It begins quietly, almost serenely. Black and white footage flashes back to earlier this year, to Lindsay Troy and Desade facing off during Troy's guest appearance at Sin City. The tension is palpable. Right about now, one of the most conventionally well-known mash-up tracks in history, Jay Z and Linkin Park's "Numb/Encore", cues up.

The clip changes quickly, to then-SCCW Champion Jonathan Rhine showing up on PRIME television. The New Life's guest appearance quickly turns sour as he encounters Xavier Kannon, the King of Wrestling, who promptly preens and defends his territory. Rhine's cameo becomes a recurring role as he battles Kannon back and forth on ReVolution and Temptation alike.

The feud escalates and involves Amy Campbell, Rhine's nemesis from SCCW and his chief rival for the belt. Kannon's rapidly-complicating plans with the Red Raver sprawl outward, with Amy's local ties to the Dead Man's Hand not going unnoticed. At Sin City's All In show, Campbell defeats Rhine and Lance Marshall to claim the Universal Championship.

Meanwhile, Troy fights tooth-and-nail with herself in the form of Cozen. The war is personal, emotional and permanently affecting. The PRIME Universal Championship is lost in the shuffle, captured by opportunistic Devin Shakur at the right moment.

The battles between Troy and her wannabe double continue, ending only at Colossus V. Just hours after Kannon finally tops Rhine with Campbell's help (a match mere days after Aimz's win at All In), Troy silences Cozen...only to find that Desade was at the heart of it all. The Spider In The Web shows her Hand - or at least part of it - and assures the Queen of the Ring that things are far from over.

At that same show, Chandler Tsonda overcomes a relentless assault from Devin Shakur and becomes the new PRIME Universal Champion. His history with C.P. Cantrell, coupled with the belt, give him an almost unwanted "golden boy" status with the company.

Lindsay Troy, flanked by Tyler Rayne, crashes SCCW's Temptation show, promising to bring the fight to Desade rather than sit idly by and get caught in the web. The warning shot does not go unnoticed...or unanswered.

As the dust settles on Colossus and All In, Cantrell offers Rhine a spot in PRIME permanently. The news does not sit well with Sin City, with Desade, or with Xavier Kannon, who had spent the better part of his summer seeking the New Life's destruction. Kannon takes his complaints directly to the executive producer, who promptly shoots him down.

Chandler Tsonda appears at Sin City, but not to cause trouble. As part of an Elite Championship Contender's match - a spot he was given by virtue of his lofty status with Cantrell and his new title win - he comes bearing no general harm. That doesn't keep him from a tense interaction with Aimz, however, as the champions compare resumes. While at the show to support his choice, Cantrell meets Nigel Kensington and delivers a concise threat to Desade: stay off PRIME television.

One week later, the Dead Man's Hand arrives at ReVolution. Hawke and Ashe involve themselves in Lindsay Troy's tag team match. Her partner and opponents - Troy Douglas and Team VIAGRA, respectively - abandon the match to stand alongside the Queen, but not before the Hand roughs up Mary-Lynn Mayweather. Later that night, with Tyler Rayne and PRIME all watching helplessly, Desade orders an attack on diminutive PRIME interviewess Angelica Brooks. Mayhem, the Hand's largest member, powerbombs the untrained and defenseless Brooks onto the hoot of Rayne's car.

With Brooks in the hospital and a warning shot fired, C.P. Cantrell stirs the fire amongst his roster, inciting them to war despite the reservations of such roster stalwarts as Dusk and Killean Sirrajin. Even Troy, who stands at the center of the conflict, seems uneasy about Cantrell's jingoist response. With Desade, Aimz and the hand watching on, Cantrell declares war an all of Sin City Championship Wrestling, a bold and rash declaration punctuated by Devin Shakur's unprovoked attack on Lance Marshall.

Team VIAGRA, accompanied by Mayweather, battle with Phillip Kennedy and Reginald Lovecraft, making a point to interfere in each others' matches across several shows and the conflict grows more and more intense.

Roster-wide scrums end two episodes of ReVolution as PRIME is worked into a froth. The next episode of Temptation begins with PRIME flooding the ring, demanding justice and showing everyone they will not go lightly.

Kaiser Vashaun, newly crowned PRIME Intense Champion, ambushes a SCCW Livewire Championship match at Temptation and declares himself the guest referee. He counts the surprising fall for King Blueberry and immediately refocuses his attention on proving his belt's supremacy.

In the night's main event, a career vs. career title match between Rhine and Campbell, the Hand becomes involved, looking to impose their final will upon The New Life. PRIME arrives on the scene to even the odds, but a full-on brawl breaks out, as Marshall and Shakur continue their escalating hostilities, and the respective tag team champions are at each others' throats again, and general mayhem (and Mayhem, at least until Tyler Rayne kicks his face in) ensue.

Amidst all that ruckus, Xavier Kannon turns his back on PRIME, returning the favor to C.P. Cantrell and allying himself with the Dead Man's Hand. With one fail Benedictine (Arnold, that is) swoop, the stage was set for one of the biggest events in the history of either company.

The landscape changed over the past several months, but it's about to change further with tonight's events.

As "Numb/Encore" continues, we see the full card of the show. Both the PRIME and SCCW logos flash onto the screen.

20-Man Battle Royal

Killean Sirrajin & Troy Douglas (PRIME) vs. BloodAngel & Wyatt Connors (SCCW)

Devin Shakur (PRIME) vs. Lance Marshall (SCCW)

Strength In Numbers Champions Vs. Tag Team Champions
Phillip Kennedy and Reginald Lovecraft (SCCW) vs. Team V.I.A.G.R.A. (PRIME)

Intense Champion Vs. LiveWire Champion
Kaiser Vashaun (PRIME) vs. King Blueberry (SCCW)

Universal Champion Vs. Universal Champion
Aimz (SCCW) vs. Chandler Tsonda (PRIME)

Lindsay Troy, Tyler Rayne, Nova and Wade Elliott (PRIME) vs. Desade, Mayhem, Jadian Bridden and Xavier Kannon (SCCW/PRIME)

As the final match fades out, the screen goes black, the music dies and we're greeted with one monumental-sounding word.

CATACLYSM

Pyro EXPLODES inside Boston's TD Banknorth Garden as Linkin Park and Jay Z continue. The crowd roars over the dull bass thud of the fireworks and we're treated to a full-on view of tonight's set, an odd hyrid of the PRIME and SCCW arena setups. Elements of each fed's individual stage, screen and ramp combine to form menacing structures indicative of the consequences they are about to display.

A quick zoom around the arena leaves us at ringside, with the odd couple announce team of Nick Stuart and Eugene Ware.

Nick: WELCOME EVERYONE TO CATACLYSM!

Eugene: PRIME VS. SCCW!

Nick: I'm Nick Stuart!

Eugene: And I'm Eugene Ware, and tonight's one of the biggest shows Boston is ever likely to see!

Nick: Lofty words, but something that could very easily be backed up with the seven HUGE matches on the card tonight!

Eugene: That's right, seven matches away from PRIME's bitching and moaning finally being shut up!

Nick: I see we're getting right down to the partisanship.

Eugene: Dude, I was born leaning to one side.

Nick: There's a story to that which I am not interested in hearing.

Eugene: Odds are you'll be hearing it anyway, sucker. I'm here all night.

Nick: Luckily for me - and for fans - there will be plenty going on in that ring to distract. Speaking of, let's get down to it!

Backstage, it's go time.

Throughout the night, you'll find that there are Sin City fans and there are PRIME fans. They'll cheer for their own, they'll boo lustily for the "other guys".

But these people, in this room? They're the unifying factor. A handful of men (and mostly women) who everyone, Sinner and PRIMEate alike, will agree are kind of the antithesis of heroes.

That gentleman right there in the center, with the long mane of flowing red hair, he's especially disliked.

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

The combination of blinding SCCW's hero and turning on his entire federation has tended to make Xavier Kannon a nonentity in any locker room but this one. His wife? She's happy because they have some good booze.

Over on the other side of the room, two other redheads converse quietly, one with bloody hair, one with neon. The three red-haired villains are the reason that this event is happening, and they're not getting much credit.

The one with the sparkling wallet chain and a beaming signature grin doesn't appear to be that bothered by the echoes of negative fan reaction creeping into the room from the arena floor. In fact, thanks in no small part to the bottle of wine she's letting dangle at her side, she's almost entirely void of the effects of the tension hanging in the air tonight. This doesn't sit well with the man who enters the room shortly thereafter. Once he's done shaking Xavier Kannon's hand, the well put-together, suited man jaunts behind Amy Campbell and yanks the bottle from her hand.

Aimz: Impolite!

Enter Dan Mulholland, agent to the... well, agent to Aimz.

Mulholland: I saw you slam two shots of tequila before I left to give the caterers the complaints we wrote down. Someone has a match to win. Save the liquor for the after-party.

Aimz: Gonna funnel it to anything with breasts under the age of 25, huh?

Mulholland: Har har.

He turns to the other other redhead. After introducing himself to Kannon for the umpteenth time and doing damage control on his client, two of the three streaks of red in the room were dealt with.

Mulholland: Alex! Big night, huh?

Mulholland opens his arms and smiles at her. The Spider simply raises an eyebrow, arms folded. Aimz? Yeah, she's laughing.

Mulholland: ... Ooookay. We're still at Miss Pierce, aren't we?

The conglomerate of redheads of evil~! isn't really broken up into groups; the locker room they've been assigned by C.P. Cantrell and Dr. Nigel Kensington doesn't allow for it. But Alexandra Pierce doesn't sit down or take up very much space. The smile that pulls across her lips is at least partially false.

Desade: It is good to see you, Daniel.

He tries not to wince as she pats him on the shoulder as she walks past to the center of the room, joined by the King of Wrestling and the Red Raver. The various knots of conversation -- Eleanor Kannon-Hall and Kathryn Shaw, Lauren Fox and Dan Mulholland, William Powell and Mr. Hawke -- fall silent as the three of them come to the center of the room. Those that don't are quick to as Aimz raises her voice.

Aimz: Hey! We're standing in the middle of the room, which means the rest of you fucks shut up.

They do, but whether it is from the barked words from Sin City's Champion or from the raised brow of the Director is an arguable point.

Desade: Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I thank you for your attendance This evening, we are faced with a group of very motivated, very skillful opponents, in a hostile environment, before the eyes of a world who would, quite frankly, stand on their feet and cheer were we to falter.

Xavier Kannon: Or, as we call it in PRIME: "Friday."

Speaking in front of crowds is a strong suit of the Universal Champion. Kind of.

Aimz: Yeah, they're all here to see us fall on our asses. I, for one, don't plan to do that. That means I need everybody to go out there and show... uhh...

And by kind of, we mean she's basically only good at tearing somebody a new asshole in the middle of a ring. Rallying cries aren't her thing. Neither is short-term memory, which becomes readily apparent as she leans toward Alexandra Pierce.

Aimz: ... Who're you guys facing, again? The really boring lot. Something about condoms, right? The Durex Brigade? Team Lifestyles?

Desade: They will fall, not simply because we are stronger or faster -- though we assuredly are -- but because we are smarter.

Aimz: Prrrretty sure that we're stronger and faster, too.

Kannon: I wouldn't wave the "stronger" card if I were you.

Aimz: I could... I could bench-press Ellie.

As the three redheads talk about the benefits of bench-pressing tiny blondes, Dan Mulholland watches nearby -- he knows enough not to get in his client's business. The tawny-haired Sex Kitten slips up behind the man, tapping him gently on the shoulder.

Katsidy: (softly) Dan? Sorry to bother you.

Ellie: Why are we bench-pressing me? That sounds, like, difficult. These clothes will get wrinkly.

Aimz: Which is why I'm not going to bench-press you. I'm simply stating that, if necessary, I totally could. Really. Dan knows, he made me do gym photoshoots and all that shit. Right, Dan?

In the meantime, Mulholland is too distracted by a simple request to attest to his client's superhuman strength. His full attention is on a helpless damsel.

Mulholland: Anything you need.

Aimz: (Behind) Dan?

Katsidy: I was... my car. It won't start. I need to pick something up for 'Lexi, and I didn't want to bother any of the other boys since they're... well, let's just say Hawke and Roddie aren't exactly handy, you know? Kannon's preoccupied, and I think it's against his religion or something.

The question doesn't need finishing before Mulholland is eagerly nodding, shooting Shaw a sly wink that only one person in the room (Ellie~! aside, of course) doesn't notice.

Aimz: ... Jew McGoo?

Mulholland: Should we go take care of that now? You probably just need your fluids topped off, everybody lets that go.

Aimz: I'M ABOUT TO GO MEL GIBSON OVER HERE. Seriously, is he listening at all? I'm seri--

Xavier Kannon: Do we have the ability to show footage? Like that Peon Without Peer on his wretched excuse for an interview segment.

Aimz: Don't even mention that jackoff's name.

In the background, Kathryn Shaw slips an arm around Dan Mulholland's waist, and he might slide his hand lower than hers.

Aimz: What do I pay him for?

Ellie: (muttering) I totally wonder that myself sometimes.

Desade: My apologies, Amelia. It can be difficult to control them.

Ellie: Who's Amelia? My name is Ellie.

She says it without the tilde and the exclamation point, but you can bet that she puts them in, in her head.

Desade: At the end of this night, when the rest of the world is looking down on us as they were at the beginning, but still unable to deny that we have done everything we said we would, you will forgive me.

Xavier Kannon: I'm usually up for the rah-rah team thing, but you need to find a better way to throw a party, Alexandra.

Ellie: This is boring, yeah. We should be outtie, except...

She looks away from Desade, shaking her head slightly.

Ellie: You need a stylist like whoa.

Seeing the opportunity for dinner theatre, Aimz is suddenly beaming behind Desade.

Aimz: I'm absolutely up for watching Ellie try styling Alex. There's nobody fun out there. I doubt I'd even enjoy breaking somebody's nose tonight.

Both Xavier Kannon and Alex Pierce look to one another, then the smallest redhead with bemused smirks. And under the pressure of those looks, she cracks.

Aimz: ...Okay, maybe I'd enjoy it a little. Is my--- where the hell did Dan go?

Ellie: He went off to help the... you know, the girl with the nails.

That's when Aimz turns to Desade with a finger practically touching the tip of the Director's nose.

Aimz: If she even thinks of bending over in front of him, I will actually choke her this time.

Savant: Kathi's rental car is a disaster. I still say we should sue.

Desade: I will thank you to remove your finger from my face, Amelia. Please.

Ellie: Serious. Who's Amelia?

The Director's lips wrinkle -- she is totally not smiling, however. Nope, not at all.

Savant: This is... I like this. Now all we need to have happen is for Alexandra to cash in her bracelet after Channy goes all ninja on her and --

Amy's finger's got another face to get in. Her hand falls to her side, but her fist is balling.

Aimz: Sorry, what was that?

Xavier leans down to Ellie with a chortle.

Kannon: This is kind of their specialty. Watch, it's comedy - she likes to choke them with belts. Sometimes there's a chair. Then the stuffy one gets all 'You there!' and they make nice.

Savant: I was just...

There's a knock on the door, SCCW's resident asshole interviewer Kendall Heath poking his head in.

Ken Heath: Everybody decent?

Savant: I've been thinking about the Big Slick bracelet that Alexandra has and --

Aimz: And what? Did the hair dye go to your head? You can tell me.

Ken Heath: Am I early for the interview you requested?

Kannon: Well, this place is certainly a zoo.

Ellie: Nuh-uh, there are no monkeys in cages.

The King of Wrestling glances across the room at a weightlifting bench, where Mayhem is quietly lifting and lowering barbells.

Kannon: I... beg to differ.

Ellie: You guys said you weren't going to bench-press me.

Savant: What better place to cash it in than here, in PRIME country? Win the Universal Title --

Aimz: My Universal Title.

Savant: Well, yeah. It was...

Aimz: It was one of the dumbest things you've ever suggested, and *I* know Desade isn't dumb enough to do it. So you can cram it now, yeah? 'Cause if you don--

Ken Heath: Can I have a mo--

That... wasn't the right time to speak up.

Aimz: Do you wanna get put through a wall tonight? Savant here does. If you don't plan to join her, shutthefuckup, point that mic the other way and go ask Mayhem what strength of Right Guard he's wearing tonight - for the sake of everybody in this room. And Lauren, you were saying something? It sounded like 'I'm on crack and I'll stop speaking now'.

Savant: I...

She looks around the room, finding no allies in this one.

Savant: Yeah, I'm on crack and I'm shutting up.

Aimz: I thought so.

Kendall Heath finally enters the room, but not of his own accord. He's propelled into the room by a brown-haired man named Phillip. Phillip Kennedy, that is.

Kennedy: Have any of you seen Kathryn?

Xavier Kannon and Eleanor Kannon-Hall share what is scientifically termed "A Look." The blonde doesn't quite lift her hand to hide her tittering.

Ellie: Zohhhmygod.

Kannon: And you wanted to find a place all to our lonesome.

Mayhem sits up, bare-chested and blows a derisive snort in their direction. Even that sound is enough to make Eleanor chirp in fear.

Ellie: He's, like, going to bench-press me!

Aimz: No, he won't. I'd kill him. He'd sweat on me, but I'd kill him. And... is that the guy who actually thinks he's the only one Shaw's banging? Hold on, though - Kannon, we need to exchange Jon Rhine retirement speeches later.

She looks around the suddenly smaller room and spots Desade again, walking off before Ellie can start explaining the backstage soap opera's she's borne witness to.

Aimz: Is there a plan buried somewhere in this zoo?

Desade: There are several, in the zoo and not. Perhaps we should discuss them away from...

Ken Heath is like a ninja as he approaches the Path of Destruction -- a ninja in a bad suit with slick blond hair and a big microphone.

Desade: ...prying eyes.

A weight almost instantly lifts from the smaller redhead's shoulders. Sure, she's got a champion-versus-champion match tonight, not to mention the lingering threat of the very woman standing before her having a free shot at her title whenever she desires, but crowds of people are just gross.

Aimz: Any excuse to get out of here.

Heath: Any chance of a few words?

He was there when they turned to walk away. When she spun around, Aimz nearly poked herself in the eye with his microphone.

Aimz: Sure! First word starts with an F. Four letters. Second can be summed up with a U. If that's too third grade for you, a warning; This is not the time to screw around, Heathy - we're in an arena filled with a bunch of pompous, overhyped asshats wasting their lives by telling everybody else how good they are. I'm sure one of the 'PRIMEates' would gladly make you earn your paycheck listening to their self-righteous drivel.

Heath: Later, then?

Aimz: If you're within ten feet of me again tonight, I'll make Katsidy bleed on you. Nobody likes AIDS, Heath.

Very few people touch Amy Campbell, but very few people are Alexandra Pierce. All the Spider does is lay a... well, we'll go with "hand," because "pedipalp" would just be gross... on the Raver's forearm, and it stems the tide. No words pass as the two ladies excuse themselves from the room.

Ellie: Sooooo, they're, like, going to go scissor each other or something?

Her husband laughs to himself; Lauren Fox's murmur is softer, but has more bite.

Savant: Or something.

Cataclysm cuts backstage where it's a scene of pandemonium.

Yes, it's already a confrontation between memebers of PRIME and members of SCCW, and yes, it's already gotten out of hand quickly. Several members of security have already appeared on the scene... unfortunately, said security members happen to be the Enemigos and they're really quite inept at dispelling the situation, mostly because the individuals involved aren't exactly the sorts of people that security can handle easily.

It's not that they're tough or even that much of a threat.

They're just completely insane.

In fact, so insane are these people that they're currently engaged in their pandemonium somewhere in the parking lot, having constructed two forts made entirely out of pillows that actually stand at a surprising height. There are even towers made for each of the forts. A pair of broken shovels next to both forts indicates that they had gotten as far as attempting to dig moats for their forts, before they finally realized that shovels + asphalt = broken shovels.

The only clear difference between the forts is the gray color of one of the forts and the very grotesque blue color of the other fort.

And also the individuals that man each fort.

In the gray fort are three individuals, all wearing camouflage gear and two of them wearing helmets. One is a white guy and eternal virgin, one is a Hispanic who speaks no Spanish, and one is a black guy wearing a bizarre mask who's wearing what appears to be a yellow mouse on his head rather than a helmet. And by "yellow mouse", we mean Pikachu.

They are Mega Job and the Codemaster.

And right now, they have a conundrum.

Beef: Where the hell is Steve? This'd been over long ago if he'd been here.

El Janito: I talked to him on the cell phone.

Beef: You have a cell phone?

El Janito: I borrowed it from the black guy.

The Codemaster raises his hand, causing both El Janito and Beef to look at the crazy black guy wearing a Pikachu on his head.

Codemaster: Sometimes, a brother's gotta call his homies for some Halo smackdown. Y'hear?

Beef and El Janito turn back to face each other, and Beef gestures at the black guy.

Beef: Okay, how the hell can this guy have (air quote) "homies" (un-air quote) when he wears that mask all the time now, and now he's wearing a Pikachu on his head? I mean, I know he's worn it before, but come on! We're less pathetic than that. We deserve some homies too.

El Janito: Beef, I think we should be concentrating on the task at ha--

And then El Janito sees something distressing.

El Janito: TAKE COVER!

And then all three of them duck as a BOULDER comes flying right over their heads, thankfully missing them and their fort. Beef suddenly pops up and shouts at the people manning the blue fort, his fist raised and shaking in anger.

Beef: BOULDERS ARE AGAINST THE GENEVA CONVENTION!

El Janito: (clearly no-selling the boulder) Anyway, Steve said he's running late.

Beef: Even though we all clearly arrived in the building on time.

El Janito: Yes.

Beef: (clearly having a headache) So, why's he running late?

El Janito: He said something about a "threesome" with Megan Fox and Keira Knightley.

Beef: ....What's a threesome?

El Janito: I don't know.

With fear in their eyes, Beef and El Janito are forced to lower themselves to asking Codemaster for his opinion on the matter. The Codemaster notices as he grabs his cup of coffee, which he probably shouldn't be doing while standing on a fort made of pillows. Coffee and pillows don't mix, after all.

Codemaster: Ha...! If you ask me, two's company and three's a crowd in the game of love.

Beef: This is why we never ask for your advice any mor-- OH GOD!

This time, a COW is launched at their fort, once again narrowly missing everyone as it goes flying over their heads. However, it does take the time to "moo" at them as it flies past. Beef pops up, clearly angry.

Beef: YOU'RE LAUNCHING COWS AT US, NOW!?

The other fort, the one colored an obnoxious shade of blue, housed three individuals of its own. Two wore masks. One thought he was Jesus. Not what you'd call a "think tank". Peeking through a crack in the ramparts, King Blueberry addressed his soldiers.

Blueberry: Where the hell DID we get a cow?!

Grinning ear-to-ear, Violent Jesus shot his right hand up into the air.

Blueberry: Figures. Where the hell did the CATAPULT come from, though?

Still grinning, this time Jesus shot his left hand up.

Jesus: TOUCHDOWN!

Huddled behind a stack of sofa cushions, Blueberry Dragon took a moment from shouting into his cellphone to address the situation.

Dragon: He got his hands on the Hammerspace Brand Universal Remote and Toothpaste Dispenser, but we don't know how to work it properly. All I know is that he filled it with toothpaste and set it to "Crest".

Blueberry: And what the hell are you doing?

Dragon waved his phone.

Dragon: I'm on with tech support. I think they're in India. They've got me on hold right now.

This is not how King Blueberry had wanted his evening to start. He was hoping to quietly sneak into the Garden without drawing too much attention to himself, but this was not in the cards. Instead he'd spent the evening thus far either forced into building or hiding behind a stack of pillows.

The spectacle had attracted considerable attention, as patrons of the MBTA getting off the at the North Station stop were now congregating around the fence that bordered the staff parking lot.

Blueberry: I take it back. This is the worst week ever.

FWOOM!

Blueberry: WAS THAT A FUCKING VESPA?!

Yes. Yes, it was, and it when it struck the fort it took down one of the towers.

Jesus: The north tower has fallen! Abandon ship! Women and Eugene first.

Dragon: (into the phone) No, a catapult... Thin air. Seriously, he pressed a button and poof there it was... That doesn't make any sense. It doesn't HAVE a network adapter!

Beef holds the palm of his hand flat over his eyes and admires the work of the disappearance of Blueberry Castle's north tower.

Beef: Excellent aim, Mr. Master.

The Codemaster smirks as he takes a sip of his coffee.

Codemaster: Ha...! I learned how to work a catapult from Chandler Tsonda.

El Janito: Chandler Tsonda knows how to work a catapult? And for that matter, how the hell did *WE* get a catapult?

Beef: We had our technicians build it over the last hour.

El Janito: Technicians?

El Janito turns around and sees NO LESS than ten Enemigos, all dressed like Engineers in Team Fortress 2, simply whack their wrenches at their catapult, and this somehow is actually building it. El Janito chooses not to question any of the Enemigos, but instead looks over at the Codemaster, who'd have been the guy most chiefly responsible for this turn of events.

El Janito: How the hell... does that make ANY sense?

The Codemaster: Ha...! As long as they don't have any Demomen, we're gonna be just fine.

El Janito gives up on talking to the Codemaster and instead turns to Beef.

El Janito: How? What? How?

Beef: I stopped questioning him ages ago.

Bob: I count ten Enemigos, and they're furiously whacking at a catapult with their wrenches.

Who the hell is Bob?

Bob: And also, who the hell am I?

The unknown "Bob" peers through the empty cardboard roll once belonging to some paper towels, using it as a telescope to view the happenings inside Castle MegaMaster.

Blueberry: You've been written into the segment because Dragon's going to be occupied on the phone until this is over...

Blueberry Dragon takes a moment to wave pleasantly at Bob.

Blueberry: I'm going to run around in belligerent frustration, and Jesus is, well, useless.

Jesus: Yogurt.

Blueberry: See what I mean? The author decided that we needed a temporary straight-man, so you're it.

Bob: Oh. Do I get a backstory?

Blueberry: 'Fraid not. I'm pretty sure you'll be blinked out of existence as soon as this bit is over.

Bob: Shit.

Dragon: (into the phone) Okay, so what if we set it to "Colgate"?... Giant squirrels, huh?

Blueberry: Hey! Hey... ask them how to make Demomen.

Dragon nods a bit, mumbles "Uh-huh" a few times, then turns to King Blueberry.

Dragon: They say that's currently unsupported, but we can open an enhancement request if we want to.

Meanwhile, over at the gray fortress...

Beef: Hey, Codemaster, what're they doing over there?

Codemaster: What makes you think I'm gonna know anything about what they're doing over there, Biggs?

Beef: You mean, you DON'T have telescopic vision with that insane visor thing on your face?

Codemaster: No. Why the hell would you think that?

Beef: It'd be cool.

Codemaster: *sigh* Somebody get a brother a telescope.

Codemaster is handed a cardboard tube. He shrugs and puts it up to his face, presumedly where one of his eyes would be. He looks out for a few seconds before he responds.

Codemaster: They're apparently fiddlin' around with some device that's both a Universal Remote AND a toothpaste dispenser, and a guy named Bob was blinked into existence because their side needed a better straightman than Blueberry Dragon, who's on the phone with tech support.

Beef: Urk. Tech support.

El Janito: Is the tech support... (failing to hide his disgust) Indian?

Codemaster: Probably.

El Janito: (clearly horrified) Oh, God.

Beef: That's something I really can't wish on anyone, even if they're our blood enemies... um, for this one show, anyway. (turns to the Enemigos) HEY! SLAVES! Why haven't we shot anything at these freaks lately?

Enemigo XLI: ¿Que?

Beef throws his hands up in the air.

Beef: Janito! What do we have left that we can rain down upon our foes?

El Janito: I have this spare pillow that we couldn't use for our fort.

Beef: Okay!

And then Mega Job launches a pillow at Blueberry Castle with the catapult.

Bob: INCOMING!

Dragon: (into the phone) For the last time, THERE IS NO SHIFT KEY!

It happens in slow motion. The pillow strikes Bob in the chest, the force of the brunt knocking the cardboard tube (which I really should have said the first time around -- "once belonging to some paper towels", what an ass) from his hand. Bob hits the ground back-first. A dozen white doves fly through the air. King Blueberry bellows a much-labored, Revenge of the Sith-esque "NO!"

Blueberry: Nooooooooooooo!

See?

From somewhere, exactly where we're not quite sure, Paula Cole's "I Don't Want to Wait" begins to play softly. King Blueberry rushes to the side of the fallen Bob, cradling his head in his hands.

Blueberry: He was so young, so innocent. WHY GOD, WHY?!

And then suddenly, King Blueberry stands upright, completely unphased.

Blueberry: Okay, blink 'm out of here.

BLINK!

Blueberry: Hey Lloyd...

That would be Violent Jesus.

Blueberry: Can you conjure me up another one?

Violent Jesus presses a button, a big, red, CANDYLIKE button, and another person appears. His name is Roy, but he looks an awful lot like the now deceased Bob.

Roy: Um, hi. Who am I?

Blueberry: You're Roy. You're the new Bob.

Roy: Who's Bob?

Blueberry: Bob's dead. To the battlements, Roy!

And without argument Roy trots off to take Bob's place on the front lines.

Blueberry: Oh, by the way - RETURN FIRE!

Dragon: (into the phone) How about control-alt-GOTOHELL!

Jesus hits another button the HBUR&TD, materializing a second Bob look-alike in the catapult. His name is Larry, and we will never get to know him, because he is about to become cannon fodder.

Larry: Hi guys, what's going on.

Blueberry: FIRE THE LARRY?

Larry: What the...?!

The sound the catapult makes as it releases its payload is "thwung". The sound that Larry makes is a wee bit different.

Larry: *WILHELM SCREAM* !!!!!~!

Beef doesn't take this well.

Beef: OH GOD! They shot a Larry at us! HIT THE DECK!

Beef, El Janito, and Codemaster all indeed hit the deck. Larry goes flying over them, but the results are messy afterwards. A loud crash is heard. The sound of bodies being broken is heard. Somewhere, the WWE airs a "please, don't try this at home" message. Around here, we'd be airing a "please, don't try this EVER" message.

Beef looks down at surveys the carnage. Broken bodies wearing masks lie everywhere. So, too, does Larry's body parts. Worse yet, the catapult lay in ruins after a severe extinction level Larry event, and in its place is a CRATER.

Beef: They got our catapult! And... um... the Enemigos, too.

El Janito and Beef look at each other, and then take off their helmets and hold them to their chests. In the background, "Taps" can be heard.

Beef: This means WAR.

Codemaster: Brother, we were already at war.

Beef: Well, uh... this means DOUBLE WAR!

El Janito jumps up onto the top of their pillow fort and shouts at Blueberry Castle.

El Janito: PREPARE FOR TROUBLE!

Beef: AND MAKE IT DOUBLE!

There is a pause, and then the sound of a catapult being engaged.

Beef and El Janito are then sent flying from the top of their pillow fort as its integrity is compromised by the explosive impact of a cardboard cutout of James Varga. Beef lands on his back by the Codemaster's feet. El Janito lands in the crater where their catapult once was, and ends up covered in Larry guts.

El Janito: Eww.

Beef: Ow.

Meanwhile, the Codemaster simply whistles and about twenty more Enemigo engineers appear and get started on whacking another catapult into existence. After a few seconds, the catapult is wrought from the whacking. Then the Enemigos whack it some more and it becomes a pimped out DOUBLE catapult.

Beef: Janito.

El Janito: Yeah?

Beef: Release the hounds.

Seconds later, two objects are sent flying into Blueberry Castle.

One is a statue of Wyatt Connors picking his nose.

The other is Tom Cruise.

Blueberry: Sweet.

Dragon: Mother.

Roy: Of.

Jesus: ME!

The status of Connors strikes Castle Blueberry, annihilating the foundation and causing it to implode. Tom Cruise's trajectory had changed mid-flight, almost as though he willed himself a new flight path, and he flew square into the chest of Violent Jesus, knocking the remote from his hands and breaking the toothpaste receptical.

For a moment all is quiet as the dust settles around the wreckage, but a hand punches out through a gap in the pillows, and King Blueberry slowly pulls himself free. The King dusts himself off, still staggering a bit from the blast, and then assists his friends in freeing themselves from the wreckage.

Unfortunately they suffered another casualty in the form of Roy.

Blueberry: We've got no catapult, no magic Jesus ray, and no more fort.

Dragon: So what do we do now?

Blueberry: Well, I think it was Winston Churchill who said "Fuck it, I want a divorce."

Tom Cruise: (groaning) ...so....glib...

Dragon: Maybe we should negotiate an armistice.

Blueberry: No thanks, I don't like Swedish food.

Beef jumps up onto the top of his fort, his arms crossed.

Beef: The Enemigos are dead! They're no longer here!

Enemigo LXI: ¿Que?

Beef points his finger into the air.

Beef: However, in my heart and in this fort, they continue to live on! Digging a hole to reach the heavens themselves!

Beef then points at King Blueberry and gang.

Beef: Who the hell do you think I am!?

El Janito: (muttering from behind the fort walls) You have got to stop watching anime, Beef.

Dragon: What the hell is he going on about?

Blueberry: I don't know. What does the scanner say about his power?

Dragon: It's over 9000!

Blueberry: What?! 9000?!

Dragon: Scanner reads 9000 for everybody. Plus I think it's broken.

Blueberry: Oh. Should we maybe do that armwrestling thing you were talking about?

Dragon: Armistice.

Blueberry: Yeah, that. You go first.

Meanwhile, at the Mega Job fortress, Beef "whispers" to Codemaster.

Beef: (clearly not whispering) Psst. Something's fishy. Prepare the catapults.

Codemaster: (actually whispering) With what? We ran out of ammo with our last barrage.

Beef: (still not whispering) Psst. We ran out of ammo?!

Codemaster: Yeah, sure, announce it to the world. Fool.

Hearing this King Blueberry and Blueberry Dragon stop dead in their tracks, and exchange a quick glance.

Blueberry: You hear that? We may be in luck. If they're out of ammo we can storm their fortress, and if worse comes to worse we'll form Voltron and kick their asses.

Dragon: We have not now, nor we will ever form Voltron.

Blueberry: Well, can we throw Tom Cruise at them?

Back at the wreckage Violent Jesus has come to. He slowly walks towards his comrades, dragging a semi-conscious Tom Cruise behind him.

Cruise: Praise Kannon.

Beef: I've been wondering this ever since we launched him. How the hell did we get Tom Cruise here, and won't Xavier Kannon come to kick our ass?

Codemaster: First, he just sorta wandered here on his own. Second, Xavier Kannon can't kick our ass, he appeared in the segment directly before us. It's like a law that a person can't show up in two straight segments.

El Janito: What about that time we did the Scooby Doo parody?

Codemaster: That didn't count.

Beef looks out at the ruins of Blueberry Castle and sees Violent Jesus dragging Tom Cruise behind him.

Beef: They're going to launch Tom back at us, aren't they?

Codemaster: Yuuuuuuuup.

Beef: We're going to die, aren't we?

Codemaster: Well, you are.

Beef: Just me? Why won't you gu-- HEY!

Beef turns to see that El Janito and Codemastr have both fled to the safety of a wall of Enemigos. They're not even sure if the wall will hold.

The advancing King Blueberry holds out his left arm, signaling his associates to stop. You can't see it (or maybe you can), but a little lightbulb just went off in his head.

Blueberry: Hey, Lloyd? I think it's time for a little bit of Operation Kingpin.

Violent Jesus' face nearly explodes in elation. Before Tom Cruise can react, his legs are compressed against his chest, fastened in place by his arms, and his head is stuffed snugly up his own ass.

In effect, he's been made into a human bowling ball.

Blueberry: Warp factor 5, big man... engage!

Beef: Oh crap!

Violent Jesus rolls the ball of Tom Cruise directly into Mega Job Castle.

Seconds later, an explosion of titanically comical proportions engulfs the fort, sending Beef flying into the ceiling, smacks his head against it, and then he falls unconscious into a bunch of stray pillows that break his fall. This is not to say, however, that Codemaster and El Janito get off scott free, as the Tom Cruise ball then rolls directly into the wall of Enemigos, knocking everybody over like bowling pins. The Enemigos go flying everywhere. El Janito is knocked unconscious by the sheer force of comedy. Pikachu goes flying off Codemaster's head, though he seems to be the only one of the Mega Job side of things who is still coherent after the dust settles, as he immediately gets up and dusts himself off.

Codemaster: Frickin' Tom Cruise.

He turns to King Blueberry.

Codemaster: Hey. You. Grand Papillon.

Blueberry: Did he just call me Big Butterfly?

Dragon: Since when do you speak French.

Blueberry: With everything that's gone on this segment THAT's the one you're going to call me on?

Dragon: Point. So, you going to answer him?

Blueberry: Hey, Master Chef!

Dragon: Chief.

Codemaster: I don't suppose we can talk about mutual surrender, can we?

Blueberry: Better than that other dude from Metal Gear Solid 2. What was his name, Rayden or something? Totally lam...

Dragon: Dude!

Blueberry: Oh, right. Surrender. So, do we get stuff, or how does this work?

Codemaster: I figured we'd start with "no more brothers flinging Tom Cruise at other brothers". Also, we're both crippled, offensively, so it's not like either side won.

Dragon: There's more of us still conscious than you right now.

Codemaster: Ah, but I have THIS.

The Codemaster holds up a cup of coffee, which went surprisingly undamaged and even unspilled during the horrible destruction of Battlestar Jobactica. The Codemaster realizes the mistake.

Codemaster: Wait, no, wrong hand.

The Codemaster holds up the Megaton Hammer in his other hand.

Blueberry: Ah, but we still have our very own Jesus, and Jesus trumps everything, especially hammers. Y'okay back there, Lloyd?

King Blueberry turns his head to glance at Violent Jesus. Violent Jesus meets his look with a smile, then promptly falls to the ground unconscious.

Blueberry: Shit. Okay, what do you have in mind?

Codemaster: I figure that you go back to wherever you SCCW types go to get ready for matches, while I drag these two out of the arena because they're probably done for the night, and we don't try to horribly maim each other with catapults any more. (glances at Violent Jesus) ........Seriously, where did he get that remote, anyway?

Blueberry: It's a MacGuffin device from a pre-match promo like 5 shows ago. Truth be told I don't remember where it came from.

King Blueberry shrugs.

Blueberry: It'll probably get retcon'ed eventually anyway.

Codemaster: I suggest destroying it enough so it can't be fixed, lest it falls into the wrong hands. Like, I dunno. Wyatt Connors. Imagine the damage he could do with that thing.

Blueberry: Or Tyler Rayne. He could actually BECOME the cast of any Joss Whedon show. Terrifying.

Codemaster: Or Lindsay Troy. All pop culture references. All the time.

Blueberry: Or Sean Sterling. I'm sure it could teach him new and unusual words that begin with the letter C.

Codemaster: Or Devin Shakur. I can't even speak of the emotastic terrors that would unfold if he were to possess such gripping and terrifying power. In fact, let us speak no more of this.

Dragon: Good call. I think he was running out of witty references.

Blueberry: Was not.

Dragon: Liar.

Codemaster: Yeah. So. We good on the surrender terms?

Blueberry: Is it really a surrender if we just decide to not hit each other anymore? Surrenders usually come with other things, like 14 gallons of Hi-C Ecto Cooler.

Codemaster: Would you rather we call it a cease-fire?

Blueberry: Works for me.

The Codemaster flashes His Highness Blueberry a thumbs up.

Codemaster: Excellent. Let's end this segment before it gets any longer, then. I swear to Heat Man, Craig's matches are shorter than this segment.

Blueberry: I'm right there with ya'. Joe's gonna kill me enough as it is.

Codemaster and King Blueberry look at each for a long time.

Codemaster: Y'think maybe we're breaking the fourth wall too much?

Blueberry: I don't know. Let's ask the readers.

The two men slowly turn towards the camera, staring at the audience. King Blueberry raises a hand and waves.

All about the arena the lights begin to flicker to dark as a red spotlight hits the center of the ring. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence dominate the arena, the SinScreen begins flickering with images as music begins to play.

*THUD!*
*THUD!*
*THUD!*

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

And this is right
No, Not Right.
Necessary.

FWOOM!!! FWOOM!!! KARAKABOOOMMMM!!!!

Lost among the recesses of the undefined, Ethereal psychotic haze.
Seemingly endless is the fall - no stable memories to recall.
You came and took the rest of them all.

The red spotlight twists from where it targets the ring to target the entrance as BloodAngel's massive frame appears behind the curtain.

No sure warning ever heard.
You Are FRAGILE!

BloodAngel steps forward from behind the curtain. The set look on his face and the look of determination on his face brings more cheers and calls from the crowd, as does the smirk that quirks his lips up.

When you expect the pain - nothing more to ascertain.
When you respect the lie - deadly chasm opened wide.

The scars that decorate his frame stand out against his tanned skin as he strides down the entrance ramp towards the ring.

Victim of the killers seething in the deepest mind.
Ever existing out of phase.

He steps through the ropes and stands centered in the ring, staring out across the arena, taking the crowd in and grinning, ever so slightly.

Steadily falling out of line - no trace of living left to find
You came to make me one of your kind

With a jump he climbs the ring post and raises his right fist in the air, that grin has turned predatory.

No sure warning ever heard.
You Are FRAGILE!

He repeats it at the second, and third ring post.

When you expect the pain - nothing more to ascertain.
When you respect the lie - deadly chasm opened wide.

Finally, he climbs the final ring post, and after raising his fist again, he hops down. Ladies and Gentlemen, BloodAngel is in the ring.

Myers: His scarred arms, and battered torso are known world wide, as are his long time exploits both in and outside the ring. His penchant for violence and his willingness to go to any lengths to win have named him a Hardcore Legend. He is the former TWO TIME NATIONAL WRESTLING COUNCIL WORLD CHAMPION, and TWO TIME GLOBAL WRESTLING WORLD CHAMPION! Hailing from Lexington, Kentucky, Ladies and Gentlemen, he is BLLLLLLOOOOOOOOODDDDDDAAAAANNNNGGGGGGEEEEEELLLLLL LL!!!!!!!

Myers: Introducing next...

FWOOM!

...go the flashpots as bright red fire shoots out of all four ringposts. As the fire dies down, the music begins.

Reverend Horton Heat. "Revival."

I'm lookin' for revival
Across cloudy sky
I'm lookin' for the sunshine
Teardrop in my eye

Myers: Accompanied to the ring by his disciples, Jeremiah, Ángel Verde, and Illuminado! He hails from the Decency Compound outside Ponca City, Oklahoma! He weighs in tonight at one hundred and seventy pounds! He is a former SCCW LiveWire Champion! He is..."The False Prophet!" WYATT! CONNORS!

I see my share of stormy days
Now I think I do
I'm just lookin' for a reason
Believe I made it through
I'm just lookin' for revival
That's all that I can do

The curtain parts, and it its not one man who walks through, but four. The first two are small men, roughly the same size, wearing matching white robes. The hoods are down, but you still can't see their faces. That's because they're wearing masks.

I'm lookin' for some colors
Don't need a pot of gold
I'm just waitin' for my clear sky
Now I'm growin' old

Following them is a man even smaller than the first two, completely shrouded in a black robe. Hood over the face, hands tucked into the sleeves. Just a few steps behind him is the mighty Jeremiah, wearing only tattered jeans and black boots.

Together, the four of them stalk down to the ring through a flood of boos, obscenities, and the occasional soda cup. While the other three wait on the floor, the man in the black robe rolls under the bottom rope and stands up. Finally, with much anticipation and fanfare, he lifts the hood and sets it back, revealing the face of "The False Prophet" Wyatt Connors.

I've done my share of stupid things
I regret to say
And no matter what I do now
Time cannot repay
I'm just lookin' for revival
Today may be the day
Hey!

Wyatt is clean-shaven again, after having spent his first six months in SCCW with a seemingly permanent three-day stubble. Also, his hair is perfectly styled once again, but not like we're used to. Honestly, it looks like it's trying to be a pompadour, but it's not quite there yet.

There are two other telling features on his face. It's the same expression he's been wearing at the shows since his return, but now it seems even more exaggerated. It should be neither possible nor legal for a grin to be that wide. Also, the corners of that smile have weird red stains. And the eyes...before, they burned with purpose. Now they burn with purpose. Fervor.

Madness.

And the fire is a hundred times brighter than it used to be.

As Jim Heath and Jimbo go into the epic rockabilly solo, the False Prophet positions himself in the center of the ring. Connors removes his robe, revealing his wrestling gear: white boots, a black shirt, and white gloves, as well as white pads on his elbows and knees. Also, black full-length tights, which have been adorned with a white cross on each leg. He hands the robe to Jeremiah, and then takes a place in the corner.

Myers: And their opponents…

The lights dim down to nothing, Red and White spotlights flashing around the arena in time with the start of 'Ladies and Gentelemen'. Salvia begins to rock the arena as Sirrajin parts the curtain and stalks his way to the top of the ramp, the crowd jumping from their seats upon his arrival.

Crowd: RUAHHHHHH!!!
Ladies and Gentlemen please...


BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Killean thrusts his arm into the air as the bright pyro erupts from the stage. He makes his way down the ramp, the lights reflecting off his red lensed sunglasses, his hair falling around his face as he makes his way up the ring steps.

Myers: Introducing first, from Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada, weighing 278 pounds, PRIME Hall of Famer... KILLEAN SIRRRRRRRRRRAJIN!!!!

Myers: And his tag team partner…

The guitar riffs that signal the start of Chris Cornell's "You Know My Name" blast throughout the arena, and are quickly accompanied by a brass section that reaches a crescendo after ten seconds. Flashing on the PRIME*View are four words in succession.

END.

OF.

THE.

ROAD.

Then...

BOOM!

BOOOOOM!

BOOOOOOOOMMMMM!!!!

Three rapid-fire cannon blasts, each one louder than the last, and the song immediately cuts to the start of the chorus as Cornell's voice kicks in.

Arm yourself because no-one else here will save you
The odds will betray you, and I will replace you.

Mysers: He hails from Greensboro, North Carolina and weighs in at 260 pounds...

You can't deny the prize; it may never fulfill you
It longs to kill you, are you willing to die

Myers: He is ... TRROOOOOYY DOOOUGGGLAAAASSSS!!!

The coldest blood runs through my veins
You know my name.

Red and white lights flash throughout the building as the song works through its second verse and Troy Douglas makes his way down to the ring, slapping hands with some of the crowd. Behind him on the PRIME*View, a montage of his greatest highlights play, interrupted every few seconds by END. OF. THE. ROAD.

As the song hits the chorus one more time, he slides into the ring, and salutes the crowd in all four corners. As the chorus ends, the music fades and the lights return to normal.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Nick: There’s our opening bell, and it looks like Wyatt Connors will be starting this match against Troy Douglas.

Eugene: Thanks for that brilliant description of the obvious, Dave.

Nick: I’m not Dave. I’m Nick. I thought we went over this.

Eugene: Whatever, Dave.

Nick: (Sighing) I guess there’s one on every team.

As the two men circle each other a cold, icy beverage flies into the ring, narrowly missing Connors. The referee put things on hold to pick up the cup and remove it from the ring.

Nick: Fans, I know there’s animosity between these two companies, and that Wyatt Connors is not a very likable guy…

Eugene: YOU TAKE THAT BACK!

Nick: …but don’t be ‘those guys’ when you – OH!!

Wyatt Connors is a brilliant opportunist. He is also an asshole. When those two character traits combine they form a Voltron of evil that may or may not have opened the match by using the distraction to punch Troy Douglas square in the crotch.

Nick: Folks, THIS is why you don’t throw things into the ring.

Eugene: Troy Douglas’ balls aren’t quite the poster child for littering, Dave. Hell, there might not BE poster children in his future any more.

Nick: Connors following up a blatant cheap shot with another blatant cheap shot. He just poked Troy Douglas in the eye!

Eugene: At least now he doesn’t have to see his nutless future.

Nick: Douglas blinded and wandering, and Connors with a back rake. This is abhorrent.

Eugene: Never let it be said that Wyatt Connors is not a phenomenal technical wrestler.

Nick: What?!

Eugene: That was no ordinary back rake. That was a textbook Greco-Roman back rake.

Nick: Connors backing Douglas into a corner. What’s he going to do next, step on his toes?

Eugene: Wyatt Connors does not "step on toes", he executes picture perfect "Footsteps in the Sand" maneuvers, Dave.

Nick: This is going to be a long night.

Eugene: Maybe for you, but I brought snacks.

Nick: Connors’ treachery continues. He’s choking Douglas in the corner of the ring! Get in there ref!

Eugene: At least he didn’t drive to his house and do it.

Nick: What?

Eugene: Nothing.

Connors is not so lucky, as Douglas manages to shake off the eye poke and the back rake (the crotch shot still smarts a bit), and reverse Connors in the corner.

Nick: Douglas with the reversal in the corner, and with Connors trapped he’s raining down with Thai knee strikes.

Eugene: It’s a shame Tiny Strikes never really caught on, I mean midgets need cheap cigarettes too, you know.

Nick: The referee instructing Douglas to get out of the corner, and he looks happy to oblige, taking Connors hard to the mat with a snap vertical suplex.

Eugene: Booo.

Nick: Connors back to his feet, and Douglas damn near took his head off with that European uppercut.

Eugene: You’re a’peein’ up her what?

Nick: Connors being dragged over to the last place he wants to be.

Eugene: Corporate offices of Vivid Video?

Nick: Douglas with the tag to Sirrajin, and now Wyatt Connors will have to…

Eugene: Protect his neck from decapitation by gardening shears!

Sirrajin immediately makes his presence felt, damn near taking Connors’ head off for real with a short-arm clothesline.

Nick: Sirrajin with a clothesline, and he’s going for the cover.

1

2

Nick: But BloodAngel is in the ring to break it up. The referee forcing BloodAngel out of the ring, and – OH! Not again.

Remember how we said Connors was an asshole? Yeah, distraction-aided-punch-to-the-groin number two comes at the expense of Killean Sirrajin, doubling him over.

Nick: Connors with another cheap shot, and he follows it up with a jawbreaker on Sirrajin.

Eugene: That’s no ordinary jawbreaker, Dave. That’s a ¾ facelock Jesus Jacker!

Nick: You just made that up, didn’t you?

Eugene: …so?

Connors staggers back to his feet and makes the tag to an obviously annoyed BloodAngel.

Nick: BloodAngel now the legal man in the ring. Getting a full head of steam, and – OH! He just killed Sirrajin with a running DDT!

Eugene: Ando, Ando, Hrm. (Sound of paper rustling) Nope, nothing in the Big Book of Misheard Words for ‘Ando’.

Nick: Sirrajin definitely dazed, and BloodAngel looks to want to put this one away in a hurry, he’s going for his "Angels Prayer" submission!

Troy Douglas will have none of that, however. He’s in the ring to break it up. BloodAngel and Douglas get into a bit of a shoving match, and the referee is now forced to try and get the illegal man out of the ring.

Nick: Referee’s got to get this under control, otherwise bad things are going to hap – YIKES!

Eugene: And I sure as shit don’t have an entry for ‘Hapyikes’.

Nick: Ladies and gentlemen, Wyatt Connors, that devious little snake, just drilled Sirrajin in the crotch AGAIN while the referee was distracted. What does this guy have against penises?

Eugene: …

Nick: What?

Eugene: Have you not been paying attention?

Nick: BloodAngel hoisting up Sirrajin in a fireman’s carry, maybe going for another concussion-type maneuver. Sirrajin counters! Reverse DDT!

While BloodAngel is dazed on the canvas, Sirrajin uses the opportunity to tag in Troy Douglas. Douglas wastes no time in getting in his shots on BloodAngel.

Nick: Douglas with a few knee strikes on BloodAngel, and Douglas follows it with a urange backbreaker on BloodAngel. Douglas going for a cover…

1

2

Nick: And the number one contender to the Elite Championship breaks up the pinfall attempt.

Eugene: You sound upset.

Nick: I guess I should just be happy that no-one got hit in the groin.

Eugene: Not yet, anyway.

Nick: Douglas with an Irish whip on BloodAngel…

Eugene: Blind tag by Connors!

Nick: …and BloodAngel eats a roaring elbow in the teeth.

Eugene: Which is exactly where eating happens anyway, Dave.

Nick: Douglas going for the pin. In any other situation he might have the win here, but he doesn’t know that Connors is the new legal man.

The referee, however, does. The referee explains to protesting Douglas with the universal hand symbol for "tag", but the False Prophet has already snuck into the ring.

Nick: I have a terrible feeling about this.

Eugene: Pray for your boy’s baby maker.

Nick: The referee telling BloodAngel to get out of the ring, I’m not even sure he knows he was tagged out.

Here’s the formula: Wyatt Connors + distraction = shot to the crotch.

Douglas drops to one knee in obvious agony.

Nick: Oh now this is just getting ridiculous!!

Eugene: What are we up to now, four?

Nick: Does he even have any other offense?

Connors hits the ropes. Rebounding he leaps through the air with the grace of dying pigeon, and what should have been a flying forearm is still a flying forearm. The only problem is that it’s not Douglas’ face that it connects with.

Nick: Oh, what the fuck.

This one the referee saw, even grimacing himself. He lets it go, assuming that Connors has no vertical leap and ruling it as accidental.

Nick: Connors going for the cover, but Sirrajin in the ring before the referee can even count to break it up. Sirrajin arguing with the referee, and now BloodAngel’s in the ring. Folks, this could degenerate in a hurr…

And the crowd goes "Ooooh!"

Nick: That’s it. I quit.

Eugene: El-oh-el.

Who wants to guess why Nick is ready to leave? What if we told you it’s the same reason that Sirrajin is down on the mat clutching "himself"?

Eugene: I think that makes six.

Nick: The referee questioning Connors. Of course he’s going to deny it, ref! Come on!

What happens next stuns even Nick. Connors connects with an actual honest-to-God wrestling move.

Nick: Did… did he just hit a Russian legsweep?

Eugene: All signs point to yes.

Nick: Connors with the cover now, after all those cheap shots this could be it, folks.

1

2

Nick: Douglas kicks out at 2. Both men getting back to their feet, and – OH!

Eugene: Damn ‘Ando’ again.

Nick: European uppercut out of nowhere, and Connors is on his ass. Douglas heaving Connors into the corner, and there’s the tag to Sirrajin.

The quite annoyed and obviously-sore-in-the-balls PRIME wrestlers take this opportunity to stomp the living hell out Wyatt Connors. The referee tries to break it up and get Douglas out of the ring, but he’s not having any luck.

Meanwhile, across the ring, BloodAngel looks on, glowering. He’s also probably jonesing for a smoke.

Eugene: Get them out of the ring, dingbat! This is cheating! This is so unfair!

Nick: Cheating, my ass. He’s getting exactly what he deserves.

Eugene: This is not how you treat a brother of Christ! Save us Jesus, save us with your heat vision!

The referee is finally able to get Douglas out of the ring. Sirrajin continues to kick the everlovin’ hell out of Connors.

Nick: The referee admonishing Killean, but if I were him I wouldn’t care at this point. Sirrajin bringing Connors to a neutral corner and a big shoulder smash takes the wind out of the False Prophet.

Eugene: His marvelous sermons will never be the same!

Nick: Sirrajin with a whip to the opposite buckle, and Connors hits hard. Connors staggering out and – BAM! Sirrajin connects with a massive spear.

Because Connors is only 5’7", the move looks about as bad as it probably feels.

Nick: Sirrajin not content to go for a pin. He’s bringing Connors back to his feet.

Beat.

Nick: HUGE release overhead belly-to-belly suplex, and Connors comes crashing down hard.

Eugene: Dammit, B.A, get in there!

Nick: Sirrajin with the cover.

1

2

Thre-NO!

Nick: Connors kicks out, and BloodAngel just stood on the apron. Didn’t even try to help.

Eugene: I hope he gets cancer and dies.

Nick: Sirrajin pulling Connors back to his feet. Sirrajin going for a German suplex, but…

But Connors tries to counter, kicking and flailing his feet, making it hard for Sirrajin to get a solid grip. The referee has to get out of the way of flying appendages so that he doesn’t get hit.

Seeing as it’s been a few pages…

Nick: OH! And one of those flailing legs just mule kicked Sirrajin in the crotch. How is that not a disqualification?!

Sirrajin leans forward, giving Connors that chance to plant both feet firmly on the ground.

Nick: Holy Terror! Holy Terror! Wyatt just hit the Holy Terror on Sirrajin, and both men are down. The referee’s counting.

1

2

3

4

5

6

Nick: Sirrajin moving, he’s shaking off the effects of that faceplant.

Eugene: I sincerely doubt it’s his face he’s concerned with.

7

8

Connors is first up. Still a ways from his corner, he dives to BloodAngel trying to make a tag. Unfortunately, much the same way he misjudged his distance on the flying forearm, so does he here misjudge the distance he has to jump to make the tag.

This time it’s his own partner who takes a shot, albeit inadvertent, to the giblets.

Nick: Connors just nailed BloodAngel!

Eugene: I SWEAR HE DIDN’T MEAN IT!

Nick: And… yes! The referee is treating it like a valid tag. BloodAngel is now the legal man.

Eugene: And here comes Not-Lindsay!

Nick: Sirrajin tags Troy Douglas. Douglas in the ring. BloodAngel finally in the ring.

It happens fast. Douglas charges at BloodAngel and lines up a flying boot to the face. BloodAngel ducks out of the way, causing Douglas to miss. When Douglas turns, BloodAngel drills him with an Exploder-style suplex. Sirrajin gets back on his feet and damn near beheads BloodAngel with a savage lariat.

Nick: The referee has lost control of this one.

Connors crawls on the canvas unnoticed, crotching Sirrajin.

Nick: No!

Eugene: Nine!

Still crawling, he hits Douglas as well.

Nick: NO!

Eugene: TEN!

The referee tries to get some order, getting both Sirrajin and Connors out of the ring, which gives BloodAngel just enough time.

Nick: Lambert’s got Douglas up.

OOHHHHHH!

Nick: Sheerdrop reverse brainbuster!

Eugene: We call that the ‘Driver DDT’, hoss.

Nick: BloodAngel going for the cover.

1

2

3!!!

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Myers: The winners of this bout, the team of Wyatt Connors and BloodAngel!

The Dead Man's Hand's union with Xavier Kannon has many consequences, far reaching for both SCCW and PRIME.

Not the least of these, though, is the reuniting on the same side of two men who once dominated tag team wrestling.

One of these men is William S. Powell, under the employ of Xavier Kannon. His silver tongue serves a variety of purposes for the Gold Patron Meritorious.

The other man is Reginald V. Lovecraft, on the Alex Pierce Payroll. Unlike his colleague, Lovecraft still competes, and in fact has a match later this evening.

Now, here at Cataclysm, the two men have met up once more, backstage, away from prying eyes.

Two friends. Two politicians, shooting the shit, and catching up on years apart.

Who says Desade's really that bad?

Lovecraft: William. It is good to see you again.

The more athletic of the Politically Incorrect duo cocks one of his patented shit-eating grins, circling the man he once called partner.

Powell: I'll be damned. You too, Reg. And to think, you're in with the most evil woman in the business, and you didn't even tell me! I'm almost disappointed...

Lovecraft: It isn't like you told me about your dealings with Xavier, either.

Powell: Yeah, well...

Lovecraft's possible consternation comes from the simple fact that, to most people, since the downfall of the Ultimate Authority in PCW years ago, the politicians and Kannon wouldn't be on especially good terms.

Powell: Things change, you know? Xavier came to me and told me what he had planned. Told me he needed a son of a bitch with a silver tongue to talk him out of all of the shit he knew he'd get into. And that's what I do now, and I love my job. What about you? How'd you get in with the Hand?

Lovecraft shifts uncomfortably as he looks at his former partner. The story of how Reginald V. Lovecraft became beholden to Desade is a long one, and one he does not especially enjoy recounting.

Lovecraft: Suffice it to say that I needed a favor. Ms. Pierce provided it, and we continue to trade services to this day. Currently, that service involves me competing.

Powell: Whoa whoa whoa, I thought that was a typo! You're going to WRESTLE?! You're 54 years old, at least!

Lovecraft: And I was 47 when I carried you to tag team glory all over the world. Seven years does not make that much of a difference.

The lie of that statement was apparent when one took wrestling out of the equation.

Powell: Still...I guess it fits. You're up against those other two geezers. They've been around what, ten years now?

Lovecraft: Something like that. All that matters is that Mr. Kennedy and myself shall be victorious.

The man known to a generation of wrestling fans as the Master Debater grins at his former partner.

Powell: Shit, maybe I should go back to the ring. If you can do it...

Reginald shakes his head at his partner.

Lovecraft: I would advise against it, myself. Many more painful mornings than I care to think about.

Powell: Yeah, I can see that. And I'm also really busy. Have to call press conferences every few hours to deal with all the trouble Kannon's mouth gets himself into. That hasn't changed one bit in the seven years.

Lovecraft: No, it has not.

The two former politicians continue to glance at one another. With the niceties exchanged, they seem about ready to go their own way of their own accord, when Lovecraft feels a tug at his arm. It is, of course, from his current partner.

Kennedy: Yo, Reg! Time for us to go kick some PRIME ass!

William S. Powell raises an eyebrow at the newcomer, taking stock of the man who presumably was Lovecraft's new partner. Still, William S. Powell had a reputation for asking incredibly obvious questions, and this one would be no different.

Powell: Hey, Reg. Who's that guy?

Lovecraft paused before turning to go, smiling thinly at the Master Debater.

Lovecraft: He's you, for lack of a better explanation.

With that, Reginald power-walked down the hallway, to catch up with his partner. This left one William S. Powell standing alone, slightly perturbed.

Powell: Pah. I'm much better looking than that guy...

Aimz: Where the hell did you go?

After the chaos in the Dead Man's Hand locker-room, Amy Campbell was seeking solace - and her agent - just outside of her own.

Mulholland: Kathi -- sorry, Slutbag -- needed help with her car. Where's Darcy?

Aimz: I find it incredibly hard to believe you care.

It didn't take long before she regretted finding said agent.

Mulholland: This is a big production, Ames - we can't have it looking like there's trouble in paradise.

Aimz: One of his hockey buddies is in a coma after a car accident. His best friend's really bummed about it and that guy's wife is out of town, so he's hanging with him.

Mulholland: What? Tell him to tell his buddy to stop being a bitch - it's not like their pal's dead or anything, it's a coma. People wake up from that kind of thing all the time. Don't you watch Touched By An Angel?!

Aimz: Oh, right - the smart-mouthed Jew can liken a coma to a light nap, but I make a comment about Chang's--

Mulholland: Chandler. We went over this.

The Universal Champion simply rolls her eyes.

Aimz: -- Chandler's egg rolls and I'm the insensitive one.

Mulholland: You also mistook him for an eskimo.

Aimz: I'm Canadian. They're all eskim---didn't I just get done telling you not to be within ten feet of me again tonight?

Those words weren't for Mr. Mulholland. Kendall Heath just stepped gingerly onto the scene, giving Dan a slight wave while trying desperately to avoid eye contact with the champion.

Mulholland: What? I scheduled him. We can't have a show like this without some of that signature wit!

Aimz: ... I'm trying hard to find a part of me that doesn't want to throw you in front of a bus, Dan...

Mulholland: See?! Attagirl. I'll just leave you two semi-alone for a few minutes, maybe go get myself another blowj---see if Shaw still needs help with her car.

He scurries off - particularly before that last sentence sinks in - and the hall is suddenly filled with... nobody, really. Just Amy Campbell and a guy who likes hair gel a little too much.

Heath: Only has to be short.

Hesitantly, she nods. He's still scared to look at her, so he turns to the camera crew instead - flashing the best fake smile he can.

Heath: I'm here with SCCW Universal Champion, Amy 'Aimz' Campbell, set to defend our home turf against Chandler Tsonda of PRIME in just a little while. How does it feel to be waving the flag for all of your peers, Aimz? Any pressure?

Aimz: It's not pressure, because I'm not doing anything for the sake of the others. I'm in this simply to get video evidence that not only am I better than anybody here, but I'm exactly what I've been saying I am for the past... oh, two years? And that's better than abso-fucking-lutely anybody on the PRIME roster. Maybe I can even convince the people napping through their shows every week to turn to a channel with a little more flavor -- y'know, like The Weather Network.

Heath: And what of rumors that Desade will cash in the bracelet for the shot at your title that she earned as Charlotte Ramo--

Those PRIME fans that watch that supposedly boring show... they cheer at the sight of a soda machine.

It's something of a cliché, really. Someone plunks coinage into the red soda machine and it leads to the appearance of the 5-Star Champion, one Mr. Tyler Rayne. Some lady in the front row just fainted from the sheer thought of him..

Well, you'd better wake her up because whoever it was?

Just ordered the Diet Code Red.

Also: that person is a she. A she with purple dreadlocks, held back by a poker-table green bandanna. A she who is somehow - get this - shorter than the Universal Champion. A she we call Savant.

Savant: Yeah, what about those crazy rumors. Better watch those ribs, you know?

Once again, there's a fist balling. And yeah, it belongs to Aimz.

Aimz: Heath, can you get the hell out of here?

Heath: But your agent said I...

Aimz: AIDS takes a while to work into your system. You'll be dying before you're diagnosed. Go think about it.

All of a sudden, the hall is void of an interviewer. For the added insurance, Aimz opens up the door to her private room and motions toward the tiniest finger of the Hand.

Aimz: Yes, I just made another reference to me wanting to use your sister's blood to transmit a virus. Care to come in and tell me exactly what the fuck you've been snipping about all night?

Fox gestures with one hand, indicating Campbell should take the lead.

Savant: Just something that Alexandra...

She says that name so officiously, so snottily.

Savant: And I were chatting about. That bracelet weighs heavy on her, heavier than when Charlie dropped Mayhem on his head at All In. She likes you -- don't ask me why, since you've been disrespectful to all of us and are kind of a bitch to her best friend. And that's the only reason there's nothing on the table for that bracelet to be cashed in and the lot of us to stand over your head with her in her... her rightful place.

There are times when Lauren Fox talks like she's been drinking Kool-Aid similar to that Wyatt Connors serves his followers, all starry-eyed and breathless. This is one of those times. A time when Amy can't even make it through her own door, because the audacity of the smaller woman leaves her grasping at straws.

Aimz: You... wait, she said that, or you want her to say that?

Savant: I said it, but she didn't say anything. Look, Aimz. I like you fine, but in the end, you're one bad day away from being in Alex's face about something and then the Universal Championship flits out of here. It needs a place of stability. It needs a member of the Dead Man's Hand, which Alex won't offer you because she's afraid you wouldn't accept, even though everyone knows you're basically a senior member. So what I'm saying is, wear the t-shirt and I'll shut up, I guess.

Aimz: Did you just ask me to join the Hand?

Before the resounding 'Not really' can leave Savant's lips, she's cut off by one of the bitchiest eyerolls in the business.

Aimz: Do you remember the last time I sat down and gave a group of people my full allegiance? I'll give you a hint -- Popeye's unemployed now, and I haven't been hearing boo from the rest of them. She doesn't want me as a card-carrying member, and I don't wanna be. As a matter of fact, she's probably the only one of you I can stand... and that's a fucking stretch. I'm useful to you, you're useful to me - we'll talk about taking sides when somebody stops being worth it. If Pierce is planning on cashing in any time soon, there's not a whole helluva lot I can do about it until she's dumb enough to step up.

There's that nasty, pointy little finger-poke to the chest.

Aimz: As far as you go... if you're back on some 'Join us or suffer' trip, I suggest you drop it. You really don't wanna fuck up my relationship with your people, especially considering how fond your boss is of our little unspoken agreement. I dunno if she'd be quite so quick to hoist me off and take your side. Then again, you're already thinking the same thing - otherwise you wouldn't be here trying to play me, would you?

Savant: If I were trying to play you, it wouldn't make a whole lot of sense for me to tell you, Amy-bear.

Her smile is quirked even further by the piercing through her lower lip.

Savant: You're useful to Alexandra, but only so far. You think you can do what I do for her? I don't. Let's not kid a kidder here, Amy. You stick out like a sore thumb in a room like that, because XK? He made Jon Rhine Popeye. Kathryn and I, we get down and dirty for Alex. You're a nice person, a genuine sweetheart with a husband that loves her and a bright future. You're the fucking SCCW Universal Champion, right?

The Tiny Terror and the Red Raver come face-to-face, nose-to-nose. They're each essentially the only one they could be in this position with, in either federation.

Savant: I traded that all away. My brother is a multiple-time world champion, a genuine fucking badass. My stepsister is a two-faced, manipulative bitch who stands at the side of the most dominant force in Sin City. I could have been either. I could have been you. But I have traded it all away for Alexandra. I have taken everything I am, everything I have ever wanted, everyone I could ever be, and I keep it in a box in my head, because I believe in the cause. To see people like Sarah Riley, like you... to see them taking the spots that should be mine... yeah, that bothers me a little. You say you're "useful" to her?

Her own black-nailed pointer is out now, rapping against the faceplate of the most important title in SCCW.

Savant: That title belt -- the one she has given you twice -- that makes you worth it, Ames. All I see is a user; a hanger-on taking what Alexandra is giving and not giving a goddamn thing in return. So remember what I have done for her and what she has done for you.

Aimz: You're right. I can't do what you do for her; I'm not a drone. We're both disposable to her, but I can survive and succeed without her. You? Not so much.

She takes another step forward.

Aimz: I'm not looking to be at Alex's side, but if you think you would actually be there without me in the picture, you're kidding yourself. When people think of the Dead Man's Hand, here's the process: 'Desade is scary, Aimz is the talent too good to be her robot, Katsidy and Riley blind the idiots in the way with tits and Savant... wait... she's the one they pay to read their hate mail aloud, right?' I do what I need to do, you do what you're told to do - and I'm telling you to walk away from this conversation before you need your step-sister to airbrush her makeup on you to cover the bruises. And don't worry so much! I'm sure if Katsidy, Hawke, Riley, Cozen, Ashe, Phil fucking Kennedy and anybody who's ever said so much as 'Hello' to Desade all died in a terrible multi-plane crash, you'd be at the top of the list.

Savant: This is where Amy Campbell shines, right? Being a bitch to someone, so you can be all hard. Hooray for your wicked tongue! Maybe... maybe you're right. Aimz is the talent who's too good to be her robot, but you're not too good to use all the tits and the trickery and the fact that Desade is, as you put it "scary," to take that title, and I'm sure you and Alex talked about a plan to get the duke tonight.

To her credit, Lauren steps back. Of course, that's only so that she has more room for what most people will eventually call a mistake. If there's one thing Lauren Fox is good at, however, it's her impressions of people. She's no Cozen, but she doesn't have whatever the Faceless Fighter has going for her.

Savant's voice lowers a little, taking on an intonation that's not terribly dissimilar from Aimz' own voice, if a little bit more emphasized. She bends over, rocking her shoulders forward and adopting a slouch, arms akimbo.

Savant: Alright, Alex... then I'll be all like "RAR" and you can send the Slutbags out to distract Chang, right? And I'll squinch my face up like I'm pissed off, but I'll let the pretty girls do their thing, and then... what'll we do next, huh? I can't possibly beat Channy T by my lonesome, right? I mean, maybe you could hit him two or three more --

Yeah, that was a mistake, gauging from the widening of Amy's mismatched eyes and the slight flaring of her nostrils. That's all the warning Lauren Fox gets, but she's probably too busy trying out her version of Aimz' manic grin to notice.

Savant: Then I'll go back to pretending I hate you and --

That title belt on Aimz' shoulder becomes a weapon, though it's worth noticing that she doesn't aim at the head of the Dreadlocked Deceiver, but she delivers it underhanded to the ribcage that's underneath Lauren's Walls of Jericho t-shirt. Savant's breath escapes in a gasp, green eyes widening as Amy keeps the Universal Championship against Savant's stomach, driving her back into the wall. Aimz' forearm comes up under Savant's chin, holding her there.

Aimz: That...

The title belt retracts, replaced by a piston-like knee to the purple-haired woman's midsection.

Aimz: Was not...

The kneelift naturally bends Fox over; Aimz' hand in her hair pulls her back straight. It also cracks the back of her head against the plaster, hard enough to dent it.

Aimz: Fucking...

Campbell turns, snapmaring her victim over into a seated position on the ground. Savant's left leg lands strangely against the seat of a chair and she cries out.

Aimz: FUNNY.

Aimz' feet may not be bound in steel-toed boots or anything, but those DC Sneakers can sure hurt when she wants them to. Like now, for instance. The kick comes between Lauren's shoulderblades, crossing Fox's eyes. Aimz bends down over the protégée of her so-called "anchor," and she's sneering.

Aimz: You seriously thought that was smart?

At this point, Fox seems on the edge of consciousness. Campbell might not be the strongest or biggest person around, but she's damn good at striking fast and furious. She's also great at completely humiliating people, and that's apparent when she starts smacking the sides and back of Savant's head like a kitten batting at yarn.

Aimz: Can't say I didn't warn you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go get ready to beat the snot out of some overpaid dickwad from Snoozefest Inc. The bloodied look is good on you, though - work with it.

Savant's lips are working, still, a sneer on her pierced face.

Savant: You'll p-pay for this Amy. Some day, you'll... FUCKING pay!

Cataclysm is an interesting place, because both C.P. Cantrell and Nigel Kensington expect there to be fights (maybe not between Aimz and one of the Dead Man's Hand, but... still). So security's been instructed that they need to tighten if any actual blows are struck, so the backstage is now a sea of yellow-masked luchador security, who are much better at this than they are in dealing with the pillow fort disaster earlier.

Following them, coming down the same side of the hallway are Dan Mulholland, one small woman's manager, and Kathryn Shaw, the other's stepsister. They happened to be there Separately. Not together.

Katsidy: Oh, Jesus Christ. Lauren!

Dan Mulholland: What the hell is going on around here?

Amy's struggling with the yellow suits, but her wrists are held together by lucha hands.

Aimz: She pissed me off, now they're pinning my arms behind my back.

Mulholland: Giving a girl a hard time for the way she looks is what I see. What, guys - everybody with tattoos and a wallet chain's gotta be a criminal? Is that how we deal with things? This is a lawsuit waiting to happen.

Security look at one another. It's obviously not a good idea to let the redhead go, but...

Mulholland: Well? Let my client take two fucking steps into her locker room, leave her alone and we'll forget this ever happened - 'kay, Rey Mysterio?

They're still not sure what to do, but two release the champion's arms. Each one has a position between she and Savant -- security as a wall, Katsidy tending to her sister and Dan Mulholland - whose zipper is curiously down with his pressed shirt sticking out the fly, but thankfully nobody seems to notice - with a hand on his client's shoulder.

Aimz: Okay, this looks too much like a creepy, Mexican version of Cops. And the joke writes itself, what with Shaw playing the hooker. By the way, Fox -- if you are still awake -- I should remind you... that? That was a big, fat 'No' to joining the Hand. Oh, and 'You're a useless little fuck with a girlcrush trying to slip into an easy position with her boss'. That kinda covers it.

Katsidy: Let her go and get out of here. My sister needs medical attention, and you should be focused on that, not on some goddamn psycho hosebeast who assaulted my sister.

Dan Mulholland: Kath... Slut, uh... let's not throw around the "assault" word, okay? That's kind of a big threat.

Katsidy: There's nothing Lauren did or said that could justify being attacked, Amy. If I wasn't --

Aimz: If you weren't what?

Nick: (low, OSV) Is it like this all the time?

Eugene: Yep! Now they're going to yell at each other some, too.

Katsidy: You're making your own bed here tonight, Amy. You sure that's getting into your alcohol-soaked brain?

Aimz: Your sister was trying to get into my 'alcohol-soaked brain'. You talk all the shit you want, but you know I listen to you chuckleheads about as much as I listen to... shit, about as much as I listen to Dan. But did you seriously call me a hosebeast? You? If you wanna get to the medical office with Lauren so badly, I'd be happy to give you a free trip... again.

That's when she leans to the ground, a security guard carefully placing himself in front of her, and picks up the championship that fell from her shoulder around the same time Lauren Fox hit the ground.

Aimz: I've got a bigger, tougher belt this time, too. Wanna test it?

Katsidy: It's really not that hard to win a title belt in Sin City, is it? I mean, I did it, too, so don't go around claiming you're all big and bad because of it.

The Sex Kitten and the Red Raver have disliked each other from, like, Day One of the DM-Aimz alliance. Maybe before then. So it's little surprise that Shaw's standing once her sister is being seen to by the Enemigos (even if that medical treatment comes down to "es muy mal, si?").

Katsidy: I don't know what you and Lauren were talking about, but, chances are, it came down to her mocking your ego. But not talking about your ego is like ignoring the elephant in the room, isn't it?

Aimz: It's not ego if it's justified, and I'm about to head down to the ring to prove it. What the fuck are you doing tonight, Shaw? Rimming a PRIME techie so he puts the other team in bad lighting?

Katsidy's grin is... if we say it's Cheshire Cat-like, then you'd probably hate us for the cliché. She grins over at Aimz and her agent, who is careful to keep out of the Red Raver's field of vision as his face turns a shade that would match her hair.

Katsidy: I didn't know PRIME techies are into rimming, Aimz. Thanks for the tip, are you speaking from --

"That is enough."

Three words silence Kathryn Shaw in mid-trashtalk, not from the content, but from the speaker, a redhead clad in white who strides briskly into the morass. Her sudden appearance is almost enough to cause the two masked men helping Lauren Fox to her feet for the long walk to the trainer's room to drop her.

Desade: This is unacceptable, and it will end. Now.

Her gray eyes meet the mismatched ones of the SCCW Universal Champion, but her words are for Shaw and Fox.

Desade: Say nothing else and see that your sister is taken to the nearest medic's office. I will join you shortly.

Katsidy: But I --

Desade: Go now, Kathryn, and then return to your task for the evening.

Suddenly, the agent who was lost in the shuffle shivers.

Mulholland: I should, uhh... I should go smooth things over with the--

Aimz: If I see you following Shaw around again tonight, I'm gonna put you on a stretcher, Dan.

Mulholland: ... I meant 'I should go smooth things over on the couch in your room'. Those pillows looked lumpy.

Aimz: Nice recovery.

While he steps inside the room, leaving the door open just a crack -- y'know, just in case some conversation floats by -- Amy turns to Alexandra Pierce, security having backed off.

Aimz: If you're cashing in that bracelet, you'd better let me know. I'd seriously suggest you save that thing to get the title back if anybody robs me in the near future, not to try taking it from me.

The bracelet is the only bit of ornamentation under the cuff of her jacket, a gaudy reminder to both women of one way their future could go.

Desade: If I planned to cash this bracelet in, Amelia, you certainly cannot expect me to tell you. I would think you would know me better than that, mm? It was Archimedes who said, "Give me a lever long enough, and a fulcrum on which to place it, and I will move the world." Some day, the Big Slick bracelet will move the world. If you wish to remove the temptation for me to find that fulcrum, I suggest you keep your errant tongue -- and the hands that naturally tend to follow -- in check. I suggest this as it seems that no one else but you can manage this feat any longer. Have a pleasant evening, Amelia. You will, of course, understand the unlikelihood of an assist from the Hand.

Nearby, Ken Heath watches all of this voraciously; the... well, sleazebag... in him sees dollar signs in the exclusive.

Heath: So does this mean the Hand-Aimz alliance is over?

Desade: Ask me again another time. I must tend to an injured pupil.

It's only a moment later when Pierce has slipped away that Heath moves his microphone over to the redhead, who's watching the other woman walk away with some concern on her face.

Heath: So, Ai--

Aimz: AIDS, Ken. AIDS.

Her eyes close, her door shuts and there's nothing of use left on the screen.

Nick: Welcome back folks, and coming up now we have one hell of a grudge match that has developed ever since SCCW showed up in PRIME's house at ReVolution 171.

Eugene: The two most recent Universal Champions squaring off in what should be a barn burner of a contest.

Nick: Lance Marshall is one of the most impressive physical specimens to ever walk around. Not many people are going to stand in his way.

Eugene: And on the other side of the coin, everybody seems to be able to stand up to Devin Shakur these days from what I've seen.

Nick: I've been told he's come into this match, dropped the amount of weight he gained after taking a few weeks off after Colossus, but he needs to be at the top of his game to have a chance against The Lion.

Eugene: I still think Shakur can pull out the victory though, because well you know well...the whole heel connection thing.

Nick: Let's go up to Vince Howard for the ring introductions.

The lights dim and the sound of an old movie projector starting up can clearly be heard over the arena's PA system. As the projector whirs into life, video begins to flicker on the SinScreen. It blurs out of a focus for a moment before resolving into clarity. The footage has been cleaned up as best as possible but it still shows its age. It is the opening for The Incredible Hulk and it begins like so:

#Dr. David Banner#
#Physician, Scientist#
#Searching for a way to tap into the hidden strengths that all humans have#
#Then an accidental overdose of gamma radiation alters his body chemistry#

The music playing behind the video begins to pick up speed slightly as our narrator continues.

#And now when David Banner grows angry or outraged#
#A startling metamorphosis occurs#

Onscreen, David's eyes turn a sudden, violent shade of green. His body locks rigid and begins to expand, erupting with muscle while turning a deep shade of green. The scene cuts and the creature now stands at the top of a hill, growling at the universe. The narrator continues.

#The creature is driven by rage#

The video begins to shake and stutter, the same sequence repeating several times. Finally, the film appears to burn out leaving the screen black. The audio, however, is still coming through. We hear once again

#The creature is driven by rage#

quickly followed by

#Mister McGee, don't make me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry.#

"RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

The driving guitars of Muse's "Supermassive Black Hole" blast out over the PA system as the Marshalls make their presence known at the top of the aisle.

Oh baby don't you know I suffer?
Oh baby can't you hear me moan?
You caught me under false pretenses
How long before you let me go?

Lance prowls his way down the aisle, each step being made with deliberate precision. Even in a sport known for impressively developed individuals, Lance Marshall can still manage to give an audience pause. He is heavily muscled and incredibly defined, to the point where he’d make your average comic book powerhouse look small... and the sense of power radiating from him leaves no doubt that the muscles are not just for show. Clad in a pair of black wrestling trunks with a gold lion's head emblem imprinted on them and a pair of black wrestling boots with the same lion's head emblem on each, he makes his way down the aisle with a grace one would not expect from a man of his size.

Oooh...You set my soul alight
Oooh...You set my soul alight

(oooh...You set my soul alight)
Glaciers melting in the dead of night
And the superstars sucked into the supermassive

Lance slaps at the hands at the hands lining the aisle, his gaze never straying from his opponent inside the ring. His eyes seem to almost burn with energy. As he approaches the ring, a smile slowly starts to creep along his mouth.

I thought I was a fool for no-one
Oh baby I'm a fool for you
You're the queen of the superficial
And how long before you tell the truth

By his side, as always, is Alanna. She steps forward with a height and strength that almost screams "Amazon", an impression only heightened by her impressively athletic build. Long black hair tumbles lazily down her back, spilling down the back of the black tank top she has on. Jeans that look almost spray painted on do everything to heighten the fact that Alanna's legs are both incredibly well developed and almost absurdly long. The smile on her face is bewitching, full of joy and life, ruby red lips and dazzling teeth standing out against her olive complexion.

Oooh...You set my soul alight
Oooh...You set my soul alight

(oooh...You set my soul alight)
Glaciers melting in the dead of night
And the superstars sucked into the supermassive

As she makes her way down the aisle, Alanna stops to slap some hands and, making someone's year, gives one college age male fan a quick kiss on the cheek.

Supermassive black hole
Supermassive black hole
Supermassive black hole
Supermassive black hole

Vince Howard: First, weighing in at 320 pounds...THE LION, LANCE MARSHALL!

"RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

An absolute killer guitar rift resonates throughout the arena. Before Frampton can get through enhancing the classic Soundgarden opening, boos fly at the stage from all directions.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Once the first rift finally concludes, the name that nobody in Boston wants to see pops up on the PRIME*View (SinScreen, what the hell are we calling it, I don't care)

SHAKUR

Giant brown eyes stare through the whatever the big screen is called at the arena and seconds later, the face behind them steps through the curtain.

Walking with arrogance, Devin Shakur stops atop the ramp and thrusts his arms high into the air, setting off a wave of red and black pyrotechnics behind him.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Ignoring the enraged masses, Shakur begins to walk down the aisle. The lighting casts Shakur in a magnificent glow, the fifteenth shade of pale up from the fiftieth, while he climbs up the stairs and walks into the ring. Amidst the hatred from the crowd, he walks over to his corner and crouches down, staring over at his opposition.

Vince Howard: Hailing from Raleigh, North Carolina, weighing in at 219 pounds…DEEEEEEEEEVIN SHAKUR!

DING! DING! DING!

Nick: The Man in Black against The Lion. This one should be explosive.

Lance Marshall wastes no time, charging ahead like a wild bear at an unsuspecting Devin Shakur, who has to endure 320 pounds slamming into his gut. With absolutely no effort, Marshall lifts Shakur off the ground and crushes him into the turnbuckle. Referee Elvis Nixon, refereeing his two hundred bajillionth match in his short wrestling career, rushes in and demands the break, which Marshall obliges. Unfortunately for Shakur, this does not allow him the opening that most corner breaks would, since Marshall takes him by the collar and launches him across the ring. Shakur instinctively jumps to his feet and wobbles back into the diagonally opposite turnbuckle.

Nick: Shakur getting taken to school here in the early going.

Refusing to give Commie Emo a chance to breath, Marshall uses his deceptive speed to close the gap and absolutely demolish Shakur, taking the air from his lungs once again. Heaving his massive shoulder forward, Marshall vows to make Shakur feel all the pain that he's caused The Lion over the past couple of shows. Shakur's clubs to the muscular back are fruitless, and the only things that saves Shakur from a hernia is Elvis Nixon demanding that Marshall breaks away or he will be disqualified. Seeing his opportunity in front of him, Shakur plummets to the ground and rolls underneath the bottom rope clutching at his side.

Nick: Shakur is getting manhandled here by the very angry Lance Marshall. If he doesn't get his head back in the game, this one could be over in a flash.

Eugene: Dude, Shakur keeps a private jet. Gotta step the game up.

Nick: You are not Floyd Mayweather, Jr.

Eugene: Wait until I remove my shirt punk and then you will see that you are vastly underestimating my blackness.

Nick: ...I like Richard better.

Shakur walks around the ringside area, staring back inside at Marshall, who is chomping at the bit and beckoning him back into the ring. He really hoped that this endeavor would be a lot easier, not having to jump right into the...wait for it...wait for it...LION'S DEN! AHAHAHAHAH!

Eugene: Do you hear crickets?

Nick: I believe I do. Chris must have told a really horrible joke because well it's inside an arena and crickets usually don't live there.

Meanwhile, Shakur has been plotting a game plan all the while ducking in and out of the ring to avoid being counted out. After doing this a few times, he feels that he's got the plan down and officially rolls back into the ring.

Only to get the living hell stomped out of him by Marshall, who maneuvers past Elvis Nixon. Marshall keeps the pressure on, lifting Shakur up with one arm by the hair and sending him off the ropes. Before Shakur has enough time to think up a counter, Marshall charges ahead and levels him with a shoulder that sends Commie Emo back through the ropes and onto the floor. His momentum almost sends him over the guardrail and into the first row.

Eugene: I think he was the one at Jose Canseco's party back in 1998 instead of Roger Clemens. Good night, that was the most insane shoulder block I've ever seen.

Nick: That is not steroids my friend. That is hour of dedication.

Eugene: Sure, and a healthy dose of B-12? Save it junior, I know all the tricks.

Nick: That how you look like Floyd Mayweather underneath your shirt?

Eugene: ...I like De...Who the bloody hell do I commentate with? Eh, whoever it is, like him better than you.

Shakur jumps back on the apron and starts shouting incoherently at Elvis Nixon. Perhaps it's not wise to scream at a man who lived through the 70s with such grace and dignity like Elvis Nixon, who is not afraid to throw down verbally. And Lance Marshall isn't afraid to throw Devin Shakur over the ropes down onto his back in the middle of the ring. Shakur grumbles and tries to scurry away, only to endure the wrath of an elbow colliding with the small of his back. Marshall pulls Shakur back up to his feet and throws him across the ring again, closing the distance with a neck crunching clothesline. Shakur stumbles around like Nova on a bender, desperately trying to gather himself enough to mount an offense. Instead, he goes charging forward out of instinct and gets slammed into the canvas courtesy of a spinebuster.

Nick: Our former Universal Champion ladies and gents.

Eugene: Hey, Shakur is emo, what do you expect? Their kind always have problems at some point in their lives.

Nick: It doesn't seem like he even cares anymore.

Eugene: ...That's the problem.

Shakur tries yet again to roll away from his problems by dropping down to the floor, only to feel an overwhelming powerhouse drag him back into the ring for more punishment. Marshall takes Shakur by the belt buckle and literally pulls him to a standing position, forcing him to face The Lion. After a mighty right hand to the jaw, Shakur gets spun around in the air and screams like a school girl (Toneeeeeeeeeee Gambullllllllllll) after taking the impact of the tilt a whirl backbreaker. Marshall doesn't stop the torment there, bending Shakur over his knee while putting pressure on the neck and midsection.

Eugene: Dude, Shakur is getting absolutely mauled here...Needs some motivation...MARSHALL SLEPT WITH SUN TZU!

Nick: That's preposterous. Do you really think Lance Marshall is going to sleep around with someone's girlfriend just to get retribution?

Eugene: Well, we have seen worse things done for a feud.

Both announcers wave to Clinton Sage.

Shakur tries to squirm away from the gigantic Marshall, but someone holding that amount of muscle mass isn't easy to shift from. Shakur is at his mercy and has to pretty much ride it out until Marshall gets bored or finds a new method of inflicting punishment. Marshall keeps Shakur clutched in his arm while rising from the canvas. Walking around the ring while digging his fist into Shakur's back, Marshall is inadvertently giving Shakur a taste of his own showboating medicine.

Then he makes Shakur feel the pain by dropping him across the knee one more time. First cover of the contest.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

Kickout from Shakur. The Lion doesn't protest to the referee or make any bickering remarks. Instead, he takes Shakur, who is almost dead weight, and brings him to a standing position. Delivering a staggering forearm, Marshall whips Shakur into the ropes and lands the big boot square on the jaw. Shakur goes limp, staring up at the canvas without a clue as to his whereabouts. Marshall attempts to remind him by running the ropes and putting a powerful leg into his sternum. Another cover.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEE-

Shakur with another kickout.

Nick: You know, I don't think Marshall is doing this because he thinks he'll get the win. I think he wants Shakur to expend that much more energy in kicking out.

Eugene: And Marshall tries to call himself an honorable human being, pfft.

Nick: Shakur seems to be the disgrace, dude is about winded.

Marshall continues with the assault, methodically bringing Shakur back up to his feet before knocking him down again with another stiff right. Backing into the ropes, Shakur attempts his first amount of legitimate offense in the match and misses wildly with a leg kick. The fight or flight stimulus is on the verge of kicking in and at that point Shakur will be swinging even wilder and more reckless. Marshall moves forward, throwing another right to the head. Shakur leans against the ropes for support, his legs unable to keep him standing. A boot to the midsection later and Shakur is off and running into the ropes. When he gets back to the center of the ring, a hand grasps his throat and the crowd explodes with cheer.

Eugene: Someone get the body bag out, this one is about to be over.

Nick: Marshall going for the chokeslam in what should shape up to be the end of the match.

Relishing in the opportunity to squeeze Shakur's for a few seconds makes the lift all the more satisfying for the former SCCW Universal Champion.

Until the fight or flight instincts decide to kick in, and Shakur's foot finds Marshall's groin. While he might be stronger than an ox, even a groin kick is going to drop The Lion.

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"

Eugene: Finally in the ballgame, now gotta get rolling.

Nick: If Shakur is known for one thing, it's his ability to strike. Marshall is about to find out the hard way.

Throwing caution to the wind, Shakur advances forward and plants a nasty right hand on the jaw of a recovering Lion. It stuns him, but there isn't enough behind the blow to knock him down. A second one aids in that effort, backing Marshall closer toward the corner where he's brutalized Shakur throughout the contest. A spinning back kick finds the well toned midsection and causes The Lion to lean against the ropes.

Eugene: This one is going to get uglier than Drew Carey and Tori Spelling having sex.

Nick: Dude, I just ate, don't do that.

Shakur takes a calculated risk, placing his hands around Marshall's horse like neck. You see what I keep doing with all these animal references? Yeah, supposed to be funny, or just filler adjectives, you decide. Showing his freakish strength, Shakur raises his knees up to the chin of Marshall and repeatedly finds his mark in the jaw. Marshall tries to use his one hundred pound plus power advantage but receives a knee into the midsection again. Shakur moves up to the chin, putting more and more force into the knees each time.

Nick: Shakur is absolutely destroying Marshall with these knees here, proving that when he tries he can be one of the most lethal superstars on any roster.

Marshall tries to retreat out of Shakur's clinch, but this exhibition is proving that power isn't always the driving force in wrestling. Shakur is giving up an insane amount of muscle and weight but is still able to manipulate Marshall into eating every knee that is thrown at him. After the seventh shot, Marshall drops down to the canvas and receives Shakur's best impersonation of a K-Wolf kick to the chest.

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Winding up again, Shakur places another morning welt on Marshall's chest.

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Eugene: Mother of God that is going to sting in the morning.

And one more time...with feeling

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Eugene: Dear Diary, today I found a new love...and he's emo.

Nick: Oh Good God, you are horrible.

Shakur rushes the ropes and comes back to the center of the ring with a full head of steam. Using all the energy in his legs, Shakur leaps forward and connects with a front dropkick that puts Marshall on his back. Shakur goes for a quick cover but Marshall powers his way free before Nixon can drop down for a count, sending Shakur through the ropes and onto the apron. Shakur bolts up, wondering how in the hell that was possible. Marshall is on the mat trying to shake out the cobwebs while Shakur steps back through the ropes and delivers a soccer kick to the ribs. Marshall falls onto the left side, trying not to give Shakur any opportunity to capitalize. Shakur responds by lifting his boot up and dropping it right along the right elbow, sending Marshall over onto his back.

Eugene: Now he’s gone and made himself vulnerable. He's gone and opened up a whole new can of worms if Shakur can keep up his earlier pace.

Shakur doesn’t have any problem mounting the dazed Lion and placing well executed rights and lefts onto his head. Marshall is trying to get a defensive guard up and block the blows, since his head has no where to go, but Shakur is sneaking them through the cracks. One particular shot nails Marshall on the left ear, causing the big man to buck Shakur off. This only gives Shakur more of a reason to drop an elbow across the forehead and continue with the fisticuffs.

Nick: Shakur is on the verge of having Marshall in massive trouble here!

Eugene: What, you expected something different?

Nick: Well, he was getting dominated in the early going.

Eugene: Details, kid, details.

Shakur nails another lethal shot that will leave Marshall with a swollen jaw when he wakes up in the morning. Next, he puts an elbow into the same spot and tries to wrestle Marshall’s right arm free from his face. Shakur moves his left hand down around the elbow and gets better position on the arm. Marshall has a sense of what is coming and bends his arm, showing resistance against Shakur’s persistence. Shakur puts his legs over Marshall’s upper body and tries to pull back on the arm.

Nick: Shakur is going for an armbar here.

Eugene: ARMBAR!

Nick: If he manages to get Marshall’s arm completely straight, it’ll be submit or break for The Lion.

Eugene: He should snap it like a twig and send a message.

Nick: He might do that even if Marshall were to submit to the hold.

Shakur backs his legs off of Marshall and attempts to place them into his ribs so that there will be more pressure for the arm to become straight. Marshall is fending off the angry Emo to the best of his abilities, and one can wonder how much strength either has left in the tank after this exchange. Shakur gets his left foot down into Marshall’s ribs and pushes the rest of his body away. Marshall keeps the hands locked while Shakur moves his right leg up and drops it across Marshall’s face in an attempt to distract the big man.

Nick: Marshall is slipping!

Eugene: No mercy!

"Marshall! Marshall! Marshall! Marshall! Marshall! Marshall! Marshall!"

The fuel from the fans pumps through Marshall. He turns his body to the side and digs his ribs into Shakur’s foot, a strange move even to Shakur who feels the 320 pound weight shift. Marshall uses his locked hands and Shakur’s own foot to throw him off balance and fold his body up for a roll up.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

"AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW"

With the hold now successfully broken, Marshall gets a respite from having his arm almost broken off when Shakur stomps down on the back of his head. Shakur mouths off to before pulling Marshall back up, twisting the right arm around, and delivering a back up kick to the groin. Marshall doubles over. Shakur spins 180 degrees and grabs a hold of Marshall’s hair, throwing him back in a Russian leg sweep. Shakur goes for his own cover.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

"RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Marshall gets the shoulder up just before the three. Shakur rolls his eyes and gets up to his feet a little gingerly, the energy still sapped from him after attempting that armbar. Marshall slowly gets up to his feet, still groggy after getting knocked in the package and having to fight out of a pinning predicament.

"Marshall! Marshall! Marshall! Marshall! Marshall!"

Eugene: Shakur looks ready to end this one right here and now. Marshall better watch out.

Nick: I’m sure Marshall has enough match experience to know that something is up.

Eugene: I might agree with that, dude has a giant head.

Shakur crouches down and anticipates Marshall who is up on one knee and on the verge of turning around. Shakur throws himself backwards and winds up for the kill by going pushing forward. His right foot comes up for a Shining Wizard, which Marshall manages to duck underneath…But he doesn’t avoid the reverse kick to the back of the head. Shakur spins around and puts a knee into Marshall’s forehead, a second, and a third one before feeling something tug at his pants and launch him outside of the ring.

"RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Nick: Marshall isn’t going down without a fight.

"Marshall! Marshall! Marshall! Marshall! Marshall! Marshall! Marshall!"

Shakur leaps back into the ring and jumps on Marshall’s back, attempting to get a rear naked choke locked on. His legs immediately wrap around Marshall’s body in a body triangle choke and the hands are struggling to get around the giant throat. With the crowd squarely behind him, Marshall slowly rises up with a firm hold of Shakur’s arms.

"RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Eugene: Oh fudge it.

Marshall stands there, shaking his head back and forth. Shakur tries to remove his arms but to no avail. Marshall rushes backwards and crushes Shakur in the corner, but Commie Emo doesn’t let go. Marshall doesn’t seem mind running backwards a second time and smothering Shakur again. Finally, he lets go. Marshall turns around and grabs Shakur by the throat, lifting him up onto the top rope. Marshall reaches up and locks his arms around the waist before sending him flying all the way across the ring in a release overhead belly to belly suplex.

Eugene: GET OUT OF THERE EMO!

Shakur scampers up to his feet and quickly realizes that was a big mistake when Marshall flies into the corner, connecting on a devastating clothesline. Shakur stumbles out into the corner and slumps back into Marshall’s arms, the one place he definitely doesn’t want to be. Marshall smirks, locks Shakur around the waist, and flings him overhead in a release German suplex that puts Shakur down on the floor.

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Nick: Wow! Marshall might have just rearranged Shakur’s face with that one.

Shakur is out cold on the ringside mats, not moving an inch. Marshall steps in between the ropes and drops down to the floor to give him a much needed hand. With one arm, Marshall pulls Shakur up and sends him head first against the ring post, slumping Shakur down against the bottom of the stairs.

Nick: Marshall showing his aggressive side right now.

The Lion grabs Shakur again and this time decides to put him into the ring. Marshall slips under the bottom rope and gets to his feet, standing over a battered Commie Emo. Shakur lifts his head up off the canvas, and Marshall lifts the rest of him up. Marshall fires Shakur off into the ropes, allowing Shakur’s momentum to carry him back into the center of the ring. The former SCCW Universal Champion takes Shakur off the ground, spins him around in the air, puts his back on a crash course with the right knee, and executes a tilt a whirl backbreaker. Shakur bounces off the knee and down onto the canvas. Marshall goes for the win.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

Eugene: FOOT ON THE ROPE!

"AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW"

Nick: Shakur got bailed out in a huge way right there.

Eugene: That’s in ring savvy right there, Nick, plain and simple, one of the true signs of a champion.

Nick: Be that as it may, Marshall is inching closer and closer to pulling off a win.

Eugene: You know that won’t happen.

Marshall puts his hands on his knees and mulls over his next course of action. Shakur clutches at his back and rolls over, attempting to get the rest of his body outside the ring. Chuckling, Marshall shakes his head and grabs a hold of Shakur’s right foot. Commie Emo goes into survival mode, kicking aimlessly at Marshall and hoping to hit something vital…

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"

Another shot to the package makes Marshall double over and gives Shakur the necessary amount of time to slither away and get a much needed breathe.

Nick: Elvis Nixon really is one of the worst referees ever. Dude really can’t see anything.

Eugene: He’s consistent.

Nick: You just like him because he gave you free drugs before the show.

Eugene: How else could I deal with douchebags like you?

Shakur gets over to the ropes and begins to scale up on the outside. All the fans around the ringside area rise to their feet, anticipating either a really bad move or for Shakur to land in their row. Emo yanks hard at the second turnbuckle and forces himself up to the top rope. Marshall stumbles over to Shakur’s general area. Commie Emo decides it’s now or never and leaps into the air, maneuvering his body to perform a magnificent looking 450 splash…

"RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Well, it would have been magnificent if Marshall hadn’t caught him in mid-air. The Lion holds Shakur in a bear hug, slips his around the upper body, launches him into the air, catches him on his shoulders, and plummets down into the canvas with a devastating powerbomb. Marshall immediately goes for the win.

"ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE"

"TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"

"THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-"

"AWWW COME ON!"

Marshall grunts and looks up at Elvis Nixon with a look of disappointment on his face. Elvis holds up two fingers on each hand and shakes his head back and forth. Marshall rolls his eyes and goes for a hold of Shakur one more time. Commie Emo’s eyes are glazed over and his legs are barely able to hold him up even with Marshall’s help.

Nick: Well, Shakur wanted to get some respect and I think he’s going to respectfully get dropped right about now.

Eugene: Gotta stop investing in these new heels. The faces are apparently where it’s at.

Marshall puts his head underneath Shakur’s right arm and is able to lift him high into the air. Shakur squirms like a sumbitch to escape out of Marshall’s grasp, throwing hands wildly toward the head, and even trying to get another critical thumb to the eye. Marshall tries to relock his grip, but Shakur is already moving and slides down the back. Swinging around, Marshall goes for the T-Bone again, but Shakur shoots his head up underneath Marshall’s chin. Both wrestlers stumble back, Shakur going back the extra couple of feet due to the weight disadvantage. Marshall stalks forward again, but so does Shakur, who leaps into the air and connects on a flying headbutt. Shakur throws himself forward one more time and connects on a third headbutt, dropping both he and Marshall down to the canvas.

Eugene: That was a pretty dumb thing to do if you ask me.

Nick: Well Shakur isn't exactly the brightest person in the world.

Eugene: He delivered headbutts to a guy who has a brick for a head.

Shakur and Marshall are both stirring to their feet. After the battle they've gone through, the first one up to their feet is probably going to win the contest. Shakur has come into this contest grossly underestimating Marshall and will end up paying the price for it, while Marshall will be hung over sans alcohol come tomorrow morning from all the welts and bruises courtesy of Shakur's kicks.

Both men slowly get to their feet and wobble about the ring, trying to gather their senses before charging one another for the final showdown. Marshall picks himself up to a full vertical base and makes a run at Shakur, throwing a knockout right hand to the face, but Shakur swiftly ducks underneath and catches a jaw dropper right on the button, turning Marshall's legs into jelly.

Nick: This could be the kill shot that Shakur was looking for.

Shakur hasn't needed three seconds to connect on this move before and he doesn't need three seconds even while under the duress of phoning it in. The foot goes high. It goes hard. It connects on the side of Marshall's head.

And the entire arena pauses, expecting Marshall to drop like a ton of bricks and allow Devin Shakur to pick up a confidence builder heading into Great American Nightmare.

Instead, Marshall doesn't stop. He doesn't drop. However, he does roll, and rolls quite well. Shaking his legs like it's 1976, Marshall is barely able to stand on his own feet, but is able to do so. The first person ever to withstand the Good Times Painful Memories head kick without going down.

Nick: OH MY GOD! HE'S STILL STANDING! HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE?

Eugene: He took a...Dusk pill? Am I reading that right?

Nick: Dusk pills can't even withstand a Shakur kick at point blank range.

Eugene: Shakur is about to freak the fuck out!

Indeed Shakur is stand there with his mouth agape, wondering how this phenomenon is even possible. It causes him to scream like a wild man before charging into Marshall with the idea to knock him out with a Rashad Evans punch to the chin.

Unfortunately, Lance Marshall might have been acting a little too convincingly. Shakur walks right into his waiting arms. He gets lifted into the air, placed onto Marshall's back and DROPPED in the Code Red.

"RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Nick: Holy crap, Shakur GOT LAUNCHED halfway across the ring!

Shakur is out like a light. Marshall struggles over and places an arm across the heaving chest of Devin Shakur. Wrap this one up.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

DING! DING! DING!

Vince Howard: YOUR WINNER OF THE MATCH...'THE LION' LANCE MARSHALL!

It’s not really a night for backstage happenings. It’s a night to put up or shut up. But that doesn’t mean there won’t be a couple moments of cultural mixing, where the glitz, glam, and hype of PRIME meets the hard-nosed, road-tested merits of Sin City. And some of those intersections, we warn you, might be strange.

"Yeah, dude, I appreciate it."

Nothing like a smooth Asian man on a BlackBerry. Tsonda by name, and big-time wrassler by game. You can imagine that the PRIME contingent in the Garden has some uproarious pop saved for the Universal Champion, while the SCCW faithful aren’t bashful about jeering the Model Citizen.

Chandler Tsonda: No, I was just shocked to hear you on the other end of the phone when I picked up.

Cradling the PDA against his ear, Tsonda looks around. The Garden has labyrinthine innards, making it much harder to navigate than most venues. Tsonda whips open a nearby door, raising his eyebrow at what he sees.

Chandler Tsonda: You know what? I’m gonna have to cut this short, I just ran into some ladies that you might know.

A pause ensues, as the voice on the other end responds.

Chandler Tsonda: Take it easy, big guy.

With the familiar beep of an ended call, Tsonda hangs up and stuffs the phone into his pocket. He’s still hung up on the scene in front of him, and he lingers in the doorway’s threshold, content to be an observer.

The room is one of several to house the medical personnel that may be necessary tonight (did you hear people are fighting? I KNOW!).

The woman lying on the padded table is named Lauren Fox, and you might recognize her from her earlier role as "punching bag to the SCCW Universal Champion, some girl named Amy." She's getting a thorough once-over (not like that, you pervs) from one of the trainers, which currently comes down to the man touching her and asking "Does this hu--" before she yelps. Of course, Chandler Tsonda probably remembers Savant best as the not-impolite-DMH-member he met last week. Were it just Lauren and Chandler (okay, and maybe the cameraman) things would likely go differently.

But it is not just those two.

Nearby, stony face partly hidden by a curtain of blood red hair, is a woman who draws a resounding chorus of jeers from Sinner and PRIMEate fan alike. Her name is Alexandra Pierce, and her lips barely move when she talks.

Desade: So she simply assaulted you.

Savant: What does it look like, Alexandra, that I fell down the stairs a couple dozen times? Yes, she assaulted me!

The doctor, one of Dr. Victor Fihlguud's interns, purses his lips, stepping back.

Doctor: I don't think anything's broken.

Savant: Not even the ribs?

Doctor: I think your assailant went out of her way not to leave any lasting marks.

The Spider makes a sound in the back of her throat, gloved hand coming up to her chin.

Desade: A message, then. I trust this will be kept silent. I do not want rumors of a rift to continue into Temptation.

Chandler Tsonda: Better be ready to pay me some hush money, then.

Pierce doesn't turn, not immediately. She pauses in her... concern isn't the right word here. She pauses in her study of her protégée and straightens, left hand behind the small of her back. The same one that bears the gaudy bracelet that started this whole affair.

Desade: Mr. Tsonda, do not think that this makes me more of a fan of yours than I already was this evening.

When she turns over her shoulder, her steely eyes find the Viet Viper, a small smile playing on those lips -- the kind of smile always leads one to believe she knows more than she is telling.

Desade: It should have been a clear indicator that Ms. Campbell is truly willing to do whatever it takes.

Chandler Tsonda: I’m well aware of what Ms. Campbell is willing to do. After all, I just talked to a man who knows the ins and outs of your Red Raver.

It gives Tsonda great satisfaction to return a "betcha didn’t know that" smile.

Chandler Tsonda: The greatest champion in SCCW history calls to wish the PRIME Universal Champ good luck. We couldn’t write this shit if we tried, Pierce.

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

The Model Citizen doesn’t have to utter the man’s name for the entire Banknorth Garden, affiliations be damned, to explode into cheers. PRIME fans never got to thank Jon Rhine for his hard work, but they sure as hell can celebrate him in absentia.

Desade turns fully, and the I-know-something-you-don't-know smile stretches into something much more sickening. It's an approximation of Charlotte Ramone's affable smile, twisted into something not-nice-at-all. The voice that escapes her lips is jarring, because hearing the gargled-glass rasp of the Pixie from someone as officious as Desade is positively jarring.

Desade: Aw, man. How IS Jono?

Chandler Tsonda: Apparently better now that he’s not being pursued by you and the Succubus Gang. He said I should be wary of the Spider. Is that you, you big scary girl, you?

The Sultan of Style gives Desade a big cheesy wink. He even takes this time to blow a kiss to Savant. If we were to get into the strange ambiguity of the sexual tension between those two, we’d be on some serious Freudian shit.

Chandler Tsonda: And then dude asked me the strangest questions about my PRIME contract. Like what benefits were included, how much money is guaranteed against injury, all that jazz. Almost like he was looking for a new gig.

There is a buzz of curiosity back in the arena. PRIME fans mark out uncontrollably and SCCW fans don’t quite know what to say.

Chandler Tsonda: But I’m just a pretty face. What do I know?

Savant gives a brief "Hey" to Tsonda, caught in the back of her throat under the snapping glare from her mentor.

Desade: You will keep your hands away from my student, Chandler. I am no fool, I know you know who I am. I know you know who my student is. And I know that Jonathan is happily retired in a warm, safe place with the love of his life. I know this, because I put him there.

Chandler Tsonda: You did. Bravo. But I think we both know, Alex, that if Rhine weren’t such a principled soul, he could’ve taken that match. He had Campbell dead to rights after that moonsault.

The Model Citizen shakes his head, a small hint of melancholy in his usual bright voice.

Chandler Tsonda: But that’s why he’s Jon Rhine, you’re–and don’t take this the wrong way–a heartless bitch, and I’m just a prick with a do-gooder complex.

Desade: A do-gooder complex that does not extend to noninterference in a bout you had less business in than I. Amy Campbell expected a tainted victory, she came in planning for it, and she probably will be laughing about it for some time. But you would have robbed Jonathan of his own win, allowed him to put Aimz out of the sport with an asterisk next to it for all of eternity. That is not a do-gooder complex. That is the Dead Man's Hand with a shiny coat of paint.

She steps closer on silent feet, no heels to her well-worn boots.

Desade: So which is it, Chandler? Are you hero or villain, the right or the wrong? You cannot have it both ways, not for long.

The Sultan of Style gives Desade a long stare. She’s given him something to occupy his mind with, something he thinks he knows the answer to. But self-knowledge is a fleeting thing.

Chandler Tsonda: I guess, on some days, that shiny coat of paint makes all the difference.

The look he shoots at Savant is no longer playfully coy, but laced with the deadly seriousness that Desade brings out in most people.

Chandler Tsonda: Which am I? Well, on good days, the bad guys wear black and damn near invite you to come after ‘em. The rest of the time, heroes have to do those things that are unpleasantly necessary. For a higher purpose than just having the people chant your name. But today, Desade…

A smile slides back across the Sultan of Style’s face. He can’t go too long without busting out that sly grin.

Chandler Tsonda: …today is a good day.

Desade: For now it is, Chandler. For now. But Amy Campbell has burned her bridge tonight, destroyed it for the taste of the fear she will one day have that I will take away her world. You do not just face Sin City's champion -- you face a woman with fear in her eyes, a caged animal. This is not the woman who defeated Jonathan Rhine and Lance Marshall at the same time. This is a woman who risked my ire on the thought of her... universe... collapsing. This is a woman who put a girl neither you nor I have ever had any harmful dealing with in this room.

The Tiny Terror behind the two whimpers softly. Desade's grin stretches, infinitesimally.

Desade: I wish you all the luck tonight, Chandler. Not because I have plans to cash in my opportunity or because I wish revenge for what has happened to Lauren. But because you will need it. The Amy Campbell I saw tonight was glorious, powerful, and insurmountable. Do you feel that way?

Chandler Tsonda: (motioning to Lauren with his head) You bet her sweet ass I do. With all that fear, little Amy’s lost her way. Now that there’s no more Jon Rhine, she’s afraid. She’s lost. She bit the hand that feeds.

The Viet Viper looks Desade straight in the eye, which is far harder than words make it seem.

Chandler Tsonda: Jon Rhine lost because he refused to compromise his morals. So for PRIME and SCCW and him and the bragging rights, I’m gonna go out there and do what is unpleasantly necessary by ending Amy Campbell as you know her. ‘Cuz, well, it’s time to play hero.

The Spider nods slightly, that curtain of hair waving in her face.

Desade: I have little doubt that you will try, Chandler.

She doesn't turn or look back to Lauren, though her next words are clearly meant for the Crown Princess of the Hand.

Desade: Return to the locker room when you are able.

It's almost considerate.

Savant: Yes'm.

Chandler Tsonda and Alexandra Pierce never touch as the woman in the pantsuit steps past him and out into the hallway -- this is much easier to achieve considering the woman's relative lack of size. Tsonda watches the Director for a moment, before his attention is drawn back to the purple-haired girl in the room.

Savant: Good luck, Chan. Kick her once for me, huh?

Her smirk is slightly rueful, before she arches her neck in another burst of pain. Tsonda gives her a fairly obvious once-over, a "man, you look good, but I’m still pretty sure you’re a psycho" look, if you will. But when he responds, he’s only staring out at Desade’s exit path.

Chandler Tsonda: Absolutely. Whatever my people do to you…

The grin makes another reappearance, shining across Tsonda’s face. He’s damn near schitzophrenic with the way his facial expressions change.

Chandler Tsonda: …nothin’ personal, kiddo.

And that’s that.

The Princes of New England have not had the most pleasant week, even despite of the far warmer receptions they get in their eponymous homeland of New England.

First of all, last week, they'd been assaulted by Team VIAGRA at the top of the show, and then had been assaulted by members of the Dead Man's Hand at the end of the show. Not exactly as warm a reception as the New Englanders had expected. This week, Connor O'Reily is coming off of the dual roster battle royale he participated in earlier in the night, with Simon Knox out for the week under doctor's orders because of all of the chair shots to the head he endured that week.

Despite that, Simon Knox is indeed in attendance, and he's already in a foul mood because he's been enduring his older brother, Captain Justice, lately.

Captain Justice: I don't understand why I wasn't allowed to participate in that dual roster battle royale earlier. If I had been in there, nineteen guys would have gone flying out of the ring. At the same time.

Simon Knox: Yes, and because the scenario you just outlined is physically and logically impossible, especially given that it'd have been YOU in there, that's why you were left out.

Captain Justice decides not to respond to Simon Knox, and instead turns to Miranda O'Reily, the manager of both the Princes of New England and Captain Justice.

Captain Justice: Miss Miranda! Why was I left out of that battle royale?

Miranda O'Reily's attention is usually on her brother, and this happens to be a night that her attention needed to be squarely on him. She knows the reputation of some of the ladies of Sin City Championship Wrestling and her nightmare scenario includes any sort of meeting between Connor and said ladies. However, Captain Justice's question does not go unheard, and for the time being, Miranda takes her eyes off of Connor, who is busy gorging himself at the nearby catering table.

Miranda O'Reily: You mean, why did I not enter you into the same match my brother was wrestling?

Captain Justice: Yes.

Miranda O'Reily: What would you have done if it had just been you and him left in the ring?

Captain Justice: Naturally, I would have picked him up by his scrawny, pale, Irish ass and thrown him out of the ring and, if it happened to be vicinity, through the nearest table!

Miranda gets this extremely cross look on her face, and it's being directed at the large Americanimal. If you ever want to see a man being intimidated by a small woman, this is a good time for that.

Captain Justice: .........Can I get a do-over on my answer?

Meanwhile, Connor wanders away from Miranda, Simon, and Captain Justice, who are all now in the middle of what's sure to be an electrifying argument that will involve multiple insults directed at the characters of both Simon Knox and Captain Justice, while Miranda simply tries to maintain control. There's no real rhyme or reason why Connor decides to wander off, maybe he sees something shiny and wants to investigate it.

When it comes to shiny things in the backstage area, they don't really come any shinier or any less dangerous to investigate than the woman in the backless midnight blue dress, currently bent over the water fountain. The fact that she was bent over obviously had nothing to do with Connor O'Reily's distraction.

Obviously.

Tall and made taller in three-inch, strappy stiletto heels, Kathryn Shaw is the worst kind of distraction for a man -- especially a man like Connor, who would, let's be frank, hit on your grandmother, especially if she looked like that in a short dress. The fact that she was almost certainly not drinking from the fountain probably never even occurred to Connor. The fact that she was able to see him approach in the water fountain's reflective surface was also on the list of things Connor O'Reily probably wasn't thinking about.

On the list of things he was? Those legs, for starters.

She lets him approach, says nothing. She's even humming to herself. She dares to touch her lips to the water (the sacrifices one makes for their job...) as he approaches, slurping softly against the stream.

All in all, it's a recipe for disaster for Connor O'Reily, especially with his sister distracted by an argument with the Knoxes. To Connor, though, it was a buffet from heaven. So... six of one and a half-dozen of another.

Connor makes an almost concerted effort to lean towards the nearest wall and outstretch a hand against it to brace himself. Though Connor thinks he's good-looking and all, it can be assumed that being hot and sweaty from his battle royale earlier in the night isn't as attractive as he thought it was.

Connor O'Reily: Hellllllo there.

Ever the smooth operator, Connor moves on following the greeting.

Connor O'Reily: Now, what's a lovely woman like yourself doing in this den of thieves?

Apparently, Connor O'Reily isn't quite knowledgeable in the idea that this woman could be one of those very thieves.

She's startled -- okay, no, she's not, but one couldn't tell from the soft gasp and the jerk of her head into the stream from the fountain. Water hits plump, beestung lips, a droplet slipping from the corner of her lips as she stands. It takes her a moment to wipe the lips off with the back of her hand.

Do you think she practices things like this?

Katsidy: Would you believe me if I said I was struck with a dry mouth at the sight of you?

The grin is impish, teasing. Like she's in on the joke that all she wants is to twist him to her whims.

Katsidy: I'm joking -- mostly. We get so few honest-to-goodness hunks in Sin City.

Unlike her stepsister, she's not pretending to be someone else. Unlike her best friend, she's not even lying about her intentions.

Katsidy: I'm Kathryn... Kathryn Shaw.

One red-nailed hand extends towards him, palm down.

Like a fly unaware of the spider's web it's about to fly into, Connor casually reaches out for Katsidy's hand with his free hand and take it rather gently.

Connor O'Reily: Name's Connor O'Reily.

And then comes that gentleman's kiss to the top of the hand, before Connor rather lets go of her hand. He looks at the woman in front of him for a moment before he clears his throat.

Connor O'Reily: So, Sin City, huh? Must be nice if ladies like yourself roam around in it.

Apparently, Connor O'Reily doesn't tune in to SCCW very often.

Her hand retracts from his reluctantly, going to the necklace that dangles from around her neck, glittering nail polish bringing his eyes with it. Her laugh is soft, almost a titter.

Katsidy: Oh, I'm rather fond of the place -- the boys there treat me well. And, besides, it could be worse. I could have to be at ringside for the opening match of the show. Instead, I get to relax, take in some sights, and maybe even have a little fun before I have to be at work.

The Sex Kitten reaches out with the other hand, not quite touching his forearm.

Katsidy: Not that you weren't impressive, cutie. You certainly seemed to outshine the rest of those guys, and these fans do love you here in Boston. Still, a shame that they couldn't have let you wrestle a little bit later, after the crowd had fully filed in. Instead of Team V.I.A.G.R.A., it could be the Princes representing the federation against the... whatever Sin City calls tag team championships.

She says it dismissively, as if she wasn't sharing a room with half the Strength in Numbers Champions.

Connor O'Reily: Yeah, well, VIAGRA are a bunch of... hm, what's that word that Simon always uses to describe them... ah, yes, cretins.

Connor says the word with disgust, although he thinks to himself moments later that he's not sure what the word really means. Nevertheless, he shrugs his shoulders as he takes his hand off of the wall and stands more upright.

Connor O'Reily: Still, we get our shot at them next week, so it's not that big of a deal. Though, honestly, it really should've been us against... uh...

He pauses, thinks about it, and then asks, almost rhetorically to himself, an important question.

Connor O'Reily: Wait, Sin City has tag championships?

Either Connor is playing dumb, or he may in fact be dumb. It's unclear which it is right now.

Katsidy: Apparently. That's not really important, though. I'm just a ring girl, after all. What's important is you, right?

Her smile never falters, her eyes never flicker.

Katsidy: You get a shot at the Little Blue Team next week? If you want, I could tell their opponents to soften them up a little for you. Because the last thing you want to do is go to Hartford with those guys riding a swell of momentum, you know? Or...

She shakes her head once, looking down.

Katsidy: No, nevermind. It's a dumb idea.

Connor's eyes light up. He seems to have his own ideas, although said ideas can't exactly be in the best interests of... well, anyone except Katsidy and the rest of the Dead Man's Hand.

Connor O'Reily: Maybe I have an idea. Maybe I could go in and pull a little Celtic-style magic on Team VIAGRA. You know. Cost them the match. God knows, I hate those VIAGRA fuckers a lot more than I hate Sin City. No offense.

Katsidy: Well, only if you wanted to, lover. I mean, I was just going to say that I never used the tickets that the performers got and you could do some scouting, but...

Shaw steps close. No, closer than that. Her right hand lifts, smoothing his dark hair, still damp from his bout.

Katsidy: I like your idea, too. I'd hate for the Sin City boys to be screwed out of the fair match you know they want. It would be downright mean of you to screw over both sides like that.

Connor gets this wry smile on his face.

Connor O'Reily: Oh, I've never been a particularly nice sort. Some might say I'm a bad boy.

One might say that Connor O'Reily says this on purpose, but it might very well have been an accident and we just don't know it. That being said, Connor brings his smile up to "smirk" status.

Connor O'Reily: But don't you worry. I'll just do some "scouting", like you suggest.

He gives her a wink. Is he aware of what Katsidy *really* wants him to do, or is he just completely ass-backwards dumb enough to think his charms are having an effect?

Her fingers curl across his jawline, lightly touching, as she tilts her head softly to the side, tawny hair waving.

Katsidy: I've found scouting to be very... rewarding. If it's done right.

Connor O'Reily probably would have done more than just scout at this juncture, if the familiar sound of dismissal hadn't come from behind him at that moment.

Simon Knox: Fuu.

Yeah, that's Simon Knox's sound of dismissal. He leans against the wall directly behind Connor and Katsidy, his arms crossed and an amused smirk on his face.

Simon Knox: Sorry, I couldn't help but say something before something grossly idiotic happened. (turns to Connor) Don't you have some actual scouting to do, Connor?

Connor's head snaps towards Simon Knox, who cooly just maintains his expression, and he points at his tag team partner.

Connor O'Reily: Man, you're a buzzkill, Simon.

Connor turns back to Katsidy with a wink.

Connor O'Reily: Keep in touch.

He starts to walk away, but then turns around to blow the Sex Kitten a kiss before he finally disappears down the hallway. With Connor gone, Simon Knox turns his attention to Katsidy.

Simon Knox: I assume your game is to get my naive and easily manipulated tag team partner to help the Dead Man's Hand get another win over PRIME tonight.

With Connor stepping away, Kathryn Shaw's demeanor changes, no longer the aw-shucks flirt.

Katsidy: Well, my idea was to get you naïve and easily manipulated partner to fuck me ragged, but... that was on the list.

It just doesn't change a whole lot. She slinks forward, right hand leading and aimed for his hip.

Katsidy: Don't think I'm settling, hon.

She tosses her hair over her shoulder, her simmering smile in full effect -- the one that'll curl your toes.

Katsidy: I've already run through Philly like a hot knife through butter. So what do you say?

Simon's expression doesn't even change despite the woman in front of him. He gives Katsidy a dismissive wave.

Simon Knox: Don't push your luck. I'm not so easily tempted.

There are times it would take a bomb to deter Kathryn Shaw. This is one of those times.

She steps forward, closing the distance between them. She tips her head just slightly so she can look to the man through her lashes.

Katsidy: Even a prince needs a gentle caress once or twice, hon... just to remind them they're human. I won't even wrinkle your clothes.

She leans forward, whispering silkily.

Katsidy: I brought a pair of red socks, just for you guys. I could go put them on and we'll make sure the ball doesn't get by Shaw...

She says this with a completely straight face, which is proof she's slightly psychotic.

Simon Knox stares at Katsidy for a longing moment.

Simon Knox: Ah, to be young again.

Says the nineteen-year-old.

Simon Knox reaches into his pocket and pulls out his sunglasses, before he puts them on and rather goes out of his way to emphasize pushing them up further into his face. He then looks down at Katsidy.

Simon Knox: I'll be the first to admit that I've got a lot in common with you people from the Hand. But better people than you have tried to tempt me without luck, so try your act with somebody else. I hear Dusk could use a good night.

Simon simply steps aside from the wall he'd been leaning on and creates distance between himself and Katsidy. However, he stops and turns back to face her.

Simon Knox: Besides, getting Phillip Kennedy's sloppy seconds is like getting Brett Favre in a trade. Nobody wins.

We're not sure that a lot of people get Simon's football-speak, sometimes.

The Siren's smile sharpens, no more the simmering thing, the pretense almost entirely leaves her eyes. She raises her voice slightly, calling after him.

Katsidy: If you're not interested in fucking, how about in fucking over two guys who badly deserve it? I saw what they did to you at ReVolution. All I'm asking is that you consider it.

Simon Knox: I'd be careful about suggesting I go out there, Ms. Shaw. I seem to remember another group of individuals fucking me over last week, too. You might know one of them. Tall. Kinda big. Calls himself the Big Stack.

Simon then turns around fully, a smirk evident on his face.

Simon Knox: Connor, he's easy. He'll probably do exactly what you want him to do. Me, I'm what you'd call the wild card. I could help you. I could hinder you. I'm pretty sure only I know what I'll do when I get out there.

He lowers his sunglasses down so that they lean very precariously on the very edge of his nose, so that his eyes can be seen again.

Simon Knox: So, would you like to gamble on what I might do, Ms. Kathryn Shaw?

Katsidy: As you said, Simon. You and I aren't that different. You know the business with Xavier Kannon is business, but I know what it's like to be struck with a steel chair and I know how much I wanted to get my hands on the man that did it. I'm not asking for your soul or your loyalty. I'm just asking you to remember you don't want to be on her bad side, and I hope that you don't let all this cheering go to your head.

She lifts a hand to her mane of tawny hair, ruffling her fingers through it. It's not intended to capture his attention; it's just a nervous habit.

Katsidy: Besides, if you decide to live a little, the offer is still open. It wouldn't be the first tag-team I've been tag-teamed by, and I think that whole "taken" vibe you have is adorable.

She turns, sashaying in the opposite direction.

Katsidy: Think about my offer, Simon. Both of them.

Simon Knox: Fuu. I'll think about one of them.

He turns around, and offers one more parting word of advice.

Simon Knox: If you see a gimp wearing an American flag on his head, don't even bother flirting with him. His girlfriend keeps his dick in a jar.

With that said, Simon walks away from Katsidy.

Katsidy: (low whisper) That must be a pretty big jar; I've heard he's got a tank cannon down there.

Cataclysm had turned into one hell of an evening. The intensity had been turned up to an eleven on a ten digit scale. Never had so many people been focused on the task at hand, and as the camera zooms in on one High Flyer and Tony Davis, their minds are much like the other PRIME members. Team VIAGRA had been at the forefront of the PRIME/SCCW war as the Dead Man Hand had taken out their beloved manager, Mary-Lynn Mayweather. Speaking of said manager, she sits in between the two taking in a world of emotions as they're in complete silence.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: Well...

She shoots a look over at High Flyer who is just off in his own world, arms folded across his chest. He's not too keen on talking to Mary-Lynn right now as he knows exactly what it is that she's going to say to him. As Mary-Lynn shakes his head and takes a look over at Tony Davis she's even further disgusted as he's playing with a Nintendo DS instead of getting ready for the upcoming match against the Strength in Numbers champions from SCCW.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: Tony, seriously!

Tony looks up from his game briefly before shrugging his shoulders and going back to the action that is Super Twinks Brothers. Mary-Lynn shoots up from her chair and looks at her clients, her team, and just can't believe the sight she's seeing here. Her temper rises with each passing second, but neither man is aware of it until they're blasted in the face with it.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: What the hell do I have to do to make you two care?! You would think, THINK, that those two assholes cracking my skull open would've fired you up! I'm begging you two to put your A-game on here and take this match seriously! Just, please...

High Flyer then looks up at Mary-Lynn before sitting back in his chair.

High Flyer: No. End of discussion.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: I just want the Lunatic I met. The one who above all else defended the honor of those close to him. Not... whatever sickening mutation you've evolved to. THROWING A MATCH!?

As High Flyer opens his mouth to respond to Mary-Lynn, the door to the locker room opens up and in walks Dusk with an urgent look on his face. He's still dressed in his ring attire from the early Battle Royal match he was in and hasn't had the chance to change yet. Mary-Lynn looks over at Dusk and wonders why he has the look on his face. Dusk looks around and wonders why the conversation stopped once he entered.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: Dusk, you alright?

High Flyer: Yeah man, you look like someone just raped your grandfather's corpse. Now, if someone did...

Dusk just shakes his head as he moves to another chair in the room and sits down.

Dusk: Those New England assholes--

Tony Davis ears perk when he hears that.

Tony Davis: The Patriots?! They're here! Why I'll rip them from limb to limb! Let me at 'em, let me AT 'EM!

High Flyer: Tony. It's the Princes, not the Patriots.

Tony Davis: ... and... they are?

Uninterested in the answer, Davis goes back to playing his DS. Dusk just takes a long look at him and shakes his head before turning his attention back to High Flyer and Mary-Lynn.

Dusk: I guess they made some sort of deal with the Dead Man's Hand. I guess they're gonna make sure that you guys get yours in the long run.

High Flyer: Like hell those douchington's will!

High Flyer is now fired up as he explodes out of his chair and looks like he's ready for a match with Kennedy and Lovecraft! Mary-Lynn looks up at High Flyer and can't believe the sudden explosion of energy coming out of High Flyer as he begins pacing around in the room.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: So you're finally going to listen to me?

High Flyer: Not now, Mary-Lynn! TONY!

Flyer looks over at his tag team partner, but Davis is in a world of his own. Not willing to wait around for Davis to awaken from his stupor, Flyer walks over there before snatching the Nintendo DS from his hands and throwing it into the wall with all of his might, destroying it in the process. Tony looks up in disbelief at High Flyer.

Tony Davis: JACK! What the hell did you do that for?!

High Flyer: Tony, we've got a match to get ready for! LET'S GO!

There's this look of confusion from Tony. I know, it's difficult to tell from his normal look.

Tony Davis: Didn't you say we'd throw this match? That you wanted to lose?

High Flyer: Yeah, but I'm not just going to let those New England prarie dogs define the terms. If we're gonna lose, we're gonna earn it ourselves!

Dusk, shocked, has no time to answer, as PRIME's resident drunkards have entered the scene. Colby Korver and Hank Cobb stumble in, each holding a preferred drink in their hand.

Dusk: You're gonna throw the match? I came here to tell you I had your back!

Korver and Cobb stare confusedly at Viagra and Dusk. They turn to each other, and back to the spectacle before them.

High Flyer: You can still have my back. Simon Knox will take this too far. I don't need to be bloodied to lose this match. Don't worry. I'll give ya five percent.

Colby steps forward. He's inches from Flyer's face.

Colby Korver: You're planning on disgracing PRIME?

High Flyer: Well, no, I'm planning on winning two million dollars through losing. It's a much easier process than the lottery.

Hank Cobb: We don't take kindly to those who make a mockery of our profession there.

Colby Korver: Yeah. You throw this match, and you won't just have the Princes to answer to, y'hear?

Mary-Lynn's eyes perk up. She walks over to DUI's side.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: You know, there's a chance I may be looking for work myself. I think I'd rather work with a tandem that hit me with a car than one that's willing to throw a match away for profit.

Hank Cobb: We hit you with a car? Oh man. That was you?

Colby Korver: Sorry bout that. It was an accident, just got blown outta proportion. Y'know, wrestling.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: Well, I didn't expect anyone to get into a car accident on purpose.

Tony Davis perks up.

Tony Davis: Hey Jack! Remember when I purposely got into a car accident with you?

High Flyer: Good times. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a match to go lose.

And with that, Team VIAGRA part from the backstage area. Mary-Lynn, throwing a fit, exits moments later, trailing at a good distance from her clients.

Eugene Ware: WOO! PHILLIP... wait for it... KEEEEEEEENNNEDY~!

Nick Stuart: If I thought your promotion had money, I'd warn you against being sued. But don't drag us down into your legal troubles there Eug. Folks. While Eugene Ware gets us indicted, let me tell you about our upcoming tag team contest.

EW: NO! Only I may speak of the God that is Phillip Kennedy. MASTER of the snake eyes. LOVER of cracking nuts. A-K suited baby, Phillip, Kah-Kah-Kah-KENNEDY... Nick? (quickly)Have you given yourself over to the Church of Kennedy?

NS: Not now or ever.

EW: Shame. Your thetons will further go unchecked. You'll also be raped at some point because of that. You know, if you just let yourself enter Phillip Kennedy's church, you wouldn't have been raped at the age of sixty by a portly sailor.

NS: Should I just go into talking about Team VIAGRA now or what?

EW: HA! No one wants to hear about those fools. LET'S GET TO THE ENTRANCES!

NS: No. No! I'm not ready. I've got notes!

EW: No you don't.

NS: AH! AH! WHAT ARE YOU-! NO! MY FINGER HAIR!

A few audible smacks are heard, as a sigh is let out by Nick Stuart.

NS: Well... I had notes before you burned them. Fine. Let's go to ringside.

EW: Sin City Wins again!

Cut to ringside. Jason Myers AND Vince Howard stand in ringside, each with a microphone. Jason raises his mic and begins speaking, but nothing is heard. He squints in confusion and taps the mic twice. Nothing.

Vince smiles. He takes a deep inhale, ready to start HIS introduction. However, he would not realize that Jason Myers was paid 22 dollars earlier today in order to announce both tandems as being "super hot," and is not prepared for Sin City's ring announcer to tackle him.

Sprawling and rolling around on the canvas like two cloned Harvey Wipplemans, the fans in attendance rise to their feet to see this conflict erupt. Of course, this conflict looks less like a street fight and more like six year olds swinging manically in the air.

Referee Max Newell steps in and attempts to pull the announcers off of one another, as he gets elbowed in his eye for his trouble.

EW: Man. This makes me want to get in a tussle with you Nick.

NS: You're much too lazy for such a thing though, yes?

EW: Yes.

Nick audibly sighs in relief. By this point, a quiet rush of adrenaline fills throughout the Dunkin' Donuts arena. Then, in half boos, half cheers, PRIME's representatives rush out from the backstage area. High Flyer hits the ring first, diving in underneath the bottom rope. As Myers tries to land one last haymaker, Tony slides in and grabs the palm of his hand before it strikes Vince Howard's skull. He simply shakes his head.

JM: I just want to keep my cash. I can do that, right boys?

Mary-Lynn Mayweather brings up the rear, stopping just outside of the ring. She seems distant, a bit, disorientated if you will. She calmly and cautiously makes her way around ringside.

HF: Sure. Whatever, Just go away. Okay?

Myers nods, and exits the ring. Vince Howard stands, and extends his hand to Viagra, who do not reciprocate it.

And then promptly get blasted in the back of their heads by steel chairs.

Phillip Kennedy and Reginald V. Lovecraft have arrived.

EW: WOO! Did you realize how smart Sin City was? I bet you didn't.

NS: That's not smart! That's just out and out cheating!

High Flyer hits the canvas hard from the blow. Tony stumbles, landing onto his knees, before eating yet another chair shot from Lovecraft. He falls like a ton of bricks. Tony Davis winds up rolling out of the ring because of this.

Referee Max Newell, clutching his eye in pain, reprimands the Sin City Tag Team Champions for their actions.

Kennedy simply explains that the match hasn't started, so how can they have been doing anything remotely illegal.

It is then when the bell is promptly rung.

EW: WOO! Here we go! Kennedy on Flyer. Man, this is a wet dream of mine come true. Except I'm porkin' that red headed step child over there while Kennedy's face fist fucking that crazy boy.

NS: That crazy boy is High Flyer.

EW: I know who he is. But he's crazy boy to me. The other ones Nads Retardo. That's all I will refer to them as of this point. And that skirt girl? Yeah, she's the pussy vacuum.

NS: That... pussy vacuum is coming over here. Perhaps she would like to seduce you in much the same manner Katsidy has the entire American populace.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather calmly takes her seat next to Nick Stuart. She reaches down and grabs the nearest headset.

NS: Hello there Mary.

EW: Hey, aren't you going to introduce me there Nick?

NS: No.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: Hey Nick... uh... you there.

EW: See, now she thinks I'm some guy called Yu Deere. That's on your head Stew.

NS: I think I can live with that.

Inside the ring, Kennedy lays in with a few vicious forearms to the back of the Lunatic's skull. Each blow sends a recovering Flyer back down to the canvas. He lifts the Lunatic up by his snowhawk, and whips him into the corner, where Reginald V. Lovecraft has set up shop.

As the official's blind eye has cut his perspective in half, he can not see Lovecraft using the team rope to wrap around the Lunatic's neck. Flyer spits and coughs, kicking and desperately reaching out for his partner on the other side of the ring. Tony has recovered, but has become increasingly paranoid that he may have been busted open. It seems, even if he checks it once, he has to check it again, and again, just to make sure.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: These D-M-Hers are despicable. If I didn't know any better, I'd say they set up that conflict between Howard and Myers to get the better of us. For all the chaos Flyer seemingly enjoys, he certainly likes to play Mediator.

NS: I wouldn't put Kennedy as so smart.

EW: Which is why you're going to Hell.

Max Newell, the official, catches eyesight of Lovecraft just as he stops choking the Lunatic. Flyer coughs, as Kennedy charges toward him.

And eats a face full of white snowy mist.

EW: CHEATER!

Kennedy backs off, flailing as the official reprimands the Lunatic. Flyer charges, and jumps off Kennedy's leg and shining wizard's his face. Kennedy flops to the canvas, as Flyer falls on his hands and knees. Quickly, he dives and tags in the Degenerate.

NS: And here comes Tony Davis. Tony is a former IWO World Champion.

MLM: He's also quite likely to forget he's currently wrestling a match.

EW: Well, that's good for us!

Tony reaches down and lifts Kennedy off his feet. Whipped off the ropes... blind tag and Kennedy returns into a HUGE ring jarring powerslam. Tony pops to his feet, shouting at the cheering crowd, only to turn directly into the vicious right fist of Reginald V. Lovecraft.

EW: And Lovecraft! That's a Golden Glove powered fist that just took that Lunatic to another world.

MLM: Uh, that's the degenerate. He's the Lunatic.

EW: How can you tell?

MLM: Uh... Blue and white?

EW: Oh. and you’re red. Hm. Are you from the Netherlands?

MLM: ... No?

Tony is lifted to his feet and slammed in the center of the ring. Quickly, RVL drops an elbow into the throat of Tony, and pressures his forearm across his trachea.

Max sees this out of his good eye, and immediately starts the count. Lovecraft breaks at a good four count, and then lifts Tony up by his dreadlocks. Side headlock. Tony strikes Lovecraft in his ribs with a few blows. Tony attempts to push Lovecraft into the ropes, but RLV uses his size to stop him, hunkering the side headlock further. Davis throws his arm in the air in pain, as RLV drops to his knees and takes him over to the canvas. Davis lies flat, as RLV continues to hold Davis' skull. The official Max rushes to his side.

(RINGSIDE)
Max: Tony. Do you submit?!

TD: What?

Max: Do you submit?

TD: *Croaking*I ... what? ... Can I... get an... exten... sion?

Max: ... What?

Max, eyes narrowed, turns to the Lunatic, who nods his head in approval.

HF: He's fine. You confused him with the word submit. He thinks you want his term paper.

Max: ... That's not normal.

HF: Normal is such a relative phrase.

(DURING RINGSIDE, Commentators booth)

NS: Isn't this the point where you would rally the troops Mary?

EW: Would rally the troops be the cool new hipster slang for strip?

MLM: You're lucky I didn't sit next to you or else you would no longer have a nut sac.

EW: Kinky.

NS: My question's valid, is it not?

MLM: No need. This PRIME crowd is getting behind its superstars. Team VIAGRA may not exactly be loved in Boston, but we're liked better than the Dead Man's Hand, I'll tell you that.

EW: Hey! The D-M-H are as GODS!

Davis, through the heart of the crowd, rises to his feet. He stomps his foot twice on the canvas in synch, and then catches Lovecraft with an elbow. Another breaks him free, but as Davis rushes to shoot off the ropes, Lovecraft grabs him by his dreads and causes him to crash to the canvas. RVL drops down on top for the quick cover.

But Max Newell crosses his arms, and refuses to count. After a moment, RVL bursts to his ancient feet.

NS: And Max Newell, having no desire to see cheating be rewarded, refusing a pin here.

EW: It's not because he cheated! It was a little hair grab. It's because he's BIASED! BIASED I TELL YOU! Each match here should have referees from both sides! I mean, I hate Gibson, but he's nothing compared to the stench over there. Which, by the way young red head, thank you for masking up with your beautiful perfume.

MLM: ... I'm not wearing any perfume. I think you imagined Nick's grotesque smell. Either that or you've got cancer.

And for the first time in ages, no doubt, Eugene Ware is silenced.

This delay in the pin, allows Davis to recover, and quickly school boy Lovecraft.

1...

Hook of the tights.

2...

EW: HEY!

Lovecraft tosses a shoulder up.

EW: I mean, anyone who works for Ol' Des won't be pinned by a school boy, but where's the official reprimanding that alien freak for the hook!

NS: Clearly, he missed it.

EW: Oh, how convenient.

Lovecraft's force needed to kick out sent Davis flying into the Viagra corner. Quickly, Flyer slaps Davis' shoulder, constituting a tag. Lovecraft charges forward, and the look on his face switches from quieted rage to sullen shock. The Lunatic springboards up, as Davis lifts the charging Lovecraft in a spinebuster position.

And Flyer flies off, catching Lovecraft square in the jaw with a spinning wheel kick, forcing Davis to SLAM RVL to the mat with said spinebuster.

RS: Beautiful tandem maneuver, that's something you only get with almost a decade of experience.

EW: Just means they're old as FUUUUUCK.

MLM: Would you stop reaching around Stewart to try and touch my shoulder?

RS: I'd echo that sentiment. You're creeping me out.

Flyer lands on his knees and waits for Lovecraft to return to his feet. Once he does, Flyer charges and leaps for a hurraconrada.

EW: POWERBOMB! Take that you make believe fairy!

MLM: You know, you could work in the media, the lack of bias you've shown.

EW: You haven't admitted how sexy Phillip Kennedy is. Nor how awesome said POWERBOMB was. I'd say you're playin' with a finely tipped double edged sword there Miss Accuser..

MLM: I'll say it was a good move if you can tell me what my name is.

EW: ... Uh... Warm Pussy?

Lovecraft wastes no time in picking up the Lunatic. He shoots him off the ropes, back the other side, tilt-a-whirl BACK breaker. Flyer bounces around the canvas and lands in SCCW's side of the ring. He reaches up to make the tag, but only gets a smack in the face from Phillip Kennedy for his trouble.

Lovecraft charges in and slams his shoulder into the recovering Flyer, sandwiching him in the corner. He makes the tag, and Kennedy quickly shifts himself in. Lovecraft locks in a side headlock as he orders Kennedy to shift to the other side. Quick snap double team suplex follows, and Eugene practically pees his pants.

EW: WOO! WOO! YOU SEE THAT!? YOU SEE THAT?! HOW'S THAT FOR DOUBLE TEAMIN'! SHAKE AND BAKE!

MLM: Did we just go back in time three years?

Kennedy lifts the Lunatic up, but the Lunatic hooks his arms. Kennedy looks at either side, and tries to free himself, but can't. Flyer leans in, and begins to whisper.

(RINGSIDE)

HF: Hey. You punch me. I fall over. You pin me. I give you 10% of 2 million.

PK: What?

HF: Good odds.

(BACK to Commentators booth)

MLM: I gotta go.

MLM tosses down her headset as we hear it over the audio.
Inside the ring, Flyer stiffly punches Kennedy in his face. And then quickly, Kennedy fires back.

And Flyer falls HARD. And remains MOTIONLESS on the canvas.

NS: ...

EW: DID YOU SEE THAT!? It totally sent that Lunatic to NEXT YEAR. Maybe he can tell us if the Watchmen is out.

Kennedy takes a moment to look down at Flyer, and then his fist, and then Flyer, and then his fist. Finally, he subconsciously remembers what Flyer had just said, and his eyes SPARKLE in delight. He falls down, on top for the cover, not even BOTHERING to hook the leg.

Mary-Lynn rushes in frame.

1...

NS: What bizarro world IS THIS?!

And she quickly grabs Flyer's boot, placing it on the bottom rope, holding it there.

2...

And this is where the referee sees the foot, just as Mary-Lynn lets go. He stops the count, and orders Kennedy to his feet. Kennedy stomps his feet in anger. He looks outside of the ring and sees Mary-Lynn standing there, eyebrows raised.

Kennedy reaches down and lifts Flyer to his feet.

PK: I thought you wanted me to pin you.

Kennedy charges forward and clotheslines the Lunatic up and over the top rope. He tumbles outside, landing at the feet of Mary-Lynn Mayweather.

She doesn't help him up.

MLM: You try a stunt like that again and you won't even be ABLE to say goodbye.

Flyer stumbles to his feet, grasping at the apron's tarp.

MLM: You better not throw this match!

MLM quickly grabs Flyer by his hair and tights and shoots him in underneath the bottom rope. Kennedy inside, licks his lips. He lifts the Lunatic to his feet, and places him on his shoulders.

EW: Oh man! Here it comes. VIVA...

Flyer's eyes widen and he slips off the backside. Kennedy mimes to hit the maneuver, before realizing there's no longer a weight on his back. He turns around, and sees the Lunatic charging at him, full steam.

NS: Locomotive! NO! Kennedy ducks underneath and lifts Flyer up by his leg. Flyer's eyes are wide.

EW: GO KEN! GO KEN!

Flyer grabs the top rope. His locomotive failed, but he doesn't want to be slammed into the mat. Flyer's struggling. Lovecraft rushes over on the apron, Davis charges in the ring, but the official rushes up and stops him.

Lovecraft tries to swipe Flyer's hands off the top rope, but SPRAY OF MIST. Lovecraft flies back off the apron, blinded. But this allows Kennedy to adjust his strategy and drop the Lunatic throat first on the top rope. Flyer bounces off, choking, and spins right into a charging Kennedy.

NS: BAM! Kennedy, lookin' for the nuts, but Flyer turns and Kennedy can't strike him in the back of his head. Still, quite a vicious blow.

EW: I want a vicious blow from Mayweather.

A loud stomp. Mayweather seems to have kicked the announce table.

Davis exits the ring, and begins to stomp his feet on the apron. The crowd begins to get behind him, as Kennedy drops on top for the cover.

1...

Mary-Lynn bites her lip. Concerned, she frets.

2...

Flyer tosses his shoulder up.

Mary-Lynn looks on, her wide eyes fading in relief. She would apparently not have to look for another job tomorrow.

Kennedy slams his hand into the mat. He lifts the Lunatic up and locks in a side headlock.

(RINGSIDE)
PK: What are you doing? I thought you were throwing the match?!

HF: Rather not now.

Flyer lifts Kennedy from the side headlock and drops him in a belly to back suplex. He flops himself on the canvas afterwards, physically spent.

Mary-Lynn begins to pound the ring canvas apron, as the Boston faithful begin to chant "PRIME," "PRIME," "PRIME," over and over. They can't bare to chant VIAGRA, considering the atrocities they've pulled against New England's beloved Princes, but they can get behind the promotion of their choice. Splatterings of "sucks" from the SCCW faithful split their chants.

That’s when the whole arena swells. SCCW and PRIME alike.

Because enter, stage left, the Princes of New England.

EW: Oh WOW.

NS: This crowd has united behind the oncoming Princes of New England. But whose side will they be on tonight? Will they attack their PRIME-ate rivals? Or will they stand up for the justice and honor of this noble federation.

EW: Noble!? You’re selling Baby Dusk dolls!

Connor O’Reily, overzealous, rushes to ringside. That’s when a kendo stick comes swinging from the crowd sideways shattering apart like a twig. Connor flops to the ground.

EW: Doesn’t look like everyone here in New England is pro-monarchy.

NS: That’s Dusk! Coming from ringside, lifting up Connor O’Reily. Simon Knox makes a beeline, and shoves Dusk off of Connor.

The crowd is on their feet, as inside the ring, Flyer and Kennedy are crawling to their respective corners. Dusk stands between the Princes of New England and the ring, preventing them from entering. Connor charges Dusk and starts pounding at him, and Dusk returns each blow. They brawl on the outside, freeing up Simon Knox to shift his way past them.

He meets Mary-Lynn Mayweather, who stands with her hands on her hips.

NS: Dusk tosses Connor into the ring?! Dusk is following him in, and Max is immediately on them. He’s trying to pull them apart. Hot tags! Tony and Lovecraft enter! They meet center ring and start brawling right alongside Dusk and Connor!

On the outside, Simon Knox takes out a bottle of perfume. He extends it to Mary.

SK: I’m just here because you said you weren’t wearing perfume, and I figured…

Mary-Lynn’s eyes narrow. Simon places it underneath her nose before she can say no, and one whiff knocks her out.

SK: I guess Captain Justice has some connections after all.

Inside the ring, Tony and Dusk shoot Connor and Lovecraft off the ropes, Returning, Davis lifts Lovecraft in a beautiful Urangi slam. Connor ducks underneath a Dusk clothesline, and returns off the other side, before driving his shoulder into Dusk’s midsection and brawling on the canvas.

Connor and Dusk have the referee’s attention, as Simon slides in the ring. He holds the PRIME Tag Team Championship belt in his hand, and CHARGES, striking Davis SQUARE in the jaw.

Simon tosses the belt out of the ring, and then goes over to Connor, attempting to pull his partner off of Dusk, as a show of fake honor to cover up his dastardly deeds. Still, the crowd cheers wildly as Dusk is separated by the official. The Princes of New England wave to the cheering crowds, and exit the ring.

Lovecraft, recovered, lifts Davis onto his shoulders. Without a tag, due to the chaos, Kennedy leaps off the top rope with a beautiful doomsday device. Tony falls like an accordion. Kennedy charges and forearms Flyer off the apron, as Max returns, and slides down to count the pin.

1…

2…

3.

EW: HA! Kennedy! What did I tell you! WORSHIP HIM AS YOUR GOLDEN IDOL. HE IS A DEMI-GOD AMONGST THE FILTH OF MANKIND.

NS: The Strength in Numbers champions truly showed they can orchestrate chaos. Perhaps one day, we’ll get a chance to see this match up again.

Mary-Lynn slides into the ring and cradles the fallen and now bloody Davis in her arms. Kennedy rushes over to the recovering Lovecraft and raises his hand alongside him in victory. SCCW would claim this notch on their belt. But Viagra, earning this loss, may have been the biggest winners.

To the tune of two million dollars.

When two massive organizations like PRIME and Sin City Championship Wrestling get together for an event like Cataclysm, there are quite a few logistical questions that need to be answered. After all, these guys are lugging around two rings, two production trucks, two sets of crews...basically, twice as much as a single federation probably need.

Which means the parking lot outside the TD Banknorth Garden is...kind of like a labyrinth and terribly easy to get lost in.

Still, it's somewhat of a surprise that we find C.P. Cantrell wandering through this section of real estate. Not because his sense of direction is fabulous, but because it means he's doing something himself, even if that something is studying a clipboard.

C.P. Cantrell: (muttering) So I turn past the production truck and I should...ah!

Now, C.P.'s not traveling tonight alone -- even if he was usually the type, with half of Sin City out to get him, it's simply not safe. Or, at least, that's what Cantrell told Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas.

Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas: Boss, you need security out in this mess? Ain't no sound techs causing shit.

C.P. Cantrell: There are important matters at hand, Dam. The Enemigos can handle things if needed.

Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas: Yeah, 'cause they stellar track record says they can handle it...

You know those college professors with the horn-rimmed eyeglasses and corduroy sweaters with patches on the elbow? Dr. Nigel Kensington is not dissimilar as he glides up to the big black brick wall with a clipboard of his own.

Dr Kensington: Ah, Master Cantrell. What could possibly be so urgent that you would take us both from our responsibilities? I am not sure how they run things in PRIME, but it seems all I do is sign paperwork.

Cantrell looks over his shoulder to the Doctor, distractedly.

C.P. Cantrell: Yeah, I had a time like that. Just make sure you read everything.

Dr Kensington: That's never been a problem previously. I trust you plan on providing a response to my question.

C.P. Cantrell: (to Dam) It's in that truck. Open it up.

Dr Kensington: Master Cantrell.

C.P. Cantrell: It's about the main. The eight-man.

Dr Kensington: And what of it? I honestly wish your competitors all the best in the bout -- this "Desade" woman appears to be most vexing.

Cantrell nods off-handedly as Dam steps forward to the back of an eighteen-wheeler truck.

C.P. Cantrell: If by "vexing," you mean she's a bitch with an army, I agree. That's why I asked you out here, honestly. I know the contract your predecessor signed with her people means you can't really do anything to her.

Dr Kensington: Aye, the so-called "Monet Compact" is rather ironclad or I certainly would have at the least suspended Mayhem after his attack on your girl reporter. How is Miss Brooks?

C.P. Cantrell: We've got our hopes up. Thanks for asking. I think she's going to be transported home soon.

Dr Kensington: Very good. Not being used to such serious medical issues, I hope all goes well in that regard.

C.P. Cantrell: Yeah, it takes some getting used to, you know. This is the first time anyone in my employ has ended up in the hospital. None of the reality show kids needed more than a bandaid or a Xanax. Even during Sunken Treasure, no one got scurvy or anything.

Dr Kensington: Beg pardon?

C.P. Cantrell: You know, Sunken Treasure? It was a cross between Temptation Island and Pirates of the Caribbean - the ride, not the movie.

Dr Kensington: Can't say I'm familiar.

C.P. Cantrell: Well, one of the few, I guess. I don't know what the BBC shows at 9/8 Central every Thursday, but it wasn't pulling down our quarter hours, that's for damn sure. We'd be on season eight right now, if it wasn't for that stupid shit with the pygmies.

Dr Kensington: Chadwick-

C.P. Cantrell: (to Dam, incredulous) I mean, how were we SUPPOSED to know it was a tomb? It LOOKED like a toilet.

Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas: (shouting from the truck) You bes' not share the rest o' that story with me, Boss.

Dr Kensington: (voice raised) Chadwick, I fail to see what necessitated our meeting out in the lot.

C.P. Cantrell: I'm getting there, Nigel. Be patient. Here's the problem, Doc. I haven't gotten a chance to get to know Angie; never really saw the need. Then your former Gateway Champion put her in a damn coma and I couldn't...and that bugs me a little. I figure Pierce ordered the attack.

Dr Kensington: A sound assumption, given my dealings with her lot.

C.P. Cantrell: Also figure, given my own "dealings", that she's got seven kinds of crap planned for tonight to avoid any kind of real retribution. Enough so that you and I, we couldn't stop it all without violating her contract. Why the hell did Smitty Duluth sign such a one-sided deal, anyway? I'd heard he was a smart businessman.

Kensington clears his throat softly, his accented words gentle.

Dr Kensington: It is...it is my understanding there may have been threats levied against his daughter.

Cantrell's features darken briefly before he looks to Dametreyus at the truck. The sound of the back opening echoes thunderously.

C.P. Cantrell: Figures. You'd say the four-on-four is fair, right?

Dr Kensington: As equitable as can be expected, given your participants.

C.P. Cantrell: And given that half my locker room would like to string Pierce and Matthews up for what they did to Angie Brooks, you'd want to protect them, wouldn't you?

Nigel's words are quite careful; stating he wants to protect the Dead Man's Hand was not something he was going to say aloud.

Dr Kensington: What are you proposing, Master Cantrell?

C.P. Cantrell: An added stipulation for the safety of all parties.

Light comes from the trailer of the truck, spilling past the camera, which isn't looking inside.

Dr Kensington: Is that what I think it is?

C.P. Cantrell: It might be. What do you say, Doc?

Dr Kensington: For the safety of all the match's participants, I cannot help but agree.

Nigel extends his hand to Cantrell; it's a gentlemen's agreement.

C.P. Cantrell: I'll see it's ready for the end of the show. You can get back to your paperwork, Nigel. Cheerio.

Dr Kensington: Have a pleasant evening, Master Cantrell.

Kensington strides briskly away, quickly disappearing once he leaves the pool of light. Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas steps back to Cantrell's side, a light frown curling his lips.

Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas: Ain't gon' carry that by my lonesome, Boss.

C.P. Cantrell: No, we've got a ring crew for a reason.

The camera circles around behind the men who are, respectively, Executive Producer and Head of Security for PRIME, and the crowd roars, though not for them.

No, they're cheering for the metal walls in the back of the truck.

Back to ringside.

Nick: Is that a steel cage?

Eugene: UNFAIR!

Nick: Did C.P. Cantrell and Nigel Kensington just make the Hand-Legion match a steel cage match? Somewhere, Alexandra Pierce cannot be happy about this!

Eugene: Somewhere, neither is Eugene Ware. Oh, wait, by "somewhere," I mean, "here in a sweaty recliner chair next to a guy trying to be Dave Gibson."

Nick: "Sweaty"?

Eugene: Don't ask.

For an enemy of the Dead Man’s Hand it may not be the smartest thing to be walking the halls alone under normal circumstances, but with the escalation of events between Sin City and PRIME the risk is perhaps greater. None of that seems to stop King Blueberry from strolling through the hallways.

You could say that he looks rather clean for a man who just engaged in a battle of epic proportions with Mega Job and their pillow fort, but we will disavow any knowledge of such an event. We are the government, this is our UFO, and even Mulder and Scully wouldn’t be able to pry the truth out of us.

The King is mostly dressed to compete, his standard outfit complemented by a charcoal gray sweatshirt. Of note are his colors: an outfit once made up of blues and white is now colored in black, silver, and a rich violet.

"Serious Business" attire, he calls this.

Rounding a corner his eyes settle on Lindsay Troy, causing him to pause in his tracks. He reaches into the front pocket of his sweatshirt and removes a bottle of XXX Vitamin Water, taking a quick sip before replacing it.

Then he starts to sing to himself, to the tune of Suzanne Vega’s "Luka."

Blueberry: Her name is Lindsay; Something, something, something, war; I should go chat with her; First I’ll hit this guy with a door.

He extends his left arm, taking hold of the handle of a door. A soon-to-be unfortunate production assistant is walking down the hall, his eyes fixed intently on his clipboard. We could say he looks an awful lot like Larry (and by extension Bob and Roy), but Larry DOES NOT EXIST. Just think of Larry as if he were some magic dancing pants.

THWACK! Is the sound a door makes when it is opened into an unsuspecting production assistant, knocking him on his ass.

Door Victim "Larry": Ow! What the hell, man?

Blueberry: Sorry, dude. It was in the song.

The King continues on his path, though now the tune of "Luka" has been replaced by the melody of "Tom’s Diner".

Blueberry: She is standing by the table; And I’m singing Suzanne Vega; I will walk over to see her; God damn nothing rhymes with ‘vega’.

Do do do-do do da-do-do, do do do do-da-do-do.

It's then that he sees it: Lindsay is holding a Vitamin Water of her own, though this particular flavor is 'Power C'. His disdain is described in song. Suzanne Vega for the win.

Blueberry: She has a beverage; Power C is kind of bland; I will replace her drink; I think I'll slap it out of her hand.

If you hadn't noticed by now the lyrics have been more than a little prophetic.

King Blueberry gets himself a running start. At a distance of about 10 feet he drops to his knees, sliding the remainder of the distance, windmill slamming the drink from Troy's hand, and subsequently splashing neon liquid on the floor.

He reaches into the pocket of his sweatshirt once again, offering up a bottle of the XXX flavor. Under other circumstances this may very well be a commercial.

Under other circumstances the other person would not be Lindsay Troy, because the FCC would fine every station the commercial aired on due to the "colorful language" issue.

Lindsay Troy: What the shitfuck, man?! I was about to drink that!

Blueberry: But it's dragonfruit. Do you know what happens if you drink in too much dragonfruit?

King Blueberry quickly hops to his feet, dusting his knees off.

Blueberry: It summons Dragonforce, and they make you play 'Through the Fire and Flames' on Guitar Hero until your knuckles explode. Then Herman Li punches you in the neck. It's seriously not a good time. Besides, there are no blueberries in what you had, and it's my job to make sure that my berries are in every lovely lass I see.

The look and the silence is best described as "awkward".

Blueberry: Okay, so that wasn't supposed to sound overtly sexual.

The Queen folds her arms over her chest and frowns, scrunching her eyebrows together as hard as she can.

Lindsay Troy: And what's that supposed to do, stop the sniffles? At least the Dragonfruit was going to boost my power level over NINE THOUSAAAAAAND.

Blueberry: Oh, you don't even know. See, there's three things going on here: blueberries, pomegranate, and acai berries. Now acai berries are assholes, we admit that. They're all "we created the moonsault," but whatever.

You have no idea how bad I hope somebody gets that joke.

Blueberry: But the blueberries, they're the brains of the operation. They call upon the pomegranate to create a Voltron, a Devastator, a Megazord of awesome. Hell, pick whatever pop culture giant robot strike force you want. And then, later this evening…

His voice gets quiet, and he skirts the hallways with his eyes, wary of any potential onlookers.

Blueberry: They'll let you shoot lasers from your eyes at Desade. No bullshit.

Troy considers this tidbit for a moment. In all actuality, she's trying to determine if King Blueberry is equally or moreso insane than the ridiculous people she has to deal with in PRIME. Namely: Mega Job. So it's with great reluctance when she finally extends her hand and takes the offered bottle of purpley vitamin water.

I mean, shooting lasers from your eyes should be the dream of every warm-blooded American.

Lindsay Troy: It was still rude of you to Dwight Schrute me.

Blueberry: You're right, you're right.

There's a hint of contrition in his voice.

Blueberry: But it was kind of imperative I get your attention. All PRIME and SCCW nonsense out of the way, you're actually the one person I've wanted to talk to since this rage in the cage throw-down with Bobby Flay was booked.

King Blueberry is highly regarded as something of a goof, an art that he is proud to take to levels yet unsurpassed. There are moments, however rare, where this is not the case, and in those moments he can become quite serious.

This is one of them.

Blueberry: There's a certain, I don't know, call it a moral code that I live by. It prevents me from putting a hand on Alexandra Pierce, however bad I might want to. Fortunately, you can do that for me.

Lindsay Troy: I had one of those moral code things once. I think. And then I hiccuped.

Blueberry: That sounds more like gas.

Not to be derailed, he continues.

Blueberry: But in all honesty, I do have one small request. I know we've never met before, and I know the odds of us meeting again are slim, but still: unscrew her head from her neck.

Lindsay Troy: A request that I will take great pleasure in acquiescing.

She gives Blueberry a small smile, then unscrews the cap from the Vitamin Water and takes a sip.

Blueberry: When you do…

King Blueberry has been silly, jovial, and serious, so there is only one more step in the logical progression: borderline psychotic.

Blueberry: …make sure you smile.

Nick: Ladies and Gentlemen, we are about to witness one of the highly anticipated 'Champion Vs Champion' matches as SCCW's newly-crowned LiveWire Champion, King Blueberry, will square off one on one with PRIME's Intense Champion, Kaiser Vashaun! What a match it's likely to be!

Ware (rolling eyes): Gee, you're really good at these intro things. How much do they pay you?

Nick: Not enough.

Ware: If they gave you a pat on the back and a Hershey bar every week...it would be too much.

Nick: I'm going to ignore those comments and do what a commentator is supposed to do. Folks, whether you're a SCCW fan, or a follower of PRIME... or both...

Ware: Indecisive pricks!

Nick:... this match-up is huge. Not only is it a rare opportunity to see champion's from different feds square-off, but these are arguably two of the fasted rising superstars in all of PTC. King Blueberry, complete with unorthodox name and attire, has crashed into SCCW and turned a lot of heads in the Sin City. Many people are starting to mention the name of the Prince of Produce when they start talking about bonafide stars. Just last week on Temptation, he captured the LiveWire Title by emerging victorious in a crazy and highly-contested Windfall match.

Ware: Let me guess... "and Kaiser Vashaun"

Nick: And Kaiser Vashaun has arrived in PRIME with emphatic purpose. Calling himself 'The Next in Line' Kaiser set high expectations, but managed not to fall short. At Colossus V, in an epic battle, he outlasted Troy Douglas to capture the Intense Title. And since joining PRIME in April, Kaiser has never been pinned, and never been submitted, racking up a perfect singles record here in PRIME.

The crowd begins to buzz, as in the ring, Vince Howard lifts a microphone to his lips.

Howard: Ladies and Gentlemen, the following contest is a special 'Champion Vs Champion' match, featuring the SCCW LiveWire Champion, and the PRIME Intense Champion. It is scheduled for ONE FALL, with a twenty-minute time limit! Introducing first...

The lights in the arena go out, casting the building in complete darkness. Then the large, HD screen comes to life, a black and white image of a raging fire acting as the only light.


As the sounds of "Jackson, Mississippi" begin to play, a deafening, highly mixed reaction roars out from the crowd. SCCW supporters boo. Some PRIME fans cheer. Other PRIME fans who realize what a prick Kaiser Vashaun is, boo wildly. King Blueberry detractors (are there really any?) boo. It's quite the jumbled mess of responses.

Howard: he hails from Jackson, Mississippi...

When the heavy beat to the music kicks in, the screen is taken over by the black&white "KV" angel wing image, and Kaiser Vashaun emerges from the back, a white glowing spotlight highlighting his arrival.

Nick: There he is... looking as focused and intense as ever!

Howard:... weighing in tonight at 265lbs...


While making his way to the ring, the only light comes from the images on screen and the spotlight, which itself, blinks on and off, and fires from different locations in the arena. The result is an alternating image of compete darkness with that of Kaiser's journey occasionally being lit from above.


The spotlight captures every second or third step he takes, giving Kaiser the appearance of moving without being seen.


Once to the ring, Kaiser steps onto the ring apron and leans against the ropes. Standing under the spotlight, he bows his head, looking towards the ground for a moment. As the lyrics blast out "I FEEL LIKE JACKSON, MISSISSIPPI!", Kaiser quickly raises his head and fires his arms towards the rafters, roaring as the spotlight gives way to the arena lights which flicker rapidly, casting the ringside area in a white strobelight effect.

Howard:... he is PRIME's reigning Intense Champiiiooonnnn.... 'The Next in Line'... Kaaaiiissserrr Vashaaauuuunnnn!!!!

Nick: What an impressive physical specimen! And that championship belt around his waist lets you know that he's quite capable of perfectly utilizing every bit of his God-given strength and endurance.

Ware: But can he beat fruit royalty?

Nick: We're about to find out...

The strobe light of Kaiser's entrance gives way to gaudy blue and purple lights that flood the arena like the sky over a theme park on the Fourth of frickin' July. The Screen displays a giant cartoon blueberry, smiling and wearing a lopsided gold crown. A driving guitar rips through the building, pumping huge amounts of overdrive and feedback. Japanese vocals join in, which have been conveniently translated and appear at the bottom of the screen accompanied by a bouncing blueberry head, thumping along to the rhythm of the song.


# He #
# He is the man #
# A blueberry man #
# A man #
# Of #
# Strong #
# Blue #
# Berries #


Howard: And his opponent... making his way to the ring from The Blueberry Patch of Ultimate Justice Sometimes Known as ‘Parts Unknown’ he weighs in tonight at 127 pints. Accompanied by Blueberry Dragon and Vioent Jesus, he is the Duke of Delicious, the Prince of Produce, the Ambassador of Anti-Oxidants...

Nick: That's a helluva lot of nicknames.

Ware: It is.

Howard: He is the current SCCW LiveWire Champion... he is… KING BLUEBERRY!


Rock out to some drums. Do it. Don’t hold back now.


# GO! #
# GO FIGHTO! #
# Fighting berry face he is the king berry of blueberries #


Admittedly, it’s not a very good song as evidenced by the fuck-awful lyrics. Seriously, it’s almost as if they were written stream of consciousness.


Through the curtain steps the hero. For this occasion he is dressed in a blue and white singlet (shorts and tanktop style) with the same smiling blueberry as the SinScreen dead center chest. On each elbow and knee is a deep blue pad. His wrists and fingers are all taped white, and his feet are covered in blue and white Japanese style kickpads. The outfit just wouldn’t be complete with a blue lucha mask, adorned with a plush gold crown, and a sequined cape.


# GO! #
# GO FIGHTO! #
# Fighting berry face you make them bite the wax tadpole #


On the left he is flanked Violent Jesus. On the right he is flanked by Blueberry Dragon; a much smaller, scrawnier figure in plaid and khaki. He has his own mask, though in his case thick-rimmed glasses protrude from the eye slots.


# GO! #
# FIGHTO! #
# WIN! #


As the lights return to a state of normalcy, and the music dies down, the buzz of the fans grows. Each man stares down the other. Each Championship title is reflected in the surface of its counterpart.

Nick: We're just moments away from this. LiveWire Vs. Intense. SCCW Vs. PRIME.

Ware: Fruit Vs. Jackass.

In the center of the squared circle, the official collects each title belt, folding the straps behind center-plates and holding the championships up high, one in each hand. After the fans have had plenty of time to snap pictures of the moment, he walks the title belts over to the time-keeper and hands them off.

The sound of the bell accompanies his trip back towards the competitors

'DING! DING! DING'

Kaiser Vashaun charges forward, slamming his arm across the throat of King Blueberry.

And just like that... we're underway

Nick: The Next in Line wasting absolutely no time!

The King of blueberries hits the canvas like a sack of...potatoes? but Kaiser pulls him right back up and begins to fire off stiff right jabs, working his opponent toward the ropes. Once there, he sends The Prince of Produce across the ring and charges just two steps behind. Just as KB is bouncing off the cables, KV rotates 180 degrees and smashes his arm into the face of the LiveWire Champ.

Nick: Spinning back elbow!

Ware: If there was any doubt how Kaiser would react to facing a guy in a fruit-mask... this answers the question.

Nick: He's all business... knowing full well just how talented King Blueberry must be to possess the SCCW LiveWire Championship.

In firm control, Kaiser tucks King Blueberry away for a snap suplex. Up and over, he slams the SCCW superstar down, then holds his grip and rolls over... back to his feet. A second snap suplex follows, and again Kaiser keeps his grip, rolling into another. At the third attempt, however, things go wrong. The Prince of Produce slips his leg around the shin of The Next in Line, and blocks the upward momentum. Having halted the assault, King Blueberry turns the offense in his favor. Hooking Kaiser's right leg, he arches back, connecting with a suplex of his own... this own of the fisherman's variety. And just as The Intense Champion had done, the LiveWire Champion rolls through the move.

Nick: He's looking for the Shatterstorm!

And Kaiser knows it.

Slamming a fist into King Blueberry's stomach, Vashaun begins to pound away, causing separation between the two. Finally, KB's grip slips away and Kaiser takes full advantage, charging forward and clubbing the SCCW champ across the chest with an axe handle smash.

Ware: Jesus... that was ugly!

Nick: Kaiser's style can often be brutal and ugly. But no matter how crips or technical it may or may not look, it's effective. That's why he's undefeated in PRIME.

The Next in Line begins to stomp away on the body of King Blueberry, turning his torso shades of bruised blue that match his mask. Grabbing the fruity superstar by said mask, Kaiser picks him up in a press slam and drops KB throat-first across the top rope. As the Prince of Produce clutches at his neck, The Next in Line charges forward, looking to score with another clothesline. But the LiveWire Champion is a step ahead, dipping a shoulder and sending Kaiser crashing to the outside of the ring with a back body drop.

Nick: Just like that... the fortunes of the match turn around

Regaining his wits, Kaiser slams his hands on the mat in frustration before sliding back into the ring. No sooner is he through the ropes, then King Blueberry is rushing forward, delivering a mouth full of knee, courtesy of the 'Blue-saiku Knee Kick'. The force of the blow sends Kaiser slumping to the mat, and KB immediately goes for the cover.

Nick: Blue-saiku Knee Kick... and this one could be over already!

ONE

TWO

T...

Nick: Kick-out by Vashaun.

Ware: How 'intense' would it have been for King Blueberry to knock Kaiser out cold five minutes into this match?

As the Next in Line recovers, King Blueberry charges again, most likely looking for another Blue-saiku Knee kick, but this time, he ends up in the grips of Vashaun, who catches him mid-flight and crushes him to the mat with a spinebuster that leaves the ropes shaking for the next couple minutes.

"Oooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh"

The crowd deflates, as in the blink of an eye, Kaiser has killed all of the LiveWire Champion’s momentum.

Nick: What force! That spinebuster may have just broken half the bones in King Blueberry’s body!

Ware: Pretty sure blueberries don’t have bones.

Kaiser continues his assault, picking The Duke of Delicious and whipping him into the corner. Rushing in, Vashaun connects with a huge splash that makes a sandwich out of Blueberry. As the SCCW superstar stumbles out of the corner, Kaiser wraps his arms around his opponent’s torso and tosses him through the air with an overhead belly to belly suplex.

Nick: The PRIME Intense Champion has really asserted himself following that sudden spinebuster moments ago.

Ware: He’s been relentless ever since that impact, not giving King Blueberry even a second to breathe.

Nick: Pretty sure blueberries don’t have to breathe.

Ware: Funny guy.

In the squared circle, Kaiser kneels over The Prince of Produce and begins to slam his fist into the face of the LiveWire Champion, doing his damnedest to open up a gash across King Blueberry’s brow.

Nick: Kaiser wants to stain that blue mask with the sick crimson color of blood. And he’s looking to open him up with his bare hands.

Ware: Shades of Douglas/Vashaun from Colossus V.

After several seconds of knuckles bouncing off skull, Kaiser gives up on the effort of drawing blood, opting instead to grab his foe under the chin, stand him up, and with one hand, shove King Blueberry over the top rope to the unforgiving mats at ringside.

Dusting off his hands in the ring, as if he’s actually completed his task or something, Kaiser steps between the middle and top cables and joins King Blueberry outside the ring… his exit much more controlled and voluntary.

Nick: These two are now standing just a couple feet from us here at the announce table, and the fans in the front rows are getting an up-close-and-personally view of these two impressive champions.

Kaiser steps forward and fires off a field goal kick to the ribs of King Blueberry, causing the SCCW superstar to flip over to his back and clutch his ribs in agony.

With a moment to spare, Kaiser walks over to the timekeepers table and unceremoniously removes him from his seat, grabbing the steel chair and folding it in half. With a sick smile on his face, The Next in Line starts the slow march over towards King Blueberry.

Ware: What the hell is this?

Nick: It’s a steel chair. And I’m guessing he’s not going to offer Blueberry a seat.

Ware: Wait a minute… wait a minute… everything you’ve spouted off about this guy over the last few weeks, everything Kaiser has claimed himself… is that this guy doesn’t need weapons to be ‘intense’. So again I ask… what the hell is this?!

Nick: I can’t say for sure. Undoubtedly, Kaiser has prided himself on the fact that he is intense, not the weapons often associated with PRIME Intense title matches.

The referee seems as opposed to Kaiser’s intentions as Ware, sliding under the rope to step between the PRIME and SCCW competitors. His objection doesn’t impress Kaiser, however, who points to his waist, then to the championship belts sitting on the timekeeper’s table and shout’s

"I’m the Intense Champ. This shit is legal"

Ware: Is he making the rules up as he goes along?

Nick: He may have a point. You could argue that as a special ‘Champion Vs Champion’ match, a little bending of the rules should be allowed.

And whether or not the official agrees, Kaiser pushes past him and slams the chair down across the spine of King Blueberry, who had been in the process of pushing himself to his feet.

CRACK!

Nick: Good Lord! Did you hear that?

Vashaun tosses down the steel chair and again resumes an argument with the official. Finally tiring of the bickering, Kaiser turns and lifts King Blueberry to his feet. Dragging The Prince of Produce over towards the ring steps, The Intense Champion pulls back and attempts to slam King Blueberry’s head into the steel stairs, but Blueberry blocks the attack with his hands and drives an elbow into Kaiser’s gut.

Fortunes reversed, The Duke of Delicious grabs Vashaun’s head and throws him face first into the steel steps. Kaiser clutches at his face, complete with diamond pattern marks on his forehead, and while he tries to shake the blur from his vision, King Blueberry makes his way over to the same steel chair that had just crushed his spine seconds before.

Ware: I believe the term is ‘Payback’!

Vashaun turns around in time to see the approaching Prince of Produce and the weapon he brandishes.

This time, the referee doesn’t object… but Kaiser does.

As King Blueberry approaches, The Next in Line pulls the referee in front of him, points at the steel chair, and again can be heard twelve rows back screaming…

"No way! The steel chair is illegal!"

Ware: Are you KIDDING me?!

Nick: Wow…

Fans throughout the arena, PRIME or SCCW, begin to boo… not caring a bit for the hypocrisy.

And King Blueberry doesn’t seem to care for it either. Swinging up and over the much shorter referee, King Blueberry takes aim right at the top of Kaiser’s head.

There’s a moment of shock and panic that can be seen on Vashaun’s face, before instincts kick in and he jumps out of the way. The steel chair smacks against the ring post and falls to the mats.

Kaiser rushes forward and slams a forearm into the face of King Blueberry, then reaches down and grabs the chair, sliding it with force under the ring apron, far out of reach.

Ware: What a chicken shit!

Safe from potential retaliation with said weapon, Kaiser slides King Blueberry into the ring, following a step behind. With a fistful of mask, Vashaun picks up his opponent and slams his head into the face of Blueberry. Another headbutt follows. Then a third.

Nick: This is the intensity we’re used to seeing from Kaiser Vashaun.

The Next in Line wraps King Blueberry in a reverse DDT position then hoists him over, looking to connect with an inverted suplex, but King Blueberry gets his feet around took quick and is able to plant them firmly on the ground. The momentum carries the superstars through so that Kaiser is now locked up in position for a reverse DDT.

And the LiveWire Champion connects with it. Hooking a leg, the ref slides in position for the three-count.

ONE…


TWO…


TH…

Kaiser lifts his shoulder off the mat at two-and-a-half.

Blueberry goes straight back to work. Pick Kaiser up, he snaps away kick after kick, peppering Kaiser’s large frame with welts. Pushing Vashaun against the ropes, The Prince of Produce sends the PRIME superstar across the ring and catches him with a roaring elbow.

Ware: What a shot from the LiveWire Champ!

Nick: Kaiser Vashaun just got rocked!

The fans cheer as the match continues along, Blueberry now firmly in control, connecting with more strikes and a stiff DDT.

Nick: Kaiser Vashaun has got to find some way to turn the momentum back in his favor. We’ve well-crossed the ten minute mark, and we’re starting to near the end of that 20 minute time-limit.

King Blueberry shoves Kaiser into the corner and connects with a stiff right hook. Propping Vashaun up, legs straddling the top turnbuckle, King Blueberry begins to ascend the ropes.

Nick: What is he doing here?

Once to the top, The Duke of Delicious leaps into the air, wrapping his legs around the neck of Vashaun and flipping back, hurling Kaiser off the top rope and through the air.

Nick: A Hurricanranna off the top turnbuckle!

Ware: FYI… that’s the Frankenberry!

Nick: And it could be the end of this match…

ONE…


TWO…


THREE

Nick: No! Kaiser got a shoulder up at the last minute.

Blueberry attempts to stay on the offensive, but a low blow halts his assault. Doubling him over, Kaiser tucks the SCCW superstar away and flips him up, stamping him into the canvas with a huge sit-out powerbomb.

Nick: HUGE move from the Intense Champ!

The Next in Line hooks the leg.

ONE…


TWO…


THR…

And this time, it’s the King’s turn to kickout.

Kaiser is right back to work, once more tucking Blueberry’s head away, this time though, he hooks under both arms and lifts, them jumps in the air, spiking the blue-masked cranium into the mat with a double underhook piledriver.

Nick: The move Kaiser calls ‘The Greatest Trick!’

Again Kaiser makes the cover, hooking both legs.

ONE…



TWO…



THREE

Nick: No! He didn’t get it!

Ware: Blueberry found a way to peel a shoulder off the mat.

Kaiser objects, arguing with the ref, but all the cursing and threats in the world won’t turn two seconds into three.

Vashaun pulls King Blueberry to his feet and fires away, slugging his foe with a heavy fist. But Blueberry fires back.

Kaiser slugs away again.

Then Blueberry.

As the two continue to exchange punches, the diverse crowd joins in on the fun. As each man connects, his fans chant his initials.

THUMP

"KV"

THUMP

"KB"

THUMP

"KV"


THUMP

"KB"

THUMP

"KB"

THUMP

"KB"

Nick: King Blueberry has gotten the upperhand!

Ware: He’s out-slugged the Intense Champion!

The Prince of Produce grabs his opponent and snaps him overhead with a fisherman’s suplex. Rolling through, he connects with a second

Ware: Shatterstorm!

King Blueberry finishes off the three-point move with the ‘shrimp’, lifting for a third fisherman’s suplex but reversing the move halfway and planting Kaiser with a sit-down spinebuster.

Nick: And this time he connects with the full move!

King Blueberry hooks the leg and nods for the ref to make the count.

ONE…


TWO…


THR…

Nick: KICKOUT! HOW?!

Ware: I don’t believe what we’re seeing.

Nick: We are quickly approaching the 20 minute time-limit put on this match, and its showing. Both men have started emptying their move-sets, connecting with high risk and high impact… looking to score a pinfall with every big move they have!

Ware: But neither champion will stay down.

Nick: And if one of them can’t connect with something that will do the trick real soon… this match is going to end in a draw.

Kaiser and Blueberry both get to their feet at the same time and The Prince of Produce swings with a big left, but Vashaun sidesteps the SCCW star’s attack. Slipping behind his back, Kaiser locks in a Full Nelson and rips Blueberry off the canvas before throwing him back down with the full nelson slam.

Taking a deep breath, The Next in Line crawls across King Blueberry’s body, making the cover.

ONE…


TWO…


Nick: THREE!

Ware: No! AGAIN King Blueberry kicked out.

Nick: Neither of these men seem to be able to find what it will take to keep the other down. And they’ve been exchanging high impact moves back in forth in this highly competitive match. The type of moves that on any other night, would almost assuredly secure a victory.

As both men stand, The LiveWire Champion finds the strength to slam his knee into Kaiser’s gut. Shoving him back towards the corner, King Blueberry uses s suplex grip to lift Kaiser with an impressive show of strength and once again set him on across the top turnbuckle.

Nick: Here we go again.

Blueberry ascends the ropes himself. Once up top, he attempts a superplex, but Kaiser blocks it.

Slamming a fist into Blueberry’s stomach and knocking the Prince of Produce down to the second rope, Vashaun attempts to position Blueberry for some sort of super-piledriver. But this time it is the SCCW superstar who reverses momentum. Pulling free, King Blueberry reaches up and locks his arm under Kaiser’s chin, leaping off the second rope, bringing the PRIME superstar along for the ride.

Nick: OH MY GOD! A top rope… cutter. It was like a super-diamond cutter!

Ware: What an impact!

Somehow, King Blueberry has the presence of mind to lean over and put his body across Kaisers.

ONE…


TWO…


THRE…..

The crowd explodes, unable to believe that this match will continue.

Nick: Still… these two men will fight on! And we are now dangerously close to the 20 minute time-limit!

King Blueberry is the first to his feet. Kaiser follows just a second behind, and as both men reach a standing position, The Prince of Produce delivers a stiff kick to the chest of PRIME's Intense Champion. Grabbing his arm, King Blueberry irish whips Vashaun across the ring and takes off for the opposite set of ropes.

Nick: Wait a minute...

The LiveWire Champ comes bounding towards his opponent, crouching low and spinning a full revolution, scraping his knuckles across the canvas. As he explodes upward, out of the spin, King Blueberry extends his arm. But The Next in Line anticipates the signature move, and as LiveWire champ charges upward, the Intense Champion heads downward, ducking low.

Nick: Kaiser saw it coming! He saw the Knuckle-dragger lariat coming!

The Duke of Delicious turns around, but it's too late. Kaiser is waiting, delivering an ugly, but effective, kick to the gut. As King Blueberry starts to double over, The Next in Line dips a shoulder into his stomach and hoists him into the air.

Ware: He's got him up on the shoulders in the fireman's carry...

Immediately, thousands of fans, all of them on their feet, fill the arena with a roar... anticipating what's next.

Kaiser pushes the LiveWire Champ's legs up and out, spinning him around. Keeping his arm around King Blueberry's neck, The Next in Line spikes the skull of his SCCW counterpart into the canvas with a spin-out DDT.

Nick: WEIGHT OF THE WORLD! Kaiser nailed it!

In the ring, the Intense Champion rolls over the lifeless body of the Prince of Produce and hooks the leg. The official slides in place to make the count...

ONE



TWO



THREE!

Nick: It's over!

'DING! DING! DING!"

Winner: Kaiser Vashaun

Nick: Unbelievable match!

Ware: The Duke of Delicious just got planted.

Kaiser lifts up, first resting on his knees, as "Jackson, Mississippi" begins to play. Then, with a couple labored breaths, he rises to his feet. From ringside, the official retrieves the PRIME Intense Championship.

Nick: What a battle! Two of PTC's fastest rising superstars just went toe to toe! Either man could have walked out of here tonight victorious. It was that close...

In the squared circle, the referee hands Kaiser his title belt, which the PRIME superstar proceeds to hold high over his head, just briefly, before exhaustion drops his arm back to his side.

Vince Howard: Ladies and Gentlemen... your winner of the match... Kaaaiiissseeerrrr Vashaaauuuuunnnnn!!!

Nick: What a treat it was to witness this rare 'Champion Vs Champion' encounter. And in a match that went back and forth up till the very last seconds of the match. We were just moments away from a 20 minute time-limit draw!

Ware: Definitely something you don't get many opportunities to see

As Kaiser Vashaun rolls under the bottom rope, King Blueberry begins to stir and pull himself to his feet. The fans in attendance applaude the efforts of The Duke of Delicious.

Nick: What a match! What a night it's been. And we've still got a HUGE double-main event to come!

In front of the PRIME faithful, Kaiser Vashaun slowly walks up the aisle... for the first time in his career... a joureny he makes with the sound of cheers to accompany him on his way.

Nick: So, wait, what's this next thing?

Eugene: Oh! Oh! That's Peer Pressure.

Nick: I'm guessing it's not an anti-smoking public service announcement.

Eugene: Only if he's talking about BloodAngel. TO THE BACK!

Hear that? That's some dramatic music, isn't it? Listen to those drums! And those violins! It's like it's the nightly news! The voiceover guy is all deep-voiced and thunderous.

Announcer (VO): LIVE! From the backstage area in whatever Podunk arena we're in this week! STV and SCCW proudly bring to you... PEER PRESSURE!

Remember last week on Temptation where these two assholes were sitting in director's chairs and they ran down everything in SCCW? Yeah, it's just like that. The guy on the left with the honey-brown hair in blue jeans and a black "PHS = LIFE" t-shirt would be the Raja of Roguishness, the Sovereign of the Sport, the King of Swing, the Whatever Obnoxious Nickname He Thinks of This Week, Hunter Sabuani. As for the vivacious strawberry blonde seated next to him in the oh-god-how-does-she-get-them-on leather pants and the spaghetti-stringed wifebeater? That would be his ex-wife, Miss Madison Sinclair. Whether they're back together or not is... kind of completely obvious.

Peerless Hunter Sabuani (PHS): Hey, folks, welcome back to Peer Pressure, where we bring the straightest dope this side of Simon Knox. My name is Peerless Hunter Sabuani, and I've slept with half of the Dead Man's Hand and am still breathing.

Miss Madison (Madi): And I'm Miss Madison, and... I'm not sure that guy's straight.

PHS: We are very excited --

Madi leans in, whispering quite loudly.

Madi: Not to mention a little surprised.

PHS: That Rupert Giles asked us back to Temptation to deliver our own spin on things here at Temptation.

Madi: Cataclysm.

PHS: What's the difference?

Madi: There are PRIME guys in attendance.

PHS: You just shouted that again. And is that what the smell is? I don't see why we couldn't have called this the Tempting of PRIME, or the Revolting of Sin City. Because I hear that's what they do. Revolt us, I mean.

Madi: I have heard that, yeah. For those of you who don't know who we are --

Big, over-done eyeroll from the non-Union-Jack Sovereign.

PHS: You take "idiot" to an almost artistic level.

Madi: I was going to say that you were a former two-time World Champion and the man who beat Jakob McKail for the Infinite Gauntlet.

PHS: Trouble is, that would lead to a mention that Chris Storm beat me, and that might be the most embarrassing loss of my career, and I once got pinned by a midget.

Madi: I don't know how many times I have to tell you: Hyuk Suh Kim is not a midget.

File that away in the "joke three people will get" category. None of those three people are here in Boston, apparently.

PHS: So I've been roving the halls, because apparently, C.P. Cantrell and Dr Who are not actually interested in ratings by having me wrestle. I've been roving the halls and I saw some of these PRIME guys.

Madi: I'm trying to avoid the women's locker room, because Lindsay Troy is the next best thing to Godzilla with boobs.

PHS: She has boobs? What I was going to say was I'm not really impressed.

Madi: With her boobs or in general? Because I really think we all expected you to be blown away.

PHS: Eh, I've seen bigger ones. A couple are sitting right next to me, attached to your chest.

Madi: I meant with PRIME, you perv.

PHS: Yeah, I wanted to see how far we could stretch the boob jokes. Nah, I'm usually such a lover of all things that are, y'know, things. And other than snagging some incredible pineapple from some thin dweeb, I mean, I don't get all the hoopla. The hubbub. The... what's another lame word for excitement?

He gives a look towards the Babe, who purses those lips -- mmm, lips.

Madi: Hullabaloo?

PHS: Good one. I mean, they have an Intense Champion. Does that mean he practices glaring? Maybe breathes heavily? And the guy is this big German guy and you know how the Germans are about being intense, but, still, to give him a --

Madi: Hunter.

PHS: What? I'm not saying anything bad about the Kaisers, just that they're kind of... intense. (adopting a bad German accent) I vill take mein challengers to ze ovens! I vill --

Madison looks hurriedly at Sabuani, whose arms are gesticulating and waving through the air.

Madi: Babe... he's not German.

PHS: Crush them under ze fury of mein... (back to normal) Wait, what?

Madi: Not German. I think he's from Mississippi.

PHS: So... the opposite of German, then. Bet he still hates Damon Hayes because of it.

If you get that, it's definitely worthy of an "OOOOOOOOOOOOOH!"

Madi: And he's facing the LiveWire Champion next.

PHS: Not-a-German vs. Not-a-Berry. With you now. So he's really the LiveWire Champion, huh? That wasn't just an illusion?

The Babe shakes her head slightly, almost regretfully.

Madi: It would appear so. Though he won it when Jadian Bridden hit Charlotte Ramone, and given what happened at the end of the show, you've gotta wonder if it was a gift.

PHS: Nah, I just wonder if Jadian Bridden is stupid. (pause) Hang on, the judges are saying I'm right!

Madi: Except for the Russian Judge.

PHS: Wait, so Kaiser is Russian? I'm confused.

Oh, sigh with us, America. You know you want to.

Madi: So is Team V.I.A.G.R.A.

PHS: You are the Señorita of Segues!

Madi half-bows in the chair, drawing both hands out.

Madi: I try.

PHS: Wait, so Pfizer is actually sponsoring a tag team?

Madi: Not... as such. It's an acronym. For something.

PHS: Why would you name yourself V.I.A.G.R.A.? I thought wrestlers were all, you know, virile.

Madi: Well, I wouldn't name myself anything but Madison.

PHS: How about "The Hotness"?

Madi: Okay, that's a valid option. They probably think it's funny.

PHS: I don't... don't do funny.

A significant look to the camera from the Babe comes with a secret smile.

Madi: I think we're all aware of that.

PHS: Here's what I don't get.

She leans back in the chair, shaking her head once again. It's like she's a bobblehead doll.

Madi: Uh-oh. No conversation with you has ever ended well after that sentence.

PHS: I know, but, okay, I get that he's a big badass or, you know, whatever, but what's with the name "Dusk"?

Madi: You realize you just said his name out loud.

PHS: I know, but it's been bothering me.

Madi: But... you just said his name. Out loud. Haven't you ever seen Candyman?

PHS: You know that scary movies give me the willies.

An intern in charcoal gray jeans and a red-and-black SCCW polo shirt slips into frame. She whispers in Madison's ear for a moment; the Babe We Wanna Bang's blue-gray eyes widen.

Madi: Oh, no.

PHS: Like a conversation with you ever goes well after that.

Madi: I'm being told we just earned an honorary PRIME badge for making fun of Dusk. All we have to do now is say that Tony Gamble is short and imply that Chandler Tsonda is gay and we're officially members of the --

PHS: But you just did that.

Madi: No, I take it back! You can't take me there! I won't go! I'd have to... do things.

PHS: You mean they pimp out their girls? No wonder the only girl of note is Troy. I've heard people like the big girls.

Madi: Some guys like the threat of a face-killing. But before we go, there's one more subject we have to talk about.

Hunter squinches his eyes shut, shuddering in his chair.

PHS: Is it Wade Elliott? Please don't let it be Wade Elliott. I'd have to understand what he's saying.

Madi: There's a handy-dandy Elliott-to-English Dictionary available at PRIME shows, I hear. We could get you one on eBay!

A succinct nod from the former Infinite Gauntlet Champion.

PHS: Okay, deal. What was it we were going to talk about?

Madi: Xavier and Eleanor Kannon are, according to the blurb I read while having coffee this morning, the First Couple of Wrestling.

PHS: Wait, what?

Madi: I could be wrong, you know how I am before my morning coffee.

PHS: Whiny and emo like that Shakur guy, sure.

Madi: You didn't have to say so!

PHS: I'm just saying that the solutions to his problems start with him getting off the Sanka.

Madi: Who knew that a trip to Starbucks could save the world from a whiner.

A grave nod from the Raja, before he leans forward, all super serial.

PHS: But Xavier and Eleanor Kannon can't be the First Couple of Wrestling. That's our job.

Madi: To be precise, we're not really a couple anymore.

PHS: Just a technicality. I overrule their decision to be the first. They can be the Second. Maybe the First-and-a-half -- nah, we'll give them First-and-a-Quarter. They are the First-Plus-Some Couple of Wrestling.

Madi: You know what they'd say if you told them that straight-up, right?

He stops for a moment. You know, to consider things and stuff.

PHS: "Praise Old Mother Hubbard, your midi-clorian count is higher than anyone I've ever encountered"?

Madi: They call them, "Engrams".

PHS: Oh. Totally different. I still say all the Scientologists are Jedi. Like, can you imagine Tom Cruise being all, "Jason Dohring, I am your father."

Madi: Who's Jason Dohring?

No, we're not above ganking other people's jokes. Taptaptap, he taps his lips. Still considering possible Kannon-isms.

PHS: How about, "Thank you so much for heroically saving our little buddy Aimz from dying or something at the hands of Lance Marshall"?

Madi: How did you do that?

PHS: I pinned Elliott Rollins, remember?

Madi: No, I don't.

PHS: You want me to show the footage again?

Madi: I heard Sean Sterling said he'd punch the technicians if they did.

PHS: Well, then, obviously, I can't do that. I don't want to get punched in the face by Sean Sterling.

Madi: I doubt anyone does. That is truly a fate worse than death.

They're both grinning brightly. So, so brightly.

PHS: On that note, we're gonna go totally take the rest of the night off and not get involved in any match on the card.

Madi: Not a one!

PHS: Join us next week, where our guests will be Tyler Rayne's balls, who we're getting for cheap, since I hear they're not doing much right now.

Madi: Except for sticking it to Lindsay Troy -- which you so know they are.

PHS: For Madison Sinclair, who is easily three times as hot and four times as not-in-a-coma as Angelica Brooks, I'm the Prince of Puissance, Hunter Sabuani, reminding you that we are what we say we are.

Madi: Without Equal...

PHS: And Without Mercy, because this is just another Perfect Ending...

Madi: To a Sublime Day. Good night, Boston, and go D-Rays!

To say the fans are booing as we cut away from these two assholes? That would be an understatement.

Nick: Good Lord, how do you guys put up with them?

Eugene: We lavish them with gifts.

And now, for a brief interlude, which will be calm and relaxing. There will be no raised voices here, no violence, and certainly no profanity. Just two grown adults, discussing things in a rational manner.

Bwahahaha.

Our scene opens on one of the many hallways backstage at the TD Banknorth Garden. Interesting things tend to happen back here. We know one's about to happen, because of the man who's standing there right now. Also, because of another man who's going to show up any second.

That man (the one who's already there) is none other than former LiveWire champion and one-man Moral Majority, "The False Prophet" Wyatt Connors. His match tonight has long been finished, giving him ample time to shower and dress. Now, squeaky-clean, he paces back and forth across a section of a few feet, obviously waiting for something.

And down the hallway, smoke wreathing his head like a halo of cancer comes the large and mildly beaten form of Edward Lambert, the BloodAngel. He draws up near Wyatt, spits the latest cigarette out from between his teeth and levels a damning finger at his former tag team partner. More importantly, at his former tag team partners hair.

BA: What the goddamned fuck is wrong with you Wyatt? I know you are a shifty bastard who is never up to any fucking good even while asleep, but this sir, this is just fucking stupid.

Connors: Oh, come now, Brother Edward. Can't we celebrate our recent victory and the glory of the Lord without petty recriminations? Tell you what. I'll say a prayer for us. Especially you.

Edward Lambert towers over Wyatt Connors both in size, and in bulk. He also doesn't at all like the guy, that much should be obvious.

BA: I asked you a question Wyatt. I'd really like an answer that isn't wrapped in a mystery and surrounded in enigma. What, the goddamned fuck, is wrong with you? I know you are a snake oil salesmen, but where did that monstrosity come from?

Edward points again at the hair on Wyatt's head.

Connors: That's hardly necessary, Brother Edward. I don't make fun of your lung.

The cigarette that Edward had pulled out of his freshly opened pack pauses half way towards his mouth before continuing it's journey to fiery doom.

BA: Fuck you in the ear Wyatt. Explain yourself.

Connors: What's to explain? I have found salvation, and wish nothing more to bring that same salvation to others. And of course, to gain glory in His name.

BA: Explain the hair, the language, the kidnapping of people and brainwashing them just like an old friend of mine once did.

Edward smiles and leans forward.

BA: And explain the fucking Kool-Aid on your shirt.

Sure enough, the front of Wyatt's shirt has a red stain on it. It matches the red in his face.

Connors: Brother Edward, I will not stand here and have you insult the Lord's work! Accusing me, a duly appointed representative of God, of engaging in illegal activities and sinful dealings? Oh, the shame! The palpable, pal--

BA: Yes, the shame, the Palpable, Palpable Shame.

Edward leans down until he and Wyatt are nose to nose.

BA: Explain to me all about the Palpable shame. Please explain it to me... in detail.

Connors: There are those who have heard the words that grant salvation. They are the words that I have spoken, and were spoken by he who came before me. They heard, they understood, and they ignored. Now, they are doomed to spend eternity in the lake of fire. Their arrogance, their pride, their distrustfulness caused them to turn away from the message, and even though heaven was once within their grasp, they now find it forever out of reach. In every city we go, I am surrounded by people who refuse to be saved. Thousands of them. Millions of them. I try to reach them, and I cannot.

BA: I said...

Connors: THAT IS THE SHAME, EDWARD LAMBERT. To know that I carry the divine message that nobody wishes to hear. I refuse to feel that shame, Brother Edward. If the miserable heathens will not accept God's love, then I will force it upon them.

Edward stares at Wyatt, almost as if he had grown a second head.

BA: You are about as batshit insane as Ibrahim Seck ever was.

Connors: BLASPHEMY!

Wyatt's face flashes red with anger, and now he throws a finger into the face of the much larger Edward Lambert.

Connors: YOU DO NOT TAKE HIS NAME IN VAIN!

Edward strikes like a mongoose attacking a cobra knocking the hand away with his left, and grabbing Wyatt by the throat with his right.

BA: Fuck Ibrahim Fucking Seck. Fuck him right in the ear with big purple rubber penis, then break it off, and beat him to death with what is left. Ibrahim Seck is a charlatan, a jackass, a liar, and a fucking maniac.

Edward shakes Wyatt, hard enough to audibly rattle his teeth.

BA: And Wyatt, just in case you didn't get the message. Fuck you too.

Connors: I pity you, Edward. Your stubbornness has damned not just you, but everyone you care about. Your wife, your sons will burn with you--

If you look back about five feet, you'll see a line marked "too far."

Edward Lambert is a man known for his anger and violent streak, in fact, it's pretty much what he's built his entire life on, that and bleeding on command. Threatening him brings it out. Threatening his wife brings it out. However threatening his sons, either of them, will bring out a murderous streak in him. With barely a flicker on his face he smashes Wyatt Connors face first into the concrete wall beside him with as much force as he can.

BA: Do not.

SMASH

BA: Ever

SMASH!

BA: Threaten

SMASH!

BA: My

SMASH!

BA: FAMILY!

After the repeated impacts of face and wall, Edward drops Wyatt before him and delivers a simple perfunctory kick to the kidney.

BA: Do you fucking understand me?

Wyatt looks back up at his assailant, blood pouring out of his nose and forehead. He spits something out--a fragment of tooth probably, and grins. More blood trickles out of his mouth as he speaks.

Connors: Mark these words, Edward. Someday, you will prostrate yourself before me, and you will BEG me for salvation. And when you do, I...

Connors' lips curl into a smile. The wolf in shepherd's clothing.

Connors: ...I will grant it.

Lambert takes another menacing step before the fallen False Prophet, but before he can get there...

"Master!"

...the smaller man is grabbed by a much bigger man--the six-foot, three-hundred-pound Caravan. In one swift motion--much swifter than a man that size should be capable of--Caravan lifts Connors over his shoulder and bolts down the hall. As they make their escape, Wyatt's voice trails off behind them.

Connors: I'm sorry I couldn't save your soul tonight, but hey--one out of two ain't bad!

Edward stares down the hallway, the anger and rage still visibly on his face. Then he growls one word and stalks off following the fleeing Wyatt.

BA: Basement.

Nick: Ladies and gentlemen, it's now time for the first of our double main event. Universal Champion vs. Universal Champion.

Eugene: Tits vs. balls.

Nick: Y...uh...anyway, we're just seconds away from Amy Campbell and Chandler Tsonda, right here in this ring. A dream match, ready to come true live here tonight!

The lights in the arena go out and a roar rises up from the Boston crowd. The only light comes from the faint hum of the video screen, which seems to grow brighter in the darkness.

A low hum begins, drowned out by the din of the crowd. But when words echo over the PA, they're heard loud and clear.

I said ‘kiss me, you’re beautiful
These are truly the last days

With that, "Dead Flag Blues" transitions to "Welcome Home" and Coheed & Cambria assists the crowd in blowing the roof off the Garden. The screen, now glowing full-blown white, pulses with the opening acoustic tones of a song known more commonly as "that one from Rock Band".

As the first scorching guitar riff kicks in, the screen’s pulse turns into an unwavering image. In black letters on the bright white background: MODEL CITIZEN. After ten seconds of guitar freakout, green and silver pyro illuminate the rest of the stage. Four big shots, like rounds of a cannon, go off one after another.

In the ensuing smoke, green and white lasers cut across the stage. That's right, everyone, he's Glacier-ing this shit. Amidst the barrage of awesome on everyone's poor eyes, the form of Chandler Tsonda can be made out. He stands at the entrance, looking all epic-like tucked behind curls of smoke, arms folded across his chest. At first sight of him, the crowd lets out a mighty pop.

WHOOOOOOOOO!

After a requisite pause for the photo op, the PRIME Universal Champion steps out of the mist, trailing a cloud behind him as he starts down the ramp.

You could have been all I wanted
But you weren’t honest: now get in the ground

The Model Citizen slaps a few hands, but keeps walking at a good pace toward the ring. He slides in quickly and hops up, shifting his neck from side to side and shadowboxing as he talks things over with Bernie Roberts, the PRIME official assigned to the match. He presents his belt, then retreats to a corner to roll out his shoulders while CoCa dies off.

Nick: Big night for Tsonda...one of his biggest since winning the Universal Title last month at Colossus V.

Eugene: Yeah, a month and a half of rest. Meanwhile Aimz comes in off the biggest match of her career, when she put Jon Rhine out for good.

Nick: Are you already offering disclaimers?

Eugene: Hey, I don't speak for the champ. I'm just saying.

"Crashing Around You" by Machine Head kicks in and, despite the loud and proud cheers of the devoted SCCW loyalists, the reaction is largely negative. Amy Campbell doesn't give them time to simmer before bursting forth from the curtain. The belt is already off her waist and she hoists it to the sky as red spotlights frame the scene.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

With a disgusted sneer, Aimz lowers the belt and stalks down the ramp. The red spotlight follows her down the ramp, casting just the right shadows. She doesn't look at Tsonda, or Bernie Roberts, or anything for that matter. None of this could be half as important as what she'd done just last week. But that didn't mean she wasn't focused. It just means she doesn't care.

Your world comes crashing around you
Smashes down around you
When will you see that you cannot hide from me?

Campbell rolls under the bottom rope, sliding to her feet with the sneer and the cold stare remaining. She immediately steps up on the nearest turnbuckle, raising her belt yet again to antagonize the crowd. They respond in kind with an escalated chorus of boos, amongst other, less-appropriate catcalls. She steps down and turns toward Bernie Roberts, saying something unintelligible to the PRIME referee before shoving the belt in his hands.

Eugene: Who'd ya'll bribe to get one of your guys on this one?

Nick: Bernie was negotiated by both sides. He's been in PRIME for years - including Amy's tenure there earlier this decade. They know each other well enough and have the kind of history that he can be impartial.

Eugene: That the party line?

Nick: We don't have a "party line", thanks.

Eugene: Maybe that's your problem.

Bernie hands both belts to the timekeeper and finishes his boot-and-equipment check on Campbell. With a short signal to both, and two nods in return, he calls for the bell.

Nick: Here we go, champ vs. champ!

Eugene: THE BATTLE FOR ULTIMATE SUPREMACY!

Nick: Well, that might be a bit too far.

Eugene: What, cold feet?

Nick: Well, are you cool putting that much pressure on your own champion?

Eugene: What the hell do I care? We don't talk much.

Nick: Maybe that's your problem.

The two circle each other cautiously, dragging feet and squaring shoulders. Both are known for explosive attack plans, but neither seem particularly ready to break out the C4 quite yet. It's a marathon battle between sprinters, so you don't have to kick it into gear yet. Right now it's a game of chicken.

Tsonda steps in for a lockup, and Aimz mirrors him. The two lunge forward for the standard collar-and-elbow, but Aimz drops her elbow and throws a short hook, stunning Tsonda and simultaneously scolding him for being too trusting. The Model Citizen stumbles back and Campbell pursues, hitting him with some forearms to keep him backing up.

Nick: The SCCW champ is jumping out to the early advantage here...

Eugene: Early and often, sucka.

Nick: What does that even mean?

Eugene: It's too complicated for you simple PRIME-ates...

Nick: ...you've been sitting on that one for a while, huh?

Eugene: Seriously like two years.

Chandler's back hits the ropes and the pressure stays on him, as she continues to lay into him. Putting a foot on the middle rope, Aimz pushes up and swings her opposite knee to catch the Viet Viper under the chin.

As Campbell lands on her feet, she grabs Chandler's arm. A quick push and he's Irish whipped across the ring. On the rebound, Amy drops to the mat and forces Tsonda to skip over her mid-stride. She pops back up as he hits the original cables and transitions all the way to a picture-perfect dropkick. Tsonda hits the mat hard but rolls back to his feet immediately, where Aimz is waiting with a second dropkick.

Eugene: Thatta girl, take it to him!

Nick: Are you really that big of an Aimz fan?

Eugene: I'm a professional, thankyouverymuch. I get paid to sell the Sinners.

Nick: Objectivity be damned, huh?

Eugene: Nick, I'm ashamed that in this day and age, with Aimz holding a world title and Sarah Palin thisclose to being the next vice president of the US, that you'd refer to women as objects.

Nick: Eugene, I'm ashamed that in this day and age, men like you find a job in television.

Eugene: Talk to your reality-honcho boss for that one...

Tsonda gets up a third time, but as he does, he leans his weight back slightly, attempting to dodge a third dropkick - because everyone knows that dropkicks come in threes. Trouble is, Aimz is part of "everyone." So she knows, and she knows that Chandler Tsonda knows. When he hops up and leans back, she hesitates on hopping back up herself, instead staying in a crouched position. Dropping to a knee, she slides to the side and sweeps the PRIME champ's legs, lucha-style.

Instead of going for the fall in lucha fashion, she immediately stands and spins, jumping into the air with a short standing moonsault. She's lucky it's a short one, too, because Tsonda's long gone when she hits the mat. When she faceplants, she doesn't have much time to react before he's on her with a side headlock, immediately slowing the pace to something more his preference.

Nick: And now PRIME's champ gets his licks in and tries to get this under control.

Eugene: Isn't he supposed to be the spotmonkey, too? What's with the rest holds?

Nick: Tsonda's been more of a mat worker during his recent run at the top in PRIME. He can still fly, but he's doing less andless of it - I think he realizes that the style takes a lot out of you, and he's planning long-term.

Eugene: Is that a shot at Amy?

Nick: What? No!

Eugene: It sounded like one, since she still works high and fast, you know.

Nick: Wait...was THAT a shot at Amy?

Eugene: ...maybe.

Campbell rolls away from the side headlock but Tsonda follows, transitioning to an amateur-style front headlock to keep her grounded. It's not that he couldn't hang in there with SCCW's Universal Champion when it comes to high-paced aerial affairs. It's just that he didn't necessarily WANT to. I mean, what's the point of switching your style up when you go back to the old standard in the big matches? You need to give it a chance to watch the money pile up.

Nick: Nice job staying in control there by the Model Citizen.

He clinches the hold tighter, but Aimz sits out, keeping his arm as she spins into wristlock. As she rolls through, Tsonda moves with her, rolling forward all the way to a back neck bridge before spinning quickly to reverse the hold. She's caught off guard and pulled back to the mat as Chandler moves to a mounted position and switches his wristlock to a hammerlock.

From there, he quickly hops forward and re-applies his side headlock, keeping the Red Raver grounded. She's not about to let him settle in, though, and contorts her body to swing the legs up and wrap around Tsonda's opposite shoulder. Aimz rolls backward, taking Tsonda with her in a crucifix pinning maneuver.

Nick: Reversal by Aimz! She's no slouch on the mat either!

Eugene: Was that-

Nick: Just shut up and let me call the action.

Unfortunately, it's too loose a cradle variation to keep a man tied up this early in the game. Tsonda kicks both legs into the air as he's rolled back, and the added momentum sends him all the way back and over until he lands on his knees. He still has Campbell's head, and with her legs tied up at his shoulder, it leaves her in a makeshift fireman's carry position. With a swivel, Chandler throws the legs off and finishes the carry, dumping Aimz in front of him in a seated position. From there, he quickly applies a rear chinlock to once again keep the pace relatively...moderate.

Eugene: OHMYGODI'MSOBORED.

Nick: Folks, sorry if my partner doesn't appreciate the finer points of wrestling, but-

Eugene: Wrestling schmestling. This is like tuning into the X Games and getting tennis instead.

Once again, Aimz keeps herself moving to counteract Chandler's downtempo approach. The Model Citizen cranks on the chinlock, but she's quickly to a knee, then to her feet despite his best efforts. A few elbows to the midsection give her space and lower body control, with which she quickly backs him up against the ropes. With a push, Tsonda is once again running across the ring.

Nick: Amy broke free of the chain wrestling - let's see if she can get the pace back up to keep Tsonda out of whack.

This time, he's more in control than he was previously, so once he crosses mid-ring he leaps forward into a handspring, bouncing off the ropes head-over-heels and coming back at Amy with a flying back elbow. She sidesteps the move and he falls to his back, but lands nimbly enough to flow the fall into a backward roll. The Viet Viper lands in a crouched position not far from where he started, but has no time to regain his bearings before Aimz rushes him, steps off one knee and rocks him with a Shining Wizard!

Tsonda topples back to his hands and knees, grabbing at his jaw and trying to clear his head. Amy watches him rise slowly, then takes a few bounding steps to the nearest ropes, leaping up on the middle one quebrada-style and then jumping backwards. She grabs Tsonda's head and swings her legs around his body, using the pendulum momentum to spin both of them to the mat and finish off a tornado DDT.

Nick: Big high impact move there! Tsonda's not going to have a choice - you can't win a marathon if the other guy's running a sprint!

Chandler isn't as quick to get up this time, and Campbell takes advantage, bouncing up and returning to the same ropes for the same quebrada jump, except this time she finishes it up as God and El Santo intended it, crashing across the chest of the Model Citizen with a moonsault. From there, she hooks the leg and calls for our first pin attempt of the match.

ONE!

TWO!

NO!

A double-legged kickout lets everyone know that the PRIME Universal Champion does not intend to go down so lightly. Once free of the cover, he struggles to get back to his feet, an endeavour made that much more difficult by Amy Campbell kicking the shit out of his ribs.

Eugene: Damn, dawg, I can feel those kicks from here. Normally you have to pay to get that kind of treatment.

He grabs the rops to assist the climb, and as he rises, the kicks turn into a flurry of knees and elbows - speed shots instead of power shots, emphasizing impact over damage. The storm forces Tsonda to cover up and stalls his chance to get his bearings. Finally he elects for a more ultilitarian strategy, abandoning defense and letting her land a few good, clean shots as he straightens himself all the way up. Then a well-timed back elbow catches her on the jaw as she's reeling back for a forearm. Aimz stumbles backward and Tsonda leans on the ropes for just a second more, taking a deep breath and getting himself back into this one.

Campbell rubs her jaw and spins back toward Tsonda. It didn't so much hurt her as stun her. But as she turns back, she realizes that it had another purpose - putting distance between them. The mule kick from the Viet Viper catches her right in the middle of the elaborate artwork along her collarbone and floors her instantly. Coughing a bit from the impact, she backs into the ropes herself. Chandler doesn't pursue, but instead opts to take a moment and recover himself.

Nick: You can see what the pace of this match is doing to both of them. They're blowing up quicker, and they need more time to recover between moves.

Eugene: This isn't the high-emotion grudge match that Amy had with Jon Rhine or Tsonda had with Devin Shakur, Nick. I doubt either of these two prepared to be going at it tooth and nail. This is an arms race - this is about pulling the big guns and trying to keep the other person down, no matter what happens to you along the way.

Crawling all the way back into the turnbuckle, Amy yanks herself back to her feet. Watching her in his periphery, Chandler turns away from the cables himself, and the two champions lock eyes. Then they charge.

Nick: Here we go again!

Flashbulbs pop all across the Garden as Chandler Tsonda and Amy Campbell meet mid-ring and lay into each other with wild shots. Neither is much of a striker by trade, but they know how to throw when needed. Back and forth, back and forth as each one takes their best shot, then courteously allows the other to take theirs. Maybe it's not courtesy; maybe it's just the moment of loading up for your own next shot. Either way, the two fall into a nice rhythm before Aimz casually slips a thumb to the eyes in there.

Nick: Come on!

Eugene: It was an accident!

Nick: An awfully well-timed accident, I think.

Eugene: Duh. No one times accidents.

Tsonda backs away in pain and Bernie Roberts steps in to chide the Red Raver. She only takes a moment to defend it as a slip before going right at the PRIME official for favoritism. Before Bernie can deploy his carefully-rehearsed counter-argument (go figure, he expected her to pull this), she pushes past him and heads back for Tsonda, who remains turned away and slightly hunched. A simple hand on the shoulder spins Tsonda around - a little easier than it should have been. Of course, by the time that realization sets in, Chandler's hand has already grabbed a deep armdrag on the arm she used to "spin" him, and seconds later she's soaring overhead.

The Sultan of Style declines to release the drag once they hit the mat, immediately transitioning to an armbar, then sitting Aimz up and wrapping his legs around the trapped arm for a triangle choke!

Nick: Triangle choke! This is an impressive display of chain wrestling from Chandler Tsonda...

Eugene: That's an illegal hold!

Nick: How is it illegal?

Eugene: I, uh...I dunno, usually when I use that line on Gibbo he'll go off on a tangent about the cost-benefit analysis of chokeholds.

Chandler wasn't known for his jiu jitsu mastery, but in the leadup to PRIME's Colossus V, where he won the Universal title from MMA stylist Devin Shakur, he'd done his fair share of homework. At the time, he noticed that Shakur used the triangle choke to wear down quicker, more frenetic opponents. Now, he figured, was a good time to see if Anders-emo Silva knew what he was doing.

Amy fights the lock, not letting it cut off her air supply completely. Eventually rolling over to her stomach, Aimz posts up on hands and knees, relieving pressure from the hold. So much for Chandler Tsonda, UFC Champion. The Model Citizen unlocks his legs from around his opponent’s body and, still holding onto the arm, pulls her to her feet with an armbar. A knee to the gut keels Aimz over and a rocker dropper out of the armbar takes her to the canvas.

Eugene: Ok, Tsonda's in control now, but Aimz just keeps on coming! Also, that's what she said.

Nick: And to think, I was the one getting lectured on women's rights. You're right, though, Campbell is keeping the pressure on, even when Chandler is dictating the action! She's forcing them both to burn way more gas than probably intended...

Aimz rolls as she hits the mat, but Tsonda rolls with her, not letting up the pressure. Pulling her to her feet with that same arm, the Viet Viper whips the SCCW champion into the ropes and on the rebound catches her with a monkey flip. Finally Aimz manages to escape the attack, rolling to the outside.

Nick: And now, just seconds after mentioning her breakneck pace, Aimz bails for a breather.

Eugene: It's a rollercoaster ride, Nick! The highs and the lows! This match happens on her time.

Nick: Well, she needs to be aware of the monster she may have just created in Chandler Tsonda.

As the Campbell tries to clear her head, Tsonda sprints to the opposite ropes, rebounds, and clocks the Red Raver with a baseball slide to the top of her head! Aimz stumbles back against the barricade and hauls herself up. She looks up in time to see Tsonda vault to the top rope and leap into the air with a plancha! The crowd roars in approval as the two collapse in a heap at ringside.

Nick: You mess with the bull, and you get the horns. You play with fire, and you get burned. You-

Eugene: Please, no more bad puns. I tap. I tap!

Nick: Hey, just hammering the point home. Aimz made her bed-

Eugene: I said I tap! Ring the damn bell!

Tsonda, as expected, is the first to his feet. He grabs a handful of red hair and rolls his fellow Universal Champion into the ring at the corner and scaling the turnbuckles quickly.

Checking behind him to make sure he’s in line, the Viet Viper pauses for a second as the fans cheer, then drops and delivers a split-legged moonsault to the prone form of Aimz! He hooks the leg and calls for a pin.

ONE…

TWO…

.

THR-No!

Aimz’s far shoulder barely jolts off the canvas before the three. Tsonda sits back on his heels and runs a hand through his hair in disbelief.

Nick: That was a bit of a throwback for Tsonda, who used to use the split-legged moonsault as a trademark back in the day.

Eugene: What happened, he let the trademark expire?

Nick: He did what anyone has to do to stay alive in this game, Gene. He evolved.

Aimz rolls to her stomach, desperately working to push herself up. The Model Citizen has other ideas, however. He yanks at the champ’s nosering, painfully assisting her to her feet. He throws Aimz’s arms over his head and applies a waistlock.

Campbell calls out as Tsonda bears down on the hold, lifting her into the air with a bearhug. Rare was the opportunity when the Sultan of Style had the opportunity to throw his weight around - at least not since his days with PRIME's A-List. Especially in his most recent stretch, Tsonda had rarely - if ever - been the bigger man. Double meanings aside, he found himself with a noticeable size and strength advantage for one of the few times in his wrestling career. Damned if he wasn't going to take advantage of it.

Nick: We're seeing some uncharacteristic power moves from Chandler. He's rarely - and by rarely I mean never - one to go "big", even when he's got the physical edge.

Eugene: Guess he just likes bullying women around, man. It's a natural move for the Vietnamese.

Nick: ...what?

Eugene: Is that not the stereotype? Eat dogs, beat their women? What the hell was I watching on TV, then?

Aimz fights with both hands, trying to squeeze herself out of the grasp as Tsonda tries to squeeze the grasp itself. When the attempts to get some breathing room - pun intended - fail, she channels B. Brian Blair and goes for the old school ear clap, slapping her arms together at either side of Chandler's head in an attempt to daze him.

It works, to an extent. Tsonda IS momentarily dazed, but he's also momentarily pissed, and the latter moment outlasts the former. So with a brief moment to lower Campbell to the mat - and to load up his hips - Tsonda pivots and hurls the Raver overhead with a Northern Lights suplex! Aimz flops against the mat as Chandler holds the bridge for a pin.

ONE…

TWO…

.

.

THRE-NO!

Once again, a single shoulder leaves the mat in time to break the count. The crowd groans.

Nick: another kickotu for Aimz! Tsonda's been much quicker to go for the fall in this match. It's his M.O. to be that aggressive, but you can tell it's taking on some special importance here.

Eugene: That's right, he can see where her style and pace is taking this match. He knows he's better suited to stun her and roll up a quick pin than to have to outlast her late in the game.

Tsonda rolls to all fours and pounds a fist on the mat. He climbs to his feet just as Aimz rolls over to her stomach and begins to crawl up. Tsonda watches her, sizing the Red Raver up for his next attack. She senses his presence and begins to move away, trying to put some space between them as she recovers.

The reigning PRIME Jewel In The Crown reaches down to pick her up, but receives a kick to the shin for his troubles. He drops to a knee as Aimz delivers another desperation shot. She hops to her feet and in nearly the same movement levels Chandler with a front dropkick, knocking him to his back from his kneeling position. Dazed, he rolls to his stomach and pushes up, only to have his face shoved back into the mat by Aimz’s foot. The Red Raver takes a few breaths in recovery, then steps over Tsonda and runs towards the ropes. She bounces off and jumps into the air…

…and into the waiting arms of her opponent. The Viet Viper catches Aimz sidewalk-slam-style with one arm, using the momentum to spin the two of them. Then he twists, rotating his body a half-turn, grabbing her head with his free arm and hitting the mat with a Reverse DDT.

Nick: WOW! What a move from Tsonda! He's rising to the challenge here and really turning up his high-impact offense!

Aimz squirms in pain, trying to roll out of the ring and head for the figurative hills again. This time, Tsonda will have none of it. He grabs the fleeing Sinner by his foot and drags her back in. Bouncing on his free leg, Aimz reaches for the ropes to force her freedom. She finally gives up on running and attempts a rolling enziguiri with her free leg. Tsonda lets go at the last minute, letting her crash to the mat.

Nick: Once again, she tried to play possum and escape, but Tsonda was on her.

Eugene: But he's THINKING about it now, Nick. He's still reacting to whatever she does. As long as she can keep kicking out of everything he's throwing at her, she's in this match.

The Model Citizen follows up with an elbowdrop to the jaw. He rolls Aimz over and locks in a leg scissors around her midsection, slipping it deep enough to cross his legs in a figure four position and eliminate most, if not all wiggle room.

Of course, that doesn't stop the SCCW Champion from wriggling, and she fires some desperate elbows into Chandler's thighs to try and loosen things up. He grimaces at some of the shots, but instead of releasing the hold, he simply retaliates by way of some nasty crossface blows across her jaw.

Eugene: Brutal shots there! He's beating her like she burned the pot roast!

Nick: Now, are you guys on Cinemax because of the whole "sin city" thing, or because no cable network would let you advocate domestic violence on a weekly basis?

Eugene: There are theories. But hey, I'm an equal-opportunity offender.

Nick: A quality that I'm sure the Vietnamese are happy about, too.

The whole "getting smacked across the face" thing tells Amy that she needs a new plan. So after a few more Vietnamese dental realignments (always the cheapest in town), she rolls to her stomach. Again, if Tsonda had trained to be a cage fighter, he might have the ground-and-pound skills to finish things right here. But he doesn't really think of the rear naked choke, but rather of the immense pressure his bottom leg is under now that it's under both their weight. Reluctantly, he releases the grip and rolls away, grabbing at his knee and shaking it out to ease the sudden tightness.

Aimz rolls away, too, holding her injured ribs and trying for all the world to take a serious breath. She sputters a bit, then quickly abandons the R&R approach to hoist her hips and swing into a low dropkick to Tsonda's injured leg. Chandler was attempting to stand at the time, and instead pitched forward into a short faceplant.

Nick: Sharp reversal by Aimz! The wear and tear of this match is really starting to show for both of them.

Eugene: I don't see this one going very long. They've already thrown a ton at each other.

Nick: Indeed, they've got to be wearing down.

As he hits the mat, she crawls to the nearest set of ropes. Aimz begins to pull herself back up. Just as Chandler begins to stir again, she reaches the turnbuckle. Taking a look back at her foe, she climbs the corner, slowly but surely.

Nick: She's got soemthing in mind here...we're starting to load up the big guns.

Eugene: Just like I said, Nick. Prepare for the shootout.

Chandler reaches his feet and stands up tall, shaking his leg out. He follows the sound of the crowd cheering to the corner where Aimz now sits, perched and waiting. She leaps from the ropes, wrapping her legs around his head with a flying hurricanrana.

The two of them whirl on contact, but Chandler gets his feet under him mid-spin. He grabs her around the waist and whips her down with such force that she slams back-first into the same turnbuckles she'd just climed.

Nick: OH MY GOD! Tsonda just slammed Aimz with a spinning inverted turnbuckle powerbomb! That was just sick!

Aimz collapses in a heap in the corner and Tsonda briefly drops to a knee - the one that he wasn't just grabbing in pain. He pauses momentarily to compose himself, then stands and grabs the nearest ankle to drag Campbell out to the center of the ring. He drops down and makes a pinfall:

ONE!

TWO!

THR-NO!

There's a certain amount of booing that pours forth once she kicks out, but they negative reaction seems to last a bit longer than planned. That's because they aren't directed at the ring any more, but at the stage, where another pierced, tattoed object-of-any-frayboy's-deepest-fantasies-yes-even-you-Hank-Cobb has come out for a closer look.

Lauren Fox, more commonly known as Savant, shirks the pathetic come-ons (and offers to come on) being thrown her way and takes some casual strides toward the ring, eyes fixed on the action within.

Nick: What's she doing here?

Eugene: You're asking me?

Nick: It's a rhetorical.

Eugene: Yeah, well you're a-retory-call, too!

Nick: Folks, a lot of people have really been looking forward to watching this match - and if you ask me, it's delivering on the hype. But now it seems like someone needs a closer perspective on the action.

Tsonda doesn't see the associate of the Dead Man's Hand - and by association, of Amy Campbell - but he's had enough discussions with Rayne and Troy and C.P. Cantrell to keep his guard up. Best defense is a good offense, though, so he turns it up a bit and looks to end this quickly. Scooping Aimz up from the canvas, he locks her in an atomic drop position and lifts her up on the near turnbuckle.

Nick: Tsonda doesn't look to be biting on the distraction. He's setting her up for a top-rope back suplex!

Eugene: Pfft, he was just trying to cop a feel.

Nick: Months at a time with her as your champ, yet you continue to pull the cheap jokes.

Eugene: Evolution is for suckers, Stuart.

Chandler climbs the ropes behind Amy, keeping his head under her arm as he positions himself for the back suplex. Before he can really get his footing, Savant reaches ringside and happens to cross his vision. He takes a moment to assure her verbally that he wasn't about to fall for her bullshit.

Then, as he goes to lift, Amy jabs a thumb into his eye for the second time this match, and it has the same effect as before - that is, "ouch" and blindness. Chandler rocks back, grabbing onto the ropes to hold himself up. He falls to a more seated position, legs slipping from the top rope.

Aimz takes a moment to check behind her, then fires an elbow to Chandler's jaw, leaving him reeling even further, just a slip of the fingers from falling. A desperation reverse headbutt does the trick, and the Viet Viper topples from the top rope. Before he falls off completely, though, Campbell sits down on his tangled legs, leaving him hanging upside down in a tree of...

Nick: Whoa!

Eugene: Whoa!

Thinking and acting quickly, she locks Tsonda's legs under the buckle joint and takes her weight off. With the PRIME champ suspended and everyone else in suspense, she quickly moves to her feet on the corner post. With a deep breath, she does a full backflip off the top rope, coming down into a low dropkick that catches her foe right on the jaw!

Nick: Backflip turnbuckle dropkick! Amazing!

Eugene: Bet your boy can't do that.

Nick: Let's not turn Aimzinto Billie Jean King, thanks.

Eugene: Billie Jean is welcome to be my love-

Nick: I can't believe I set you up for that.

Chandler's legs slip from the post after impact and he falls at the base of the corner, shallow breaths the only sign that he even survived. Amy, meanwhile, turns over and pushes back to her feet, doing a quick lap around the ring to recover...and promptly seeing Savant "cheering" her on from ringside.

The Red Raver immediately heads for her should-be ally and the two exchange words that are unintelligible but not entirely ally-like. Brows are furrowed and sentiments are spat as the two go over a bit more than a game plan.

Nick: Are things not well in the Dead Man's Hand camp?

Eugene: Dude...you're new at this, so I'll give you a break. But seriously, don't believe that everything is what it seems.

It's always hard to believe the boy (or girls) who cried wolf, but if this is meant to be a classic Hand switcheroo, they've practiced their lines well. Either that, or one of them didn't know the twist was coming.

Aimz jerks a thumb towards the back and her final words, in no uncertain terms, suggest that Savant find her way in that direction. Lauren Fox doesn't give her a response either way, and Campbell turns back toward the matter at hand. Not a moment too soon, either, as Chandler Tsonda springboards off the top rope and connects with the Shot Of Style flying neckbreaker! The crowd goes crazy as the two crash into the mat, and Chandler lays an arm over her to register the fall.

ONE!


TWO!



THRE-NO!

Nick: I really thought he had it there, that Shot of Style came from nowhere!

Eugene: I'm sure he would have felt good about himself, beating a girl with outside interference.

Nick: Tsonda's a popular guy, but he came up on the wrong side of the stripes. A win is a win in his book most of the time.

Eugene: Figures he's the guy reppin' your company.

Nick: At least he doesn't have a nosering...

The two of them rise almost simultaneously, and it's Aimz who has the bearings to strike first, throwing some hard knees into Tsonda as he tries to straighten out. He succeeds momentarily and pushes her back, but she retaliates by pushing back forward and connecting on a step-up enzuigiri. Chandler collapses but pushes to all fours, and she quickly does her best Codemaster impression with a wicked mushroom stomp across the Model Citizen's head and neck.

As Chandler remains down, she runs for the ropes and scales them in a single bound. Without much time to adjust, she goes airborne, adjusting her body in the air to come down with a shooting star press! She hooks the leg on impact and hopes for the best.

ONE!


TWO!


THR-NO!

Nick: ANOTHER close call!

Chandler kicks out hard, but slumps back to the mat, drained and throwing everything he can into each save attempt. Rather than go for another fall with the same result, she stands up and pulls him up as well. Tsonda gets Irish whipped across the ring and walks back into a hiptoss from the SCCW champ. As soon as he's laid out in the center of the ring, she hits the perpendicular ropes and goes back to the well for another quebrada. Tsonda moves while she's in flight, though, and she manages to tuck her legs and land on her feet at the last second.

When she looks up, Tsonda is coming off the ropes with a harsh Yakuza kick. A quick sidestep and duck clears the leg and she slips underneath him, running to the same ropes he'd just hit. Missing the kick sends Tsonda sprawling momentarily, but he turns back in time to see Amy coming back with a flying burrito-style forearm.

In one motion, Chandler catches Aimz under the arm and swings her legs out behind his body. With a quarter-turn - more from her momentum than anything - he sits out and slams her into the canvas back-first. It's a familiar move, one she'd felt all too often...and one that did nothing to help this nagging rib pain.

Nick: RHINE REWIND! RHINE REWIND! Chandler Tsonda just connected with the Rhine Rewind on Aimz, shades of her vanquished nemesis!

Eugene: Right, 'cause the move worked out SO well for him...

Chandler falls over Aimz and hooks a leg deep. The crowd counts along:

"ONE!"


"TWO!"



"THREe-" NO!

A shoulder shoots up and Chandler sits back, experiencing such a hybrid of emotions that you can't quite place the look on his face.

Nick: She kicked out! She kicked out of the Rhine Rewind!

Eugene: And how many times have I heard THAT before!

Nick: I'm just not sure what it's going to take to put either of these two down!

What it's going to take, it seems, is Ms. Lauren Fox and a little helping Hand. Chandler Tsonda stands slowly, and puls Aimz up behind him. As he lifts her up into a scoop position, Savant jumps up on the apron.

Nick: She's back again? Get her out of here, there's no place for this!

Eugene: She never left, Nicky. She just wanted you to think she did.

Tsonda doesn't see her and goes about his business of dropping to a knee and draping Amy across his other for a gutbuster. Standing back up - making sure to have his weight and hers under control, he heaves and throws Campbell over his shoulder in a powerslam position. He was never a power guy, as noted earlier, but as it became increasingly obvious to him that crushing the life out of this woman is going to be the only way to keep her in one place for three seconds, maybe he needed a new game plan.

Nick: What's he looking for? Running powerslam? Oklahoma Stampede?

Both, actually. Or neither. It's hard to tell what he had in mind, because he only makes it a few steps before seeing Bernie Roberts tied up with Savant on the apron. He slows down and says something to Roberts without catching the ref's attention, so the effort only succeeds in slowing down his forward momentum.

The momentary pause was the window of opportunity that Amy Campbell needed. See, this was his first night as the bigger, stronger, more powerful guy. She, meanwhile, has been playing the "undersized antihero" role since the first day she laced up the boots. This is cake.

She kicks her legs and shakes with all the energy she has left, capitalizing on Tsonda's loss of focus and wriggling free of his shoulders. Chandler begins to tip forward and is forced to release the DVD position to stay up, so Aimz flips forward and lands on her feet. In transition, she grabs a 3/4 facelock before Tsonda's defenses go back up.

She immediately runs to the turnbuckle and bounds up it with a few short steps. With a burst, she leaps backwards, keeping hold of Tsonda's head and changing to a reverse facelock on the way over. She lands on her feet - a change from the Sliced Bread #2 setup that it appeared to be - and then immediately rolls to the side, snapping Tsonda to the mat with an inverted spinning neckbreaker.

Nick: Freetekno! That's one of her trademarks - something she added since switching to SCCW from PRIME!

Chandler flops to the mat, completely stunned and still sort-of wondering what the hell Savant was up to. Not wanting to take any chances, Aimz jumps up and runs to the nearest ropes. With a quick pull, she springboards up to the top cable, not even bothering to spin before jumping. She makes up that spin in the air, twisting AND turning into a Phoenix Splash-style 450 splash that crashes across Tsonda's upper body with ring-shaking impact!

Nick: DEAD AIM! PHOENIX SPLASH DEAD AIM!

Eugene: It's OVER!

Campbell hooks both legs deep and leans back, squinting hard and willing the Model Citizen to stay the hell down.

ONE!


TWO!


THREE!

Nick: She did it!

Eugene: SHE DID IT!?!

"Crashing Around You" cues up again amidst a chorus of boos from the Boston crowd, regardles of their fed affiliation. Relieved and exhausted, Amy rolls away from the pin and all the way out of the ring. She sinks to her knees alongside the ring apron and just breathes for a few seconds, ignoring the music, the noise, the sharp pain in her side.

At some point in the future, she would find out about Savant's "contribution," and she would read and hear all the pundits who said she couldn't win this match saying she never did. She'd think about pride - her own and any that she held for Sin City - and whether it was pride that made her feel guilty and angry at the same time. She'd wonder why the hell people do champion against champion matches when no one leaves all that fucking happy.

At the moment, though, she just breathes, and listens to Bernie Roberts trying to calm Chandler Tsonda down. If these were the ends - a belt in her hand and MAchine Head blasting over her head - then it didn't take much to justify them.

Nick: Folks, no doubt this isn't going to sit well with anyone from Chicago to Las Vegas, but all appeals aside, Amy Campbell has won this clash of Universal Champions. It's been a banner night for Sin City, and despite the taste this outcome leaves in one's mouth, you have to give Aimz some credit.

Eugene: Yeah, keep your chin up, kiddo. Take the high road.

Nick: If you want to get stabbed with a ballpoint, Gene, just ask.

Backstage, Alexandra Pierce has a plan.

The Director of the Dead Man's Hand has overseen much of the chicanery tonight, both perpetrated and attempted, and now, moments before she's scheduled to get her comeuppance at the hand of Lindsay Troy and Friends.

So what does an enterprising Spider do, moments before actual physical combat? Kill a kitten? Rape your mother (yes, your mother)? Bathe in the negative reaction from the crowd (they're currently shouting "BOOOOO!" at quite a high volume)?

None of the above, it turns out, as we find Pierce sitting cross-legged on a mat in a room lit only by candles, open palms lying atop her thighs. She's forsaken the usual attire for her battle later on, pantsuit and gloves gone and replaced with a white gi and black tape around her fists. Her eyes are slit closed, chin nearly to her chest. The only sound in the room is the soft breath escaping her nostrils -- it's also the only way to tell she's alive.

The knock at the door is quiet, almost hesitant. She does not react to it, so the gaunt-faced specter we've seen tonight with a hawk-headed cane has to push the door open. His name is Mr. Hawke, and we've said this before, but you can call him "Mr. Hawke." Every member of the Hand has a different appellation for his or her leader, but Hawke is the only one to use the wrestling name, uttering it like it's a title.

Mr. Hawke: Desade, you have a guest.

She does not move for a long, long moment.

Desade: Tell Amelia that I am preparing for the match and we will speak of hers another time.

Mr. Hawke: It's not Campbell.

Desade: Whoever it is will wait, Mister Hawke.

Her voice rises at the end, irritation at being disturbed leaking in. Only briefly, however, as her icy whisper returns.

Desade: Inform them I will see them in due course.

The "please" at the end of that sentence is implied -- it's unlikely she says the word very much.

Her guest seems unwilling to wait. Within moments, the door snaps open with an alarming force as Hawke flies through the threshold and lands two feet away from Alexandra. Before Pierce even has a chance to blink her eyes to figure out what's going on before her, in walks a man with a purpose as he bends down and wraps his cold fingers around the throat of Mr. Hawke. The impression Alexandra gets from this rather rude intrusion is that the man is not in the least bit happy with being told to wait. As she looks over her intruder once or twice, noticing his pressed suit, his complete lack of a tie, and a pair of sunglasses resting comfortably on his face, she remains seated while waiting for the man attacking Mr. Hawke to introduce himself.

Slowly, the man starts to get up as he keeps his hand wrapped around Mr. Hawke's throat and it becomes very clear to Alexandra who it is that has interrupted her time to prepare for the upcoming match.

Dusk.

There's a fire in his eyes -- when isn't there one? -- as he looks Hawke deeply in the eyes before turning his gaze slightly over to Alexandra who is visibly irritated at this point.

Desade: Do you mind?

Dusk flashes her a small smile before looking back at Hawke.

Dusk: Sorry, not really in the mood to wait until later. Now, I'll let your puppy dog go, but only if you promise not to call for any others.

Desade: I will make no such promise, but I would imagine you would not believe me if I did.

She doesn't stand and doesn't look -- doesn't even move her hands.

Desade: If you do not let him go, I will, instead, call for them all, and we will have a very different conversation. I have neither the time nor the inclination to play games with you, Mr. Maloof -- on this night or any other.

Slowly, Dusk releases the grip around Mr. Hawke's throat, not interested in getting into a war with the Hand on this particular evening, or any other for that matter. Then, he turns his attention to Alexandra, his eyes very piercing tonight, while Mr. Hawke stands behind Dusk rubbing at his now-raw throat.

Dusk: Trust me, Alexandra that makes two of us. However, it seems like someone is being played, and that person is you.

Dusk then looks over his shoulder to see Mr. Hawke still standing there and gives him this look as if to ask him why he is still standing in the room.

Dusk: Leave. Now.

His tone is rather short as Mr. Hawke takes a long look at Dusk before looking at Desade who simply nods her head to acknowledge that she'll be fine. Quickly, Mr. Hawke takes a leave and shuts the door behind him as Dusk unbuttons a button his jacket while he sits down in a chair directly across from Pierce.

Dusk: Now, where was I...?

Desade: I have heard the same before, Mr. Maloof. They are always proven wrong.

She leans forward, curtain of hair waving before her eyes, bent nearly in half as she blows out the candle at her feet.

Desade: Now that you have interrupted my preparations, you will explain yourself.

Dusk simply nods his head as he makes himself comfortable while looking down at Alexandra.

Dusk: Good, straight to the point. But, it's actually going to be you explaining yourself, Alexandra. How about you start with telling me what the hell you want with me?

The Spider looks up, bangs parting to unveil her alabaster features. Her thin lips are pressed thinner before she speaks.

Desade: I do not remember answering to you. And I wish nothing from you, Craig. Less than I want with the rest of your federation.

She tilts down again, blowing out another candle.

Desade: But this is not about me, is it? You're thinking of someone a good deal taller than I am, and, perhaps, a touch less... grounded.

Dusk shakes his head as he gets up out of his chair and kicks it away from him in frustration.

Dusk: Alexandra, you don't want to piss me off tonight. I don't have the patience for that right now.

He then squats down to her level so that they're looking directly in the air as opposed to at an angle.

Dusk: This isn't about this silly PRIME/SCCW feud that you somehow sucked Troy into pursuing. You know that this conversation that we're having right now has everything to do with that woman who is a good deal taller than you and a lot less grounded then Charles Manson and nothing to do with the issues you're having with Cantrell and Lindsay.

Slowly, he moves an inch closer to Pierce.

Dusk: I woke up in the middle of the night to find Cozen standing over me. She happened to play a large part in the kidnapping of myself and those that I care most about. Then, I come to find out that it seems like you, Alexandra, have been pulling Cozen's strings causing her to stalk Lindsay's niece and dressing up like her. You like to play games so it would make sense that you had a hand in Cozen appearing at my house over a month ago. So, talk.

Desade: (simply) No.

One well-worn leather boot is planted on the mat and she flows to her feet more than stands.

Briefly, she's looking down at the squatting Lost Soul.

Desade: Contrary to your entire federation's belief system, I do not control Cozen's actions, and she owes me as much of an allegiance as Amy Campbell does. She is not of my Hand nor is she an extension of my will. And nor...

Dusk stands, and he's glowering.

Desade: Nor did I have anything to do with the incident with Cecilia.

Dusk: Is that the Pierce way? Deny everything and hope it'll brush over? You might have fooled yourself into thinking that you don't control Cozen's actions, but at the end of the day you do and you know it. You play these games with me Alexandra and we're going to have some major problems. Because of your meddling, whether direct or indirect, the mother to my unborn children and my best friend are dead. Their blood, as much as you'd like to think otherwise, is on your hands. I'm not a man that just forgets, Alexandra. Far from it.

Dusk takes another inch closer to Alexandra.

Dusk: So, you have a few options in front of you. Tell me the truth. Tell me where Cozen is. Or, deal with the consequences of your actions.

With a quick gesture, he licks his lips and clears his throat as he makes sure Pierce is looking at him in the eyes to see how serious he is about this.

Dusk: I kept my nose out of this little war you forged together. I let Lindsay go ahead and throw her personal vendetta in your face knowing full well that you would retaliate with a disproportional response. As Cantrell pleaded with me to throw my weight behind this war I never did, and I'm not like the fools you deal with on a daily basis. I know deep in my heart that tonight won't end it; far from it. Instead, we'll continue to see that misshaped deformed head of yours on a weekly basis. The only difference is that I will unleash a thousand hells upon you to the point that you have no choice but to come to me, begging me to stop.

Dusk pauses for a brief moment before resuming his thought process.

Dusk: So, how about you tell me what I want to know?

Desade: (again, firmer) No.

It's quieter even, this time. Her stony eyes glint in the near-total darkness of the room.

Desade: I am not at anyone's beck and call, Maloof, least of all yours. Nor am I inclined to give easy answers to questions where there are no easy answers. I will not deny what I am -- I am vile, I am wicked, and I mean to bring the hero's tale of Lindsay Fucking Troy upending me to a crashing, horrendous halt. If you have an issue with Cozen, I suggest you take it up with Cozen -- if you can find her. You do not frighten me, Maloof. You have no earthly comprehension of whom or what I am.

Her voice is nearly silent, but it keeps its civility.

Desade: Now if you will excuse me.

Dusk just simply shakes his head as he stands his ground.

Dusk: (smiling) No.

As the words leave his lips, Desade's expression tightens briefly, the only indication of her disdain. This isn't what she wants or needs moments before the big main event. Not in the least bit. But still, still this man badgers her.

Dusk: You are vile and wicked. I have no problem with you bringing the hero’s tale of Lindsay Troy to an end. If you want, I’ll help you. You want to talk about comprehension, Alexandra? Trust me, you won’t want to comprehend what I’m capable of.

He then takes a step back, almost as if he’s done with her.

Dusk: You made your decision in the sandbox, Alexandra, and now I have to make mine. If I can’t find Cozen to bring her to her hell then you’ll do just fine. You claim to not know where she is or having no part in the actions against those I love? Fine. Just one problem with that. I don’t have a single reason to trust you. So, you’ll have to excuse me if I hold you responsible until you give me one good reason not to.

Dusk then clears his throat.

Dusk: Now, I should be on my way. You’ve got a match up ahead.

He then turns around and starts walking towards the door.

She turns fully away from the Lost Soul, the Fallen Icon.

Desade: Do not spend overmuch time in my sandbox, Maloof. You are liable to get dirty in ways you are not ready for. Good luck on your hunt for answers regarding Miss Cozen. If I knew where she was, I... would likely not say.

Dusk stops in his tracks as his hand reaches the doorknob. He turns around and gives this interested look at Desade.

Dusk: Don’t lobby threats at me, Pierce. You’d do well to remember that.

He then opens up the door and begins to walk through the threshold. As he does, he offers some parting ways for her.

Dusk: I’ll see you soon, Alexandra. Very soon.

Desade: Count on it, Maloof.

She stares after him, unmoving.

Desade: Count on it.

Nick: They're lowering the cage, so it's time for the most anticipated match of the evening.

Eugene: The domination will be complete. You cannot stop the hot bitches, Nick. You can only hope to --

Dramatic music as the cage is fastened to the ring.

Nick: Contain them?

Eugene: I wasn't going to say that. Not at all.

Nick: This war started --

Eugene: When Lindsay Troy and Tyler Rayne came to Temptation and broke Alex Pierce's desk.

Nick: That... isn't what happened. This started further back than that.

Eugene: There's stuff that happened before then? My short-term memory is bad from that one time I OD'ed on Chicken McNuggets.

Nick: At Snake Eyes, Desade tried to convince Lindsay Troy to intentionally injure the now-retired Jonathan Rhine during their match for PTC's Unified Title, and when Lindsay refused, Alex Pierce allied with Cozen, who kidnapped and tormented Troy for months, going so far as to film herself with Lindsay's niece.

Eugene: They're just... they were just coloring! Why does everyone keep treating it as if there was bloodshed!

Nick: Troy defeated Cozen at Colossus V, but the story wouldn't end there...

Eugene: Because Lindsay's ego got in the way.

Nick: Lindsay and Tyler Rayne went to Temptation in Cleveland and warned off the Director, face-to-face.

Eugene: Which was like waving a red bull at a cape. Or, wait...

Nick: And in response, the monstrous Mayhem powerbombed Angelica Brooks into the hood of Rayne's car... igniting the war we've born witness to this week. Troy's gathered friends -- the former Universal Champion and PRIME Hall of Famer, Nova, along with Rayne and former Intense Champ Wade Elliott, to face the Dead Man's Hand and that damn turncoat, Xavier Kannon.

Eugene: Annnnnd, coincidentally, they're done setting up the cage.

Nick: Let's go up to Vince Howard...

Eugene: And Jason Myers!

Nick: For our introductions.

After their confrontation earlier, PRIME and SCCW are keeping the Myers and the Howard apart. Jason is in the cage; Vince Howard likes the ladies too much to put him near any of Desade's (as Ware would call them) "hot bitches".

Jason Myers: The following bout is an eight-man elimination match scheduled to take place inside... this fifteen-foot-high STEEL CAGE!

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Vince Howard: Introducing first...

Cheering and applause flows in through the speakers to drown out the jeering of the crowd, and the opening chords of Superstar by Lupe Fiasco jab through the darkness.

If you are what you say you are… a Superstar...
…then have no fear…
…the crowd is here…

A lone spotlight shines brightly onto the stage, illuminating a blizzard of flickering golden confetti that falls down onto its focus. Spinning amid the golden storm, arms outstretched, stands Xavier Kannon, hooded jacket shrouding him as soaks up the abuse.

…and the lights are on and they wanna show…
…oh, oh, oh, oh yeaaaah!
…yeah… yeah… yeah…

With Matthew Santos’ vocal echoing into the distance, the screeching intro to Rock is Dead by Marilyn Manson deafens those unlucky enough to be near a speaker.

As light floods back into the arena, Eleanor is shown standing in front of her man, leading him down the aisle as he tosses the hood of his jacket back. Striding with purpose down the aisle, Kannon gives as good as he gets to fans along the aisle, while a member of PRIME security either side of his wife fend off any gropes.

Vince Howard: To be accompanied by ELEANOR… from Merlin Bay, Barbados by way of Clearwater, Florida… weighing in at 226 pounds… HE IS THE KING OF WRESTLING… GOLD PATRON MERITORIOUS XAAAAAVIER KAAAAAAANNON!!!

Kannon stops at the base of the steps, looking up into the wall of the cage. A smile splits his lips.

Nick: Xavier Kannon may be the lowest man in all of professional wrestling.

Eugene: He's just a guy who hasn't found a proper amount of respect from anyone since Jon Rhine interrupted him all those months ago. Someone who's looking for --

Nick: The easy way to do everything?

Eugene: The proper respect and --

The Pirate Robot Midget remix of "My Violent Heart" tears through the Garden, and the crowd, riled up already from the appearance of Kannon, just gets louder.

Eugene: He may have gotten it.

You and I only look the same
But we are very far apart
There's bullet holes where my compassion used be
And there is violence in my heart

The PRIME*Screen... the SinView... whatever it's called this week, darkens to a deep forest green. Three letters are "dealt" onto the screen, and if you don't know what they are, you should probably turn in your wrestling fan merit badge and go watch some knitting. We're assuming they have a knitting network.

Jason Myers: And his tag-team partners! To be accompanied by... wow, you'd have to pay me more than eleven bucks to say all these names. To be accompanied by a whole lot of people.

Into fire you can send us
From the fire we return
You can label us a consequence
Of how much you have to learn

They're coming and they're coming in droves.

Jason Myers: First, from San Antonio, Texas and weighing in at one hundred, eighty-nine pounds.... JADIAN! BRIIIIIIIIDDEN!

Bridden is the first of the lot through the curtain, but just by dint of the speed. He's not the biggest man, but he might be the brashest, his dark hair damp and his arms outstretched. His tights read "JADIAN" (yes, PRIME fans, the D and the I are a little bit bigger than the rest -- let's just say we've had some spelling issues). His black t-shirt reads, "Someone Beat Me To The Condom Joke". In his immediate wake is the turquoise-clad "Mexican Minx," Katsidy's top student, Julissa Minorez. Like her mentor, she's got the tawny brown hair, like her mentor, she's got the low-cut blouse. Julissa's hand nervously goes to the star-shaped locket around her neck.

You can try but you'll never understand
This is something that you'll understand
Can you hear it now?
Hear it coming now?
Can you hear it now?

Jason Myers: Originally from Los Angeles, California and now residing in Phoenix, Arizona, their tag team partner weighed in tonight at three hundred and ninety-one and one-quarter pounds! HE is the Wild Card of the Dead Man's Hand! HE is the Path of Destruction! HE IIIIIIIIIIIIIS! MAAAAAAAAAAAAY-HEMMMMM!

On hands and knees, we crawl
You cannot stop us all
Our bones, our skin
We will not let you win

Vincent Matthews has to duck down as he steps through the curtain, black cargo pants and the typical "MAYHEM" flatline logo t-shirt, though now the line is drawn in DMH felt-table green. His eyes are dead, and they're dead-set on the ring, even though it's devoid of PRIMEates to kill. Positively bounding at his side is the lithe redhead with the triangular grin and the madness in her eyes. Malice is dressed in light, dove gray -- a shade lighter than she usually wears -- slacks and a wide-sleeved blouse.

You've set something into motion
Much greater than you've ever known
Standing there in all your grand naïveté
About to reap what you have sown

Jason Myers: And the leader of the Dead Man's Hand... currently residing in Paris, France and weighing in at 149 lbs., the former SCCW LiveWire and PTC Infinite Gauntlet Champion --

Nick: I still can't believe she was Charlotte Ramone. For months, perpetuating a lie.

Eugene: And here people thought she was just a pretend lesbian.

Jason Myers: I give you Alexandra Pierce -- DEEEEEEESAAAAAAAAHD(uh)!

Time will feed upon weaknesses
And soon you'll lose the will to care
When you return to the place that you call home
We will be there - we will be there

They just keep coming, don't they? Even without the presence of Mr. Hawke and Mr. Ashe, there are already six people through the curtain before Alexandra Pierce, Kathryn Shaw, and a still-worse-for-the-weather Lauren Fox stride out. Well, Pierce and Shaw stride (most would call the latter's walk something more of a strut), as Lauren's still limping from the snapmare into the chair. Let's review for those of you who just skimmed to this part of the show. Lauren Fox: black jeans and a Walls of Jericho t-shirt (not the wrestler, the rock band), Kathryn Shaw: ridiculously clingy midnight blue dress, sky-high strappy heels, and a smile that could boil water. Alexandra Pierce: white pantsuit, right?

Wrong. We saw some of this earlier when she and Dusk were being all hard at each other, but that white, halter-style singlet is much more an outfit ready for war, her hands bound up in black tape. The only carryover is those black boots, well-worn and well-traveled. With her hair held back in a loose tie that it's already seeks to escape, her stony gaze is unshielded, and the flames of those hate can scorch, even though your television.

On hands and knees, we crawl
You cannot stop us all
Our blood will stain
We will not go away

As Desade walks towards the ring, the lights in the arena start to go haywire, and the... whatever we are calling the giant screen... starts to go to static, only this time, the music starts to fade in and out.

Eugene: Not again.

The fans are stunned, until everything returns to normal.

Eugene: I think the screen just read, "I am not a martyr, I am a weapon."

Nick: Eugene, I didn’t see any of that.

Eugene: Are you blind? Maybe the fans at home saw it, but I swear to god that is what the screen said.

Nick: I can’t wait for tonight to be over, I’ll have a normal broadcasting partner again next week. I really feel bad for Dave Gibson now.

Pierce, Bridden, and Mayhem step into the ring, leaving Shaw, Fox, Minorez, and Devonshire to join Eleanor Kannon-Hall on the opposite side of the corner. Bridden clambers up the cage so that his fist is high. Mayhem stands on the middle rope, his glare already to the entrance. Desade simply stands in the middle of the ring, waiting.

She does not wait long.

Vince Howard: Introducing their opponents!

The crowd buzzes, filling the silence that's being left by a lack of music, until the intro to "Enemy" by Godsmack 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.

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Oh, Mr. Backstabbing Son of a Bitch!
You're livin' in a world that will soon be dyin'
And I know -- I KNOW
Everybody knows you try to be like me
But even at your best, as a man you couldn't even be a half of me

The chorus repeats as swirling spotlights start to roam around the entrance area, all snapping to the curtain. "The Queen of the Ring" Lindsay Troy parts the fabric with authority and saunters out onto the stage. Dressed for a fight, 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, the Queen walks purposely down the ramp, keeping her eyes focused dead ahead.

Vince Howard: Hailing from Tampa, Florida, she weighs in at 173 pounds and stands at six feet three inches! She is the QUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEN! OF THE RING! LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINDSAAAAAAY! TROOOOOOOY!

She walks down the aisle but no further than the base of the ramp -- she'd like to go all the way, believe you me, but she's trying to be a good girl and give the boys their chance to enter on the big stage. She and Alexandra Pierce are sure staring daggers at each other, though.

Vince Howard: Her tag-team partner!

The lights cut out in the arena, and a stormy sky appears on the video screen.

As thunder booms over the speakers and lightning lights up the darkened clouds on-screen, a voice can be heard speaking in soft, reverberating tones.

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

The stormy sky fades, replaced by a field of stars. One of the stars shoots across the screen, and as the field of stars comes together to form the word "NOVA," Funkadelic's "Maggot Brain (Live '71)" roars over the loudspeakers, Eddie Hazel's guitar screaming with emotion.

Vince Howard: The longest-reigning PRIME Universal Champion of all time and a PRIME Hall of Famer, he's asked me -- not paid me -- to remind you of an oldie but a goodie as he sends the Dead Man's Hand a good, old-fashioned "FUCK YOU!" He is the Risen Star! HE! IS! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVVVVVVVVVVVVVAAAAA!

At this moment, a spotlight hits the entrance ramp where Nova is knelt, one fist raised in the air. The smoke wafting up from the cigarette hanging out of his mouth swirls irridescently under the hot glare of the spotlight. After a moment, the Risen Star climbs to his feet and makes his way down beside the Queen of the Ring, flicking his cigarette away.

The lights come up, countrified banjo pickin' hitting the PA system, to which the crowd immediately begins to cheer. Joining the banjo comes the steady thump of a bass drum. The PRIME*View offers an animated Alabama town.

Vince Howard: And THEIR tag-team partner!

The guitar of Lynyrd Skynyrd hammers the system. Shortly, Wade Elliott stalks out. He takes a moment on top of the ramp to eye his opponent and play a bit to the crowd.

Where I come from it's grits an' gravy, not champagne n' caviar!!
Got pickup trucks, ain't no Mercedes, that's who we are!
Oooooh!
Yeah, wouldn't change a thing!

Vince Howard: From Pine Ridge, Alabama and weighing in at two hundred and fifty-four pounds! "The Blue Collar Brawler"! WAAAAAAAAAAAADE ELLLLLLLLLIIIIIIIOOOOOOOTT!

A large animated truck roars through the town on the PRIME*View as the Drifter marches down the ramp, paying no mind to the cheering fans.

I ain't no saint, sometimes a sinner, an' I can't tell ya why!
But I get up every mornin' an' thank The Man above!
Oooooh!
My life is good!

Elliott falls into place at Lindsay Troy's left, eyeing his opponents, as the music fades away.

Vince Howard: And THEIR tag-team partner!

Suddenly... the lights go out. Not just a little dimming to set the mood, but a full on loss of illumination. No house lights. No ring lights. No PRIME*View. Hell, even the monitors at the announce stations are off.

Nick: Did we just... did we just lose power?

Eugene: Lose power? Seriously? I don't know what kind of podunk little outfit you ingrates run at PRIME, but in SCCW we actually make enough profit to pay our bills. We don't just lose power.

Discretion being the better part of valor, Nick somehow manages to hold his tongue. The darkness continues. Fans begin to pull lighters and cell phones from their pockets. Tiny flickers of pop up all across the arena.

A faint but familiar sound begins to leak out through the sound system.

Nick: Sounds like rain...

Indeed it does. The sounds of a torrential downpour, in fact. A sudden boom of thunder jostles some of the less attentive fans from their seats. Thunder accompanies lightning, and like a brilliant bolt from the darkened skies, the PRIME*View blinks to life. A static, grainy image fills the screen. Almost like something from a horror movie. The same static broadcast flashes across the announce table monitors.

Nick: This is just weird.

Eugene: Tell me about it.

The broadcast clears to show a single hooded figure traipsing through a dark and stormy night. The thunderstorm best upon him continues to sound out through the arena speakers. He walks, shrouded in his hood as an ethereal but powerful voice begins to speak over the storm.

"And whosoever shed man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed. For in the image of God made He man."

The hooded man on the screen stops and pulls a sword from within his hooded cloak. A very large sword. Just as the weapon is completley revealed, a bolt of lightning streaks from the sky, flashing blue across the night and making a silhouette of the man and his sword. The accompanying boom of thunder shakes the arena speakers.

"... shall spread his blackened wings and be the vengeful, striking hammer of God."

The hooded figure thrusts his sword deep into the ground. Another streak of lightning flashes from the heavens. Not just on screen...but in the arena as well.

A blue bolt shoots down from the arena rafters, striking angrily upon the stage behind the three PRIMEates. The entranceway erupts with towering flames. All down the rampway, golden pyro ignites in succession, a quick burst of fireworks that ends with the golden explosion of all four turnbuckles.

Vince Howard: From Baja, California! Weighing in at 217 pounds!

The golden showers begin to subside. As the sparks fade, music rises. The opening riff of "Stick 'Em Up." A single spotlight shines upon the entrance, illuminating the figure standing within.

Vince Howard knows who he is and we bet you do, too.

Vince Howard: The Golden Boy! The Underground Pimp! The PRIME 5-Star Champion! Tyler!

Crowd: MOTHER FUCKIN'

Oh, you do know.

Vince Howard: RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYNE!

If viewed from above, it's a cross formation that strides towards that cage. Lindsay Troy in the front, Nova and Wade Elliott to either side, the ever-alert (and glaring at a different person than Troy, thanks) Tyler Rayne a step beyond.

Nick: Looks like we've got two referees for this contest, Eugene, as David Hamill is on the outside -- it'll be his job to keep the people at ringside away from the cage -- and Bernie Roberts will be calling the action!

Bernie motions to the Hand to get back into the their corner as the Unified PRIME Front, the Trojan Legion, slip into the ring. This crowd, by the way, they're dying for this.

So are you, don't deny it.

Nick: Looks like it'll be... oh, Tyler Rayne and Mayhem to start this off!

Eugene: I'm sure we're looking at a catch-as-catch-can beginning.

Nick: Almost positive.

[SFX: DING-DING-DING!]

Nick: Tyler Rayne is outsized by Mayhem to an extent that I can't properly put into words, ladies and gentlemen!

Eugene: If you were really Dave, you'd have told us about the size of his shoes by now.

Nick: But I'm not --

Eugene: Size four thousand, thanks for asking.

Nick: Tyler Rayne standing in the middle of the ring and he's just waiting! He's just waiting for the Path of Destruction to meet him there and -- OH! Right hand! Right hand from Tyler Rayne! There's no playing around, no give and take, Tyler Rayne is just unloading with those right hands! Give it to him! Give it to him for Angie!

A series of heavy blows, rights and lefts and backhands to the face and the midsection drive the former SCCW Gateway Champion back into the ropes.

Nick:Tyler Rayne has been dying for this moment for weeks, and now he Irish whips Mayhem across the ring --

Eugene: Note to the kids at home -- Tyler Rayne does not have superhuman strength powered by his rage.

Nick: Reversed by Mayhem! Reversed by Mayhem and Rayne off the farside ropes and BAM! Floatover DDT! Floatover DDT!

The Underground Pimp comes to his feet, arms wide. One of those "THAT'S WHAT YOU GET WHEN YOU FUCK WITH TYLER RAYNE, MOTHERFUCKER!" expressions he's quite good at. He turns briefly, raising his middle finger to the Hand corner. Xavier Kannon rolls his eyes, Jadian Bridden takes a swipe at him (not that he can reach), and Desade simply glowers.

It's the shout of his name that gets Tyler's attention again -- but this is likely because it came from Lindsay Troy.

Nick: Mayhem's back up! Mayhem's back up and Rayne turns and BOOM! Path of Destruction! Mayhem's spear damn near sawed the 5-Star Champion in half!

Eugene: Mayhem is an android warrior from the future, sent to destroy mankind, and -- apparently, to prevent Tyler Rayne from impregnating a woman.

Nick: Mayhem spreads Rayne's legs and he drops a leg in between them! That's nearly 400 pounds! Nearly four hundred pounds in the groin area of the Golden Boy!

Eugene: And he will continue to be a boy after that.

Nick: Bernie Roberts warning Mayhem about the lowblow, but Mayhem's just shrugging him off as he looks to start this match off with a bang by eliminating a man who has been damn near untouchable in 2008!

Eugene: Don't give guys like Rayne another idea for a nickname.

Mayhem yanks Rayne back to his feet, violently pulling the 5-Star Champion's own arm between his legs for a pumphandle. He yanks Rayne to his feet and onto his shoulder.

Nick: Pumphandle... Mayhem running towards the turnbuckle! Rayne -- Rayne slides off! Rayne slides off and a dropkick to the back of the big man!

Eugene: Does Tyler Rayne even know there's a team on the apron to back him up?

Nick: Rayne with a singleminded focus on the man who assaulted Angelica Brooks! Tyler Rayne working over the knee of Mayhem now and -- OH! Big shove from Mayhem sends Rayne head-over-heels! Tyler Rayne's spirit is willing, but he's almost half the size of the Dead Man's Hand's Wild Card!

Eugene: So is everyone else, Not-Dave. So is everyone else.

Nick: Rayne to his feet and Mayhem's up again! Mayhem's up again and he's daring Tyler to come after him! Rayne with a running start and -- BAM! He dives into the Path of Destruction's legs! He dives into the legs of Mayhem! Now Rayne --

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Nick: Tag to Troy! Tag to Lindsay Troy! Tyler Rayne -- back senton! Lindsay Troy with a front-flip legdrop! Tandem offense from the PRIME team here may be their only hope!

Tyler Rayne steps to the apron, and immediately extends his hand -- he wants right back in.

Nick: Troy with a quick tag! Troy with a quick tag and she and Ty pull up Mayhem again! Double facelock! Lindsay Troy and Tyler Rayne both step up to the middle rope and flip over -- double hangman's neckbreaker!

There's the sound of flesh on flesh as Nova smacks Rayne on the shoulder.

Nick: Troy and Rayne both step on the back of the knees of Mayhem! Nova into the ring, across the ring and --

There's the wet smack of flesh on flesh, as Nova drives both feet into Mayhem's face.

Nick: Dropkick! Double-footed dropkick puts Mayhem on his back!

Eugene: Three on one! Three on one, come on!

Nick: Nova now with Mayhem up! Nova pulls Mayhem up and hooks him for a --

Eugene: Are you serious?

Nick: German suplex? That's four hundred pounds! Four hundred pounds! Nova can't -- and he doesn't! Cosmic Teardrop! Cosmic Teardrop! Mayhem sent face-first to the mat! Nova rolls him over and hooks the leg!





ONE!!









TW--


Eugene: Like it's going to be that easy?

Nick: Nova not slowing, he never slows! Mayhem back up to his feet, he's wrapped up! Nova wraps up the double-underhook, he could be looking for No-Vacancy!

Eugene: Which is funny because it says Nova in it, too, see.

Nick: Mayhem! Mayhem! Mayhem stands straight and Nova's on his back! Nova's on his back and he slides down! He slides down and he's going to try to sunset flip the big man He's going to try --

Eugene: You mean he's going to fail.

Nick: Mayhem sits down! Mayhem sits down onto the chest of the Eagle Star! Bernie Roberts into place!




ONE!!






TW--

Nick: Nova rocks back and snags Mayhem's arms with his legs! He pulls down the Path! Rollup!




ONE!!





TWO!


Nick: No! Nova couldn't hold him! Nova couldn't hold Mayhem! Mayhem up quickly to his feet and -- BAM! Short-arm clothesline! Short-arm clothesline turns the PRIME Hall of Famer inside-out! And Mayhem tags in Bridden! Mayhem tags in Jadian Bridden!

Eugene: Talk about a size drop.

Nick: Mayhem up to the middle rope and Bridden steps up to his shoulders! Bridden steps up to his shoulders and -- shooting star! Shooting star press off Vincent Matthews' shoulders! Bridden caught him flush!



ONE!!






TWO!!


Nick: No! Nova kicks out! Nova kicks out! Jadian Bridden's a non-stop offense machine! Jadian off the far side ropes -- under a clothesline from Nova and off the ropes -- springboard! Enzuigiri! Nova goes flying! Nova goes flying -- and Jadian Bridden means to! Bridden to the top rope and he's climbing the cage! He's climbing the cage and --

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Nick: Wade! Wade's got the scrawny little Bridden by the foot! Nova to the top in one leap and onto the cage! A death-defying leap from the Risen Star -- he's got the inverted facelock! Bourbon for Breakfast off the cage? Bourbon for Breakfast off the -- no! Bridden rolls through! He lands on his feet inside the ring! Nova turns and --

Eugene: So this guy's crazy, right?

Nick: Nova blindly leaps back into a crossbody! A crossbody from the PRIME Hall of Famer and -- tag! Tag to Wade Elliott! The Blue Collar Brawler in the ring with his sights set on Jadian Bridden! The PRIME team getting off to a big start here in Boston!

Eugene: No! Get him out of there! Wade Elliott smells like bacon!

Nick: What? Elliott with Bridden now -- Irish whip across the ring -- Southern Hospitality! Ducked by Bridden! Bridden off the ropes again -- crossbody -- caught by Wade! Caught by Wade Elliott! He shrugs Jadian onto his shoulders in a fireman's carry, and --

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Nick: BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! REBEL YELL! REBEL YELL! Bridden got caught flush! Bridden got caught flush! Wade drops for the pin!


ONE!!







TWO!





Nick: Kannon into the ring!



THREE!

Nick: He was too late! Kannon was too late! Wade Elliott has stormed out of the gates immediately and the Dead Man's Hand is down a member before Desade or Kannon even get in the ring!

Vince Howard: Ladies and gentlemen, Jadian Bridden has been eliminated!

Nick: Bridden's not moving yet after a THUNDEROUS Rebel Yell -- and Wade's got his sights right on the Gold Patron Meritorious! Kannon made the mistake of getting in the ring and you know Wade Elliott's not going to be shy! Wade Elliott's not going to be shy with the punches! Elliott laying into Kannon in the corner with bigtime lefts and right!

Eugene: He's making him spittle! Xavier Kannon should never be required to wrestle hairy mammoths like Wade Elliott!

Nick: Elliott now stomping Xavier Kannon down in the corner! He rips Kannon back to his feet!

Eugene: Make up your mind!

Nick: And whips the PRIME traitor across the ring! Tag to Lindsay Troy! Troy with a springboard! Elliott with a low spear -- Troy with a high seated senton! Kannon got flattened! Troy reaches back for the leg!




ONE!!








T--

Eugene: Barely more than a one! You cannot put down Hubbard's Own like that!

Nick: Like Jadian Bridden, Lindsay Troy is a bundle of offense!

Eugene: Unlike Jadian Bridden, Lindsay Troy is nice to look at. Not that Jadian's ugly, but I've heard that ass sears corneas.

Nick: Is that all you ever think about?

Eugene: No, sometimes I think about food, too.

Nick: Troy with Kannon now, she drives that taped fist into the abdomen of the traitor! Irish whip across the ring, reversed by Xavier! Troy off the ropes and corkscrew! Corkscrew flying elbow! Kannon caught it flush! Troy to her feet, continues to the ring ropes and springs up -- DROPKICK! Dropkick on Mayhem on the apron!

Eugene: Uh, apparently she doesn't have a brain that sears corneas.

Nick: Mayhem down on the apron, Troy grabs XK's wrist! Troy pulling Xavier Kannon towards the Hand's corner and she extends the King of Wrestling's hand out to Desade! Lindsay Troy wants a piece of Desade and she wants it bad!

Eugene: You don't... you know, really tell Alex Pierce what to do.

Alexandra Pierce swipes whatever hair has fallen out of the tie in her face away and the two women stare at each other.

Nick: Desade reluctant to tag in! Desade not about to tag in right here and --

**SMACK**

Nick: Troy! Troy with a slap to the face of Alex Pierce! Lindsay Troy blames Alex Pierce for everything that's happened to her these last few weeks!

The Director just snaps her glare at the Queen of the Ring, shaking her head once, slowly.

Nick: Lindsay Troy turns away from Desade in disgust and -- KANNON! Kannon waiting for Lindsay and SPINEBUSTER! Spinebuster on the Queen of the Ring! Xavier Kannon DROPS Lindsay Troy back-first and he snags the leg -- will the distraction be her undoing?



ONE!!






TWO!!




Eugene: Not since you said something!

Nick: Troy kicks out! Troy kicks out and Xaiver Kannon pulls her up to her feet and drives a knee into her side! Drives a knee into her side and he lifts her up and DOWN! Up and down into the gutbuster!

Eugene: Be careful, she'll vomit the Ware juice she had earlier!

Nick: If she heard that, she'd probably have vomited already. Kannon drags Troy into the ropes, draping her across the bottom strand of cable, then pulls back! Modified camel clutch! Camel clutch in the ropes!

Eugene: And the referee can't do a damn thing about it!

Nick: And now! Now Desade wants into the ring! Kannon tags in the Spider!

Xavier Kannon bridges backwards, releasing the chinlock part of the camel clutch. Desade sprints off the far side ropes, leaping over the bridged Kannon to put her feet to the back of Lindsay Troy's head. Which puts the front into the cage.

Nick: Desade, ever the opporunist! Troy goes face-first into that cage and Desade drops to her knees, raking Troy's forehead across the bar and the mesh fence! She's cheek-to-cheek with Lindsay Troy!

If this was an SCCW card, we'd have the super-sensitive microphones to rely on here. We'd hear Alexandra Pierce's whispered words ("Is it all worth it, Lindsay?"). But it's not just an SCCW card and we don't, so you didn't hear that.

You did just hear the crowd explode into cheers.

Nick: Troy! Troy with a back elbow frees her from the Director! Lindsay Troy getting back to her feet! Desade waiting in the middle of the ring as Troy checks her forehead for blood.

Desade and Troy stare at each other for a long moment, tension hot. Then Lindsay sees it, sees what Pierce is going to do before she does it. She sprints forward as Desade leaps to the side, slapping her taped hand against the forearm of the King of Wrestling.

Nick: Dammit! Dammit, that woman is a coward! Kannon back in as Desade rolls under the bottom rope!

Instinctively, Lindsay wants to dive after Desade, drag the bitch into the ring and beat the uppity out of her. But fool her once, shame on her, fool her twice... can't be fooled again.

Nick: Troy turns away from Pierce, back to Kannon as he tries to sneak up! He tries to sneak up on her and Lindsay slips the knee in! Lindsay slips the knee in! The Queen of the Ring doubles over the King of Wrestling!

Eugene: What is it with you PRIME people and your royal nicknames?

Nick: Troy now steps to the side, hooks a leg around the head of Xavier Kannon and spins him over! She may want a piece of the Spider in the Web, but it seems that the only way that's going to happen is if the Legion picks off the Hand, one finger at a time and Desade isn't even given another choice!

Eugene: As it should be. The boss fight is at the end of the level.

Nick: Troy now with a solid kick to Kannon's ribs, flipping the King of Wrestling over! Kannon scrambling to his feet, but the Queen of the Ring is just unloading on him here! I'd never consider Lindsay Troy a cheerleader --

Eugene: Mm, Lindsay Troy dressed as a cheerleader. Wait, wait... consider it for a moment. Think, think... mmm. Okay, continue.

Nick: But you've gotta believe that the former two-time Universal Champion is a little bit...

Eugene: Miffed?

Nick: Something like that at the scumbag she's got before her. Troy backs Kannon into the corner --

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Nick: Knife-edge chop! Knife-edge chop by Troy! She follows that up with an Irish whip -- Kannon sails over her head! Xavier Kannon sails over her head and -- what's he doing? Kannon across the ring and he's headed for the cage! XK wants no part of the Queen!

Eugene: See, it's not escape from the cage, so... ooh! I know what he's doing! He won't be eliminated that way! Then he can come back later and dominate! Good show, sir!

Nick: Kannon up on the cage wall and Troy right there after him! Lindsay Troy may be a hair faster than Kannon and --

There's the sound of skull-on-steel.

Nick: Troy! Troy ramps Kannon's head into the cage! BAM! Again! A third time! A third time! And --

'"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Nick: Kannon falls! Kannon falls to the mats! Lindsay Troy is --

Eugene: A dirty coward! She's trying to climb out! How cheap!

Nick: First, I doubt she's trying to do that and second, you just said it would've been a smart play!

Eugene: I did not!

Nick: Troy to the ropes and --

This is the first time the Dead Man's Hand springs into action, and, in this case, it's literal. Katsidy and Savant lace their fingers together; Malice steps in both womans' hands and leaps onto the cage wall.

Nick: Malice! Malice is climbing on the other side! Malice is climbing for Troy!

The Queen of the Ring expected something like this -- after how this night has gone, she's probably expecting several of these moments. She knows speed is of the essence, but the Little Troublemaker is fast, and climbs like her... mentor... or whatever. Before Troy can line up some crazy, literally off the wall high-risk move, Drusilla is opposite her. Troy smacks the mesh of the cage with an open palm, locking her ankle around the support. Dru simply responds with a bright wave and a cheery grin. Well, not "just".

Nick: The mist! Mist! Mist to the face of Lindsay Troy through the mesh of the cage! Dammit, this was supposed to keep them from interfering! This was supposed to make this fair! Troy is blinded and she loses her balance!

There are moments in a professional wrestling match that look truly nasty -- witness someone getting dropped on their head and we dare you not to pause and go "DAMN!" When Lindsay Troy falls backwards off the cage wall, only her leg can stop her, but the force of gravity wars with her own body weight, and the knee loses.

Lindsay Troy is a proud woman, a hero to many girls who watch professional wrestling, always quick with that sharp tongue. She doesn't back down, doesn't blink (you know, except to moisten her eyes), and will never surrender.

Which is why the sound of her scream is so stunning. Hung upside down in the cage, she leans up, both hands going to her knee. Some people in the front row will claim they heard something snap, but they're most likely exaggerating.

To his credit, it's Tyler Rayne that reacts first -- even before Malice has realized the real extent of her handiwork, the Underground Pimp is scaling the cage, trying to help the Queen sit up and take the pressure off her leg before a tweak becomes a tear.

Nick: Good God! Good God, Troy's leg is caught!

To his damnation, Mayhem Matthews is not about to give Lindsay Troy a moment of surcease, and he's in the ring and pulling on Tyler Rayne's foot, mere seconds after the Queen's bum leg is freed from its precarious position. Rayne reacts the only way he knows how -- he jumps down with a violent yell, a modified spear that finally, finally takes Mayhem to the mat.

Nick: Spear! Spear! Spear and Rayne is just wailing away on Mayhem!

By this time, the others in the ring have reacted. Wade Elliott clambers up to the middle rope beside his friend, a hasty "Ya okay?" growled between his lips. Troy nods, as best as she is able. Unfortunately, the two redheads react similarly.

Nick: Kannon up the cage! He rips Troy down! Wade takes a wild swing at the King of Wrestling! But Desade's in the ring! Desade's in the ring, too! She runs at the top rope, tightropes across it and drives her boots to the face of the Blue Collar Brawler!

Mayhem and Rayne trade punches on the ground. Nova is still around, however, and he helps Troy up to her feet in the ring, the Gold Patron Meritorious hopping down. Troy nods to her friend, but it was more of a gesture.

Nick: Desade going for a knee-clip! She clips Nova's knee! And that leaves Troy to face Kannon alone!

Lindsay Troy is arguably the most talented wrestler in this ring, but her offense is sorely limited on that leg. Can't kick off it. Can't use it as a weapon. She's barely standing as the Risen Star gets to his feet and drives a fist into the alabaster face of the Director -- the first person to do so since she willingly suffered for her daughter at All In.

To say Xavier Kannon is smirking now is not a proper description, as he's always kind of smirking.

He just has a reason now.

Nick: Troy! Troy with a right hand! Troy with a right hand as Bernie Roberts is trying to get the Hand members and the Legion back into their corners, but good luck separating Mayhem and Rayne!

The fist from the Queen catches the King flush in the jaw, knocking him back a step. Troy's not putting any weight on the knee, though, so she can only hobble forward to follow up.

Nick: Kannon back a step! He looks back and Troy hits him again! But Xavier --

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Nick: Kick to the kneecap! Back to the injured leg! Troy is staggered briefly, XK slips in and hooks her in the middle of the ring! BOOM! BOOM! HALLMARK! HALLMARK! It just takes a second for Xavier Kannon to drop you with the cradle piledriver, and that blatant, lowdown, dirty kick to Troy's injured knee --

Eugene: Like he was supposed to sit back? Like she was wearing a "do not kick" brace?

Nick: Kannon down for the pin -- Desade grabs Nova by the tights and drives him into Elliott as he gets to his feet!



ONE!!







Nick: Rayne's heard the count! He comes to his feet!





TWO!!







Nick: Tyler dives!

Eugene: Mayhem caught his foot!





THREE!!

Jason Myers: Ladies and gentlemen, Lindsay Troy has been eliminated!

Nick: Xavier Kannon has beaten Lindsay Troy here at Cataclysm, fans, but the bigger story may be the injury to Troy's leg!

Bernie Roberts calls for the trainer as Tyler Rayne is up and stomping at Mayhem. Desade's slithered back away from Wade and Nova, who immediately step to Troy's side. The match kind of... stops (except for Rayne's boots to Mayhem's gut). Paramedics bring a stretcher to ringside, as the Queen is back to clutching her knee.

The trouble with this is the cage -- and the fact that they have to open the door to let Troy out (this is when Jadian Bridden sort of collapses through the door, as well). Wade and Nova help the Queen towards the door. But neither Xavier Kannon nor Alexandra Pierce are willing to let injury go without insult.

Nick: Kannon and Desade circling -- they're looking for another shot at Lindsay's knee!

It's a mute nod that passes between the Risen Star and the Blue Collar Brawler as Troy gets to the corner nearest the cage door. They turn and they strike as one.

Nick: Wade! Nova! Clotheslines in tandem! A clothesline for one bitch and one for Desade, too!

Eugene: Biased much?

Nick: Wade takes down Alex Pierce! Nova takes down Xavier Kannon! Troy's able to get out of the ring!

The Queen hobbles down the stairs, but she turns imperiously away from the paramedics and their stretcher, wrapping her hands around the mesh of the cage to hold herself up.

Nick: She's not going anywhere! Lindsay Troy is refusing medical attention, and I have no doubt she plans to play ringside enforcer and keep Desade's little troopers and XK's wife out of this match!

Eugene: Eleanor Kannon-Hall is a lady! She would never!

Nick: She would in a goddamn heartbeat.

Inside the ring, there's a woman in white scrambling away from a man in work pants. There's a Hall of Famer working over a Scientologist. But they're not the focus, not right now. The camera shows Tyler Rayne ripping Mayhem to his feet -- which has been the theme of the night from the 5-Star Champion.

Outside the ring, the Hand is not done -- but did you really expect them to be? It's arguable which of the two siesters -- Kathryn Shaw or Lauren Fox -- carries the Word of Desade while the Director is in the ring (currently, she's covering up in the corner as Bernie Roberts tries to pull Wade Elliott away and return some order to this.mess). But both of them are in discussions with Drusilla Devonshire, Julissa Minorez and Jadian Bridden, once the latter recovers from the Rebel Yell.

These conversations concern the Queen of the Ring, but not as much as what's going on in the ring.

Nick: Rayne with a knee lift against the rope to Mayhem! Another! Another! Bernie Roberts has finally forced the Bama Bruiser away from Desade and back towards the corner --

Eugene: Leave my people alone! Get that pot-smoking hippie away from the King of Wrestling!

Nick: Rayne just firing away with the knees over and over into the gut of the Path of Destruction! Rayne whips Mayhem across the ring and follows up with --

Eugene: Surprise!

Nick: A knee to the gut! Tyler Rayne's pinpointed the ribcage of the former Gateway Champion!

Lindsay Troy may be in pain (and, let's be honest here, she is), but she's not blind, and she's noticed that Julissa Minorez has those damn Filipino fighting sticks or that Malice has circled around to the other side of the cage.

Eugene: They're coming right for her!

Nick: The Dead Man's Hand hasn't done enough! They're coming for Troy again! Haven't they done enough? Haven't they done enough? In the ring, Rayne has Mayhem! Rayne has Mayhem! Rayne whips Mayhem across the ring and follows! He leaps up onto the Wild Card's shoulders and locks his legs! Insult to Injury! He's trying to lock on the Insult to Injury, but he can't get Mayhem down!

Eugene: Come on, Vincent! Just jump backwards! Smash that bastard!

Nick: And you're complaining about MY bias?

Eugene: I am Eugene Ware, motherfucker! I was born biased!

Nick: Rayne hammering away at the head and shoulders of Mayhem and --

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Nick: Mayhem drops to a knee! Mayhem drops to a knee and Tyler won't let go!

The Dead Man's Hand make their move as Mayhem puts both hands to his neck.

Nick: Bridden and Minorez on one end, Savant and Malice on the other! They're coming for Lindsay Troy!

Jadian Bridden walks right through Tyler Rayne's field of vision, and the Underground Pimp? He's had about enough of these fuckers targeting people he cares about. So he reacts the only way he knows how -- he prepares to jump them first (but you knew that if you've been reading this).

Nick: Rayne lets go of the Insult to Injury! He's climbing the cage! Tyler Rayne climbing the cage and, well, he's probably planning something suicidal!

Lindsay Troy, in a straight fight, could probably take any of these punks. But four-on-one with her having a bad leg? Those odds aren't as good.

Nick: Troy hobbling towards Bridden! Troy hobbling towards Bridden! Rayne up to the top of the cage!

After this is all over, a lot of things will be said. One of them is, "How about that David Hamill guy?"

Eugene: They're not on your side, Hamill! Must you be a horribly noble douche all the time?

Nick: David Hamill! David Hamill interposing himself between the Dead Man's Hand and Lindsay Troy! Hamill's already had enough of this!

Eugene: He's supposed to be all unbiased and whatever, but he seems... irritated.

Nick: Hamill...

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Nick: Hamill's tossing everyone! Hamill's tossing the Hand and Eleanor Kannon-Hall and Troy alike! How much more unbiased can you get?

Eugene: He's supposed to be unbiased towards SCCW!

Nick: Ellie's upset!

Eugene: I'm upset!

Ellie and Katsidy are the ones pressing their case, but they fall on deaf ears. There is a lot of headshaking. Interestingly, Alex Pierce hasn't appeared to take notice of any of this.

Nick: Hamill threatening disqualifications of Desade and XK! That'd leave just Mayhem, just getting back up to his feet! Do it! Go ahead and do it!

The DMH members and EKH relent at that point -- Mayhem is big, but three-on-one odds aren't something they're going to rely on. Troy hobbles away; it's not until halfway up the ramp that she stumbles, and then she accepts an assist from one of the medics -- only one, though.

Tyler Rayne watches all this from the top of the cage.

Nick: In the ring... Nova! Nova getting into the ring! Nova approaching Mayhem from behind and -- inverted facelock! Inverted facelock!

Eugene: No! Turn around, Roberts!

Nick: BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOURBON FOR BREAKFAST! That's from the Cabinet all the way down to the Dead Man's Hand!

Eugene: This is not fair! They're supposed to be allowed to cheat!

Tyler Rayne is still on the top of the cage and, no longer having anyone to jump on down on the floor, he... does something stupendously suicidal.

Flashbulbs pop as Rayne leaps.

Nick: RAYNE! RAYNE! RAYNE! RAYNE! FLYING FORNICATION! FLYING FORNICATION! FLYING FORNICATION FROM THE TOP OF THE GODDAMN CAGE!

Eugene: What in the Flying Fornication is he thinking!

Nick: Shooting star kneedrop! Shooting star by-God kneedrop! Rayne rolls through and somehow -- somehow -- gets up to his feet! Moonsault kneedrop! He grabs one of those tree-trunk legs!





ONE!!!











TWO!!







THREE!

Vince Howard: MAYHEM HAS BEEN ELIMINATED!

Nick: Yes! Yes! Yes, he did it! By God, Tyler Rayne has avenged Angelica Brooks, if only somewhat!

Eugene: No, it's three on two!

Nick: Yes, and Desade and Kannon will get what they have coming to them!

Eugene: But can those three maniacs agree on who's going to give it to them with Troy getting her knee looked at backstage?

Nick: Tyler Rayne crawling to the PRIME corner and -- Wade Elliott tags himself in! To say the Underground Pimp and the Bad Dog don't get along is like...

Eugene: Like saying they each only have one nickname?

Nick: Wade doesn't even look down at Rayne as he gets in -- but neither Pierce nor Kannon want into the ring!

Elliott's choice is between a bitch who is smarmy, vicious, and without a legitimate bone in their body... and Xavier Kannon.

(Bet you thought we were going to say, "And Desade" again -- we don't repeat our jokes here.)

Elliott zooms in on the so-called "King of Wrestling" (Wade would use another word here, but there might be ladies watching), grabbing Kannon around the neck and under the shoulder, yanking him into the ring.

Nick: Elliott! Elliott with a beal! Elliott yanks Xavier Kannon into the ring! XK in the ring now and he's begging off! He's begging the Bad Dog off! Xavier Kannon doesn't want any part of this!

Eugene: No, he wants EVERY part of this.

Nick: Thumb to the eye! Thumb to the eye by Kannon! He slides in behind Wade, locks in a half-nelson and sweeps out the legs! Wade! Wade goes face-first! XK rolls the Blue Collar Brawler over and hooks the leg!





ONE!!









TWO!!




Nick: No! Elliott kicks out!

Eugene: Man, that would've been dissatisfying.

Nick: Kannon not slowing down -- he knows that if he or Desade is going to have a chance to win this thing, he's gotta get rid of one of these three in a hurry.

Eugene: It is my job to do the color commentary!

Nick: But you're not doing it, like, at all. Kannon pulls Wade up to his feet, whip across the ring -- Nova with the blind tag! Nova with a blind tag! Elliott off the ropes, Kannon with the drop-down, Wade keeps on going... Kannon waiting and Wade stops! Wade comes up short! He points behind Xavier!

To say the King of Wrestling looks sick to his stomach is something of an understatement.

Nick: Kannon turns slowly around and -- SMACK! Open-hand slap by Nova! Open-hand slap by Nova -- that might've been the hardest slap I've ever seen! Nova backing XK into the ropes, Wade still in the ring! XK off the rops and... double-flapjack! Double flapjack by Wade Elliott and Nova!

Eugene: They're cheating!

Nick: They're trying to make this man pay for his crimes!

Eugene: Like that will ever work.

Nick: Wade clambering out of the ring, Nova picks up Xavier Kannon -- and what a storied history these two have!

Eugene: And what a storied history SCCW doesn't care about!

Nick: Nova knocks Kannon into the corner now! Kannon in the corner and Nova laying in the shoulderblocks to the midsection of the Gold Patron Meritorious! Nova... Irish whip! Irish whip across the ring! REVERSED by Kannon! Nova into the corner -- Kannon following right behind and Nova got the boot up! Nova with both boots up in the face of the King of Wrestling!

The Risen Star lifts himself to the top turnbuckle and waits a moment for Kannon to get within range. XK takes a moment longer than he perhaps needed -- the stumble to one knee could have been intentional. The grabbing of Bernie Roberts definitely was.

Nick: Kannon has Bernie's shirt! Kannon has Bernie's shirt and it looks like Nova's lining him up anyway --

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Nick: Desade! Desade trips Nova! Nova hung out to dry on the top turnbuckle and now XK is okay! Now XK is just peachy! He pushes Bernie aside and climbs up to the middle rope! Looking for a Hallmark from the middle? No!

Eugene: YES PLEASE!

Nick: Nova stands up! Nova stands up with XK across his back! He grabs the King behind the head and -- BOOM! Kryptonite Krunch! Kryptonite Krunch by Nova! A desperation move! A desperation move from Nova! Both men are down! Both men are down and looking for a tag!

"LET'S GO NOVA!" "LET'S GO NOVA!"

Nick: This capacity crowd in Boston 100% behind Nova now!

Eugene: Not 100%, because I disagree! Let's Go Kannon! Let's Go Kannon!

Nick: Doesn't count -- you're not part of the crowd.

Eugene: I DISBELIEVE!

Nick: Also, you appear to be something of an idiot. Nova crawling... Kannon makes the tag! Kannon makes the tag and in comes the Spider in the Web but --

**SMACK**

Nick: Tag to Wade! Tag to Wade! Wade Elliott in and suddenly Alex Pierce doesn't want as much to do with him!

Indeed, Desade takes a step backwards. However, like most things surrounding the Dead Man's Hand, this is a lie.

Nick: Desade reverses course! Desade charging forward -- people forget that she's wrestled in Sin City for months under a mask as Charlotte Ramone, and Ramone was known for some lethal fast combinations!

Wade Elliott doesn't give a damn about any of that flippy bullshit. He swings a heavy lariat at the charging Desade, who ducks down under the clothesline, rolling her body across Elliott's and landing on the other side for an armdrag.

Nick: Impressive athleticism from the Spider in the Web! Elliott up to his knees and -- glimmering warlock! Step-up enzuigiri! Desade doesn't stop or pose, she's just coming at you!

Eugene: This is the most straightforward she's been for five minutes in my time watching her. Either something big is up or she's just kind of bored of tricking everyone.

Nick: Desade doesn't yank Wade to his feet, just steps to the outside! Slingshot legdrop -- missed! Pierce missed! Wade up to his feet in a hurry, he pulls Desade with him! Kick to the gut!

Eugene: No fair there's no one around!

Nick: Wade pulls Desade with him and snatches the standing headscissors! Double-underhook! You can bet! You can damn well bet! What's coming next!

Elliott thumps the Confederate flag tattoo on his breast three times, just in case you didn't know.

Nick: WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Nick: STARS & BARS! STARS & BARS ON DESADE! Elliott down and he hooks the fanciest damn half-nelson I've ever seen from him!




ONE! ("OOOOOOOOOOONE!")









TWO! ("TWOOOOOOOOOOOO!")




THR-- ("THREEEEBOOOOOOOO!")

Nick: Damn him! Damn him! Kannon pulls Elliott off! Kannon pulls Wade Elliott off of Desade! He saved her! She orchestrated the powerbombing of Angelica Brooks and Xavier Kannon SAVED her! He snatches Wade up and -- BOOM! HALLMARK! HALLMARK!

Eugene: A Greeting Card FROM HELL!

Kannon pulls the ridiculously unconscious Desade into the corner, stepping onto the apron and grabbing the tag rope. He reaches out and smachs Pierce's taped fist.

Nick: Kannon tags himself in! Wade Elliott hasn't moved! Wade Elliott hasn't moved since the Hallmark! Kannon with a lackadaisical cover!






ONE!!!











TWO!!!





"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Eugene: Cheater!

Nick: Tyler Rayne! Tyler Rayne pulls Xavier Kannon off Wade Elliott! What's good for the goose!

Eugene: This is a travesty!

Nick: Now Kannon and Rayne having words! Kannon and Rayne having words! Tyler Rayne has denied Xavier Kannon a spot in the upcoming Roulette match, and Tyler Rayne is --

Eugene: Distracting XK so that Wade can get up!

Nick: Wade Elliott is the toughest man I have ever seen in this sport and he is pulling himself up to his feet, even before Desade's moved from the apron after the Stars & Bars!

We don't get to hear what Mssrs. Kannon and Rayne are saying. Suffice it to say a lot of foul language is being used. What draws Kannon's attention is a four-letter-word that starts with a C, shouted from behind him.

In retrospect, Wade Elliott shouldn't have announced himself.

Nick: Southern Hospitality -- ducked! Ducked again and Wade draws up short before he hits Tyler Rayne, getting out of the ring! Kannon from behind and --

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!"

Nick: 7-10 Split! 7-10 Split! Uppercut lowblow from Xavier Kannon and Bernie Roberts didn't see it, trying to get the 5-Star Champion out of the ring! Kannon with the standing headscissors again and -- HALLMARK! A SECOND HALLMARK!

This time, Xavier Kannon doesn't let loose the cradle, rolling to his side with a grip around the Bad Dog's leg.

Nick: Kannon rolls through! Kannon rolls back up and pulls Wade with him -- BOOM! BOOM! Third! A third Hallmark! NOW he hooks the legs!




ONE!!









TWO!!!







Nick: He's got the tights, come on!




THREE!!


Vince Howard: Wade Elliott has been eliminated!

Nick: We're down to two-on-two in this epic cage match battle, Tyler Rayne and Nova against Desade and Xavier Kannon!

Eugene: And Desade's only now shaking off the Stars & Bars! This isn't fair! Timeout! Timeout for the Spider!

Nick: No timeouts. Kannon back to his feet and Nova and Rayne are both waiting for him.

Xavier Kannon looks at Nova, the man who allied himself with Fuck You and helped Angelo Deville torment him. Xavier Kannon looks at Tyler Rayne, the 5-Star Champion who has adamantly refused to allow the King of Wrestling into the Great American Nightmare's Roulette Match. Xavier Kannon looks over his shoulder, where Alexandra Pierce is sitting up after the Stars & Bars.

There is no joy in Kannonville tonight, but at least he takes the initiative.

**SMACK**

Nick: Kannon! Kannon pimp-slaps the Underground Pimp! Nova was about to get into the ring, but Rayne's in now and he's firing away on the midsection! He's firing away on the midsection of Xavier Kannon! These two have to go one-on-one! The world demands it!

Eugene: I demand it, as it gives Desade a chance to recover!

Nick: Kannon and Rayne! Kannon and Rayne trading blows in the middle of the ring! Kannon with a right hand! Blocked by Tyler Rayne! Kick to the midsection! He hooks up the King of Wrestling -- it could be time for the Varga'd!

Eugene: Wait, where!

Nick: No, that's the name of his move! That's the name of his move! But Kannon drops to a knee! Kannon drops to a knee and fireman's carry's over Tyler Rayne! Cross armbreaker! Cross armbreaker from Xavier Kannon and he's laying the boots to Tyler Rayne's face! Bernie Roberts down to see if Rayne will surrender!

Another voice doesn't want to wait to see if Tyler Rayne will submit.

"KANNON!"

Eugene: Is that you, God?

Nick: That's not God, that's... that's C.P. Cantrell!

The lights in the PRIME luxury box go on -- sorry, fans, none of the Prometheus board are inside. Just a man by the name of Chadwick Peter Cantrell, looking somewhat irked. But when doesn't he? As the Garden spotlights focus on PRIME's executive producer, he raises the mic that he used to grab everyone's attention.

C.P. Cantrell: You've made you point, Xavier. We've treated you badly, and I regret that. I made a mistake. Now, let Tyler go and you can come back to the federation as a hero.

Nick: Xavier Kannon doesn't even appear to be listening! He pulls up Tyler Rayne, hooking an inverted facelock! Russian legsweep DDT! Rayne gets rocketed head-first into the mat!

In the skybox, the Executive Producer's ratio of perturbed to rational is deteriorating.

C.P. Cantrell: Xavier, whether you believe it or not, PRIME takes care of its own. But just so you know I'm serious, I'm prepared to offer you fifty thousand dollars if you walk out of that ring now!

Nick: Fifty THOUSAND?!?

Eugene: I'll leave the ring for 50 Gs.

Nick: What can I get for $25 and a hotel valet coupon? Maybe a 15-minute break?

Kannon looks up at the skybox and smirks as he pulls up Tyler Rayne again.

Nick: Irish whip by Kannon! He has a history of accepting large sums of money in PRIME - Angelo Deville bought him out of retirement for a match some years ago! That has to be weighing on Xavier's mind!

In the skybox, C.P. sees that he's getting no response, and he ups the ante, wishing he'd learned poker at a casino instead of a damned website. His face is showing some nerves at the moment.

C.P. Cantrell: Fifty thousand dollars and I'll give you a bye to the semifinals in the Jewel in the Crown Tournament!

Once again, Kannon ignores it, despite the growing cacophony from the fans in either direction.

Nick: Hotshot! Hotshot by Kannon! Rayne's neck snapped across the top rope! Kannon clambers to middle rope!

The executive producer feels his moment slipping away and throws another chip on the table, silently praying that his offer will at least get acknowledged.

C.P. Cantrell: Fifty thousand dollars, a bye to the semis, and the last spot in the 2009 Dual Halo, guaranteed!

Nick: Cantrell getting desperate!

Eugene: But Kannon STILL isn't listening!

Xavier Kannon's position allows him to stare directly into the skybox. His smirk widens as Rayne sits up, and XK lunges forward.

Nick: Middle rope necksnap! Middle rope necksnap! XK working over the neck of Tyler Rayne!

Eugene: I love it, Nick, but I gotta wonder if he's throwing away a big opportunity here.

Nick: Make no mistake, Xavier Kannon is a man who's been bought and paid for several times over in a long wrestling career. But he is NOT biting on anything Cantrell is selling. These two have gone at it on PRIME TV ever since C.P. tried to sign Jon Rhine full-time - the same move that earned him the ire of Desade!

Eugene: So in other words, he's REALLY regretting that phone call now, eh?

Nick: This sounds like his penance. He goaded PRIME into this show, and now he's watched some of his best superstars get trumped by their SCCW counterparts.

Eugene: DAAAAAMN right!

Nick: Some results have been dubious, but by hook or by crook, PRIME got beat tonight. C.P. Cantrell knows that. He needs to do something big to save some face, because right now it looks like he bit off way more than he can chew.

Eugene: So of course he's promise the world to a guy who's been nothing but a pain in his ass...

Nick: Sometimes, Gene, the grave gets deep enough that you just need to dig your way out the other side.

Kannon swoops in, pulling Tyler Rayne up into the standing headscissors. He casually swipes the red hair out of his face, signaling for the Hallmark.

Nick: Kannon's already beaten Lindsay Troy and Wade Elliott with this move, fans! If he hits it and it's just Nova against Desade and Kannon, this is going to be --

C.P. Cantrell never sweats. It's one of the things people will say about the Executive Producer of PRIME. "That guy is an ass" may be another, but what's important here is that he never sweats.

Thing is, people can't say that anymore, because Cantrell is to his breaking point as XK lifts Tyler Rayne slowly into the air and holds him there.

Cantrell knew that Kannon could be reasoned with, but right now, what he was offering wasn't overruling the King of Wrestling's principle of "fuck you." He was offering money - since XK's return to wrestling and to the beliefs of L. Ron Hubbard, money wasn't an issue. He was also offering a shot at the top spot in PRIME...except it was an indirect one. Jewel In The Crown Tournament semis means you still have to win two matches. Last entrant of Dual Halo 2009 means you have to outlast everyone else who'd survived. XK entered last in 2008 and finished third. Nothing was a "guarantee." All Cantrell had been promising was a shot at a shot. If he wanted to do this right, he needed to swallow his pride and skip that step in the middle.

C.P. Cantrell: The Roulette! I'll put you in the Roulette at Great American Nightmare!

Nick: Can he do that? Isn't that Rayne's match to put together?

Eugene: You really think Tyler will care given that he's about to get dropped on his cranuium?

Nick: You don't know Tyler Rayne as well as I do.

Eugene: I don't want to.

Time seems to come to a halt. The crowd in Boston holds its breath.

When Xavier Kannon releases the cradle and lets Tyler Rayne fall, they don't know whether to cheer or to boo. Kannon walks over to Desade, still bleary on the apron, and he taps the Director on the shoulder.

Nick: He's asking for the door to be opened! He's asking for the door to be opened! And David Hamill obliges! Xavier Kannon is walking away from Alexandra Pierce for a spot in the Roulette Match at Great American Nightmare!

Bernie Roberts begins the count -- it is a cage match, sure, but you can still be counted out of the ring.

One... Two... Three... Kannon doesn't look back. Alexandra Pierce's expression hovers somewhere between "dark" and "annoyed".

Nick: Xavier Kannon betrayed his entire federation to join Alexandra Pierce, and now he's been bribed into leaving!

Eugene: Get back there! Get back there this instant, you knave!

Four... Five... Six... Kannon stops at the top of the ramp, looking up to the PRIME skybox. C.P. Cantrell has reclaimed his seat, elbows on knees. The look on his face is pale and empty, disguising the nauseous painrising up below his ribcage. It's as if he'd just found out that his ex-girlfriend is pregnant, or that his parents died in a plane crash. As the crowd voices their displeasure for Kannon deserting the main event, C.P. Cantrell realizes that his life is about to change drastically.

Eugene: No, you bastard! Xavier Kannon is a greedy whore! Aimz is going to kill you for this!

Seven... Eight... Nine... Tyler Rayne has crawled back into the corner he shares with Nova. He doesn't look appreciably "happy," but he knows the undeniable truth of this.

Bernie Roberts: TEN!

As Xavier Kannon ducks through the curtain, Tyler Rayne knows that Alexandra Pierce is alone in a steel cage with two of the best wrestlers in PRIME.

You can bet that somewhere in this arena, Eleanor Kannon-Hall has made her exit from the ladies of the Dead Man's Hand.

Vince Howard: Ladies and gentlemen, Xavier Kannon has been ELIMINATED!

Nick: We're down to three! We're down to three and finally, FINALLY Alexandra Pierce will face some kind of penance for what she has done to PRIME and to Jonathan Rhine! If only Jon Rhine or Lindsay Troy was here to see it!

Eugene: But they're not, so shut up.

Many people would have tried to follow Xavier Kannon out of the ring -- after all, it doesn't appear that David Hamill relocked the cage door. Many people would have taken their licks and run. One loss won't harm her. Maybe Desade considers it, maybe you imagine that this is the end of this epic, the Director having robbed PRIME of a real victory.

But then there's the Alexandra Pierce that fought Edward Lambert at SCCW All-In. The one that didn't back away from that challenge even for a moment. That's the one that climbs through the ropes, bouncing on the balls of her feet as a Hall of Fame wrestler like Nova is tagged in.

Nick: Here we go! Nova and Desade! Nova waiting, Desade not!

Desade charges, and Nova extends his arm for a booming lariat, but Desade drops into the splits and slides past. Desade pivots to her feet and follows through with a roundhouse kick. Nova grabs Pierce's leg in both hands, spinning her around the other way. Her foot touches the mat for only a brief moment before she turns a corkscrew flip, landing prone on the mat, facing away from the Eagle Star. She presses off with both palms, kicking backwards at Nova's kneecaps. He manages to pivot past one, but the other heel catches him in the thigh. Desade uses that momentum to flip over and through, landing in a crouch and spinning on the ball of her foot to drive the back of her fist into the former Universal Champion's midsection.

Eugene: Okay, I like her because I'm afraid she's going to kill me, but Jesus Christ, woman, stand still!

Nick: Desade not stopping her momentum -- if Nova catches her, she's liable be caught by both of the Legion members and it'll be lights out for Alex Pierce! Desade off the ropes and scis--no!

Eugene: From the makers of Quizno's, it's Scisno's!

Nick: Desade tries the scissors kick, Vega slides out to the side, kick to the midsection and -- In-NOVA-tor! Corkscrew cradle suplex! Nova bridges back!





ONE!!








TWO!!




Nick: Pierce with a shot to the ribcage of Nova to break up the count! Nova down to his knees, he pulls up Alex Pierce by that stringy red hair and drives his forehead into her face! A vicious attack stuns the Spider in the Web as Nova heads to the PRIME corner! He tags in Tyler Rayne and springs up to the top rope!

Nova's leap off the top rope gets impressive air, enough that his moonsault is able to rotate more than the standard number of degrees and the Eagle Star to drop his elbow across the chest of the Director. It's called the CTRL-ALT-1337, and it's here in this rather than having Nick shout it because I'm not sure how to pronounce it.

Nick: Nova rolls off Desade and Rayne leaps! Springboard! Moonsault! Rayne rolls through, jumps BACK onto the top rope and hits a Shooting Star Press! The Double Shot! Rayne's double-shot and he hooks Pierce's legs!





ONE!!








All right, enough of this random athleticism.




TWO!


This is a Desade match; there's supposed to be evil afoot.



Nick: Foot on the ropes! Pierce gets her foot on the ropes!

There's a commotion around the entranceway as a redhaired girl falls backwards through the curtains.

Nick: That's... is that Mary-Lynn Mayweather?

Eugene: Does she smell like strawberries?

Nick: She's all the way at the top of the ramp, how am I supposed to know this? Seriously, I am this close to suggesting Dave Gibson be nominated for the Hall of Fame for putting up with you every week.

We get a picture-in-picture, Tyler Rayne pulling Desade to her feet in the big screen, the fiery redhead who's unfortunately been one of the Dead Man's Hand's punching bags these last few weeks backing away from the curtain...

And the boos increase when Phillip Kennedy and Mr. Ashe stride through after her.

Nick: Come on! David Hamill threw them out earlier!

Eugene: No, David Hamill threw out Katsidy and Savant and Malice, none of whom are here. Kennedy and Ashe haven't been thrown out at all.

Nick: They're also not valid managers! They're just out here to chase Mary-Lynn down to the ringside area to distract Tyler Rayne and Nova!

Eugene: Is it working?

Kind of, Mr. Ware. Tyler Rayne whips Alex Pierce into the ropes, and she hangs on, as MLM stumbles in her heels in his peripheral vision. He slides up to his feet as Mayweather pulls open the cage door (remember, David Hamill never locked it). She scrambles on her hands and knees to the other side of the Underground Pimp, who's immediately turning to face the Mushmouthed Man-Mountain and the man they call "Big Stack." Nova steps to the middle rope, ready to pitch in if need be.

Nick: Kennedy in the doorway! You know they're just trying to buy Desade some time! You know they're --

Eugene: Hey.

Nick: What, it's a simple fact! Pierce can't beat Rayne and Caesar Vega by herself, so she employs these thugs who chase an innocent girl down to the ringside area just to buy her a breather! It's ridiculous!

Eugene: Not that. She sat out here for commentary during the tag match, and I don't remember her being so leggy. The boobs, I remember. The legs, not so much.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather gets to her feet behind Tyler Rayne.

Then she tips her head to the left, kind of like a bird.

Nick: Oh, no! Oh no! Turn around, Tyler! Turn around!

Unfortunately for Tyler Rayne, he listens. And if the head-tilt~! wasn't enough, well, scream for us, Nick.

Nick: BEAUTIFUL LIE! BEAUTIFUL LIE! That's not Mary-Lynn Mayweather! That's Cozen! Goddammit!

The butterfly kick is delivered solidly to the side of Tyler Rayne's face, knocking the Underground Pimp 270º around in a circle. To his credit, he only falls to a knee. Unfortunately, Bernie Roberts is too busy keeping Phillip Kennedy out of the ring to see it. Unforunately, Alexandra Pierce is back to her feet, and she swoops in as Rayne tries to shake it off, delivering the Spider's Kiss, her jumping double-knee facebreaker, most recently costing Jonathan Rhine his career.

Now is when Phillip Kennedy jumps off the apron and when Nova finally notices. As Pierce locks in the half-nelson and Mary-Cozen presses a kiss to Tyler's forehead, so does Bernie Roberts.

Nick: Not like this!

ONE!!





Nick: Not like this!





TWO!!!




Nick: Cozen up to her feet, she cuts off Nova!



THREE!!!


Jason Myers: Tyler Rayne has been ELIMINATED!

Nick: Tyler Rayne got screwed! Lindsay Troy said Cozen was gone, we thought she'd been driven off after Colossus, but the Faceless Fighter makes her return here at Cataclysm and straight cost the Underground Pimp a victory!

Eugene: We're down to two!

Nick: Nova, former Universal Champion, the winningest Universal Champion in PRIME history, is all that's left to defend the honor of his federation!

Cozen waggles her fingers in a wave to Nova as she hops to the outside and leaps into Mr. Ashe's arms.

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Nick: Rayne's up to his knees and he sees the Faceless Fighter! Tyler Rayne knows what happened now, and he's not real happy about it!

Rayne and Nova share a brief look. In that look is a conversation. "You got this, man?" Tyler Rayne's eyes ask. "No sweat, Rainmaker," Nova's head tilt replies. "I got this bitch." "Well, okay, then," Rayne's expression says as he gets to his feet. "Shiny."

Nick: Rayne up to his feet and he's giving chase! He's giving chase to Cozen and Kennedy!

Eugene: Three people run from a fierce predator, one of them ties on his sneakers. "What are you doing?" his friend asks. "That monster is gonna eat us! You'll never outrun it!"

Nick: What are you -- Rayne! Rayne has Ashe!

Eugene: "I don't have to," his friend said. "I just have to outrun you!"

Nick: Rayne spins Ashe around! Kick to the midsection and... DEATHSCYTHE! DEATHSCYTHE IN THE CROWD! Ashe is out!

Tyler Rayne doesn't even look down at his handiwork as he stands and gives chase.

Nick: Phillip Kennedy and Cozen got away -- for now -- but Roderick Ashe has paid the price! In the ring, Nova charges Desade! Pierce backbends out of the way --

Eugene: I KNEW she was secretly an agent!

Nick: Nova to the far-side ropes and he springs backwards off! Springboard leg-lariat! Pierce is down again! Nova slides into the side and --

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Nick: Horizontal Face-Stretch Inverted Hurt-plex Lock-Bomb!

Eugene: That... is the most ridiculous name for the crippler crossface ever.

Nick: Nova's cranking on Pierce's face and arm! Will she tap? Will Alexandra Pierce tap?

Eugene: That would require her to feel pain!

Nick: Desade clawing at the mat! She's clawing at the mat and trying to get to the ropes! She kicks out and --

Eugene: Toe in the ropes! Toe in the ropes! That counts, still! Get him off, David Hamill!

Nick: That's not David Hamill. David Hamill is the guy outside the ring.

Eugene: Same difference, stop correcting me!

Nick: Nova releasing the...

Eugene: DO NOT SAY THAT NAME AGAIN!

Nick: I was going to say, "The Hold".

Eugene: Sure you were.

Nick: But the Risen Star is not about to let up on Alex Pierce now! He sets Alex on the top rope and grabs under her chin! Pull-out... hangman's neckbreaker! Pierce is dropped again! The cover!





ONE!!









TWO!!







Nick: Thumb to the eye! Thumb to the eye -- of Bernie Roberts! The referee is blinded!

Eugene: Inadvertant! She did it by accident!

Nick: Accidentally, right when she was about to get pinned! But Nova is too much of a veteran to let it bother him! Irish whip across the corner and --

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Nick: Bernie Roberts just got smashed! Bernie just got smashed! But again, the Business Utilities Liaison and Securities Head Treaurer --

Eugene: That's such a crap job.

Nick: Will not be slowed! Hell, Nova might be as dirty rotten as she is, when it comes to ring tactics! The Eagle Star slides to the outside and -- he's got a chair! He's got a steel chair!

Eugene: You think it's a good idea to involve weapons with her? Really?

Nick: Alex getting to her feet! Alex getting to her feet! Nova's in the ring with that chair and --

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Nick: David Hamill followed him in the ring! David Hamill just stopped Nova from swinging that chair and taking Desade's head off! Come on, let him do it, Hamill!

Eugene: Oh, and if Desade was the one with the chair, you'd be all, "Hooray Heroic Referee for Stopping The Bad Person!" but now it's "Kill The Bad Person!" Double standard much?

Caesar Vega stares down David Hamill for a moment. Then he makes a decision. If the referee doesn't want him to have the chair anymore, he'll give it to his opponent. Nova tosses the steel chair to Pierce, who instinctively catches it. She doesn't realize that Nova's foot is following right behind it.

Nick: NOVACAINE! NOVACAINE! Nova just drove that chair into the face of the Director!

Thus far tonight, we've seen many members of the Dead Man's Hand. You saw Katsidy do what she does best: get men to do something they shouldn't, and it gave the Strength in Numbers Champion a win. You saw Savant do what she does best: lie to someone's face. It cost Chandler Tsonda dearly. Drusilla Devonshire did something horrible, blowing mist in Lindsay Troy's face and accidentally injuring the Queen of the Ring. Phillip Kennedy was threatening, allowing Cozen to slip in the Beautiful Lie and get rid of Tyler Rayne. Mr. Ashe provided meatshield services, allowing the Big Stack and the Faceless Fighter to escape. Which only leaves one member of the Hand's A-team to get involved. And that would likely be the cause for the stone cane with the hawk's head that just slipped through the bars of the cage.

But this isn't important yet, because Nova is going for another pinfall.





ONE!!!!



















TWO!!!













THR---

Nick: Good lord! Good Lord, are all the counts in SCCW that slow?

Eugene: Sometimes, our referees get tired.

Nick: Nova up to his feet and he's not happy! The SCCW Head Official stopped him from lobbing Alex Pierce's head off with a steel chair and then he just counted the slowest count for an uninjured official I've ever seen!

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Oh, we forgot one.

Nick: Reginald Lovecraft! The Elder Statesman striding down the ramp imperiously! But David Hamill's had enough! Maybe he ISN'T biased! Hamill is immediately ordering the other half of the Strength in Numbers Champion to the back!

Nova is quickly on his feet, head on a swivel. At this point, he probably wouldn't be surprised if Nick Stuart climbed the cage and karate kicked him in the face. He's trying to run through his list of likely suspects -- and he sees the hobbling man outside the cage and turns that way, fairly convinced that the referee will either toss the old guy or the match entirely.

He never stops to ask himself how come the thin guy is hobbling so much, though.

At least not until the cane is driven between his wickets by the redhead.

Nick: Lowblow! A lowblow! A lowblow with the cane crumples the Eagle Star! Desade tosses the weapon away and yanks Nova to his feet! Double underhook and -- oh! Spinning impaler! She whips Nova over with the move she called the Kasbah when she wore the mask as Charlotte Ramone!

Eugene: That might be the coolest move in the history of the world.

Nick: Pierce hooks the legs! Hamill turns back around!





ONE!!










TWO!!



Nick: How come this is a normal count?






THREE!

[SFX: DING-DING-DING!]

Jason Myers: Ladies and gentlemen, NOVA has been ELIMINATED! THEREFORE, the winners of this bout are... the Dead Man's Hand!

Nick: Dammit, it took Katsidy, Savant, Malice, Cozen, Kennedy, Lovecraft, Ashe, and Hawke, plus a freak injury to Lindsay Troy, but Desade has survived this cage match against PRIME and the Dead Man's Hand have swept through Cataclysm!

Amy Campbell is out through the curtain like a red-haired beam of light, helping the Spider in the Web out of the ring before Nova comes to or someone else from PRIME comes to kill them. In the background, David Hamill has his head down.

Nick: Desade started this war and, tonight, she proved that the Dead Man's Hand are a formidable force in all of the PTC!

Eugene: And Sin City may be the redheaded stepchild, but THEY are our gingers in charge!

Nick: For Eugene Ware and all of us here at PRIME and SCCW, good night from Boston and the Cataclysm!

We get a last shot of the Director and the Red Raver on the ringsteps, one with the SCCW Universal Championship high, the other with a black-wrapped fist in the air...

As we fade to the SCCW and PRIME logos, revolving around each other.