be cool. I mean, come on, I got you a birthday present!

Dusk: I noticed. I'm half expecting a rocket for me to fly to the moon on.

High Flyer: I thought about that. Tell him, Tony!
Tony Davis: We had everything worked out, until Mary-Lynn told us it wouldn't work out.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather slaps Tony in the back of his head.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: You were going to kill a hundred parakeet's to carve yourself makeshift wings! You were just going to jump off the Grand Canyon and kill yourselves!

Dusk just nods his head in agreeement.

High Flyer: So, check it out. Tell us what you think!

Dusk: I'm a little worried.

High Flyer: No worries, he doesn't bite.

Dusk looks at High Flyer puzzled and a little freaked out as he pokes the box and for the first time, Dusk notices that there's holes in this box.

Dusk: He? Bite? Whoa, now.

High Flyer: Open it!

Tony Davis: Yeah, I don't even know what it is... I hope it's a penguin.

High Flyer: Oh, just a little rap-scallion. y'know.

Flyer kicks the box with the soul of his shoe.

High Flyer: Pip down in there or I take away all your award statues!

Dusk looks around the room and then begins moving towards the rather large box. As he gets closer, the box starts to move and Dusk jumps back. Some muffled noises are heard from the box and Dusk looks over at High Flyer.

Dusk: Whoa, what the heck's in here?

High Flyer: Nothing, really.

High Flyer then hits the box with his fist.

High Flyer: Calm down in there!

Dusk looks over at High Flyer, surprised and shocked!

Dusk: There's someone in there?

High Flyer: Well, yeah!

Dusk rushes up to the box and starts ripping it apart. The black wrapping paper is immediately gone as there's a six foot box just standing in the middle of the room. Dusk wastes no time in ripping off the lid of the box, and as he does, all four sides fall down to reveal...

Tony Davis: KANYE WEST?!

Sure enough, in the flesh, is the Grammy-Award winning rapper and producer, Kanye West. Kanye looks around shocked before looking at Dusk.

Kanye West: DUSK?! WHERE THE HELL AM I?!

Dusk: Kanye! My man!

Kanye steps out from the box and looks around, shell shocked.

Kanye West: Yo man, these mofo's snatched me off the street and brought me here!

Dusk: Well...

Dusk looks at High Flyer.

DUsk: It's kind of illegal here.

High Flyer: All of that time travelling, I forget what's legal and not legal in certain decades. Did you know in Middle Eastern Europe during the 500's, you could kidnap anyone from a Serf all the way up to a Knight, and not a single person could track you using your Cell Phone's inherant GPS signals.

Kanye looks at Dusk and walks up to him before the two embrace with a black man handshake.

Kanye West: Yo, these cats are straight trippin' on that acid.

Dusk: Fo' shizzle my nizzle.

Dusk then looks over at High Flyer.

Dusk: You got me Kanye West?

High Flyer: Yeah! Because, you know, your song is Stronger. I thought it would be really nice and stuff! Plus, the comedic effect with him being locked in a cage is priceless...

Kanye West: WE RUN THIS!

High Flyer: Sorry I couldn't get you Daft Punk. Those guys are slippier than that immaginary greased up deaf guy from Family Guy... I couldn't catch him either...

Dusk: Yeah... I know Kanye. You didn't have to kidnap him.

Tony Davis: Yeah, but would he've willingly been locked up in a box and sent UPS to the arena?

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: Kanye West knows what it's like to live in a box!

Dusk: I don't think he does...

Kanye West: Dusk, you gotta get me away from these people.

Dusk: You wanna hang out with us?

Kanye West: Oh, fo sho'! You just gotta keep him away from me!

Kanye then points at Tony Davis. Dusk and High Flyer just nod their heads.

High Flyer: FO SHIZZLE!

Kanye then looks at Dusk.

Kanye West: And tell him to stop acting black.

Dusk then looks at High Flyer.

Dusk: Okay, I'm certain there's a joke to be made here about High Flyer, Dusk, Tony Davis, Mary-Lynn Mayweather, and Kanye West all hanging together.

High Flyer: Not fo' shizzle?

Dusk: Not fo' shizzle, but thanks for the birthday present.

Kanye West: Do I get to complain about not getting an award that I so richly deserve?

Dusk: All the time, Kanye, all the time. High Flyer, we need to talk about that speaker idea.

High Flyer: Let's do it. Meet me in the parking lot at 11. [Wipes nose.] Bring some heat.

More Than One Way To Skin A Cat...Provided The Cat Is A PRIME Main Event

Nitz: Ok so where the fuck you at then? I thought you were gonna be in the crowd tonight.

The phone is pressed to his ear as he straightens his boot with the other. The Ego then leans the phone on his shoulder as he ties the laces up. His sister Hailey is on the line, trying to relay the message of where she’s at with distractions of music in the background.

Nitz: Alright, the club down the road. I kinda figured the show would be sold out anyways.

The door opens and what follows looks like some sort of physical prank. First, two young men with laptops file in. Then, two more come in carrying a full desk. Finally, a young women with dozens of manila folders in her hands walks in. Nitz turns to see what’s going on as the desk hits the floor with a clunk.

Nitz: What the... Hail, call me back in a couple.

He shuts the phone and holds on to it, seeing these people settle in. They HAVE to know they’re getting up in The Ego’s business. The comical look on his face masks how he really feels though.

In cometh Chandler Tsonda. He’s scratching his head and following the procession of people without a sound.

Chandler: You gonna waste the whole day on the phone, chatty? It’s prep time, Bunky!

Nitz nods but is still confused, eyeing the wily Number One Contender as he rubs his cheek.

Nitz: Prep time... OH for the match you mean. Well that’s good cause I thought the explanation for the folders, laptops and businessy-type assholes gettin’ all up in my kool-aid wouldn’t make ANY. FUCKIN’. SENSE!

Tsonda grabs a seat, semi-ignoring the plea from Nitz to explain things. He starts barking orders to his people.

Chandler: Interns, assemble a line graph plotting all four of our opponents minute-by-minute spots. Finishers should be red dots, setups green, and anything else yellow.

Finally, he turns to his actual teammate. Nitz still has the "WTF" look on his face.

Chandler: Listen, hombre, I’m putting together a series of data that’ll give us a great look at the enemy. I say we take five, get some coffee, and start on the first data set. I think it’s Devin Shakur’s bad punchline to crazy karate kick ratio one?

The Model Citizen starts sorting through the stack of papers on his lap. Nitz grabs another folder and flips it open but as quick as he does that, one of the interns snatches it back worrying that the order will get all messed up. The Ego of New England stares at his empty hands for a moment and then purses his lips as his arms drop to his side again.

Nitz: Great look at the enemy huh? Well let me run down this "shizznit" for ya homeslice... Hall’s a crack addicted fuckwad trying to regain his former glory as 5-Star Champ. Shakur’s cool most of the time, but sometimes he reminds me of the whiny commie chicks on Fast and the Furious Tokyo Drift. Rayne is the dirty cunt and Troy is the deformed meaty penis man-bitch plugged up in that yeast infected crotch pheasant. All obvious observations of their private lives aside, I don’t need to know much more about the fuckers besides that they’re opposite us and we’re gonna own them.

The Model Citizen’s face can only be described as "horrified" by the rampant and foul language. A quick shot of the interns with dropped jaws proves their reaction to be quite the same.

Chandler: Hey potty mouth, just because Mama Blair said you can use those naughty words against doesn’t mean you need to do it with the kids in the room. They’re just interns! And besides, objective statistical analysis is the key to winning, especially within a ridiculous team system such as we’ve been placed into. Agreed?

Nitz: Well let’s thrust these fresh outta business school type kids into how people react in the real world. It’s better than that sissy ass schooling they get in their prissy learning establishment. Sure they can form logical bar graphs and the such, but we’re talking wrestling with assholes on the other side of the ring.

Donnelly sighs and shakes his head, the interns having second thoughts about setting up shop in his dressing room at Chandler’s request.

Nitz: Ok look, I get that we need to expect the unexpected in this messed up situation we’re being put in, but this is just overkill Tsondude.

Chandler: Nay! This is a must-effing-win, dingbat! My tactic of not acknowledging Troy by acknowledging that I’m doing it will be that much more impressive if she gets her shit served in front of everyone! Look at your goddamn spreadsheet!

The High Class Ass looks at Chandler with another "WTF?" look.

Nitz: Alright, but if you wanna serve that bitch the Hatorade, then shouldn’t you also be physically preparing for the match? It could get you even further with a good balance of the two Einstein. Interns and pie charts won’t help you shit when her boney knuckles make a mess of that Playboy face of yours.

Chuckling in the face of what he perceives to be ignorance, Chandler offers up a counterargument.

Chandler: Lemme toss you some tutelage, broheim. You think your flippant youth rebellion works? It doesn’t. It’s fucking futile. The difference between your approach and mine is the thing that I have, which you want: the Jewel in the Crown, babe.

THE DONNELLY~! moves around the desk and looks over the shoulder of one of the sexy female interns and gives her a wink. He then moves back to where Tsonda is. The JITC winner is almost flipping out at a single mistake on the page, like it’s messing up his entire pre-match plan.

Nitz: When you stop tearing the guy a new ass, you’d do best to listen. I do things my way and you do things yours. Although your points do have some merit, reality is that fuckin’ around the way I do puts the rest of the so-called talent around here off their game. They’re off their game and I put myself on mine... it’s simple problem solving Tsondude. But that sounded like a challenge my man and if you wanna bring it to the table sometime, I’d be happy to serve you with a right hook to the fuckin’ skull.

A bright toothed smile comes next, almost stamping his seal of being a bastard on the whole situation.

Nitz: So how’s about you do things your way for this match and I’ll take care of my end so we can put these fucknuts in their places. Ya feel me playa?

Chandler: Guess that works, young Turk. I’ll do my thug thiz and you keep to your lonesome on the other side of the team locker room.

Smirking, Nitz takes in the new proposal as Tsonda gives him a last once-over. THE DONNELLY~! nods and decides it best to vacate the room for a few minutes to catch his breath and for Tsonda to no doubt lay one of his hot interns over the desk. Donnelly would rather take the female... but that’s him.

One he closes the door, he decides to take a walk to the catering table to get a pre-match snack. He makes his way through the makeshift portable wall hallways separating the dressing rooms and his phone rings. He looks at the call display and it’s Hailey calling back.

A whistle rings out behind him so obviously Tsonda had followed. He turns before answering the phone and as soon as his eyes find the other end of the hall, a chair comes flying straight at his chest. As soon as he catches it, he drops his still ringing phone as a set of knees are next to impact with the chair. The wind is taken out of Nitz as he goes flying backwards, hitting the drywall and going straight through it. Gyproc crumbles to the ground as does The Ego of New England.

Meanwhile, beside a ringing cell phone, the 5-Star Champion pulls himself to his feet and dusts himself off. He picks up Nitz’s cell phone and smiles at the call display. He opens it...

Rayne: I'm sorry, your caller is unavailable due to his whole, uh...choking on his own blood thing. Please hang up and go fuck yourself.

He tosses the phone, still open on the chest of Nitz and walks away. The voice on the other end of the line can be heard...

Hailey: Nicholas! What happened?! NICK?!

The prone body of The Ego doesn’t even stir from the yelling of his sister.

High Flyer vs. Wade Elliott

"Flyentology" by EI-P.

Nate: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand welcome back to PRIME ReVolution's one hundred and fifty second broadcast! Here comes PRIME newcomer, and one half of Team V.I.A.G.R.A.! Ready to challenge our very own Bad Dog, Wade Elliott!

Richard: I gotta wonder what kind of state the redneck will be in. He's been pretty ornery lately, but on the other hand, his little romp with Hoyt's wife...

Nate: That's just a rumor, Rich, nobody saw anything.

Richard: Oh, come on! I know you're a virgin, Nate, but I think you'd AT LEAST be able to TELL when a couple of people are getting' it on!

Nate: *sigh*

The crazy person known as High Flyer steps out onto the entrance ramp as the hip-hop sounds of EI-P rock the arena. He plays the crowd a bit, taking steady steps down the ramp toward the ring while.

Vince Howard: Our next matchup is scheduled for one fall! Making his way to the ring, standing an even six feet and weighing in at two-hundred and twenty-four pounds...hailing from Los Angeles, California....HIGH FLYEEEERRRRR!

The crowd offers a quick pop for the PRIME newcomer as he hops into the ring, putting a couple hands in the air while standing on the ropes.

Richard: High Flyer's looking to get back on track after a loss to Tom Walczak last week.

Nick: Well, he didn't get the greatest draw with Wade Elliott...

Richard: Oh, come on! Wade's got nothin'! My boy Gamble proved that!

Nick: Sure, Rich.

The Snowman hops down as EI-P fades away, stretching a bit as he waits for his opponent.

Banjo.

"RUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!"

Nick: And here comes The Bad Dog!

The heavy guitar Lynyrd Skynyrd's "That's How I Like It" smashes the PA as the arena roars for the 'Bama Bruiser. He stalks out, an awful thundercloud strewn across his face.

Vince Howard: And his opponent! Standing six feet, three inches tall and weighing in at two-hundred and fifty-four pounds...hailing from Pine Ridge, Alabama...The Bad Dog...WAAAAADE EEEEEELLLLIOOOOOOOTTTT!

"RUAAAAAAAHHHH!"

Ignoring the general entrance, Wade takes long, driven strides down the ramp, throwing his drifter's hat before clambering into the ring and marching at High Flyer. Vince quickly calls for the bell as Wade starts landing heavy right hands to the Friendly Neighborhood Lunatic.

Ding Ding Ding

Nate: And Wade comes in swinging!

Richard: I guess the mood would be "bad."

Lynyrd Skynyrd quickly fades as Wade continues the assault, raining down hard fists as High Flyer moves around the ring, looking for escape with Wade hot on his heels. Elliott grabs him by the shoulders and hucks him into the corner, smashing him against the turnbuckle. The Southern Sparkplug throws a strong knee into Flyer's gut, grabs his arm, and whips him across the ring, crashing him into the opposite turnbuckle. Wade charges, heavy boots thudding against the ring, and hammers High Flyer in the face with a running elbow. The Drifter turns, grabs Flyer's shoulders once more, and hurls him into the center of the ring, crashing him down onto his back. He stomps over, and hooks the leg for an early pin, the ref dropping to count.

"One!"

"Two..." kickout.

Wade shakes his head, lips curled behind his bushy goatee.

Nate: What an early assault from the Blue Collar Brawler! He's looking angry!

Richard: I'll say...

Wade grabs Flyer by the hair, lifting him to his feet, only to find The Snowman throwing an elbow into his gut. Flyer hits him with a second, then a third, and Wade releases his grip with a growl. Taking the opportunity, The Lunatic runs back, bounds off the ropes, crosses the ring, leaps, and connects a running elbow of his own, sending the Bad Dog reeling to the side.

Nate: And here comes High Flyer with some offense of his own!

Wade clutches his jaw while Flyer catches his bearings. The Luchadore steps up to Elliott and grabs him in a headlock, but the 'Bama Bruiser growls, and heaves High Flyer onto his shoulders. He sets his heads on the Snowman, hoists him up, and drops him down, neck hitting the rope as he falls.

"OOOOOOHHHH!!"


High Flyer gasps for breath while Wade takes a moment to crack his neck. The Bad Dog returns to the task at hand, throwing a few heavy boots into the Lunatic's side. He brings him to his feet and whips him hard against the ropes. Flyer bounces against them, flies across the ring, and finds a very large steel-toed boot in his face, as Wade clobbers him with a big boot.

Nate: Nasty boot from the big man!

Richard: Taste dirt, buddy!

Flyer drops, and Wade follows for another pin attempt.

"One!"

"Two!"

"T..." kickout.

Elliott rolls his eyes as Flyer throws up his shoulder.

Nate: Wade's getting frustrated. THAT'S never good.

The 'Bama Bruiser brings High Flyer to his feet once more, throwing a couple fists into his head for good measure. He flings him against the ropes again and bends at the waist. Flyer runs straight into the back body drop, and Wade throws him high in the air. However, Flyer rights himself, and lands comfortable to his feet. Wade spins around, and swings for the fences with a clothesline. Flyer ducks, causing the two to turn around once more, only for Flyer to leap and hit Wade in the chest with a standing dropkick.

Nate: What a reversal by High Flyer!

The kick sends Wade into the ropes, arms draped over the top. Flyer sees opportunity, bounds off the opposite rope, runs at Wade and clotheslines him over the ropes, sending the Bad Dog tumbling to the floor outside the ring. A section of High Flyer's following cheer for the Luchadore.

Richard: Wade's not gonna like that!

The Southern Sparkplug finds himself leaning over the security wall. High Flyer's followers roar as he grabs hold of the ropes, leaps up, springboards off the top rope and soars at Wade.

Nate: High Flyer's flying high!

He sails for the flying elbow, but tragically finds the security wall instead as Elliott rolls out of the way.

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!"

Richard: That's gonna bruise in the morning! High Flyer might've busted his arm!

High Flyer grimaces in pain, clutching his elbow while Wade takes the moment to catch his breath. The arena roars for the Bad Dog as he shakes the cobwebs, grabs Flyer and rolls him back into the ring.

Nate: This isn't over, Wade wants to finish this one quickly.

Flyer struggles to his feet as Elliott follows him into the ring. Flyer throws a quick left hand into Elliott's head. Wade fumes, rocks High Flyer with a right hand of his own, then whips him mach bullshit into the opposite ring post. Wade charges, and follows up with a sickening spear into Flyer's chest.

Richard: Wade back in business.

The Blue Collar Brawler grabs hold of the top ropes and begins throw boots into Flyer's stomach. Each kick sinks the Luchadore lower and lower until he finally finds himself in a seat position, where Wade proceeds to frenzy, stomping a mudhole into his gut. The crowd roars their approval as Flyer clutches his aching gut, rolling onto his side. Wade drops, hooking the leg.

"One!"

"Two!"

"Thr..." kickout.

Wade draws a hand down his face.

Nate: Another kickout from the Snowman! He's not giving up easily!

Wade brings Flyer to his feet, raining heavy forearm chops to the Luchadore's back. After three solid blows, Wade bends low, and starts to hoist Flyer up across his shoulders.

Richard: Here comes that Rebel Yell, this one's just about over.

However, as Wade throws High Flyer onto his shoulders, the Friendly Neighborhood Lunatic somersaults over them, landing on his feet. Wade turns to remedy the problem, and finds High Flyer clocking his jaw with a leaping superkick with a "thwack!"

"OOOOOOOOH!"

Nate: NASTY kick from High Flyer!

The kick sends Wade stumbling away, falling against the ropes, which slowly propel him back toward the center of the ring. Flyer waits a moment as Wade stumbles toward him, then drives a thrusting knee into Elliott's gut, doubling him over. Wade clutches his stomach, spitting on the mat as High Flyer runs to the other side, getting ready for his next maneuver. His cheering section roars, yells of "Locomotive!" among them.

Nate: High Flyer's preparing to pick up speed for that Locomotive!

Richard: He's gonna need to connect this one if he wants to stand a chance!

High Flyer runs, building momentum for the running Yakuza kick he calls "Locomotive." He leaps, but simultaneously Wade stands, throwing up that size thirteen work boot, which solidly connects High Flyer in the chest, leveling him to the mat with a "thud."

"RUAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Nate: And Wade puts an end to High Flyer's thunder!

The crowd bellows chants of "Bad Dog! Bad Dog! Bad Dog!" Wade spits to the side before bending over to bring Flyer to his feet. He slowly lifts him up, then slams his head between his thighs in a standing headscissors. The crowd roars as Wade thumps the Confederate Flag tattoo on his left peck.

Nate: Ooh, boy! There's the signal!

Elliott wraps up Flyer's arms in a double underhook, then heaves back, bringing High Flyer to a vertical before swiftly sitting down, crushing the Snowman's head into the mat with a piledriver.

"OOOOOOOOOOOOH!"

Nate: Stars & Bars everybody!

Richard: Count it.

High Flyer crumbles, and Wade makes one last hook of the leg.

"One!"

"Two!"

"Three!"

Ding Ding Ding!

Cue the banjo.

"RUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Vince Howard: Here is your winner...WAAAAAADE EEEEEELLLIOOOOOOTTTT!

"That's How I Like It," by Lynyrd Skynyrd hits the speakers as Wade simply rolls out of the ring. He offers no celebration, only an angry expression as he retrieves his drifter's hat and ascends the entrance ramp, crowd cheering for the victorious Blue Collar Brawler.

Richard: The redneck takes the win! And successfully releases some pent up aggression!

Nate: A strong attempt from High Flyer, but when the Bad Dog's in a bad mood, there aren't many who're gonna put him down.

Richard: Touch that dial and Devin Shakur will cut himself!

Nate: Dusk vs. Tom Walczak is coming up, and don't forget the triple threat tag match at tonight's main event! Right here on ReVolution!

Richard: Only on FX!

Commercial break.

The Truth Comes Out

"So I told the guy; watch what you say about Devin, because the guy gets his feelings hurt real quick and I can't be dealing with that crap when I'm trying to meditate."

The sound of laughter from one man is heard, as we find Tony Gamble standing in front of two audio techs that look to be cowering in the corner.

Tony Gamble: Come on guys, that's funny.

A nod of fear is exchanged between the three men along with feigned laughter.

"That's about as funny as you are tall."

Entering the picture screen left, because that seems to be his best side, is the artist now known as Dust; because of how many times he's been blown away by the competition.

Tony Gamble: I'm sorry, but I've already met my quota of lowly ring rats to talk to today, right guys?

He wraps his arms around the two techie's shoulders as he stands between them and flashes a cheesy smile.

Dusk: Come on, Tony, why do you act like you don't feel threatened by me?

Tony Gamble: Oh trust me, it's not an act. Being afraid of you is almost as useless as using condoms on a pregnant girl so you don't knock her up.

Dusk shakes his head.

Dusk: So I'm guessing you still think I don't know what you did. Trust me, I've known since it happened.

Dusk runs his hand along his forehead to trace his finger along the scar left behind during an attack a few months ago that put Dusk on the shelf.

Dusk: Just wanted to make sure that I got my payback at the best possible time. People immediately went to Sloan and Easton after they saw me laid out. That's fine with me, just gave me more time to make you wonder when I'd come around.

While Tony remains unphased by the direction the conversation is heading, his clutch on the technician's shoulders tightens enough to make them wince in pain. Especially when Dusk points at the title Tony has dangling over his shoulders.

Dusk: To think, you took something away from me. My chance at the Jewel in the Crown. And that title just makes things that much more interesting. You know, me being a former Intense champ and all. It being around your waist? Seems like to me, that it's my turn to take something back away from you, don't you think?

Tony shrugs his shoulders slightly.

Tony Gamble: I think a lot of people think that, but no one seems to be able to follow up on the promise. Its a real disappointment to listen to everyone say how they're going to do this or that to me, take this or that from me, and never follow up on their words.

Dusk approaches Gamble, resting his hand on the face of the title before patting it a few times.

Dusk: Oh, trust me, I'm a man of my word. Get real comfortable there, Tony, because this is far from over between us.

Tony Gamble: Yeah, well, sticks and stones and all that other crap. Call me when you can do more than flap your gums and we'll do coffee; I know this cool little Starbucks joint that hooks me up with extra whipped cream.

Dusk nods his head, before backing off and turning to walk away.

Dusk: I'll be seeing you soon, Tony... Real soon.

Watching Dusk walk away, Tony just tightens his grip on his new buddies and smiles.

Tony Gamble: The nerve of that guy. He doesn't scare us, does he?

There is no answer.

Tony Gamble: Didn't think so.

Coming Soon To A Throne Near You

The PA system whirs into life and the grandiose tones of the British National Anthem echoes throughout the Don Haskins Centre, causing a wave of indifferent boo's ripple through the audience just as the arena lights dim. Simultaneously the WAL*Tron ignites, filling the previously dark screen with a bright Union Jack flag.

Richard: Oh Jesus, this limey bullshit again! Somebody call immigration!

Then, grungy black and white lettering overlays the prestigious national flag, the national anthem dims some and a male English accented voice replaces it:

IN MONTERREY, MEXICO…


A couple of seconds later, these words disappear and are promptly replaced with:

AT PRIME CULTURE SHOCK '08...


Then:

YOUR SOVEREIGN IS COMING…


Nick: Can you believe this?

Richard: Sovereign my ass! Who the hell does this guy/girl/fruit-loop think he is?

Nick: …British?

Richard: Damn limey! Being all mysterious like James Bond…

Nick: We don't even know his damn name! What the hell does he/she/it hope to accomplish by this…

The words disappear and the flag soon follows it.

Richard: That it? This clown spoils a perfectly good show for this?

Nick: I know. What the hell is going on--

But the lights to not dim and the WAL*tron does not fall back into dormancy. Instead, a figures flashes onto the screen; somebody masked in a garment that appears to be the British national flag, this flashes into in-ring action shot at angles and played at pace which proves impossible to identify his opponent. There's just violence…and lots of it. But as quickly as the action sequence appears, it fades away and the same British national flag returns, promptly followed by more black and white grunge lettering, but this time there is no English voiceover:

UNION JACK ARRIVES.


Then:

15/03/2008.


Richard: Union Jack? What kind of fruity-ass name is that?

Nick: I don't know, but I gotta feeling we're gonna find out…and soon.

1 Corinthians 7:2 'Nevertheless, to avoid fornication, let every man have his own wife, and let every woman have her own husband'

Cheers are audible as the scene opens up on PRIME's Bad Dog, Wade Elliott, cigarette dangling from his mouth as he walks up a backstage hallway. His face is shade more stern than most, given recent issues.

Until he stops in his tracks, and the camera pans around to reveal the bangin' blonde that is Mary Williams, the wife of PRIME Hall of Famer, Hoyt Williams.

Of course, Wade STILL doesn't know that.

He clears his throat before taking closer steps. She turns her head, noticing him for the first time, which causes her eyes to widen. He tips his hat.

Wade Elliott: Evenin' ma'am.

Mary Williams: Oh lord, Wade...

Her voice drops to a whisper.

Mary Williams: What're you doing here?

Wade Elliott: Was headin' fer the pisser. Look, listen, 'bout last week, I was real drunk, an' had a good time an' all, but...

Mary purses her lips, eyes like saucers while staring at Wade. She tilts her head repeatedly toward the men's bathroom door. Wade cocks an eyebrow, confused at the gesture.

Wade Elliott: What the hell's the ma...

As if on cue, the door swings open, and Wade's eyes bulge as God's Other Son, Hoyt Williams, steps out, zipping up his fly.

Hoyt Williams: Alright mother of my child, I'm all set.

Hoyt plants a big kiss on his wife's lips while Wade stands frozen, realization of the situation sinking in. Releasing his lip lock, Hoyt takes note of the rigid 'Bama Bruiser.

Hoyt Williams: Who is this person standing here taking up my air?

Mary smiles weakly.

Mary Williams: Oh, um, honey, this is Wade Elliott. I uh...I just met him walking down the hall.

Hoyt Williams: I think I’ve spotted this sinner hanging around in the past. You reek of smoke and other distasteful orders.

Wade Elliott: What ever.

Hoyt Williams: As I’m sure you know I am God’s Champion! Also known as, The Savior of Wrestling, the PONTIFF OF PRIME, the Buddha of the Wrestling Bout, the Deity of the Drop Kick, THE PRIME HALL OF FAME’S MOST IMPORTANT MEMBER, COMMANDER of THE CANVAS, Chief Executive Outlaw! Retired PRIME UNIVERSAL CHAMPION, AND A HELL OF A GUY!!! I see you’ve met my wife a delightful dame no doubt.

Hoyt extends a big hand. Wade hesitates, but eventually gives Hoyt a weak shake.

Wade Elliott: Uh, good to meet ya...

Hoyt cocks and eyebrow at Wade's odd demeanor.

Hoyt Williams: Something is odd about you sinner?

Wade Elliott: Uh, nothin'. Thinkin' I gotta take a shit is all.

He tips his hat to Mary.

Wade Elliott: Ma'am.

The Bad Dog spins around, taking long strides back the way he came.

Hoyt Williams: But the bathroom's right here!

Wade only offers a quick wave before turning the corner, leaving Hoyt confused.

Hoyt Williams: You know Mary being the hot piece of God’s creation that you are sometimes men like that will be drawn to you.

Mary Williams: Oh?

Hoyt Williams: Yea, the homosexual persuasion is drawn to what they want to be. So a gorgeous lady like your self draws him in. Most hot girls have gay friends but be careful around those people. I think he checked out my package!

Mary Williams: Oh? I think I saw that too.

The "Virgin" Mary looks uncomfortable.

Hoyt Williams: We both know he’s going to hell for his actions against decency. Shame really. Let’s go grab a Fresca.

Hoyt wraps a big arm around his wife and turns them the opposite direction. Mary throws a quick glance where Wade disappeared and smiles before continuing with God's Other Son.

Silver Tongue and Ticket

"Man, you should’ve been here. Those strippers alone were with the price of admission. Not that I have to pay admission, but you know…somebody probably did."

Tyler Rayne lets loose with that award-winning smile, unable to contain it despite the fact that the person on the other end of the phone will obviously not be able to see it. Unless, of course, they’re watching live on FX right this very second.



A half a roll of athletic tape dangles from the 5-Star Champion’s forearm as he paces the room, phone clutched close to his ear.

Rayne: Yeah, well, there was that minor incident. I assume you were watching earlier, right? Kid got what was comin’ to him. ‘Course, me and Donnelly are far from square, but I figure it’s a good start on collecting.

Knock Knock Knock

PRIME’s prodigal son cocks an eyebrow at the closed door, pausing just a second in mid-stride before continuing.

Rayne: So…what’s good on your end? How’s Dawn?

Knock Knock Knock

Rayne: Look, Pierce, I gotta go. I should have some time next week. Bring Brooks up. We’ll all go out to dinner or somethin’. Yeah, man. Thanks. Take ‘er easy.

With a frustrated grumble, the 5-Star Champion hangs up his phone and marches over to the door, snatching it open quickly.

Rayne: Oh. It’s you.

The always impressive figure of Easton Hall stands just outside the doorway, his usual no-nonsense expression etched in stone. Rayne rolls his eyes, moving them from the unwelcome guest to the name plate on the door, with his own name, quite clearly, etched in bronze.

Rayne: Gee, Detective Tracy, however did you find me?

Without waiting for a reply, Rayne turns his back, throwing a defeated arm into the air as he casually marches away from Easton Hall, grumbling to himself.

Rayne: I swear to Christ, next week, I’m taking that fucking sign down. Can’t get one peaceful evening around here without a barrel of ass monkeys showin’ up and…

Rayne snatches the dangling roll of tape from his forearm and proceeds to wrap up. He leans against the bar, turning an unenthused look in Easton’s direction.

Rayne: Speak your piece and be upon your fuckin’ merry. I’ve got a main to prepare for.

Easton steps into the doorway, his foot against the door to prevent a quick attempt at closing it on him. He doesn't fold his arms over his chest. He takes a deep breath.

Easton Hall: Lisa Tyler sent me to tell you that you and I are squaring off at 153. If I win, I'm number two, right after Donnelly.

Rayne blinks, shaking his head.

Tyler Rayne: You get under her skirt? I can't say I thought you were the type, but I'm sure that frigid bitch needs to order people around to get any.

Easton grinds his teeth together horizontally.

Easton Hall: Don't pretend this is new. I was always next in line. She's just making me jump through hoops.

Tyler Rayne: That doesn't sound like a no.

Easton takes a step backwards, letting the door begin to close.

Easton Hall: Don't read into it.

Easton disappears behind the closing door. Tyler shakes his head again, concentrating on his arm as he wraps it.

Dusk vs. Tom Walczak

Nick: And our next match is our sub-main event!

Richard: Seriously, isn't this how last week started?

Nick: I think it is.

Richard: Okay, so try again.

Nick: Alright, our next match is the penultimate match of the evening!

Richard: Better.

Nick: Thanks for approving of it. We're going to see a match between two mainstays here in PRIME, the ever enigmatic and rising star, Dusk, going up against the Polish Punisher, Tom Walczak.

Richard: God, I'm going to love this tonight, watching Dusk just get destroyed and manhandled by Walczak. God, it's like eating ribs and waffles at 2 o'clock in the morning!

Nick: What do you know about eating ribs and waffles, period?

Richard: It's all the rage Nick, all the rage!

Nick: Alrighty then, back to the match. Let's not put Dusk down either, as he's one of the most resillent superstars we have around. He's going to come out here on fire.

Richard: Literally. Those eyes man, freaky!

Nick: Yes, they are. But, Dusk will want to avenge his loss last week against Tsonda after he superkicked Tsonda and Tsonda lucked his way into the pinfall over Dusk.

Richard: Luck? That was skill!

Nick: Tsonda was UNCONSCIOUS!

Richard: Good point.

Nick: Word was that after the match, Dusk was infuriated, so you know he's going to come out hot here tonight.

Richard: We shall see. Let's go to Vince Howard for the introductions.

Vince Howard: Our following match is one fall! Introducing first...

Then, Beanie Seagal's "Feel it in the Air" rips through the Don Haskins Center as the fans in El Paso start to fill the air with jeers and boo's. From the backstage area steps out a rather large and grotesque looking man, but also looks like he could break a car in half with his pinky. At the mere sight of seeing Tom Walczak, the fans just let him have it, but he doesn't care. Instead, he walks down the ramp, ready to put the hurting on his opponent for the evening, Dusk.

Vince Howard: Weighing in at 395 pounds and standing at 6 feet 10 inches, he is the POLISH PUNISHER! TOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALCZAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAK!

Walczak then steps over the top rope and into the ring, and just stares at Vince Howard who is feeling a little intimidated here now.

Nick: That man is just a beast who can destroy anyone he encounters.

Richard: In a few short weeks, we have the Dual Halo, and that's Walczak's park right there. Just pure domination. That's his game.

Nick: And it will be a tall order to fill for Dusk if he wants to get his first victory of the year.

Richard: Not. Happening.

Nick: We'll have to see.

Vince Howard: Introducing next...

#Th-th-that that don't kill me
#Can only make me stronger

The beat then drops hard as the PRIME*Tron lights up and the lights dim. On the screen, it shows different highlights from Dusk's run in PRIME thus far. From the back comes Dusk, wearing his patented trench coat, and with eyes that could kill at this point in time. At the mere sight of him, the fans go crazy!

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

He doesn't waste any time as he explodes and runs down the ramp and slides into the ring with the song just playing behind him!

Vince Howard: His opponent... weighing in at 250 pounds and standing at 6 feet 4 inches tall, he is THE LOST SOUL! DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSK!

As Dusk explodes into the ring, he immediately goes for Walczak, fists swinging! The fans approve of this as they start chanting Dusk's name! Walczak stumbles backwards a little bit from the force of Dusk's punches! Tom starts firing back, but at a slower rate. His punches pack the power though, but not the intensity that Dusk has here tonight as he just jumps onto Walczak and hammers away!

DING! DING! DING!

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

Nick: And that's what I was talking about, as Dusk is just looking for a brawl right now!

Richard: That's not the smartest thing to do with Walczak though. You need to get him down on the mat and punching him isn't the answer. If anything, that's just going to piss the big man off even more!

Dusk doesn't care though as he whips Walczak into the ropes and follows it up with a spear that drops the big man flat onto his back. Dusk then explodes up as the fans cheer him on! Finally, he yanks his trench coat off of him and throws it into the crowd as he feels the fire burning up his veins. Walczak though isn't a slouch as he starts getting right back up. Dusk turns his attention back to Walczak and as he walks up to him, Tom slams his knee into Dusk's stomach. Dusk doubles over as Tom slams his forearm into Dusk's back. Dusk drops down to both knees before being brought up to his feet again by the Polish Punisher. Walczak then whips him into the ropes and drops Dusk onto his back with a boot to the face!

Richard: And there we go! That's why you don't just brawl with Walczak!

Nick: Dusk is going to need to use his unorthodox style if he wants to win this match. Dusk is so well versed in different styles and it's suited him well during his time here in PRIME. Brawling, while it works for him, isn't going to work well here. He needs to get on the ropes and attack Walczak from the different angles.

Richard: Which is why Dusk is going to have so many problems. He's so focused on just beating the hell out of somebody right now, that he's not even thinking about what it is that he's doing.

Dusk starts to fight back to his feet, but Walczak slams his foot into Dusk's stomach and sends him rolling to the edge of the ring. The Icon starts grabbing onto the ropes to help him up, but Tom decides to be the nice guy that he is and helps Dusk up. He then slams his elbow into Dusk's jaw, which sends the Lost Soul into the corner. Walczak then slams his knee into Dusk's midsection again as the former Intense Champion starts to feel the pain crash down upon him. Walczak then slams another elbow into Dusk's jaw before dragging him out of the corner and whipping him into the ropes. As Dusk returns to Walczak, Tom lifts his body up onto his shoulders in one swift movement and drops him with a Samoan drop.

Nick: Just raw power from the Polish Punisher. Dusk needs to get some of the momentum that he had at the beginning of this match back. Otherwise, this is going to be a rather short match.

Richard: I already knew it was going to be a short match. Dusk's head isn't where it should be, not for this kind of match. That's why it's all going downhill for him. You can't just beat on the Polish Punisher!

Nick: Dusk though isn't one to give up easily.

Richard: That might not matter in this case.

Nick: Of course it will! Dusk will keep fighting until he has nothing left.

Richard: He's not used to fighting men this large though!

Walczak, not wanting to waste any time at all, lifts Dusk up off the mat again. However, Dusk is ready for him as he throws a few forearms into the face of Walczak, not wanting this match to become a one sided affair. He keeps nailing forearm shot after forearm shot to the face of Walczak until he's pressed up against the ropes. Dusk then runs the opposite way and into the ropes, before rushing dead on at Tom, hoping to knock the big man to the outside. However, as Dusk reaches Tom, the Polish Punisher digs down deep and lifts Dusk into the air before slamming him to the mat with a shattering spinebuster that crumples Dusk up! The fans immediately start booing Walczak for this, but the Polish Punisher pays them no mind as he starts stomping away at Dusk for his outburst.

Richard: Just beautiful! I loved that! This is what I love about PRIME, getting to see the dreams of so many snuffed out by the Polish Punisher!

Nick: It's far from over, Richard, just remember that.

Richard: Nick, this match is closer to being done then you can imagine!

Nick: We'll have to see. I'm not ready to give his match to Walczak quite yet.

Richard: Well, you better get ready Nick, because it's coming.

Nick: We'll see, Richard, we'll see.

The Polish Punisher then grabs Dusk by the back of the head and rips him up off the mat again, determined to just crush Dusk into a million different pieces. He slams his knee once again into Dusk's midsection before nailing him with a vicious uppercut that bloodies Dusk's bottom lip. The Icon spits the blood out as he tries to shake the cobwebs out of his head, but the Walczak is just imposing his will on him as he nails a belly-to-belly suplex on Dusk! Dusk isn't down for long though as Tom pulls him right back up, kicks him in the midsection, and nails a brainbuster on him! With Dusk twitching from the continued punishment, Tom goes for the cover!

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE!

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!


Nick: And Dusk kicks out! Still showing some life over there and a will to never give up!

Richard: Boring. Tell him to try something new.

Nick: Well, remember that in his match against Easton Hall, he never gave up as the pain caused him to pass out. He doesn't give up, it's not part of who he is.

Richard: Well, maybe he should learn that part or else he's going to be breathing out of a tube and being fed by Nurse Helga!

Nick: Nurse Helga? What kind of fantasies do you have?!

Richard: The kind that would make you throw up!

Walczak slams his hand into the mat as he gets back up and drags Dusk up with him! He wastes no time though as he wraps around his arm around the dazed head of Dusk, lifts him up in the air and spikes him with a DDT that just causes the fans to grimace! Yet, Walczak isn't done as he drags Dusk up to his feet and pushes him into the ropes. He then whips him across the ring. As Dusk bounces off the ropes, Walczak goes for the Polish Hammer, but Dusk is able to duck it! As Tom turns around and Dusk races off the ropes again, the Icon of PRIME soars through the air and nails a flying crossbody! Walczak though isn't down for long as he starts to get right back up, but Dusk immediately nips up!

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAH!

Nick: And business is starting to pick up!

Richard: Where the hell did that come from?!

Nick: Dusk has decided it's time to play now! And Walczak rushes up to Dusk only to be decked in the face by the Lost Soul! And again! And again! And listen to these fans, they love it!

Richard: That's because they're all idiots!

Dusk keeps hammering away, each shot bringing the momentum back to his side. He then backs Walczak into the corner before he starts kicking away, each shot coming faster and faster as he just lets himself go. The fire in his eyes burn brightly as he just lets his body take over! As the Polish Punisher remains stunned in the corner. Dusk backs up a few inches before running right at the Polish Punisher. He then hops onto the middle rope before nailing an enziguri to the back of Walczak's head! The Polish Punisher falls face first into the mat as the Lost Soul hops onto the top rope, wasting no time, and nails a Shooting Star Press on the fallen Walczak!

DUSK! DUSK! DUSK! DUSK! DUSK!

Nick: And just like that, Dusk shows you how unorthodox he truly is! Wasting no time as he just throws all caution into the wind, and disregards his own body to move himself one step closer to winning this match!

Richard: Oh, that's not happening!

Nick: Are you blind?

Richard: I am getting old, but he has to knock the Polish Punisher OUT! Not happening! Not with what Dusk has in his bag of tricks.

Nick: The superkick can knock anybody out!

Richard: We'll have to see about that.

Dusk gets right back up as he can feel the fire in his blood again and yells at Tom to get his ass up off the mat! Seeing that it's not happening as fast he'd like, he grabs Walczak by the back of the neck before starts hammering his face with more forearms! He then whips Walczak into the ropes before reaching deep down, and nails Walczak with the spinebuster!

Richard: NOOOOO! HE DIDN'T JUST DO THAT!

Nick: Dusk lifted Walczak high in the air! I don't know if I've ever seen that happen before as Dusk just connected the Broken Glass on Tom! The Polish Punisher is down!

Richard: IT'S NOT OVER! I REFUSE TO BELIEVE IT!

Dusk roars out at the crowd as he gets every single fan in the center on their feet! He walks over to one of the corners as he just waits for Tom to get back up to his feet. He can feel it in his body, every fiber of his being is ready for this one. Slowly, the Polish Punisher climbs to his feet, not certain of what just happened or where he even is. The momentum has shifted as Dusk has just pulled off big move after big move, as it's all he needs. He doesn't need to wear him out, not in this environment. In this match, he wouldn't be able to wear out Walczak. Instead, you need to strike quickly and effectively so that he's stunned just long enough. Walczak turns to Dusk and it's LIGHTS OUT for him!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

Nick: And Walczak is on the ground after that superkick!

Richard: Dusk won't get the pinfall! Just watch!

Nick: Dusk hooking the leg as the referee begins to count!

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE!

...

...

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

...

...

THRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!


DING! DING! DING!

Vince Howard: Your winner... THE ICON OF PRIME! DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUSK!

Nick: And Dusk has pulled it off!

Richard: Damnit!

Nick: Don't be mad, Richard. It's okay.

Richard: UGH!

The referee then grabs Dusk's hand and raises it in victory as Dusk looks out at the crowd before exiting the ring, knowing that in a few short weeks, he would have his chance at Culture Shock to take the Dual Halo for himself.

Beware The Ides: II

DualHalo


"It's beyond do or die time."

The steel structure of the Dual Halo, with a solitary white light shining over its majestic perfection, stands ominously. Every piece of it is made to cause pain, to be unyielding.

"I got nothin' left in the tank. No will to fight it no more."

His voice aches, a raspy throat merely extolling the inner monologue of a worn down old dog.

"I've seen countless people have their legacy solidified. And my name seems to be forgotten thought the annuals of time."

His visage is shrouded in darkness, barely visible save for a small light peering towards his head. He steps forward, disappearing into the enveloped blackness around the base of the Dual Halo.

"But...with my last breath...I can rewrite my history."

The only audible sounds are dull thuds from leather sole hitting steel reverberating within the plexiglass walls of the entrance tunnel.

"I can go from the bridesmaid to the groom."

He walks forward gingerly, a sweat drenched gray hoodie the only thing visible.

"I've got no options. It's win or it's over."

A painful stillness consumes him, his voice growing younger, more optimistic.

"It's one last chance..."

Those ginger steps become resolute as he reaches the foot of the ramp, the structure looming ahead of him. Each time a foot comes down, he explodes forward with a forceful step.

"One last opportunity to be remembered. To be respected."

He grabs up towards his hood, peeling it back. The faint overhead light reflects off his shaved skull.

"To not...be forgotten."

The moment falls into quiet stillness, save for heavy, anticipated breathing. Then he jogs into the Halo and the door slams shut behind him.

DUAL HALO

CULTURE SHOCK 2008

March 14 & 15
Arena Monterrey
Monterrey, Mexico

Sucker Punch

That's right kids, it's nearly Main Event time, in which you'll see lovable champs take on dangerous contenders, both present and future, in a match that has more tension than a Woody Paige and Jay Mariotti Around the Horn Showdown. One half of that gold-sporting duo, the Universal Champ herself, stamps down the corridor still in one hell of a foul mood thanks to Miss Priss Chandler Tsonda.

While visions of beating the Versace out of the #1 Contender to her title dance through her head, from up yonder hallway traipses The 'Bama Bruiser, Wade Elliott. The Bad Dog stops and leans against the hallway wall, bringing a rough hand to his face, rubbing his temples. Visibly in a bad mood, he yields the aura of "I just dodged a six foot, six inch bullet," which he did, minutes ago in an awkward conversation between himself and Hoyt and Mary Williams.

Of course, turning his head to see the Queen of the Ring march his direction doesn't help his mood. He looks back the way he came, and makes a motion as if to escape before the inevitable confrontation...

Lindsay Troy: Don't tell me you were just looking the other way, hoping to avoid me.

Well, THAT didn't work.

Wade Elliott: 'Course not, Lindsay, why would I do such a thing?

Lindsay Troy: You still don't know how to play coy.

Wade Elliott: Ain't one've my fuckin' strong suits.

Lindsay Troy: Yeah. I know.

She stops beside him, but he keeps looking straight ahead, avoiding eye contact with her.

Wade Elliott: Ain't you got a match with yer boy toy real soon?

Troy scoffs, shaking her head in disbelief and putting her hands on her hips.

Lindsay Troy: (looking at him) Y'know what, Wade? As a matter of fact, I do. Since that's what you want to see, I hope that taste isn't too hard for you to swallow.

She continues on down the hall, but it's not long before heavy boots follow after her.

Wade Elliott: An' what the fuck is that s'posed to mean, Lindsay?

Lindsay Troy: (whirling on him) It means, Wade, that I'm done trying to tell you any different. Truth or not, you don't want to hear it. Just like you probably don't want to hear that you've just incurred some MAJORLY BAD KARMA by fucking the wife of one of the boys in an empty locker room. You want to march to the beat of your drifter drum? You'll have to find a crane big enough to lift you out of the big cauldron of boiling hot water first.

The mention of Hoyt's wife extinguishes Wade's fire and brimstone as he visibly loosens.

Wade Elliott: Ya saw that, huh?

Lindsay Troy: Way to not get the license plate of the sports car that ran you over.

Wade's lips curl behind his goatee as he turns away slightly.

Wade Elliott: I'd appreciate a quiet fuckin' tongue on that sit'iation. Ain't yer business anyhow.

Lindsay Troy: It's the whole world's business now, Drifter. And there's no cleaning that blemish from the record.

Wade breathes hot air out of his nostrils, then quickly turns away, marching off in the opposite direction.

Wade Elliott: A blemish ain't nothin' on a record full've scars...

He visibly retrieves his brown flask from his back pocket and spins off the cap before rounding the corner, leaving Troy in the middle of hall, watching him exit.

Lindsay Troy: Don't I know it.

Matthew 27:46 'And about the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, saying, Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani? That is to say, My God, My God, why has thou forsaken me?'

Hoyt Williams wonders around the backstage area un-booked and bored. The savior of everything PRIME spots a Coke machine and ponders for a moment the thought of enjoying the tasteful sin beverage of, acid, calories, and sugar. Wearing a Tony Rolo shirt and blue jeans he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a dollar bill. An intern approaches him before he can get to the machine.

Intern: Your shoe is untied.

Hoyt Williams: Whom are you?

Intern: I’m Wendell I go to Northwestern University and I’m interning in the finance department here at PRIME!

Hoyt angrily puts his hand up indicating he’s heard enough.

Hoyt Williams: I DID NOT ask for a resume or an in-depth biography. Listen intern, I’m a savior and a member of the hall of fame, I do not waste my time speaking with algae. Let the bottom feeders feed amongst the bottom while the big fish swim freely with out having to hear the chorus of dunces below. Your quest for Moorish dignity has failed, chalk it up as another disappointment in your short life. I was Universal Champion at twenty two years of age. How about that?

Intern: What was that like two years ago?

Hoyt Williams: Do I detect sarcasm in you your tone? I’ll have you know, I could have your job and possibly even your life if tempted. I’m a peaceful man, but pushed to the boundaries of my will I have been known to seek and create vengeance.

Intern: What ever man, I’ll take my chances. Last time you won a match I was in high school. Great job with that fan last week perhaps you need to go back to school and learn how to trash talk.

Hoyt Williams: MY NERVES!!! PLEASE YOU ARE NEGITIVLY AFFECTING MY VALVE! You son, are a disease to this nation and should be eradicated like the bubonic plague of old. What is your name I must report this travesty of epic…..

The young man turns his back and walks away.

Hoyt Williams: I’m not done with you yet!! Where are you going?? Stop, CEASE I INSIST! I’m serious this is my job!! Hey get back here. You ARE GOING TO HELL KID HELL~!!! You will burn in the depths like the scum you are!!!

The kid turns the corner and Hoyt continues to yell before turning his attention back to the vending machine. He puts a dollar in the feeder and watches as it sucks it up and vanishes. He then pushes BR-549 which correlates to a nice cold Coke.

Hoyt Williams: Oh heavens do not forsake me!

Hoyt watches as the machine turns, plops, and motions yet no Coke falls. He bumps it once and nothing happens.

Hoyt Williams: This is an outrage! I’m a consumer and this machine has affectively stolen from me!! HELLO IS ANYBODY LISTENING!!

Hoyt pulls his cell phone out of his front pocket and turns on the speaker and dials 9-11.

911: 9-11 what is your emergency?

Hoyt Williams: A great thievery has been committed against my persons. I have been robbed and molested and I seek vengeance and justice.

911: Stay calm sir.

Hoyt Williams: Easy for you to say, as you haven’t been accosted by technology.

911: What is your address?

Hoyt Williams: Now I must be a phone book on top of a victim? This is an outrage I’m going to have you reported as well. Send the Military, the national guard, your supervisor, and the K-9 unit at once!

911: You can file a report against me later sir. Now what was taken?

Hoyt Williams: Besides my pride?

911: Yes.

Hoyt Williams: One American Green back!

911: A dollar? Was that all you had on you?

Hoyt Williams: Do not speak to me like I’m on welfare! I have plenty of currency of many different denominations on me. But in this case only a sawbuck has been taken.

911: What did this attacker look like?

Hoyt Williams: It is before me now. A giant soda machine.

911: Is this a joke?

Hoyt Williams: Is your job a joke? This is serious police business, and I would like you to know I have friends in HIGH places so it would be in your best interest to drop the attitude and dispatch the Calgary on my behalf.

911: Sir this is for emergencies only, and a faulty vending machine is not a crime.

Hoyt Williams: How many dollars must be stolen before this egregious act against humanity is solved? Our economy is in the pits yet this machine has free reign to steal dollar after dollar with out fear of the law. This is everything that is wrong with our country and I will be reporting you.

911: I have to take real calls now my name is Linda Adams and my number is 666 if you would like to file a report. Have a nice day sir.

CLICK

Hoyt Williams: MY GOD THE MARK OF THE BEAST!!

Hoyt’s phone is folded up and is placed back into his pocket. In a foul mood he again wonders down the corridors that is PRIME’s backstage. Hoyt looks up at the name tags above the locker rooms looking for him. Out of nowhere Hoyt trips over his untied shoe lace while looking up at Wade Elliets locker room sending him hard to the floor. He lays there for a second to absorb the pain and sop up some anger.

Hoyt Williams: This is not my year.

Hoyt peeks into Wade’s open locker room with interest and caution. He does not want to witness some homosexual act but his nosiness gets the best of him. As he gets up he spots something only he would notice.

Hoyt Williams: My god.

Hoyt walks into the locker room heading right to the object. He picks up a pair of panties, and searches for the "MW" initials in the back. He sniffs them like a blood hound to make sure, and his whiff is confirmed. Those are indeed his wife Mary’s panties.

Hoyt Williams: No!!??

Hoyt's eyes tear up before he throws down the panties and rage over comes him as he drops to his knees and yells to the heavens.

Hoyt Williams: GOD DAMN IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The camera cuts away.

Troy/Rayne vs. Tsonda/Donnelly vs. Shakur/Hall

Nick: Our last contest of the evening…Oh man, is this going to be a doozy.

Richard: Geah boy! Triple tag team action up in the hizzle.

Nick: I’m going to let that one slide because of the upcoming contest. Lindsay Troy and Tyler Rayne will team up against number one contenders Chandler Tsonda and Nitz Donnelly respectively and against the number two contenders of Devin Shakur and Easton Hall.

Richard: Madness!

Nick: Last week, Shakur managed to pull out a victory for Rayne and himself against Troy and Gamble. This week though, the two friends will be on the same side rather than on opposing sides, and Shakur will be stuck with an unfamiliar partner.

Richard: Not to mention a face…I’m shuddering. We’ll see how well Hall and Shakur mesh tonight.

Nick: Nitz Donnelly has already been beaten down earlier in the evening by Rayne, and he’s probably not feeling too good right about now.

Richard: Tsonda should be forced to do all the work then. He’s gotta man up and show that he can take the ball.

Nick: Rayne and Troy, both champions, should be able to co-exist because they have a unique chemistry-

Richard: They want to plow each others brains out.

Nick: Now why did you have to go there?

Richard: Dude, it’ll happen, trust me. Troy…as much as I hate to admit it, can be seductive at times. Rayne, well women seem to love a cheese grater so I’m sure he’ll have no problem putting it down.

Nick: I’m not even going to start on that.

Richard: Up to the ring where Vince Howard has our introductions.

Vince Howard: Ladies and Gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall and is under Scramble Rules! This means that if one person is thrown out of the ring either at their own discretion or by the opposition, another person from any team can enter the ring.

Nick: That just made this match really spicy.

Richard: SPICAH!

The lights are assassinated like this is Sarajevo in 1914. After a loud whoop from the crowd, silence reigns for a second.

And then...!

DUN-DUN – DUN-DUN-DUN-DUN!

Lights flash, then stop.

DUN-DUN – DA-DA-DA-DUN!

Again, but this time, a silhouette steps out from behind the curtain.

DUN-DUN – DUN-DUN-DUN-DUN!

They all recognize the tune.

DUN-DUN – DA-DA-DA-DUN!

"All Along the Watchtower."

The crowd gives a mighty pop as the guitar starts in and silver pyros light up the sides of the stage with a bang, the arena becoming bright again. Easton Hall steps out, standing on the stage. He looks from left to right, eyes passing over the crowd slowly. He curls his hands into fists and lifts them high into the air, hands rising at the same time that a cheer rises from the crowd.

There must be some kinda way outta here!
Said the joker to the thief!
There's too much confusion!
I can't – get no relief!

Vince Howard: Hailing from the Glorious North, and weighing in at two hundred and thirteen pounds, he is the "Canadian Dragon"… EASTON HALL!

Hall lets his hands drop as he starts down the ramp, shaking out his arms and loosening his neck. He hops up onto the apron and, gripping the top rope, pulls himself up to that second cable. Leaning over, he unravels the gauze around his forearms and lets it pile to the ground, showing off the Wheels-and-Dragons to a fantastic pop. The Canadian Dragon hops over the top rope and into the ring, warming up before the match.

Vince Howard: Introducing his partner, weighing in at 219 pounds…DEVIN SHAKUR!

The infamous guitar rifts of AC/DC resonate throughout PRIME’s temporary residence for the evening. The crowd, full of belligerent capitalists, immediately rises to their feet and begin to shout greetings at PRIME’s Commie Emo before he is even on the stage.

"Back in black!
I hit the sack!
I've been too long, I'm glad to be back,
Yes I'm, let loose!
From the noose!

With the opening verse rolling, Shakur throws open the curtain and slowly steps out into view of the blue spotlights that now shine upon him. The voices of hate continue to rise in intensity while Shakur pays them no legitimate attention. He starts the walk down the aisle.

That's kept me hangin' about,
I've been lookin' at the sky cause it's getting' me high!
Forget the hearse, cuz I never die!

Shakur keeps his eyes dead set on the ring, not giving the fans the satisfaction of indulging the witty banter of confrontation that a heel usually does.

I got, nine lives!
Cats eyes!
Abusin' every one of them and runnin' wild"

Shakur walks up the stairs and steps through the ropes.

"Cause I'm back!
Yes, I'm baaack!
Well I'mmmm baack!
Yes I'm, baack!
Well I'm, baaAAaaAAAACK!
BaaAAaaAAAACK!
Well I'mmm back in black!
Yes I'm back in blaaAACK!"

Nick: Well they don’t seem to necessarily be thrilled with each other, but these are two guys who can bring the pain once the bell rings.

Richard: Easton has the perfect poker face.

Vince Howard: Introducing next, weighing in at 224 pounds…NITZ DONNELLY!

"THROW UP YA RAWKFIIIST, IF YA FEELIN' IT WHEN I DROP THIS!"

"Booooooooooooooooooooooo" with the just barely audible
"raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"

The bumpin' lyrics of Thousand foot Crutch hit the speakers, cutting through the boos to reveal the High Class Ass, Nitz Donnelly, in ring gear with a smirk on his face. He walks down the ramp, offering no high fives from anybody. He’s playing hurt tonight and doesn’t want to jeopardize his chance of winning a huge match.

Donnelly climbs into the ring, stepping through the second rope instead of leaping over the top. He throws two fingers in the air with the music's chorus.

Vince Howard: Introducing his partner…Weighing in at 195 pounds…CHANDLER TSONDA!

"I said 'kiss me, you're beautiful'
These are truly the last days'"

The weathered voice from the beginning of Godspeed You! Black Emperor's "Dead Flag Blues" fades into the short acoustic section that begins Coheed & Cambria's "Welcome Home." After twelve seconds, the bitchin' guitars start to kick ass, as green and silver pyro goes off in perfect timing with the power riffs.

As the WalTron displays the words "Model Citizen" in white over a black background, Tsonda swaggers out from behind the curtain. He soaks up the fan's reaction at the top of the ramp, staring down his opponent. And amidst the hazy green and silver smoke, he sprints to the ring, slides in under the bottom rope, and awaits the start of the match.

Vince Howard: Introducing next, weighing in at 223 pounds…The Five Star Champion…TYLER RAYNE!

The spotlights do their usual search for Tyler Rayne, but it appears he’s MIA.

Richard: Where is that rotten d-bag?

"Oh hey, Richard!"

The spotlight swings to the announce table, which Tyler Rayne is leaning on, chuckling to himself. Richard tries to swat him away, but Rayne’s already taken off for the ring. Having seen Rayne, the crowd pops hard as he makes his way to the ring, slapping high-fives all about.

Nick: Heh, Tyler Rayne’s got a new trick up his sleeve every week.

Richard: PRIME, we steal ring entrances like mad. This line about ring entrances is probably stolen from somewhere.

Vince Howard: And his partner, weighing in at "silly a woman never says how much she weighs"…170 pounds…THE UNIVERSAL CHAMPION, LINDSAY TROY!

The crowd buzzes, filling the silence that's being left by a lack of music, until the scratch intro to "Adrenaline" by The Roots blasts through the arena. Gold pyro erupts all around the stage and ramp in time with the back beat and the crowd's buzz turns to a loud and raucous roar.

Once again 'gain
Once again 'gain
Once again 'gain 'gain
Ladies and gentlemen

Once again 'gain
Once again 'gain,
Once again 'gain 'gain
Yo, Adrenaline


Swirling spotlights start to roam around the entrance area, all snapping to the curtain once Black Thought's rhyme drops and "The Queen of the Ring" Lindsay Troy parts the curtain with authority.

I'm in the eye of the storm, where the pressure's on
And MC's is dressed funny like a leprechaun
I chop rappers up like chicken szechuan
Sells a squads off like a slave auction

Aiiyo my zodiac sign reads caution
On stage, I make your seed to an or-phan
Yo, my age an algebraic equation
Niggas want some? I hit 'em with a potion


Troy saunters out onto the stage, Universal Title around her waist, soaking in the moment and looking out amongst the fans screaming their heads off. The ridiculous fireworks display continues to boom all around her. Finally, the Queen walks purposely to the ring, keeping her eyes focused dead ahead. Everybody else inside the ring looks annoyed while Rayne chuckles in the corner. Troy jumps up onto the apron, and springboards over the top rope. After handing the title off to Elvis Nixon, SECOND WEEK ON THE TEMP PAYROLL HOLLA, our match gets underway.

DING! DING! DING!

All of the superstars except for Easton Hall and Lindsay Troy end up exiting the ring. Both superstars circle to their right before ensnaring each other in a collar and elbow lockup. Hall pushes down on his legs first, backing Troy up a little before hooking the right arm and twisting the limb around. Troy tries to fight but Hall turns it into a top wrist lock. Troy slowly bridges down with Hall assisting her. Troy ends up in the position where she is completely bridged over and Hall gets on top of her with the arms still locked. He attempts to use more leverage and further damage Troy’s arms, but she slides underneath, rolls back, and has Hall on the canvas. Easton folds up and kips to a standing position, keeping Troy locked in a grapple position. He backs her up to the ropes before switching around and getting behind her, applying a waist lock and throwing her down onto her stomach. Troy quickly moves around, grabs the arm, spins behind Easton, stands up, flips over, rolls Easton around, and applies a pinning predicament.

Nick: This one could be over in about thirty seconds!

Richard: My popcorn isn’t here yet!

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-

Richard: Whew

Hall holds onto the arm when rolling backwards and flips over Troy putting her in a bridging armbreaker that looks rather painful. Luckily, Troy is near the ropes and manages to break out of the hold with the referees assistance. Troy slides out under the ropes and Tyler Rayne immediately jumps in from the blind side on Easton, clubbing him across the neck, hoisting him around the waist, and throwing him backwards in a German suplex. Hall’s momentum rolls him out of the ring and onto the apron where an all too eager Chandler Tsonda jumps into the fray, leaping onto Rayne’s shoulders and landing a reverse hurricanrana that sends The Underground Pimp across the ring onto his back. Tsonda goes over in an attempt to end the match quickly, but Rayne intelligently slumps out of the ring, leaving room for Devin Shakur to charge in behind Tsonda and mafia kick him into the next millennium. Tsonda steps out of the ring and Donnelly springboards into the scene, delivering a corkscrew dropkick that sends Shakur down and out to the floor.

Nick: Some fast paced action here at 152. Making good use of the scramble rules aspect of the match.

Richard: THIS MATCH IS HOT STUFF!

Troy and Rayne slide back into the ring on each side of Donnelly and land a double standing side kick straight to his head, crumbling The Ego. Troy goes to the left, Rayne goes to the right, and both put their heads underneath his arms and flip over in a double northern light suplex. Tsonda sees his partner in trouble and dives back into the ring just as the cover goes down.

Nick: Another cover!

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-

Shooting star press onto both Troy and Rayne by Tsonda! Cover!

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Nick: We’re not going to get a minute to rest on this one, folks. Everybody throwing down right out of the gate.

Richard: Just what PRIME needs if you ask me, more of this kind of shit.

Hall comes in and breaks up the count on the number one contender. Hall lifts Tsonda up, connects on a nasty uppercut, and shoots him into the ropes. Shakur pops up on the apron and springboards into the ring, nailing a shoulder tackle on The Model Citizen before rolling through, jumping up and putting his feet into Hall, flipping him over in a monkey flip leg drop. Hall didn’t anticipate that move and is a little confounded.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THR-

Nick: You can tell Hall wasn’t ready for that one.

Richard: He would have been if the pinfall had registered.

Rayne jumps back into the scene with a flipping neckbreaker on Hall. Hall rolls out of the ring while The Underground Pimp pops back onto his feet. What he doesn’t see is a springboarding Donnelly twisting through the air to land a dropkick that sends Rayne flying over toward the apron. Donnelly starts to taunt the Five Star champion when he feels an arm bend him backwards and drop him down in a reverse DDT. The Universal Champion takes the opportunity to go for a cover.

Nick: Troy going for the steal!

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-

Tsonda and Shakur respectively dive onto the scene and break up the hold. The two contenders pull Troy up and shoot her off into the ropes. Both go for a double lariat, but Troy ducks underneath, hops up onto the second rope, and goes for a backflip. The contenders duck under that, turn around, and catch Troy with a high low combination kick, sending her down. Tsonda then turns and lariats Shakur inside out. Rayne rushes back in, attempting to grab Tsonda around the waist, but The Model Citizen spins around on him. Hall throws himself back in, grabbing a hold of Tsonda and flipping both competitors over in a double German suplex. COVER!

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Nick: Hall displaying some strength here, will it be enough?

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Double kickout!

Nick: I can’t keep up with what’s going on in the ring. All of them are moving at such a high rate of speed.

Hall gets up and immediately goes to work on Rayne, delivering a knife edge chop before kicking Rayne in the midsection, hooking his right leg, cradling the head, and spinning around in a beautiful neckbreaker. Hall doesn’t have time to turn around before he’s clotheslined by Troy while he’s still seated. Hall drops down and rolls out of the ring down to the floor. Troy is only on all fours for a second before Donnelly jumps onto her back and flies over the ropes, connecting on a cross body block that takes Easton Hall down onto his back.

Nick: Big time cross body!

Richard: Nobody is slowing down at all. Shit, I might get dizzy from watching all of this.

Donnelly avoided his head and starts to unload on Hall down on the floor. Quickly pulling him up, Donnelly slams Easton’s back into the barricade, before grabbing onto an arm and whipping him into the other side. Donnelly closes the gap and hits a nasty clothesline that almost puts Hall down. Meanwhile, in the ring, Shakur is pulling himself up to a standing position and charging hard at the turnbuckles. Showing freakish athleticism, Commie Emo jumps into the air, over the ropes, and lands on the top of the ring post perched like…Spider Man. Shakur flips through the air and hits a somesault which lands on both Hall and Donnelly, taking them both down on the ground. Shakur gets up to his feet, dragging Donnely up in the process.

Richard: Holy crap, Shakur knows how to fly. Really pale white guys can jump!

Nick: Someone call air traffic control, Tsonda is looking like he wants to join the party.

Tsonda charges at the ropes much like Shakur just did, putting his right foot on the second rope and flipping backwards out of the ring, landing on Shakur, sending him back into Easton Hall. Hall slams against the barricade while Tsonda almost ends up in the front row of some horny woman’s lap.

Nick: BIG AIR!

"RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

No, that wasn’t the woman. Rayne and Troy have been observing the action all this time and watching this bad acrobatic act. Both walk over to the ropes and wait for all four competitors to get up, which doesn’t take long. They start brawling with one another, Tsonda and Shakur, Hall and Donnelly. Synchronizing their jump in a really cute way, Troy and Rayne springboard onto the top rope and execute a double shooting star press through the air, landing them on their respective competitors and continuing the adrenaline rush through the crowd.

Nick: My God, I need a drink, quick.

Richard: BARKEEP! Two Cosmopolitans stat!

Nick: …

Richard: What?

Nick: Let’s just get back to calling the match.

"TROY! RAYNE! TROY! RAYNE! TROY! RAYNE! TROY! RAYNE!"

Both champions get up to a vertical base, with Rayne slapping some hands along the front row. Troy meanwhile uses this to catch her breath, knowing Elvis Nixon won’t allow there to be a countout in the Main Event match. When was the last time that ever happened? After his lovefest, Rayne takes the nearest body he can find, Shakur, and throws him into the ring steps. The Queen of the Ring grabs her Culture Shock opponent Tsonda and tosses him into the ring before entering herself.

Richard: I don’t know who to cheer for at this point. I mean Tsonda used to be one of my party boys…Wait, that came off horribly wrong, can I get that back?

Nick: Fraid not.

Troy delivers a kick to the abdomen and shoots Tsonda off into the ropes. When The Viet Viper comes charging back, Troy delivers a standing spin kick and follows that up with a standing moonsault. Rayne readies himself on the top rope and gets the go ahead from his partner, rolling out of the ring. The Underground Pimp flies into the air and connects on an elbow drop to the chest of Tsonda. Rayne doesn’t hesitate and goes for the cover.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREE-

Richard: Amazing, nobody tried to dive in there.

Tsonda kicks out and Rayne doesn’t waste any time bringing him back to the corner and kicking him in the midsection. Troy gets the tag, gets on the other side and shoots Tsonda into the ropes. Both come charging in at the number one contender before he can even get turned around. Feeling both at his back, Tsonda runs up the ropes and goes for a high arching moonsault. Rayne and Troy both hit the deck and roll out of the ring. Once Tsonda lands on his feet, Shakur has already rushed into the ring and lands an Exploder suplex, dumping Tsonda on his head. Shakur goes over and makes the tag to his partner Hall, who gets into the ring and lands a stiff forearm to the head of The Model Citizen.

Nick: Hall and Shakur seemed to have recover from their earlier spat on the floor.

Richard: Only a matter of time. You can’t hold the NUMBAH 2 CONTENDER OF THE WOHDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD down.

Nick: Who said Hall was holding him down?

Hall puts Tsonda up on the second rope and almost drops him off the ropes with a stinging right hand. Easton goes up the ropes and hooks Tsonda in a front chancery. Shakur gives the timely assist, lifting Tsonda off the turnbuckle, putting Tsonda in a potentially dangerous predicament. Hall falls backwards, connecting on a vertical suplex from the second rope. Instead of going for the pin, Hall rolls through, still with the chancery applied and throws Tsonda overhead in another suplex. Staying true to the hat trick, Hall once again rolls through, hooks Tsonda up and flings him over the ropes down to the floor. An opportunistic Tyler Rayne hops over the ropes, latches onto the head, rolls through, and goes for the rollup.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEE-

Shakur comes in and connects on a boot to the back, saving Hall from the pin. Shakur absentmindedly turns around and is on the receiving end of a Lindsay Troy springboard dropkick sending him through the ropes and onto the floor. Troy follows suit to the outside and whips Shakur hard into the barricade. Back inside of the ring, Rayne slams hard into the turnbuckle and is met by a rushing Easton Hall shoulder to the midsection. Hall brings Rayne out to the center of the ring, bounces off the ropes, hits a kneelift to the head, spins Rayne around and seamlessly lands a neckbreaker. Hall for the cover.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

Nick: Hall going with what brought him here, and it still isn’t enough yet.

Tsonda for the save. Rayne rolls over to his corner and makes the tag to Troy, who has left Shakur about three rows deep in the crowd. LT hops over the ropes and the combination which started the match once again locks horns. Troy connects with a forearm, knee strike to the midsection, a bounce off the ropes, and completes the combo with a scissors kick to the back of Hall’s head. The former Alias and 5 Star Champion attempts to roll out of the ring, but Troy keeps a hold of him, mounts and starts to drive vicious elbows into the side of his head, attempting to cause some head damage.

Nick: Hall trying to defend against these, but Troy has all that training, she can get through a lot of defenses.

Richard: Pfft, she’s got those man arms and is probably taking roids like Clemens.

Hall is putting his arms up and looking for a counter, but the elbows are coming so quick that he is finding it difficult to block all of them. Shakur finally bolts back into the ring and delivers a cheapshot clothesline on Troy, but ultimately knees Hall while exiting the ring. Both competitors are disoriented, trying to get their bearings back. Rayne is now giving chase to Shakur around the ring, wanting to put a dent in Commie Emo’s head…Man, someone give me some rhythm because I haven’t had any since starting this shit.

Nick: It’s like two little kids chasing each other around.

Richard: After that dinosaur rap segment, are you really surprised?

Alright, second half let’s pick this up. Hall pulls himself away from the ring and glares as Shakur is still being chased by Rayne. The younger Shakur has some legs, rounding the ring quicker than Rayne. Unfortunately for Commie Emo, Tsonda sticks a shin out and Shakur gets clotheslined down to the ground. Rayne grabs Shakur and flings him into the ring. Before he can get in the ring however, the Ego of New England feels he is ready to get back into the mix. He goes over to Shakur, his quasi-friend, and pulls Commie Emo up to a standing position. Donnelly unloads with a forearm, boot to the midsection, and a right hand on the dazed Shakur. The Ego shoots Shakur off into the ropes and nails a step up enziguri on the Number 2 Contender. Donnelly is still feeling the effects of the beating from earlier, and starts shouting at Rayne. Rayne just smirks and says "Shiny".

Nick: Donnelly kisses his mother with that mouth.

Richard: Probably yours too.

Nick: That was once and she wasn’t supposed to leave my sight!

Richard: I heard noises from his locker room that night, man...Just sayin’.

Donnelly goes over to further confront Rayne, giving Shakur all the time he needs to gather his bearings and get back into a fighting stance. Rayne even goes so far as to point Shakur out to Donnelly, who turns around and gets wallopped with a spinning back kick to the gut. Shakur backs Donnelly against the ropes and locks him in a Muay Thai clinch. Shakur puts knees into Donnelly’s chin, stunning the ‘High Class Ass’. Not many people can withstand this onslaught and Donnelly isn’t extraordinary in his state. Shakur grabs Donnelly around the hips and carries him around the ring, promptly slamming him down into the canvas and mounting The Ego quickly. Donnelly tries to protect his head, but Shakur fights through and lands a nasty elbow to the brow, instantly opening a cut.

Nick: Shakur not playing around, Donnelly is in big trouble here.

Richard: If he did, then one might call him the number three contender. Boy is serious when it comes to getting up to the top of the mountain.

Shakur bides his time and lands another elbow in the same spot, producing more blood on Donnelly. Showing a hint of remorse, Shakur gets up, walks over to Rayne, and smacks him in the back of the head before hopping over the ropes. Rayne comes in, staring down at the car wreck Shakur caused, and nonchalantly boots Donnelly in the head before picking him up. Rayne unloads with a knee to the midsection and flips Donnelly into the corner, slapping him across the face before unloading with a plethora of body strikes that have Donnelly all shook up. Rayne backs up and delivers a high roundhouse kick like Shakur does, almost crumpling Donnelly in the corner. Rayne gingerly walks across to the diagonally opposite side of the ring and measures The Ego for a potentially devastating headkick. Rayne winds up and charges ahead. Fortunately, Tsonda doesn’t like to lose and yanks his partner out of the way at the last possible second. He hops over the ropes and starts to unload with body kicks on Rayne. A jumping back kick later and Rayne is down at the bottom turnbuckle.

Nick: Rayne could be in some trouble here.

Tsonda grabs the legs, hooks them up around his shoulders, and brings Rayne out of the corner in a powerbomb. COVER!

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THR-"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Tsonda’s back gets torched by a stiff kick courtesy of the Universal Champ. He’s spinning around the ring in a circle on his side it hurt that bad. Donnelly feels enraged and flies into the ring, clubbing Troy across the face with a devastating discus forearm. Not wasting any time, Rayne hops over the ropes and enters the ring to confront Donnelly, but gets taken down by The Ego of New England. The two start to roll around, Donnelly fighting vehemently to keep up with Rayne, still enraged from the earlier brawl. Tsonda sees his opportunity, rushing up behind Troy and catching her suddenly with the Runaway Vault, putting the champion down on her back.

Nick: TSONDA NAILED A RUNAWAY VAULT! COVER!

Before Elvis Nixon can drop into place, Devin Shakur enters the scene and connects with a stiff kick to the shoulder, moving Tsonda away from Troy. Hall puts himself in, getting a running start off the ropes, while Shakur delivers an uppercut to Tsonda. Shakur shoots Tsonda off the ropes and hits the deck. Not even a second later, Easton Hall flies overhead and nails a FLYING BACK ELBOW!

"RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Rayne, who has won the brawl with Donnelly, doesn’t give Hall a moment to breathe, twisting through the air and nailing a corkscrew hurricanrana that sends Hall across the ring. Shakur rises up and tries to nail a Good Times, Painful Memories on Rayne, but misses wildly. Rayne spins around and connects with a Jet Li style spinning kick that throws Shakur over 360 degrees in the air. Rayne goes for the cover.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

FROG SPLASH FROM DONNELLY! Rayne is caught by surprise from the Ego, who gets up a little wobbily. He feels that he has Rayne right where he wants him, and drags the Five Star Champ out to the middle of the ring and exits through the ropes. Donnelly scales up the ropes and looks down at Rayne, getting a sense of where The Underground Pimp is. Donnelly takes flight-

Nick: TROY! TROY!

Just before Donnelly took flight, Troy leaped up onto the middle rope and moved toward Donnelly. She catches him in the middle of one of the flips, hooks the head, and brings him down in a SICK DDT!

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Nick: HOLY BATMAN!

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

Troy goes for the cover.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

What she doesn’t see is an eager Chandler Tsonda with an opportunity. He’s got his back to the ring and her.

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

Nick: MODEL CITIZEN! TSONDA NAILED HIS MOONSAULT! TROY IS COVERED!

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

Nick: HALL IN THERE!

Hall pulls Tsonda off Troy and away from the pinning predicament. He goes to work on Tsonda, grabbing him around the waist, and flipping him overhead in a saito suplex. Tsonda gets rocked and is holding his neck in pain. Shakur takes the chance and pulls him up. Tsonda gets sent into the ropes and back toward Shakur, who is perched and waiting to end the entire affair. His foot come up toward Tsonda’s head, but Shakur gets caught by someone he doesn’t expect.

Tyler Motherfucking Rayne. He spins Shakur’s leg around, the shin nailing Easton Hall straight in the head. Hall never saw it coming, and Shakur doesn’t have time to apologize, since he’s up on Rayne’s shoulder, running around in a circle. Shakur gets spun around and dropped in a blue thunder driver. Air escapes from Shakur’s lungs while Rayne makes the cover.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

TSONDA SAVES IT! Tsonda yanks Rayne up, kicks him in the midsection, puts the head under his right arm, lifts up, and drops Rayne head first into the canvas with a Golgotha Drop. Rayne spikes off the mat and Tsonda tries to end the match.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Much like earlier, Tsonda didn’t look over to his right and see the Universal Champion scaling the ropes. She’s also got her back to the ring and him.

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

TROY WITH A PHOENIX SPLASH! Tsonda is clutching at his back while Troy tries to scrape together enough energy to pull herself to a vertical base. Tsonda is out on his stomach and there is nobody around to go for the cover. Donnelly is fighting with all his strength to get over toward the ropes and make one last ditch effort. Shakur is over in the corner, clutching his head. Hall is recovering from the lighter version of Good Times, Pain Memories. Rayne is underneath Tsonda, having just taken 170 pounds from a height of about fifteen feet.

Nick: This is madness! The crowd is eating all of it up. They haven’t dropped in enthusiasm ever since all six of these athletes got into it.

Troy gets up to her knees and uses Tsonda to get up to her feet. Donnelly is on the ropes, hunched over the top, trying to balance himself to a standing position. Shakur is up to his knees, moving toward the scene. Hall is moving forward as well but not at a high rate of speed. Troy delivers a stiff kick to Tsonda, and gets one back in return from The Model Citizen. Troy trades another body kick, and gets more of the same. Troy, Tsonda, Troy, Tsonda, Troy, Tsonda, Shakur rushes into the scene to get him some of this exchange-

Nick: DONNELLY IN AIR…

Donnelly twists through the air and delivers a majestic 630 flip, Tsonda promptly ducks the fuck outta Dodge and Donnelly connects with both Shakur and Troy, sending them to the ground. Donnelly gets up and goes over for the cover.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Nick: Donnelly looks to have this! Tsonda is there to hold anybody off!

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

HALL WITH A LAST MINUTE SAVE! Tsonda clubs at him, diverting him away from the scene. Tsonda shoots Hall into the ropes, rushing back and attempting a spike bulldog, but Hall shoves Tsonda straight into the concussed Donnelly. Both competitors are stunned and this is all the time Hall needs to connect on a Burning Witch to Tsonda. The Model Citizen drops down, while Donnelly tries to fight off the incoming onslaught. Hall will not be denied though, delivering a staggering boot to the head, and getting the right amount of space to nail ‘The End’, a reverse Osaka Street Cutter.

Nick: THE END! HALL NAILED IT! COVER!

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

DING! DING! DING!

Vince Howard: THE WINNER OF THIS CONTEST…EASTON HALL AND DEVIN SHAKUR!

Nick: My God! What a contest by these six superstars.

Richard: You had non-stop action and the always popular spot finish contest. Always a great night when those two elements are involved.

Nick: These athletes gave it a valiant effort, but only one team could win and that was Easton Hall and Devin Shakur.

Richard: Jesus man, PRIME needs a lot more main events like that. I never saw a break in the action at all.

Nick: This is going to give Hall a lot of confidence and a lot more merit for his future Five Star Title shot. It’s inevitable at this point if he can pin the man next in line.

Richard: Very nice contest indeed.

All six of the competitors are still recovering from the heat of the match. Hall gets his hand raised, but yanks it away from the referee and tries to stand on his own. Donnelly is still busted open from the Shakur elbows of earlier, and the rest of the superstars are muscling up to head for the exits.

Nick: One has to wonder though what will happen between Shakur and Hall once both of them get around to clearer thinking. Shakur didn’t exactly help Hall out in this, almost costing his team the match.

Richard: Dude, Rayne was all over that. Hall never saw it coming and we both know that.

Nick: Yeah, but do you think Hall will care if and when he does find out?

Richard: Point

Rayne is helping Troy up over in the corner while Tsonda and Donnelly are close to each other, perhaps exchanging words or trying to console one another with fashion tips, nobody can specifically tell. Shakur is rising up to his feet and stares at Easton Hall, who would assassinate Shakur if looks could do anything. He doesn’t say anything, just fixates his eyes on Shakur.

Richard: I can’t tell if Hall is going to kill Shakur or shake his hand, the hair kinda gives him a great poker face.

Shakur goes up to Hall and taps him lightly on the chest before walking past him. Hall grabs a hold of the right wrist and pulls a confused Commie Emo close. What is said one will never know, because Hall slaughters Shakur in the face with a right hand, stunning him back into the corner. Hall advances and starts to unload with body shots and head shots on Commie Emo.

"RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Nick: Hall going to town on Shakur!

Shakur doesn’t have time to cover up, Hall continuing the frenzy by whipping Shakur into the ropes and connecting with a burning lariat that sends Shakur flipping over backwards. Rayne and Troy go to exit the ring, but a charging Nitz Donnelly pulls Rayne back into the ring and the two begin to slug it out. Troy turns around and ducks out of the way of a Tsonda jumping kick to the head.

Nick: IT’S ON!

Tsonda and Troy are up against the ropes, pulling hair, and trading kicks while Rayne is trying to put his fingers into the open wound of Donnelly. Donnelly flips Rayne over and starts to throw some discus forearms and elbows to the head, trying to bust open Rayne at the same time. Troy is delivering some knife edge chops to Tsonda, who is wincing at every chop because he’s only 25 pounds heavier. Troy gets on the second rope and starts to throw the ten punch count.

Richard: Get some hairspray stat!

Shakur starts to return fire on Hall, his strikes trying to find a knockout mark on Hall’s temple. Hall puts a knee into the midsection, but Shakur flips both over the ropes and down to the floor. Neither is giving an inch and are going to town. Rayne is punching Donnelly hard in the face, and the adrenaline is allowing Donnelly to no sell the punches. He kicks Rayne hard in the groin and throws him shoulder first into the ring post. Tsonda launches Troy off the ropes, charges ahead and connects on a clothesline that sends Troy down. Rayne gets brought up to a standing position and sent into Tsonda, who launches him into the air with a back body drop that lands Rayne back first onto the ropes. Rayne lands on the apron while Donnelly charges, leaps up into the air, and connects on a cross body that brings both down onto Hall and Shakur, who are up against the barricade still throwing hands.

Nick: Shakur is trying to bite Donnelly now!

Richard: Madness I tell you!

Tsonda hops over the ropes and lands on the mass of people, but not managing to take any of them out as they stagedive him into the crowd, who surprisingly keeps him atop their shoulders. LT jumps up to the top rope and connects with a Spiral Tap down on all the competitors, sending them down onto their backs. Tsonda gets flipped back over top of Troy and starts to throw mad kicks at her arms, maybe attempting to break one.

Nick: WE NEED SOME SECURITY OUT HERE!

Richard: Let them go man, let them go!

Rayne and Donnelly are still rolling around, having absorbed the contact of Troy. Donnelly shoves Rayne over top of Troy and starts to punch wildly, not really caring which one of them he hits. Rayne and Troy push Donnelly off and both end up almost going underneath the ring. Rayne manages to break away and soccer kick Donnelly in the chest, which sends The Ego down onto his back. Rayne jumps on top and starts to deliver some right hands. Tsonda throws Troy on top of Rayne and shoves her back into the ring before entering himself. Shakur has Hall locked in a Muay Thai clinch, throwing knees at his sternum and chin. Hall tries to move Shakur off, but the little man has surprising strength when the neck is locked. Rayne gives an unnecessary assist by whipping Donnelly into the pair, breaking up the fight. Shakur slugs Hall back into the ring.

Nick: I’m being told security is eating popcorn and protesting coming out here.

Richard: GEAH!

All six competitors are back inside of the ring, pairing off with their respective adversaries. Rayne, Troy, and Hall seem to exchange a look and fling their opponents into the middle of the ring, allowing their heads to collide. Tsonda backs up and falls through the ropes while Shakur and Donnelly end up throwing punches at one another. Hall goes after Shakur, lifting him off the ground and sending him into Troy against the corner. Rayne goes over and starts to throw some hands with Hall. Rayne delivers a knee to the midsection, Hall delivers an uppercut in retaliation.

Richard: Ten bucks on they all drop at the same time, you with me?

Troy and Shakur are trying to choke one another out while Tsonda is walking over toward the time keeper and observing the scene. Donnelly jumps back onto Hall and Rayne, throwing discus forearms at each of them. Shakur gets whipped into the frenzy and Troy follows suit, landing a headbutt and advancing forward on Commie Emo.

Tsonda grabs the chair and makes a beeline for the ring.

Shakur, Hall, and Donnelly all see this and immediately hit the deck. Rayne is pulled down by Donnelly and Troy turns around unknowingly ready to meet her fate.

BAM!

Tsonda absolutely obliterates a steel chair across the head of Lindsay Troy, sending her onto Dream Street for the evening.

Nick: HOLY SHIT!

Richard: TROY IS OUT!

Shakur and Hall are being pulled apart by security on the outside in their own little world, Rayne and Donnelly are trying to throw punches while not leaving the ground in a dazed state, and Tsonda is now standing tall over Troy. He yanks the Universal Championship away from a stagehand and holds it up high over his head and Lindsay Troy.

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"

Nick: My God, Tsonda has just laid the Universal Champion out!

Richard: I’m starting to get a chubby in my pants for him again.

Nick: Yuck! Disgusting.

Richard: Well that’s how I get down, get used to it.

Nick: For Nick Stuart, Richard Parker, and PRIME, this is Revolution 152! GOOD NIGHT EVERYBODY!

Credits

Uni vs. Uni


Mattchu and Lindz

Tension


Robbie

Gold Leash and Key


Obinna O.

OH, THE DRAMA! :O


The Fun Bunch


Robbie

A Word From the Icon


Andrew

Only $399.99!


IntegerChris

I'm Not Putting My Pitchfork Anywhere Near Your Medulla


NTICW's Two Finest Exports, Will & Asa

A Birthday Surprise


Craig and Ford

More Than One Way To Skin A Cat...Provided The Cat Is A PRIME Main Event


D to the Donnelly and Big Willy Style with an assist from Shane-O-Rayne


Asa

The Truth Comes Out


John and Craig

Coming Soon To A Throne Near You


???

1 Corinthians 7:2 'Nevertheless, to avoid fornication, let every man have his own wife, and let every woman have her own husband'


Wade Elliott, Hoyt Williams

Silver Tongue and Ticket


Shane, Obinna


Craig

Beware The Ides: II


The Management

Sucker Punch


Asa and Lindz

Matthew 27:46 'And about the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, saying, Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani? That is to say, My God, My God, why has thou forsaken me?'


Hoyt


Chris 1.2

Results compiled and archived with Backstage V2.

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