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(To Tyler Rayne) "Ass-kickin' at Ultraviolence, huh? Seem to remember ya gettin' REAL lucky when we fell offa that ladder. Whatever blows yer hair back...but if it's blood yer lookin' fer, come a little closer you fuckin' CUNT. I'll paint these fuckin' walls with yers.

Wade Elliott

ReVolution 81

16 Nov 2005 / Nationwide Arena, Columbus, Ohio (seats 20,000)

Konichiwa!

With Hin See doing the Asian equivalent of Cliff Barnes and negotiating with various suitors of PRIME, you would be forgiven for thinking this place had become a Dallas equivalent. In fact Tyler Nelson was already fitting in as the JR Ewing of the company. However after all the turmoil of last week, you would also be forgiven for thinking that we had seen enough business types strutting around in their suits waxing lyrical about what they could bring to the table. So, imagine the confusion and irritation when Hin See watched on as a fleet of cars pulled into the parking lot. He didn’t have time to deal with latecomers who had missed the boat so it would be no surprise if the visitors received some short, sharp instructions.

Hin See: Now what?

The nearest black car pulls up in front of Hin See, headlights glaring into his face as the engine slows to a halt. This is just another irritant that will not endear the newcomers to the Asian Cowboy. Two other cars draw up next to the lead one and Hin See eyes them suspiciously. This is very much like a Western face-off, Custers last stand or the confrontation from Mad Max: Thunderdome. Hin See knew he had better things to do and he folds his arms impatiently as the vehicles open up. The suited driver goes to the rear passenger door and graciously opens it as Hin See lays his eyes on another suspicious looking character. The spiky black haired Ryu Hirohito steps out onto the concrete and straighten his white suit jacket. The wily smile is enough to already put Hin See off; he has enough trouble for one month already. Ryu carries off the pimp look nicely with the gleaming gold watch and the crisp white suit jacket and pants with matching shoes. He holds a walking cane in his left hand with jewels embedded along its length. Pointing it in Hin See’s direction, he then takes a bow as he speaks.

Ryu Hirohito: It is nice to see that this place is run under Asian efficiency, I’m impressed.

His accent was still present but it had been heavily diluted through years of American life. He politely bowed to Hin See yet it was laced with a slight hint of arrogance.

Hin See: Look, if you’re here to invest in PRIME, that ship sailed seven days ago. If you’re interested in our corporate advertising rates, then you really need to go through our HQ in Albany.

Ryu Hirohito half smiles at Hin See as an older Japanese man walks up alongside the pimp look-a-like holding a silver briefcase. As if he is holding a new born baby, the man gently passes the consignment to his leader who gratefully accepts it.

Perhaps Matt Lanier had not taken last weeks defeat as gracefully as he should have?

Ryu Hirohito: Now THAT is an interesting thought, however in my line of work, I’M not the one that has to handle the affairs of sweaty men!

An exchange of glances and a smirk between the two men, a definite ‘insider’ joke there. Hin See looks at them both with distrust and seems particularly wary about the briefcase. Ryu catches him staring and holds out his pointer finger.

Ryu Hirohito: The days of Kamikaze have long gone so you’re quite safe. I’m not here to see you, I’m not here to buy anything and I’m not here acting on behalf of anyone either. I have a matter of great personal interest that I have to attend to with one of your own…Now, I don’t want any trouble…So if you would kindly let us conduct our business…We will be out of your hair…

From behind the two men the other cars open up and a group of shady individuals step out. Each one is over six foot in height and with a muscular build to match; it’s quite glaringly obvious what role they fill in Hirohito’s empire. As he watches his entourage come forward to stand by him, Ryu taps the floor patiently with his walking cane, eyebrows raised and a smile on his face. Hin See on the otherhand, retains a fairly calm exterior. Given his rather length lifetime of business dealing, this form of scenario was hardly bordering on new ground.

Hin See: I see, this is one of those situations.

The Entourage edge forward towards Hin See, circling him like a pack of wolves. Ryu Hirohito approaches his compatriot and taps him on the shoulders with the walking cane.

Ryu Hirohito: I’m not one of your wrestlers…And this can get very unpleasant if you say ‘No’ to me, so kindly step aside, go about your business and let me conduct mine…

Hin See: Although it might have escaped your attention, I was going about my business until you arrived with your parade. As for your business, frankly I have a lot on my plate as it is tonight, so "conduct" away. A little word of warning however, I have payroll that includes several "sweaty men" as you put it, including some who are bigger and uglier than the charmless gentlemen that currently surround me. If your business causes any harm or disruption to my show, then I’ll show you that I can be equally unpleasant to deal with. I see you’re wearing a rather expensive timepiece on your wrist. Whilst I’m sure it was purchased to convey a certain image as opposed to its functionality, I hope it’s accurate because I’m giving you exactly one hour to conduct whatever business you have here and leave. Now if you’ll excuse me gentlemen, I have a show to run.

The Asian Cowboy walks away from the entourage and heads into the arena through the nearby entrance he was heading towards prior to Hirohito’s arrival. Hirohito on the other hand, simply smiles and motions his entourage into the Nationwide Arena.

The Arrival

It’s a rather brisk evening in Columbus, Ohio. November has begun to usher in the cooler air of winter, evidenced by a slight steam rising from the sewers and a faint fog upon exhaling a breath. PRIME’s number one backstage interviewer, Lisa Tyler, stands at the back entrance to the arena bundled up nicely in a long, black, wool trench coat that covers the dress she wears underneath. Her arms are folded tightly across her chest to help keep her warm.

Lisa: I sure hope he gets here soon. I have got to get the exclusive on this one.

No sooner does she finish her sentence then does John Johnson come barreling out of the door leading into the arena. He wears a similar wool trench to that of Lisa, but he wears pants instead of a dress.

John: What are you doing back here?

The female reporter snorts her reply.

Lisa: I should ask the same of you! This is my story, Johnson!

John: It’s a free country, Lisa.

Just then Matt Mills and Scott McKannon enter the picture. Each of them is dressed almost exactly like John Johnson. The three men look at each other, somewhat embarrassed as Lisa chuckles.

Lisa: Did your mommies lay your clothes out for you this morning or what?

John, Matt, and Scott: Shut up, Lisa!

Lisa: You three need to take your happy asses back in the building, because I’m the one getting this story!

The four reporters begin to squabble amongst themselves, pointing fingers in each others faces. While they are having a "Family Feud", so to speak, a stretch H2 limousine pulls up to the back of the arena. John Johnson sees the vehicle first and darts off toward it. He doesn’t get very far before Matt Mills grabs him by the collar and drags him to the ground. As Mills and Scott McKannon step over the fallen Johnson, he grabs both of their legs and trips them. Lisa Tyler gives the three floundering reporters a wide birth and makes it to the limo first, just in time to greet the inhabitant…..Tyler Nelson. Lisa produces a microphone and thrusts it in the face of Nelson, who is dressed in a hand-tailored grey suit.

Lisa: Tyler Nelson!! You made a dramatic arrival in PRIME last week….what are your thoughts?!

Tyler leans back to keep from being hit with the microphone. There’s something different about the former CEO of Primetime Championship Wrestling, however. There’s not the same arrogance about him. Not the same cocky air about him. He calmly uses his right hand to lower the mic from his face.

Tyler: Well…Lisa, is it?

The brown haired reporter nods her head eagerly.

Tyler: Well, Lisa, it was certainly good to be back in professional wrestling after a long hiatus.

Lisa: The reception you received from the fans of PRIME was less than warm. As a matter of fact, it was down right frigid. What is your response to that?

The PRIME reporters face lights up with anticipation, waiting for fireworks from Nelson in his response. She is quickly let down.

Tyler: I expected the response I received, and I fully deserved everything that I got. The fans here in PRIME have no reason to like or respect me based on my past, and I understand that. But what they don’t know is that there are a lot of things that happened to me over the last couple of years, things that changed the way I think and the way I am.

Lisa: Changed you how?

Nelson’s voice is calm, almost soothing….like a man at peace with himself.

Tyler: I’m not the same person I used to be, Lisa. I hope to prove that to the fans here in a little while.

Lisa: How do you plan on doing that?

Tyler: I’ve arranged for a special-

The former 2-time PCW World Champion softly closes the door of the limo behind him as the door to the arena opens, revealing Toshiaki Motoki. The advisor to Taun Pham moves quickly toward Nelson, carrying a steel Halliburton briefcase.

Toshiaki: Ahh…Mr. Nelson! So happy to see you again.

Motoki and Nelson exchange respectful bows.

Tyler: Hello, Mr. Motoki. I trust everything I requested is in order?

Motoki hands over the briefcase to Nelson with a nod.

Toshiaki: The prize for the winner of the "Trick or Treat" match is ready. Due to the value of it, I have placed it inside this briefcase. PLEASE do not lose it!

Nelson smiles humbly.

Tyler: Thank you very much for your help. I’m sure that the winner, and the fans, will be extremely excited with the prize. It’s truly one of a kind, in my opinion.

Motoki bows again as he takes his leave, returning inside the arena. Lisa Tyler, the super sleuth that she is, queries PRIME’s financier once again.

Lisa: Can you tell me what the prize is for the winner of the "Trick or Treat" match, Emilio Rage?

Tyler: If I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise, now would it? Suffice to say that what is in this briefcase is the first step toward me redeeming myself to the fans of PRIME, and of wrestling as a whole for that matter.

And with that, Tyler Nelson smiles warmly and heads into the arena. Lisa Tyler is left standing next to the limo, a puzzled look on her face. It certainly wasn’t the interview she expected. Then, as if a light came on in her head, she whirls around and looks back at her fellow reporters who are still in a scrum on the ground. She shakes her head and goes inside.

Pre-Game Chat

A "Moments Ago…" logo comes up on the corner of the screen and the scene opens on Paddy O’Shea. The crowd pops at the sight of the Irishman sitting in his locker room, warming up before his opening match against Juan Santos. He is stretching and shaking off the pre-match jitters when the tranquil atmosphere is destroyed by the least tranquil member of the PRIME roster.

"Asshole, it’s your father. We need to have a little chat about the changes that are going on in your body.

Who else but Chandler Tsonda announces themselves in such a manner? He’s in his ring attire for the night, which consists of a black mesh t-shirt and white lucha pants. He leans against the wall like the cool kids in teen movies do. Paddy starts to get up, but Tsonda stops him.

Chandler: Don’t. I don’t even have my ass-kicking shoes, so let’s not go messing up these ones, mmkay? Besides, I told you; I just need to talk to…well, I need to talk about you and you should probably be present, so nothing gets lost in translation. Understood?

O’Shea looks mildly irritated, but he decides to play along. Of course, he has to go tit-for-tat with the Model Citizen or it’s not even fun.

Paddy: Fecker, aye’m always ready to hear ye babble fer hours.

Chandler: Mmm, well…I guess that’s your quirky little way of saying yes, so I’ll continue. You may or may not be literate, but the second match this evening is a rare treat. Specifically, it’s rare because it’s something good and it’s happening in Ohio…

Let the cheap boos sink in. Yes, accept and love the cheap boos for what they are. Become one with the cheap boos. And back to the scene, where Paddy’s facial expression is unchanged by what Tsonda has had to say so far.

Chandler: ...and it’s something good because I will not only be in the ring, but I’ll be winning my first singles title in my professional wrestling career. I’d invite you to come partake in the festivities, but you have we have that whole being out to kill each other thing, so I thought it might get awkward.

Paddy: Ye come into me feckin’ locker room t’infarm me that ye have a match? Why the feck do I care what ye do? Are ye gonna tell me next that ye’re gonna spend the night with yer little boyfriend by the fire?

Oh well, that just makes the people in the seats clap. They appreciate the clever (if not polished in delivery) wit of Paddy O’Shea.

Chandler: I’m not finished, you dunce. When I win the Pulse Title, I won’t really have time to waste on certain things that are…you, actually. I won’t be able to play this little game and pretend like I care what you have to say. No hard feelings, right?

Whereas a normal person would be shocked, Paddy is somewhat used to Tsonda’s bizarre behavior and he takes this admission in stride. Of course, for him it may mean that he gets Tsonda out of his hair, but still, there is some pretty bad blood. It’s surprising that he reacts like this.

Paddy: So what are ye’ doin’ here? Don’ let the door hit ye on the way out.

However, Chandler Tsonda DOES look shocked at the response he gets. He expected a protest from Paddy, a plea for match…but nothing. He tries to bait his rival.

Chandler: Hmmph…so, I guess you’ll have to find someone else to carry you because I won’t be around.

Still nothing. Tsonda decides that he’s been defeated in this small measure of their battle, but he has ended the war. Paddy turns back to his stretches and waves an arm, telling Tsonda to shoo.

Chandler: Alright, well, guess that’s that. Goodbye forever, old bean.

Obvious sarcasm. Tsonda walks out of the room, leaving Paddy, who sports a growing grin for second, then his face goes blank as he walks out of the locker room, down towards the ring area.

Angels Flying Too Close to the Ground

Duke sits on a backstage chair kicked relaxing smoking a cigarette and watching Captain Kangaroo on a television that should be monitoring the show. Duke leans forward to try to figure out why he’s having such a hard time winning his current game of solitaire not realizing he’s playing with a deck of fifty-one.

Hoyt Williams: What the hell?

Hoyt looks around the room and makes a face of disgust at the flower wallpaper decorating the room. He walks over turns the TV off, rips the smoke out of Duke’s lips before snuffing it out with his boot.

Duke Williams: What in the name of my 2/3rds black ass are you doing?

Hoyt Williams: You know this is a non-smoking locker room. What is going one here? Flowers on the wall, playing solitaire, and watching Captain Kangaroo, what is this 1960?

Duke Williams: Close, it’s Columbus, Ohio.

Hoyt Williams: That’s another thing what am I doing working a show in a town of under 500,000 people and not a pay-per-view?? I need to talk to this new CEO what the hell is his name? Willie Nelson? Ty Neaderman? Nick Neilson?

Duke Williams: Nelson….TYLER NELSON.

Duke says the name with a strong hit of familiarity and distain.

Hoyt Williams: DO you know this ass who upstaged me the UNIVERSAL CHAMPION, THEE PTC EXTREME CHAMPION, THE 1988 ROBERT FROST ELEMENTARY SPELLING BEE CHAMPION OF THE GREATER NORTH WEST SUBURBS OF THEE CHICAGOLAND AREA????

Duke Williams: Let’s just say we’ve crossed paths.

Hoyt Williams: Good because you can tell him to tone his heat down a bit he’s stealing MY spotlight and GOD would not be pleased. I am here doing the peoples work in the name of the lord and this guy is some CEO looking out for himself. G.O.D. or C.E.O.?? Humm? Who do you think has more power over the world around us? I hope he invests some of that money of his into our undertakings or he will feel the wrath of biblical pillaging.

Duke puts his hand up to calm the young Williams down.

Duke Williams: Easy killer I’ll handle it. How’s your back?

Hoyt sits down dramatically slow as he highlights the pain in his back.

Hoyt Williams: All I can say is giving God’s title to Jamester may have been the best move I’ve made since calling Geico saving me thirty percent on my car insurance. I mean carrying three titles is a bitch on one’s back. People don’t think of these things since they don’t have them, all they see is how nice they look. Especially guys. But I mean they weigh a ton and really hurt your back. I’m glad I had a title reduction last week.

Duke Williams: Well don’t reduce them too much or nobody will pay attention to you.

Hoyt Williams: Two of the biggest in the e-wrestling world is enough for me. I’m contempt I don’t look to enlarge them again but I sure as hell am not going to reduce them anymore.

Duke Williams: Good to hear. But I was thinking how solve your problem back problem and decided you need a bra!

Hoyt Williams: Was that a cigarette I put out or that deadly marijuana?

Duke Williams: Both. But hear me out the BRA will protect your back and help carry your two very large belts. You see the bra is Belt Recipient Angels I’ll show you.

Duke exits the room and reenters with two gorgeous twenty something girls. Both are dressed in almost non existent white bikini with giant white wings. The blonde has the Universal Title strapped around her waist while the brunette had the PTC extreme title around hers.

Hoyt Williams: My belts are around those diseased women’s waist! I don’t know where they been and if they are clean!!!!

Duke pinches the ass of the blonde who jumps and laughs.

Duke Williams: These ladies come from heaven!! Would you turn away two gifts from GOD? You can’t insult him like that I won’t let you, plus I personally cleaned both of these women and I know where they’ve been!

Duke winks as the girls laugh.

Hoyt Williams: Well I guess it would help me out as my back has been killing me carrying all these damn titles. Ok fine I will use the BRA!

Duke Williams: So mote it be.

Duke lets out a big smile as the camera fades.

Paddy O'Shea vs. Juan Santos

Nick: We’re ready to get things started off right, with Paddy O’Shea taking on Juan Santos!

Richard: Ugh…two do-gooder losers in the first match?

Nick: I ignore you on principle, so let’s just send it over to Vince.

Of course, before Vince can get totally jiggy wit it, "Paso Doble" by Orquesta Guyacan hits the speaker system and Juan Santos steps out to a mild pop from the crowd.

Vince Howard: Entering the ring first, weighing in at 248 pounds…he hails from Long Island, New York….JUAN SANTOS!

A slightly bigger pop comes from the announcement of Santos’ name and Juan waits in the ring, doing a little shadow-boxing to get himself and the crowd pumped.

Richard: You idiot, there’s no one else in the ring!

Nick: Paddy O’Shea will be looking for his first win tonight, but he’s already come close in the two matches he’s competed in.

The music switches to "Rattle Taggle Gypsy" by Christy Moore.

Richard: I’ve already offered my thoughts on that abomination of entrance music.

Paddy O’Shea steps out to a larger pop from the crowd, who have taken, over the past couple weeks, to his never-give-up fighting style.

Vince Howard: Now coming to the ring, weighing in at 180 pounds…he hails from Galway, Ireland….PADDY "THE IRISHMAN" O’SHEA!

Another pop for the slight underdog here.

Nick: Paddy, not surprisingly, is giving a large weight advantage here. Santos has almost seventy pounds on him.

Paddy enters the ring and mocks Santos’ shadow-boxing, to the crowd’s delight.

Richard: That might not be smart, small fry.

Josh Roberts checks both men to see if they’re ready, then calls for the bell. Santos taunts O’Shea and the two lock up, but Santos gains the upper hand. He grabs O’Shea and sends him flying with an overhead belly-to-belly suplex.

Nick: That’s the way to get things started in a hurry!

Santos waits for O’Shea to get to his feet, which only takes a couple seconds. Santos charges O’Shea, but this time the little man is ready. Santos tries to clothesline O’Shea, but the he sidesteps and then catches Santos with a double axe handle in the back that sends him stumbling, but not to the deck just yet. With Santos reeling, O’Shea goes for his own high impact move, sitting Santos down with a sit-out facebuster!

Richard: I think they call that the (Se)X (Tape) Factor.

O’Shea doesn’t for the pin, but instead bounces off the ropes and uses his momentum to drop two hard elbows into Santos’ chest. O’Shea pulls Santos to his feet and Irish Whips (HA!) him to the ropes. Santos comes bouncing off and O’Shea floors him with a quick body press that effectively clotheslines Santos to the mat. O’Shea covers and Roberts counts.

One…



Two….



Nope.

Nick: Pretty close there, but not enough to keep Santos down.

Wanting to stay with the unrelenting offense, O’Shea nails the rising Santos with a standing side kick that floors him once again. Paddy hits the turnbuckle and the crowd responds with loud cheers. He hops to the second rope, then comes flying off with a knee drop right into the stomach of Santos.

Nick: Nice offense!

Richard: Umm…that guy’s a big jobber….or something.

Another cover follows.

One…



Two…



ThreeNO!



Nick: It looks like O’Shea won’t take no for an answer in this match.

Santos gets to his feet, shaking his head, in hopes of clearing the cobwebs. But O’Shea is right there at his throat again, throwing right hands straight in his grizzle, boyee. C’mon, if you’re really reading this part, then don’t you deserve that special little flair I just threw in? Yeah. I got nothin’ else. So…Santos blocks one punch, then another, and then he starts throwing right hands, forcing Paddy back towards the turnbuckle.

Richard: Buster, it might’ve been a bad idea to attack the big guy head on.

But just to spite Richard, Paddy ducks a Santos punch, then lowers his shoulder and uses his chest to slam Santos, back-first, into the turnbuckle. Santos slumps and Paddy takes the opportunity to do the, how do you say, stomping of a mudhole.

Nick: Santos just looks rusty, Richard.

Richard: Stuart just sounds like a tool, Stuart.

Once again, Paddy allows Santos to his feet, but the larger man is tottering. Boy, that’s a fun one to say. It’s not exactly the most useful for a wrestling match, but try and find a better bang for your buck then saying "tottering." Especially if you’re an elderly British gentleman. Santos moves in on Paddy and surprises him with a kick to the gut. He sets up Paddy for iconoclast, trying to lift him up into the air in vertical suplex fashion, but the little guy’s got some fight.

Nick: Paddy will simply not allow Santos to gain any momentum. He’s fighting off that suplex with sheer fight.

Richard: As opposed to fighting it off with a well-placed verbal jab?

Somehow, Paddy is able to muster up enough strength that all Santos can do is pull both of them down into a small cradle and it’s impossible to tell who’s covering who. Josh Roberts looks perplexed and he doesn’t slide in for the count; instead, he stalls for a second by circling the two men, trying to figure out who’s pinning who. He shrugs and goes down for the count.

One…



Two….



Three…



NO!

Nick: Thank goodness, that would’ve been a controversial finish.

Richard: Yes, because I’m sure that people are really just chomping at the bit to argue over which jobber won the curtain-jerking match.

Nick: Maybe you’re watching a different match, but Paddy O’Shea is proving something to me out there.

Richard: He’s proving my "I’ll never be entertained by a curtain-jerking match with two faces in it" theory.

Both men pop up, promptly declaring that THEY were the one who had that pinfall. It’s a moot point, though, because no one had the pinfall and now we don’t have a big ol’ pickle on our hands. Wouldn’t that be weird if you did? Had a HUGE pickle in your hands? Yeah. Weird. So, Santos and Paddy lock up again. This time, it’s Paddy with the advantage, as he has had much of the match, despite his size disadvantage.

Richard: I guess this would be the time to interject the old proverb.

Nick: What old proverb?

Richard: It ain’t the size of the boat, it’s the motion of the ocean.

Paddy knees Santos right in the gut and then plants him with an Impact DDT. Santos is in severe pain after the match, but Paddy doesn’t cover because he wants to put Santos away for good. He flips Santos over and places his feet on the man’s back. In very un-Paddy fashion, he locks his opponent into a picture perfect technical hold that we in the hood call a Mexican surfboard.

Nick: Wow, even a little bit of technical prowess from Paddy tonight!

Richard: Mexican surfboard? Pfft. Now an Estonian boogie board, THAT is something I would pay to see.

The move is taxing on Paddy, who is wrenching as hard at Santos as he can, but it’s obvious that this move is sending Santos past his threshold of pain. Roberts gets right in his face, asking him if he wants to continue, but all Santos does is yell in pain. After ten more seconds, Paddy lets go of the hold, letting Santos fall to the canvas, limp. The match is all but over, but Paddy wants to give the fans a bit more of a show. He motions for more noise byputting a hand to his ear, which of course gets him a LARGE cheap pop.

Richard: Stupid cheap pops.

Paddy tosses Santos to the turnbuckle and immediately follows him there, lifting him up to the top turnbuckle.

Nick: There’s no stopping this Irishman now. He’s going for the big finish.

Paddy points to the crowd, for another crowd pop, and then…cue flashbulbs.
Nick: WHOA!

Richard: Okay…slightly impressive, but I’m still gonna act disaffected.

See, what the little Irish bugger did was grab Santos by the head and face-plant him off the top turnbuckle straight onto the Mat, shaking the damn thing in the process.

Nick: And THAT’s Top of the Morn!

Richard: All things stereotypically Irish are a-okay in my book. Like the inability to grow potatoes.

Both men look like they might be cold from the sheer impact, but Paddy hasn’t taken the punishment that Santos has, so he covers and Roberts counts.

One…



Two…



Three…

Despite his fatigued state, Paddy hops right up, propelled by the increasing cheers of the fans. He does the body builder pose and then kisses his muscle and the fans eat it up.

Richard: Oh GAWD. Get me out of here.

Nick: Haha, well say goodbye to that losing streak of Paddy’s because he’s impressed the fans here tonight with his first victory in PRIME.

Resurrection of Olsig: I

(FADEIN: A brown screen that shows a countdown starting from 5. Not just any countdown, though...one of the old western film ones. 5...4...3...2...1, after it reaches one a black and white montage of Jesus Christ being crucified on the cross is shown.)

(CUEUP: " Dark, Sinister Organ music" )

(VOICEOVER): 2,000 years ago, a figure claimed himself as Christ of Nazareth, a heralded position belonging to the son of God.)

(CUTTO: Peter betraying Jesus with a kiss)

(V/O): Betrayed with a kiss, He was placed on a wooden cross...nails piercing his hand, crown of thorn clinging to his flesh, the sting of nails in his side

(CUTTO: Still image of Jesus hanging from the cross)

(V/O): A process known simply as...Ressurection.

(CUTTO: The image of Jesus hanging from the cross fades into that of Vangelus Olsig ascending from the rafters, hanging on a cross-like structure in his debut match.)

(V/O): Two Thousands years later, in the year of our Lord 2005...A new Resserection is abroad.

(CUTTO: Quick images of Vangelus Olsig participating in countless Dark Age crufifals, such as nailing Boda to a cross...electrifying Dark Angel...and Driving a car with Shadow's body in it into an ocean)

(V/O): Gone are the days of following fraud Cult Leaders like Nosferatu.

(CUTTO: Images of being held at gun point by Trashcan Man

(V/O): Gone are the days of weak rebuttle

(CUTTO: Image of a victorious Vangelus Olsig, raising the Intense Belt in the air at Colossus II)

(V/O): Where passive morality once stood, now is Triumph.

(CUTTO: image of Olsig successfully defending the belt against Paul Cain and Rampage)

(V/O): What was once a way of making money, is now desire...a passion that can't be tamed.

(CUTTO: Return back to the image of Olsig ascending from the rafters on a cross-like structure)

(V/O): Exalt! For thy name is Olsig...

(CUTTO: Zoom into the face of Olsig hanging on the cross-like structure. As it gets close enough, Olsig shoots his head up revealing a disheartening look in his bloodshot eyes.)

(V/O): Things were so much better when you thought I was gone...

(FADEOUT)

A Plea for Forgiveness

Nick: Ladies and gentlemen, we are still reeling over what transpired last week at the end of the program. Hin See and Taun Pham signed a deal with the Nelty Investment firm in an effort to secure monetary backing for PRIME’s future growth, but in doing so might have instead sealed its fate after it was revealed that the CEO of Nelty was none other than Tyler Nelson!!

Richard: It’s not all that bad, Nick.

Nick: How in the hell can you say that, Richard?!? Don’t you know what kinds of things this man has done?

Richard: I still got my check in the mail at the beginning of the month. Business as usual, baby!

Nick: (sighs) In any event, we have yet to hear from Hin See or Taun Pham about regarding that startling revelation…

Richard:(interrupting) Probably won’t if no one remembered to pick their jaws up from under the ring last week. Have you ever tried to talk without a jaw? It’s hard!

Nick: Jesus! I’m sure that they will have plenty to say on the topic, but right now we-

The announcer is cut off by the cash register sounds of "Money" by Pink Floyd. The crowd immediately erupts into a chorus of boos, nearly drowning out the music flowing from the speakers.

Nick: Speaking of the devil…..literally!

The focus turns toward the top of the stage where a man comes walking out from the back carrying a shiny, steel Halliburton briefcase. Dressed in one of his customary hand-tailored Italian suits, grey the color of choice on this night, Tyler Nelson comes slowly walking toward the ring. He’s taking a verbal beating from the fans the entire way, a barrage that he seems to be taking quite personally. The usually cocky and arrogant Nelson looks humble and reserved, grimacing several times as pieces of debris hit him.

Nick: This bastard deserves everything he gets!

Richard: You heard what he said earlier. He’s a changed man. He looks harmless to me.

Nelson climbs the ring steps and crawls through the ropes. He wanders over and asks for a mic, which he is given. As he makes his way back to center ring, the crowd greets him….warmly.

Crowd: ASSHOLE!! ASSHOLE!! ASSHOLE!!

An ashamed look falls over Tyler Nelson’s face as he slowly begins to nod his head up and down, seemingly agreeing with the crowd’s sentiments. He raises the mic to his mouth and reservedly speaks.

Tyler: If you folks could afford me a just moment of your time to speak, I’ll address your outrage and hopefully show you that the Tyler Nelson you used to know doesn’t exist any longer.

Instead of quieting down, the crowd’s intensity increases with the boos and jeers growing louder. Nelson hangs his head and places the steel briefcase down on the mat. He gestures with his free hand for the crowd to calm as he continues.

Tyler: Everyone, please! Just hear me out!

Nick: We’re not buying what you’re selling, Nelson! Peddle your shit somewhere else!

Richard: Awfully hostile toward the man who saved PRIME.

Nick: He hasn’t saved a DAMN thing! That man has ruined and destroyed everything he’s touched!

Nelson attempts to talk over the riotous crowd.

Tyler: I can understand your hostility toward me. I’ve done nothing in my wrestling career to endear myself to the fans….especially you fans. I’ve ruined careers, ruined lives, buried wrestling promotions, and pretty much just been a bastard. But I’m hoping that we can clear the slate and start over. Right here…right now!

The fans’ ire subsides somewhat, but there are still a large number of disparaging chants and shouts directed at Nelson. After a brief pause, he continues.

Tyler: I’ve done plenty of wrong things and wronged a lot of people in my life, you fans being among them. Back when I was CEO of Primetime Championship Wrestling…

Large chorus of boos at the mention of PCW.

Tyler: …I defaced several Just Electrifying Wrestling title belts, using them for coasters, table levelers, kitty litter scoops, fish tank decorations, hubcaps, toilet seats, and…well, you get the picture. I stole talent from you and made disparaging remarks about you and your heroes. That was wrong to JEW and it was wrong to you fans.

Nelson pauses and looks out at the fans in the arena, a remorseful tear welling up in his eye.

Tyler: I apologize.

The sincerity in Nelson’s voice is startling to most of the fans in attendance as judged by the hush that starts to fall on the arena. Tyler paces a few steps as he tries to further heal the gaping wound he created long ago.

Tyler: I’ve been through a lot since I left wrestling almost two years ago. My misdeeds and dirty deals finally caught up to me and I served over a year of hard time in a federal penitentiary.

A few "JAIL BIRD" chants start amongst the crowd, but for the most part the people are listening intently.

Tyler: That time I spent in prison caused me to reflect upon the things that I had done and gave me plenty of time to think about what kind of person I had become. And to tell you the truth, it was pretty ugly.

Nick: You can say that again.

Tyler: It took me awhile, but I came to grips with the fact that I was…as you people so bluntly put it a few moments ago….an asshole. I was a rotten person and I decided that I couldn’t go on living like that any longer. So while I was in prison I decided that I would change my ways and become a better person. I went through greed counseling and part of my recovery program was to make amends with those that I wronged. It’s a hell of a long list, but I’m whittling it down slowly but surely.

Richard: This man is pouring his heart out here tonight…..what a pussy!

Nick: I’m not sure I can buy this bill of goods just yet.

The crowd buzzes as they discuss whether or not to believe the man standing in the ring before them.

Tyler: So as fate would have it, I get a call the other day from Mrs. Beasley, and she tells me about the problems that PRIME is having and that they are looking for investors. It was a no-brainer to me…a message sent from above if you will. How better to help make up for what I had done to JEW than to help its successor flourish and become one of the biggest and best wrestling promotions that ever existed?

Finally! A small pop rises from the crowd.

Tyler: I’m here to put my money to good use for a change! I’ve given Hin See and Taun Pham a blank check and told them to do whatever it takes to make PRIME number one!

A little bit louder pop from the reluctant crowd.

Nick: I’m with the crowd here, Richard. I’d love to see PRIME rise to the top of the heap, but I don’t know if I can believe what I’m hearing from Tyler Nelson.

Richard: Give the man a chance for God’s sake! He was in prison…..and you know what goes on in there. No one deserves that!

Nelson stands tall and looks out at the crowd. His face is filled with determination and his voice is booming with positive energy.

Tyler: I GUARANTEE you fans that I’m here with the best of intentions, and to further prove it to you I have a special treat.

He reaches down and picks up the Halliburton briefcase that had been resting on the canvas.

Tyler: In this briefcase is the prize for the winner of last weeks ‘Trick or Treat’ match….AN OPEN CONTRACT FOR ANY MATCH, AGAINST ANY WRESTLER IN PRIME!!

Nick: WHOA!! That certainly is a hefty prize indeed!

Richard: Guess the Guatemalan Gaucho picked the right time to make his return to PRIME.

Tyler: So without any further ado, let’s bring out the winner of that grueling match…..EMILIO RAGE!!!

...A Prize Awarded...

The crowd explodes as the Overture of Bad Religion’s "The Empire Strikes First" blasts over the PA. The operatic sounds are woven in between the voracious cheers from the fans.

Nick: HERE COMES EMILIOOOOO!!

Richard: I’m suddenly hungry for an enchilada.

Rage pauses at the top of the ramp and thrusts his arms in the air triumphantly, soaking in the adoration of the fans. He then casts a wary eye toward the clapping Tyler Nelson in the ring as he makes his way down, slapping hands with fans along the way. The Nicaraguan Nightmare pounces onto the ring apron and slides through the ropes, approaching the man in the ring carefully. Nelson extends his hand, which Emilio warily accepts.

Tyler: I would just like to say congratulations on winning the ‘Trick or Treat’ match last week, Emilio! Certainly a great way to make your return to PRIME!

The fans cheer as Emilio nods his head in agreement. But shortly thereafter Emilio shoots Nelson a "yeah, yeah, yeah" look and motions for the microphone. With a smile and a courteous nod, Nelson promptly hands it over, but fumbles the exchange and the mic drops to the mat with a thud. Nelson quickly bends down to pick it up as Emilio shakes his head in disbelief. A red-faced Nelson mouths ‘Sorry’ as he gives The Rage the mic.

Nick: Emilio Rage has been laid up for six months, folks! And here he is now, standing before us in the very center of the ring...and who knows, he would conceivably be walking out of Columbus with the Universal Title around his waist, thanks to his Trick or Treat victory.

Richard: ...Meaning thanks to your's truly, Tyler Nelson.

Nick: Sure. Whatever.

The cheers continue to swell up, shaking the very foundations of the arena as Emilio holds up the mic to his lips. Emilio calls for the crowd to hush. A few moments later, the people's champion gets his wish.

Emilio: As much as I'd like to say I'm happy to be here tonight- which I am.

He pauses for another round of cheers.

Emilio: ...I can't look you fans straight in the eye and honestly tell you I'm running one-hundred percent. I mean, after the fall I took at Ultra-Violence off from the PRIME-A-TRON by...by Vampir...Yeah, you can boo...(He pauses for a second)...I knew that my career would never be the same. And it won't be. But, thanks to GlobeTech Industries, I was able to be repaired enough to fight my match against Karina Wolfenden for the PTC Global Title (major pop) only two months after the fall, and now, well, I'm at a good 90%.

Nick: That may not be enough these days in PRIME with our current set of talent. But nonetheless, with the fans behind him, there's no telling what Emilio can -or cannot- accomplish. He feeds off their energy like no other.

"EM-IL-IO! EM-IL-IO! EM-IL-IO!"

Emilio: And so, putting the past behind me, I say let's move ahead to the future. Which brings me, Mr. Nelson, to you...

The crowd quiets down as Emilio steps forward and points an accusing finger at the former CEO of PCW. Nelson swollows hard but puts on an affable smile, holding his hands up defensively.

Emilio: You know, I may have been out of the game for a while...but the game sure as hell never left me. And so when I heard from a little birdie that you might have some involvment with this promotion, I packed up my bags and booked the quickest flight to Milwaukee. I mean, let's get things staright: I don't like you, I don't respect you...and, pfft, I sure as hell don't trust you.

Emilio looks on with untrusting eyes as Tyler Nelson lets off a sorrowful shrug, his shoulders sulking.

Emilio: Franklin Delano Roosevelt once said that you can fool some of the people all of the time. You can even fool all of the people some of the time. But you can never, ever fool all of the people all of the time...So, sir, I'm not sure just what you have in mind, but I can tell you this: If you or Motoki have any big schemes that involve toying with this promotion that I've come to grow and love, if you for one second honestly believe I'll stand idly by while you enact out your little egotistical plan over the ranks of my fellow PRIMEates...you'll find that I'm one. Sore. Customer.

The arena shakes with another rant of "EM-IL-IO!" chants as the former PRIMEal Rage Champion reaches up and tightens his bandana.

Emilio: With that said, gimme the damn match contract and we'll call it a night, shall we?

Tyler Nelson extends his hand again, and giving Emilio a heartfelt smile, shakes his hand. Emilio then politely hands back the microphone to Nelson and steps back as the CEO of Nelty begins to instruct Emilio on the rule of the contract, ignoring the aforementioned jabs.

Tyler: Now, as I stated a few moments ago, the prize for winning the "Trick or Treat" match is a blank contract for you to face anyone, anytime, anywhere. Hell, we could see Emilio Rage versus Hoyt Williams in this very ring RIGHT HERE TONIGHT!!

The crowd explodes at that notion.

Nick: What a match that would be!!

Richard: Did Nelson talk to God about that, first?

Nick: I hate to say it, but I’m starting to believe Tyler Nelson.

Nelson raises the briefcase and rests it on his knee, then flips the latches open. He raises the lid on the case and reveals the contract inside….then clumsily fumbles the case which allows the contract to flutter to the mat at Emilio’s feet. Nelson looks embarrassed as he again apologizes to The Rage.

Tyler: Good lord! I do apologize for that….I’m kinda nervous, being out here for the first time and all. Still haven’t gotten re-accustomed to the energy, you know?

Emilio ignores the rhetorical question and motions with his hand to Nelson that he’ll pick up his contract, then slowly bends over to pick his prize up off the mat. The crowd roars its approval of the prize as Nelson slowly closes the lid on the Halliburton. As the latches are locked back in place, the innocent facade that Tyler Nelson had been presenting thus far this evening quickly disappears and is replaced by the greedy sneer that he’s so accustomed to wearing.

Nick: Wait a minute….

…A Message Delivered.

Nelson raises the briefcase in the air and quickly brings it down across the back of Emilio’s head, sending him to the mat like a sack of potatoes. The Nicaraguan Nightmare's patented bandana falls to the ground as the camera focuses in on the grizzly scene.

Nick: GODDAMNIT!!!

The crowd is stunned for a moment before they realize they had been had, but then they unleash a flurry of jeers and expletives at the bastard standing over Rage in the ring. Emilio tries to get to his hands and knees, but Tyler comes across his back and head again with the steel briefcase, denting it in the process. Rage is sprawled out on the mat, his contract clenched in his unconscious hand. Nelson leers out at the crowd as he raises the mic to his mouth once more.

Nick: Look at the CARNAGE, folks! Mere months after spinal surgery, and Tyler Nelson -urg! That BASTARD- he may have crippled Emilio Rage!

Richard: Meh. He had it coming.

Tyler: You people are pathetic. It took me all of five minutes to convince you that I was a changed man. I guess just like Ed Novak, I still have "IT" baby!

Nelson slowly spins around 360 degrees as he soaks in the crowd’s anger, reveling in their outrage toward him.

Tyler: What in the hell did you people expect? Did you honestly think I gave two shits about you and what you thought? Did you really think I cared? Caring is a weakness….a character flaw, one that I am glad to not be saddled with.

Nick: We may have to get some riot police out here or else there may be some fans charged with Nelson’s murder!

The crowd is incensed at this point, and in fact some extra security does come out from the back and take positions around ringside.

Tyler: You know something? Instead of booing me you all should be THANKING me!! In fact, every wrestler in PRIME owes me a debt of gratitude for saving this Titanic from sinking! If I hadn’t come along with my money they all would be in the unemployment line begging for a handout. Hoyt Williams may be Your Personal Jesus, but I am PRIME’s SAVIOR!

Nick: Can you believe how full of himself this guy is? It’s amazing!

Richard: He’s got the credentials to back it up, though, Nick.

Nick: Pfft!

Tyler: You fans should be on your hands and knees thanking me for what I have done, but instead you treat me like this? I guess that’s why you people will go back to your 12 hour a day, minimum wage jobs tomorrow, struggling to make ends meet and probably stealing from your neighbors, and I’ll fire a couple of people like you just because I CAN! It’s too bad assisted suicide is illegal because I bet there would be line a mile long here in Columbus!

Nick: Oh, come on!

One fan climbs over the guardrail at ringside and tries to get in the ring, but security quickly subdues him and escorts him out of the arena. Nelson just smirks.

Tyler: At least he put up more of a fight than your hero did.

Nelson looks down at the knocked out Emilio Rage, his upper lip curled in disgust. Although he is certainly unconscious, Emilio's hands feel around, instinctively looking to grab onto Nelson's polished shoes...

Tyler: This is your hero? This is the one who champion’s your cause? This is the one who fights for you? (snorts in disgust) Pathetic.

More prolonged boos. Nelson crouches down next to Emilio.

Tyler: I’ve bought and sold people like you all my life, Rage. In fact, I have an opening on the landscaping crew at my mansion….

Nelson pauses and looks over the fallen Rage, the shakes his head.

Tyler: On second thought, I don’t think you could handle the work.

Nelson reaches in his suit coat and pulls out a little white bottle that looks like aspirin. He tosses it down next to Rage’s prone body.

Tyler: Take two of those and call me in the morning.

Nelson rises to his feet and begins a sinister laugh that would send chills down spines if it could be heard over the barrage of jeers and profanity coming from the crowd. As he takes leave of the ring Nelson turns back and looks at his handy work. The Greediest Player in the Game grins with satisfaction as he turns and heads up the ramp, the lifeless body of Emilio Rage left in his wake.

Power Lunch

We return from a commercial to the luxury box of Team Ferguson. Danny Ferguson, the Superstar of PRIME, is perched on a stool inside the glass partition of the box, shutting out the boos of the crowd. The phone next to him is ringing, set on the speaker.

After a few muffled rings, there’s a click and a voice. A very familiar voice.

Tony Danza (via phone): Hello?

Danny Ferguson: T-Danz! What’s up, brother, it’s Ferg.

Tony Danza (via phone): I’m hanging up, Danny.

Danny Ferguson (frantic): Waitwaitwaitwait, man, come on, we’ve gotta talk this out.

Tony Danza (via phone): Ain’t nothin’ to talk about, Danny. My lawyer’s doing the talking for me.

Ferguson furrows his brow and looks around a bit, nervous.

Danny Ferguson: Come on now, Tone-Def. You know how we roll in professional wrestling. You only threaten legal action when it becomes a convenient plot device. Otherwise, we settle everything in the ring. So why don’t you just tell me who roughed you up in Milwaukee and I’ll be ‘acting counsel,’ if you know what I mean.

Tony Danza (via phone): …I don’t know, Danny, I-

Danny Ferguson: I was implying that I’d go kick his ass.

Tony Danza (via phone): Yeah, I got that part.

Danny Ferguson: Well not me personally, but probably one of the guards.

Tony Danza (via phone): I don’t really care.

Danny Ferguson: You don’t care or you don’t know?

Tony Danza (via phone): I don’t-

Danny Ferguson: ‘Cause you said you don’t know.

Tony Danza (via phone): That’s not what I didn’t know.

Danny Ferguson: So you did know.

There’s a silence on the other end of the line. Or rather, an extended pause.

Tony Danza (via phone): I’m hanging up, Danny.

Danny Ferguson (scrambling again): Waitwaitwaitwait, Danz, just tell me who it was and I’ll take care of it.

Tony Danza (via phone): I couldn’t see who it was. He had a mask on.

Danny Ferguson: Are you sure? I don’t think we have any masked guys in PRIME.

Somewhere, The Illustrious Face Eater, who was watching the events on a monitor, curses and kicks the thing over. And then the crew worker standing behind Facey points out that he was also trying to watch the show. And then Facey kicks him in the balls.

Danny Ferguson: I mean, there’s that Cinnamon guy, but I’m pretty sure he was only there last week because of convenience.

The name was Cimmerian, and yes, he was only there as a pawn.

Tony Danza (via phone): I don’t care what his name is, Danny, he abused me! I still have flashbacks to it, Danny. I cry sometimes at night.

In the background, one of Danny’s guards lets out a stifled chuckle, trying not to burst out laughing. Danny tries frantically to quiet him.

Tony Danza (via phone): Wait a second…am I on speakerphone?

Ferguson is flailing violently to stifle any noise in the box, and quickly calms himself down.

Danny Ferguson: No, why do you ask?

Tony Danza (via phone): I could’ve sworn I just heard-

Danny Ferguson: Must’ve been on your end. Listen, I’ve got a match to get ready for, is there anything else you can tell me about this mystery attacker?

Tony Danza (via phone): Well…um…he kept trying to bite me in the ears, nose and mouth area…

Danny Ferguson (thinking): Hmm, doesn’t sound familiar…I think Blackwolf was busy last week, and there’s no one else…

Tony Danza (via phone): Just over and over, everything between the forehead and the chin…

Danny Ferguson: Maybe that retarded kid who screwed me over…

Tony Danza (via phone): It’s almost as if he was trying to EAT my FACE.

Danny Ferguson: Not ringing a bell.

There’s a knock at the door, and Danny quickly clears his throat to try and cover the sound. One of his guards answers, and a catering crew enters the room with the box’s food for the evening.

Danny Ferguson: But hey, I’ll get on that, buddy. Put up a flier or something. Just call off the legal eagles…or chicken-hawks, on your budget.

Tony Danza (via phone): What’s that supposed to mean?

Danny Ferguson: Nothing, man, nothing. Hey, I gotta go, food’s here. Anything else I can do for you?

Tony Danza (via phone):Yeah, um…you think you could ask around about my hair?

The food, a large sub sandwich, is quickly unwrapped as the guards and other members of Danny’s posse dig in.

Tony Danza (via phone): I mean, nobody in Milwaukee knew what happened to it, and neither did the cops.

Almost instantly, there’s an outbreak of coughing and dry-heaving throughout the skybox, prompting Danny to take notice. He gives the universal "What the fuck’s the problem?" signal, and Reggie Delray, his wrestling manager, responds by sliding a piece of the sandwich towards him on a plate.

Tony Danza (via phone): I mean, what do you do with that much human hair?

Danny lifts the top bun to find the sandwich has an extra topping - coarse, black hair, definitely of the bodily variety, and possibly of the pubic kind as well. The coughing and dry-heaving continues.

Tony Danza (via phone): Goddammit, Danny, I am on speakerphone! You’d better take me off this right now or I-

Still staring at the sandwich, Danny pushes a button on the phone and hangs up. He tries to keep his own stomach unturned as his gaze drifts out to the arena. This ‘mystery’ tormentor isn’t playing around.

God Bless You

"Personal Jesus" strikes up over the loud speakers as the crowd gets on their feet to feel their hero and Savior/Champion. The people of the assbackwards Midwest show their support for the Pontiff of Prime by booing him.

Nick: Ohio is not a fan of Hoyt Williams.

Richard:(sarcastic) There’s a loss.

Looking like something out of a 1980’s Dennis Hopper, Dean Stockwell drug movie enter the Williams’s of Imperium with two women known as Bra’s. Duke is dressed in all black except for his chrome shades, elephant foreskin boots, and the pink flamingo wrapped around the top of his back hat. Hoyt is dressed in custom Dusty Robes original gold and silver robe long cut that sparkles like a sparkler on the 4th of July. The women behind the two wrestlers are gorgeous and barley dressed in white bikini’s with giant fluffy wings and gold titles around their perfect waists.

Nick: Well this is interesting.

Richard: What do Hoyt Williams and Geico insurance have in common?

Nick: I’m afraid to ask.

Richard: Both Save!! This segment is brought to you by Geico where you can save up to 15% on your next insurance bill. Call 800-861-8380 today.

Duke holds the ropes for the ladies as they enter the ring getting a few catcalls as they bend over the ropes and enter the ring.

Hoyt Williams: I know I’m sexy as my body is my temple to the lord but lust is a sin and if you people can’t control yourselves looking at me in the ring then you need to exit now. I don’t think I need to mention the sin of homosexuality as well do I? Columbus, Ohio a town so dull Killean is considered cutting edge. God likes people with a little excitement in theirs lives not humdrum farm hicks in the center of nothing America.

The crowd jeers Hoyt.

Hoyt Williams: I look out at this Ohio crowd and all I see is obesity and ignorance neither of which are allowed into the Kingdom of God known as heaven.

The crowd gets louder.

Hoyt Williams: I mean literally for Christ’s Sake you people have nothing to do in this hell on earth the least you can do is exercise. DO some jumping Jacks for Jesus or Lunges of Saint Luke. Get off your fat asses and achieve greatness like your savior and plural champion. Maybe you are confused which wouldn’t be that big of a surprise.

Duke laughs as the crowd is getting steamed.

Hoyt Williams: Where as it’s true Jesus did die for your sin it’s not true that I win for you because you’re to lazy to do it yourself. I win for people who want to be saved the brave and few who have called 800-RISP-GOD and read by bible. But you the lazy no I don’t think so. Now allow me to demonstrate a Jumping Jack for Jesus.

Hoyt slowly removes his robe exposing his perfectly sculpted body. He poses a bit as the two bra’s get excited. Hoyt walks over to the blonde and closes his eyes tying to the take the belt off.

Duke Williams: I know you’re recently married allow me to help.

Hoyt Williams: Thanks.

Duke walks over the blonde and falls to his knees slowly removing the title from the young ladies waist staring into her eyes. On his knees he walks over to the other girl and repeats the process before handing the straps to Hoyt.

Hoyt Williams: Aren’t you getting up?

Duke Williams: I like it down here by these ladies it smells like heaven!

Hoyt Williams: What ever I don’t know what you mean but sure. Anyways here what you do with your Universal Title in your left hand and your PTC Extreme title in the other start doing some jumping jacks using perfect form.

Hoyt does about three perfect jumping jacks with the gold in his hand then stops and looks around at the jeering crowd.

Hoyt Williams: Why are you the obese sinners of Ohio not joining me in this free session of redemption? OH yea that’s right you people don’t have a PTC or PRIME belt. Oh well to hell with you. Now lets talk about Tchu.

Duke Williams: God bless you.

Hoyt Williams: He already does. Now Tchu….

Duke Williams: Bless you.

Hoyt Williams: Will you please stop I’m not sneezing I’m saying Tchu.

Duke Williams: Come again?

Hoyt Williams: Tchu that’s this losers name T-C-H-U.

Duke Williams: Oh yea, yea I get it now.

Hoyt Williams: Tchu….

Duke Williams: Bless you. I know, I know I’m only kidding.

Hoyt takes a deep sigh before looking back at the sinning crowd.

Hoyt Williams: Before I get to Tchu let me clear something up. For the last six straight nights I have defended the Universal Title at house shows all around the land beating legends like Walter Morris, Dick James, Bob Wills, and the even a rare match with the retired Jon Kano! So you people can no longer not call me a fighting champion more like the FIGHTINGEST CHAMPION in PRIME HISTORY!!!

The crowd disagrees.

Hoyt Williams: So this Tchu thinks he’s the number one contender. He thinks he can hang with me in the ring where men become legends and the losers go home. I SAY RUBBISH! I have spoken with GOD himself and GOD told me this man is nothing more then a sinner who got lucky. Now the last guy they hyped like this chub rub I not only beat I sent his ass packing out of PRIME. You really want to try your hand at what Killean couldn’t and can’t handle? Kid I have walked on water and turned water into wine. I cured Tom Cruises homosexuality and arranged for a marriage with Katie Holmes. I make miracles and achieve greatness you have done nothing. NADA, to impress me. Rookie be ready anytime to be visited by the Angel of Death or repent your sins and give up the number one contenders spot. Your call sinner.

The music kicks on as Duke grabs the titles gladly putting them back on the Bras.

Nick: Tchu is no lightweight and his match with Hoyt maybe the end for your savior.

Richard: Who?

Nick: Tchu.

Richard: Bless you.

Nick: Don’t start.

The Illustrious Face-Eater vs. Chandler Tsonda vs. Chris Collins vs. Karina Wolfenden (c)

The Nationwide Arena erupts as "Fireman" by Lil’ Wayne begins to blare over the loudspeakers.

Nick: Folks, it’s time for the highly anticipated Pulse Title Match!

Richard: And certainly so. We’re all excited about the fact that Karina Wolfenden is gone,. Good riddance.

Nick (ignore mode on): The title’s last holder, Karina Wolfenden, will not be here to defend it tonight, but nonetheless we expect a very good match up. Now firstly making his way to the ring is one of our newcomers, but nonetheless a very experienced wrestler who’s held titles...

Richard: Meh. But she’s no real loss anyway...I mean, she was basically Aimz, but didn’t put out. PRIME certainly doesn’t need her...

Nick: ...

"The Swish" by Hold Steady replaces the old music as the cheers suddenly fade into an array of boos.

Richard: You know, I love heels, but do they have to be foreign?

Nick: ...

Vince Howard And introducing another one of the challengers, haling from San Diego, California, he stands at 5'11" and weighs in at 195 pounds...he is The Model Citizen...Chandler Tsaaaaaand-

Vince Howard cuts himself short as the scene suddenly erupts into chaos with the Illustrious Face Eater nailing Tsonda from behind and taking him down to the entrance ramp floor.

Nick: Folks, Face is about as insecure and a psychopathic person we’ve had here in PRIME, and he’s looking to get the early advantage by nailing Tsonda from behind.

Richard: Heh. You sai-

Nick: Shut it!

Before Face can fully mount Tsonda and begin to wear him down, a cheer rings out as the Nationwide Arena Finds support the efforts of Collins as he scoops up Fac Eater and puts him in a rack-like position.

Nick: Collins wants to get this match to the ring! It’s too important a match to let Facey ruin it.

With relative ease, the biggest opponent hops up onto the side of the apron and tosses The Face Eater over the top ropes.Nick: What a makeshift move by Collins, a firemen’s carry to send Facey back into the ring!

Richard: Pfft. Lucky....move. (Shrugs)

Collins goes back to collect up Tsonda but is met by a series of punches instead as the Vietnamese comes back to life. Wasting no time after Collins falls back, Tsonda runs toward the ring and slides under the ropes. The official calls for the bell while Tsonda quickly covers Facey.

Nick: He’s going for the early victory!

ONE!

TWO!

...No!

Last second kick out by the Face Eater. Frustrated, Tsonda lifts Face to his feet and plants him with a quick snapmare suplex. He picks him up again and attempts another. Finally, thinking he has Facey worn down, he picks him up and-

Is knocked out of the ring, along with Face Eater, due in no small part to rocket-like missile dropkick from Collins off from the turnbuckle!

Nick: What a blind-side by Collins! This kid has got a future in PRIME, I tell ya.

Richard: No, I tell you! ...And yes, I agree. (Nods)

Nick: ...

The official begins to issue the ten-count as the two fallen competitors struggle to get up on the outside.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

But breaking the count in an attempt to raise his own stock, Collins makes a baseball slide dive out of the ring aimed at Tsonda...and is grabbed in mid-air for his trouble, whirled around by the legs, and tosses lifelessly against the fan barrier.

Nick: Holy Hoyt in Hell! What a shot.

Tsonda quickly turns his attention to Face Eater. When he reaches down to pick up the former AWCer, however, he gets a chunk of his arm taken off.

Nick: Face just bit Tsonda!

Richard: Yeah, but it’s that damn Collins dude who really bites.

Anyhow, the camera focuses in on the little twinkling globes in Facey’s ever-excitable eyes as he grabs Tsonda by the face -yes, palming his face- and pushes him back toward the ring.

Angered , and of course, not well kept down, Tsonda lashes out and boots his opponent in the gut, doubling him over.

By now, the count has re-assumed and has reached 7.

EIGHT!
Quickly, Tsonda rolls Facey in.

NINE!

..Tsonda rolls in after Facey and picks his carcass up.

Nick: The match is finally underway in the ring again, however, Collins looks like he may be done. He’s still hurting heavily on the outside.

Richard: Vagina.

Tsonda seems to be going for the dragon sleeper but suddenly lets go, pushing Face Eater into the corner instead. Chandler lays into Facey with a series of hard backhand chops -*sigh* yes, the fans do go "Woo!"...but I don’t like it!- before stepping back to kick him sharply in the gut. Facey falls over holding his mid section as the beautiful Tsonda turns to pose for the cameras.

Nick: Oh my God, is he gonna...

Yes. None other than Chris Collins(worth..hehe, get it?) launches himself off from the opposite turnbuckle and attempts his second surprise attack of the night...

But eats a perfectly timed counter-dropkick from Tsonda instead!

Richard: Heh. I told you he sucked balls.

Nick: ...Richard: Big hairy monkey balls.

Nick: ...

Richard: Enormous, neolithic period-

Nick: Enough!

Richard: ...

Nick: ...

Richard: ...Titanic...(etc...etc.)

Nick: (sighs).

Instantly taking advantage of his excellent ring sense, Tsonda makes the cover and is sure to hook the leg.

ONE!

TWO!

No!
It’s not even close this time, broken up by a bulldog by Face Eater.

Nick: The Illustrious Face Eater has got the pin!

ONE!

TWO!

No, broken by Collins!
Collins somehow has mustered the fortitude to regain his strength and get to his feet. After delivering the axe-handle slam to Facey’s back, he picks up the smaller opponent and throws him back to the mat with an impressive powerslam.

Nick: Collins may not be that big a guy, weighing in at 220, but he’s 20 pounds and 25 pounds bigger than his opponents, respectively.

Taking the top turnbuckle, bulbs flash around the arena as Collins attempts to put it away.Nick: He’s going for it all, folks!

Frog Splash.

On target.

Face Eater is out.

The fans at ringside cheer on as a smiling Chris Collins makes the cover.

..Only to be immediately leveled by a kick to the back of the head by Tsonda!

Richard: Great move there, Nick.

Nick: Cowardly...But nonetheless, smart move by Tsonda.

Tsonda reaches down to retrieve Collins and is belted in the gut for his troubles.

Nick: There’s still a lot of fight left in Collins, Rich!

Collins pounds away on the mid-section of Tsonda from the sitting position, fighting his way to his feet. Soon, Tsonda begins to fight back as well and your good ol’ PRIMe slugfest begins again.

Nick: Collin’s has got the tights!

Collin’s suddenly stops punching and grabbles with Tsonda around the waste. He lifts up and holds him in air...

Nick: Powerbomb!

No. Reversed.

Nick: DDT! DDT by Tsonda!

But Tsonda lands awkwardly, his head bouncing off the canvas at an odd angle.

Nick: All three competitors are out!

Richard: I seriously doubt this will end in a count-out.

Regardless, the referee calls out "EIGHT!"

And, fuck, whataya know? Chandler Tsonda jumps to his feet first! Well, he doesn’t jump. It was more of a mosey. With Chandler now at his feet, Facey decides to jump up even quicker, making everyone question whether he was really hurt at all.

The Illustrious Face-Eater: HAH! You lost! I AM THE CHICKEN CHAMPION!

Bam, lariat from Chandler Tsonda. If the Face, as Mike Wade would call him, wasn’t hurt before, this time it was genuine. He held his throat for a bit, leaving Chandler enough time he needed to deal the punishment that an older brother would give to his younger sibling.

Tsonda would be pounding Facey’s... face, right now. Only now, Collins had made his way to his feet, grabbing the Asian Delight from behind the back, and dropping him back over with a German Suplex.

Nick: Collins back in with a German Suplex!

Richard: Um. Where did he come from?

Nick: More importantly, where did SHE come from?

Bam, suicide dive bomb, like only the K-Wolf can do them. Chris was down, and subsequently both bodies fell on top of Chandler Tsonda. Face-Eater, however, was just "recovering" from the lariat he received from Tsonda.

And, like a coward, he covers Chris Collins. Only for a two count, as Wolfenden kicks off Facey’s body. She quickly lifts the superstar up, finding no disadvantage seeing as how he’s practically her size, and sends him flipping over with a devastatingly quick Snap Mare.

Chris Collins and Chandler Tsonda have since gotten to their feet, with Tsonda flattening the former again with his devastating lariat. He learned the price of delay last time, and began to punish Chris for the attack earlier. He sent fist after fist after fist flying in to Collins’ face.

Chandler Tsonda: I’m going to make it so your kid can’t recognize you.

This comment fueled Chris’ rage, and enabled him to power out of Chandler’s hold, which really wasn’t hard. Chris was the biggest man in this match and had finally decided to take full advantage of it.

Lifting Chandler up as well, he quickly dropped him with his own force to follow in the form of a snapping Spinebreaker, drilling his shoulders in to Chandler’s body as they hit the mat. He didn’t cover for the pin, but began hammering in fists of his own. The referee wasn’t there to call off this black-man’s rage, however, as he had to tend to a rage in her own right.

This female rage that happened to be kicking the Illustrious Face-Eater’s ass. Until a certain referee began to distract her.

Referee: YOU CAN’T KEEP SLAMMING HIS HEAD INTO THE MAT LIKE THAT!

Karina Wolfenden: Are you trying to say what I can and can’t do?

Sorry, K-Wolf, that’s all Facey needed to worm out of your petty hold and decide to start slamming your face in to mats!

Referee: Um, excuse me? Did you not just hear me telling her that she couldn’t do that?

The Illustrious Face-Eater: YESSUM! What is your point?

Referee: Well, it sort of applies to you, too.

The Illustrious Face-Eater: WHAT?!

He let’s go of Karina’s hair, and immediately steps in the referee’s face.

The Illustrious Face-Eater: BLASPHEMY! I WILL NOT BE HELD TO THE SAME STANDARDS AS THIS PURPLE HAIRED SHE-BEAST!

And then, something caught his eye. He pushed the referee back, which happened to be over K-Wolf resulting in him landing on his ass and a pissed off Pulse Champion.

The Illustrious Face-Eater: PINFALL ATTEMPT!

Diving body splash on to Chris Collins, who tried to catch the ref’s attention but it was too late. Some wondered why Facey would be so extravagant when the ref wasn’t even watching the action, but that’s the Face for yous, eh?

Facey began hammering feet at Collins body on the mat, shouting many irrelevant things that probably won’t matter in time. He lifted Collins to the mat and sent him to the ropes. As Collins returned, Facey dropped to let him hope over, sending him unknowingly into another strong lariat by Chandler Tsonda.

Richard: Is that all this guy can do?!

As Collins hit the mat, he decided to roll out of the subsequent chaos to follow, just as Chandler hooked Facey’s neck and lifted him to a vertical stance. A sick brainbuster followed, but there was no pin-fall attempt. Chandler was aware that the K-Wolf was still very much a threat, and began to keep an eye out for her. No where on the mat, his head spun so quickly. That means she must be...

Nick: K-WOLF FROM THE TOP ROPE!

...in the air. Chandler was ready for her attempted missle dropkick—put both hands on her boots as they came at him, and shoved her quick to the mat. Karina’s head made a sick thud, but Tsonda was smart enough to know that the blow was not enough to keep the supposed underdog down for long.

Those crafty Asians, always thinking ahead.

He lifts K-Wolf to her knees, drilling a few elbows in her neck for good measure. When he finally gathers his potential and shoves her head between his legs, it is for a moment that he looks out to the crowd and thinks,

"Say hello to your Pulse Champion."

But no, it won’t happen. Spinning Heel Kick from the Illustrious Face-Eater, allowing Karina to reverse the momentum and make her own cover. You think that shit’s going to fly? Fuck no, not when Chris Collins is back in the game. He breaks up the pin-fall, and the fanboys hopes of their dream outcome is once again shattered in front of their eyes.

The Illustrious Face-Eater is quick to combat Collins, once again dropping him to the mat with a quick bulldog. Meanwhile, Chandler has since stood from the pin fall attempt and decided to exact a little playback on the K-Wolf. He drilled her once in the stomach, and again attempted the piledriver.

It was a success this time.

ONE!

TWO!

No, Face-Eater tosses the limp body of Chris Collins into the mix, his weight knocking off the smaller body of Chandler Tsonda. Instead, Collins was now covering Wolfenden.

One.

Two.

Did you really think he’d get the pin if Facey just tossed him on top of K-Wolf? Nope. Instead, he rolls off due to the excruciating pain in his back. Did I forget to mention something?

Oh yeah, Facey with a springboard body splash on to Chris Collins, on to K-Wolf.

Now Facey had the opportunity to make the cover, but he too was clever like Chandler Tsonda. Which was why he was watching out for him, and dodged just in time when the flying Vietnamese pride decided to try his hand at a top-rope Elbow Drop.

Of course, the Elbow Drop was successful, but not necessarily on the original target of the Illustrious Face-Eater. But instead, it hit right on point of Karina’s chest. Good enough, Chandler sighed, but still had the problem of the wormy masked man to handle.

Facey tried to kick Chandler in the gut in a half assed attempt, but of course, Chandler caught it. Bad move, you Vietnamese poop! That’s the oldest trick in the book.

Nick: ENZIGUIRI FROM THE ILLUSTRIOUS FACE-EATER!

Richard: Nice move from the asshole with the long name. Who does he think he is?

The Illustrious Face-Eater rolled on top of Chandler, quickly turning him over and applying a Boston Crab.

Nick: He’s working on those legs, must be a nice strategy!

Richard: Dude, I don’t even think the guy knows what a strategy is. He just does whatever move comes to mind.

In the corner of his eye, he could see Chris Collins approaching from the side. The dude tried to take Facey down with a shoulder block, but Facey was waiting for it. He quickly dropped Chandler’s legs and fell to one knee, using Collins momentum to flip him over and to the mat.

Nick: A beautifully crafted Fireman’s carry.

Richard: I really didn’t know that move still existed.

Nick: But you see it, like, five times every night.

Richard: Really?

Facey now turns to Karina, who has since made it to her feet. Her vision still blurry from the piledriver earlier, and her breathing a little slowed thanks to Chandler’s elbow drop, she didn’t really see this coming.

Eaterplex ’05. She was on her back, allowing the Face to kick her out of the ring and on to the floor. Turning to Chandler and Collins to finish the deed, he was glad to find that both men had already been trying their hands at this.

Tsonda and Collins stood in the center of the ring, slugging it out with the latter getting in the heavier of the blows. Tsonda looks about ready to drop, when both men heard a sharp whistle that caught their attention.

Chandler was smart, immediately diving out of the way. But Chris Collins was stupid and decided to turn around and see what the big fuss was.

Bam, Twilight Press. That’s a twisting plancha for those that never followed the Squared Circle back in it’s hay-day.

Collins didn’t know what way the Face-Eater was twisting when he leaped into the air. All’s he knows is the impact hit hard, and fucking hurt. On the mat, Collins could only lay there and pray his breath would come back in time for him to get back into the match. Hah, we doubt it.

Chandler Tsonda and the Illustrious Face-Eater stood toe-to-toe now. This was the way the two men wanted it; the top billed new comers duking it out for the company’s entry-level title. It was the way it should have been.

Tsonda took the advantage first, leveling Facey with a few right hands that backed him to the ropes. An Irish Whip later, and a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker later, the Face was again stuck to the depths of the canvas.

Again, the Vietnamese Veteran went for the pin-fall in a deserved effort. He was bitter when he did not get the pin.

So, he decided it was time to end it. Once and for all, right?

Why not knock this ignorant mother fucker out with one of the most devastating moves in the business? It seems that Chandler Tsonda was growing quite fond of the Piledriver.

He stuck Facey’s head between his legs (ew), and to his surprise, found great ease in lifting the Face-Eater.

That’s because the Face-Eater jumped.

Chandler knew he must have put too much power into it. Then he saw Facey’s head as he lifted up for a Powerbomb; the mother fucker baited him into doing this. Facey, just then, swings around on Chandler’s shoulders until it begins to look like a hoax from Little Rascals. Sitting on his shoulders, both men facing the same direction, Facey is in his prime opportunity.

Reverse Huricanrana.

Nick: OSAMA RANA! That’s the first time we’ve seen the Osama-Rana in PRIME!

Richard: Why does he call it the Osama-Rana?

Nick: Because it straight-up annihilates, word!

Facey runs over to Tsonda, flips him over from his stomach, and covers for the pinfall.

One.



Two.



Three.

A new Pulse Champion is crowned, and the Illustrious Face-Eater jumps to his feet.

Ecstatic.

The referee takes the gold from the time keeper, and before he even thinks of handing it to the newly deserved champion, Facey snatches it from his hands.

And runs out the ring.

Because chances are, there are three other competitors who aren’t exactly happy with the outcome.

But that didn’t matter.

Facey was the new Pulse champion.

It’s time for PRIME to start recognizing.

Keep Your Friends Close and Your Enemies Closer

In the back, a man walks through the dimly lit corridors, far away from the buzz of anticipation that fills the air near the curtains that separate the thousands of screaming fans from the cast and crew of PRIME. The noise has worn his patience thin, and his journey to the far regions of the arena are nothing more than an escape from too many people with too many questions and too many answers... most of which are nothing but bullshit.

His steps of silence though, are soon interrupted, echoed the distance sound of heels stabbing the ground in a pattern much like those of footsteps.

Hoping, more than actually believing, that the sounds are only in his imagination, Tchu keeps his pace, headed towards the parking garage, though his lack of intention leads him more towards nowhere in particular. The sound, however, never fades from his mind, and its reality is announced with five simple words... "Tchu, just a quick word?"

The Inhuman Being turns to see Lisa Tyler walking down the corridor with him, microphone in hand, sound and camera crew in tow... there presence having been masked by the silence of their sneakers.

Tchu: Just a word? Somehow, I highly doubt you're after a single word.

Lisa Tyler: Well, admittedly, as much as you'd like to say, we'd be more than willing to hear. It’s just... I assumed you wouldn't want to say much.

Tchu: That was a wise assumption.

Lisa Tyler: So... what do you say, just answer a couple questions in front of the camera? Let the whole world know what you're thinking?

Tchu: Fine. Fire away. I'm all yours.

Lisa Tyler: What are your thoughts on winning the JITC and earning the right to battle for the Universal title?

Tchu: Don't have much in the way of any thoughts about that. King of Kings was a couple weeks ago. I did what I set out to do. I outlasted the war. That's all there is to say.

Lisa Tyler: And your opponent at The Great American Nightmare, the current Universal Champion, Hoyt Williams, your thoughts on him?

Tchu: He's obviously a helluva competitor; you don't hold that title without being one of the very best. But I can assure you, the fans, Hoyt... anyone who cares to listen; stepping into the ring with me won't be like anything he's ever experienced before. It’s always different with me.

Lisa Tyler: What do you mean by that?

Tchu: Hoyt's beat a lot of great men, but i wonder if he's ready to step into the ring with something not quite human. Hoyt has worked his way to a great number of successes here in PRIME. He and God make quite the formidable tag team, but God... he's never really had much power over me. Most of the time in fact, he's lost in my world. Hoyt better have his little buddies at ringside with him at The Great American Nightmare, cuz God's gonna have to sit this one out. That is, unless, Hoyt is ini essence, the earthly physical form of God......

Lisa Tyler: Last week, you vowed to avenge Killean's past loss to Hoyt. Was that a bit of sick sarcasm on your part, or have you and The Supreme Machine started to patch things up?

Tchu notices a figure moving towards him from down the hall. He looks at Lisa, then nods his head past her.

Tchu: Why don't you ask him?

Coming to stand opposite Tchu is Killean Sirrajin himself. He puts his arm around Lisa Tyler who appears to look a tad embarrassed at the gesture. Killean smiles.

Killean Sirrajin: What are you supposed to ask me my dear?

Lisa Tyler(blushing): Errr… ummm…

Tchu(not blushing): Well, buddy, she wants to know if we've teamed together against Hoyt and have patched up our friendship, or if its all in her head.

Killean Sirrajin: Ahhh, I see. Well it’s simple as this. Matt has made some good choices as of late and I support them. But Matt you need to stop making jokes about Lisa and what’s in her head. She can actually be pretty smart.

Lisa Tyler: Thank you!

Tchu: Sorry buddy, didn't mean to pick on your girlfriend.

Now Lisa Tyler is as red as the dress she is wearing. Killean smirks but acknowledges the comment.

Killean Sirrajin: Heh, I wouldn’t quite say that Matt.

Lisa Tyler: Erm, Tchu, was your gesture of revenge just a sick joke?

Killean actually pays more attention at this point and looks straight into Tchu’s eyes.

Tchu: Whatever makes you happiest, Lisa. I don't say anything I don't mean. Killean knows that. So if I say that I'm going to battle with Hoyt, and I'm doing it for my old friend who's had his problems with Hoyt... then that's what I mean.

Killean still doesn’t look enthused with the answer but Lisa agrees with the remark.

Tchu: And I hope you heard that, Lisa. And I hope your boy toy standing right there heard me. And I hope all the fans heard me. And I hope, with all that I am, that Hoyt heard me. Now, are we done? I'd love to leave you and Killean to some alone time.

Killean Sirrajin: I heard you. But don’t be concerned with what happens in my personal life "old friend". Be concerned about your loving wife and your little girl who’s probably at home wondering where her daddy is.

Tchu: Hmmm, a point well made. Ya never know, I may even leave early tonight and head back home. I've got no match to hang around for. Then again, as long as I'm standing here talking to you two, I can't be getting back home to my family. So, with that, I'm outta here. Thanks for the time, Lisa. Take care, Killean. I'll see you next week.

Tchu extends his hand to the Supreme Machine.

Killean Sirrajin: Well then, at least I know you have no plans to get involved in my match tonight.

Killean extends his own hand, purposely waiting for the Inhuman Being to grab it.

Tchu moves his hand to Killeans, shakes it, nods and disappears down the hallway leaving the Supreme Machine and the PRIME staff behind. Meanwhile Lisa signals for the camera man to cut.

Lisa Tyler: Killean… I was just wondering… would you like to go for a drink after the event or something.

Standing with a twinkle in her eye, Killean was still rather upset about the outcome involving Amy. But Killean knew at this point that he needs some female companionship, even if it’s only for one night.

Killean Sirrajin: Sure why not? I’ll meet you in the parking lot.

Killean turns to walk down the hallway leaving Lisa to her lonesome. She smiles and nods; happy she finally got what she wanted.

Lisa Tyler: Now I just need to find the perfect outfit.

Keep the Ship Sailin'

The man has no heart, no soul, and frankly doesn’t really give a damn, either. His arrogance has led him to believe that he’s about as invincible as one man can get….and he had probably better be after the stunt he pulled in the ring just a little while ago. Tyler Nelson walks through the bowels of Nationwide Arena with a content smirk on his face. The grey hand-tailored suit has nary a thread out of place, but the steel briefcase that he casually swings by his side is caved in with the shape of Emilio Rage’s head. He’s extremely proud of himself, as well he should be in his estimation. He reaches the end of the hallway he is cavorting down, looks left, then right. His eyes widen as he sees something, or someone, he has obviously been looking for.

Tyler: Ahh….Toshiaki-san!

Following PRIME’s financier around the corner we do in fact see Toshiaki Motoki standing several feet in front of us, perusing some paperwork inside of a manila folder. He raises his head from the literature, then promptly slams the folder shut with a wide grin on his face. Toshiaki eagerly walks over to meet the black-hearted Nelson, glancing down at the dented briefcase.

Toshiaki: I see you made lasting impression on Rage tonight.

Nelson nods in affirmation. He then holds the briefcase up on the palm of his hands as if presenting it to Motoki.

Tyler: A memento of the occasion for you. You might want to wash it or something, though. His hair was a little greasy.

Motoki eagerly accepts the briefcase with a respectful bow. He gazes upon it like it was a new born child, mesmerized by its beauty.

Toshiaki: Merushi, Tyler-san.

Tyler: Not a problem, Mr. Motoki. You did me a favor by getting me in the door here, so I was more than happy to return it. Besides, it felt good to be me again after all the drivel I laid on those idiots out there. God, I was almost getting physically ill out there saying all that sappy crap. It could have gotten real ugly out there….I had some calamari for dinner…

Both men turn up their noses and shudder at the thought of Tyler’s dinner being retched all over the ring.

Tyler: Anyway, I think we have some more things to discuss if you have a minute.

A voice from off-camera derails the conversation.

"Hold on a second, Mr. Nelson!"

Nelson and Motoki both straighten in posture and put on blank, innocent looking faces. Tyler turns around to see Hin See and Taun Pham walking briskly toward them. The CEO of Greed, INC mutters under his insincere smile.

Tyler: This outta be good.

Motoki steps around Nelson to head off the approaching ownership duo.

Toshiaki: Hin See…Taun Pham, I was just looking over some figures-

Hin See raises a hand to his long-time associate, silencing him.

Hin See: Mr. Nelson, I hope you don’t think that you can come here and run roughshod over PRIME like you did over in PCW.

Nelson gives Hin See the classic "Who, me?" look, pointing to himself.

Hin See: While you may have been gracious to loan us the money we needed-

The Greediest Player in the Game interjects himself.

Tyler: A quite LARGE amount of money, mind you.

Hin See continues, ignoring Tyler’s interruption.

Hin See: That does not give you free reign to do as you please! I will not have you attacking our talent like that!

Tyler: Talent? Is that what that was? I mean, let’s all face the facts here….I know what kind of so-called talent this place runs through it. I pillaged and plundered JEW for all of it’s (making quote marks with his fingers) talent when I was running PCW and they all washed out as failures. Let’s see, there was The Ideal 4, Tony Rolo, Bo Raider, Duke Williams….well, wait a minute. Duke was huge success while he was at my side, then he lost his mind and chose to side against me. That may be about the time he started the drug and alcohol abuse, but that’s neither here nor there. I’m sure there were more worthless pieces of…pardon my French, I know you don’t speak the language…shit that I signed who were supposed to be superstars that turned out to be nothing more than curtain-jerking clowns. Besides, did you hear how that Neanderthal talked to me out there? He had it coming.

Hin See’s face begins to turn a shade of red that is rarely seen on his tan-yellow skin. Taking notice of this, Motoki quickly turns to Taun Pham and places a hand on his shoulder.

Toshiaki: Uhh…we need to take a look at some of the advertising contracts and make decisions. Please, tell your father that this was a big misunderstanding.

Taun Pham looks somewhat bewildered for a moment, then turns to his father and speaks in a soothing tone, trying to calm him.

Taun Pham: Toshiaki is right, father. Let us go. I think Mr. Nelson understands your position, clearly. Isn’t that right, Mr. Nelson?

Nelson leers at Hin See, a mocking tone to his voice as he speaks.

Tyler: Oh, absolutely. Won’t happen again, I promise.

With an angry glare Hin See is led away by Taun Pham with Toshiaki Motoki in tow. Motoki turns around quickly as the trio walks away, holding up his souvenir briefcase and mouthing "Thank You". Tyler just nods his head as he watches the three men disappear around a corner.

Tyler: If that old man gets uptight over a little briefcase shot to the back of the head, what the hell is he gonna do when I really get to work?

With that, Tyler strides off and we fade out.

Eat Your Heart Out, Theo Epstein

We enter the temporary office of Hin See to find the now-ex-PRIME owner staring off in the distance, thinking, no doubt, about his decision last week and the shock he had gone through, probably at least triple that of anyone else in the arena, since he was the man who signed at the dotted line to give Tyler Nelson control of his company.

Of course, there are chronic pains, those that linger and remind you of mistakes – much like this Nelty debacle had become – and then there were sharp immediate pains, that needed to be dealt with immediately.

Danny Ferguson is an immediate pain.

The Superstar practically kicked in the door to Hin See’s office, startling the Asian Cowboy and knocking him out of his trance. He turns to see his visitor, and his shoulders instinctively sag.

Hin See: Daniel…is there something I can do for you?

Danny Ferguson: Stop calling me Daniel, for one thing.

Accompanied, as always, by his dual bodyguards, Danny sits down across from See and props one leg up on the oak desk between them.

Danny Ferguson: Secondly, I’ve come to discuss my recent…let’s call them discrepancies…in the two reward-based challenges in this company of yours.

Hin See: It’s no longer my-

Danny Ferguson: I don’t care.

Both men pause to let that sink in. Danny continues.

Danny Ferguson: I think I established a strong reputation as the king of reward matches when I dominated the Storm The Beach match at Tropical Turmoil. And I was on pace to win the Jewel In The Crown tournament before you behind-the-scenes people put me in a no-win situation and forced me in there against a chick.

Hin See: Come on now, Danny, Aimz has faced off with plenty of other male competitors in PRIME, and-

Danny Ferguson: And none of them have the kind of public profile that I do. None of them have their fucking sneezes covered in the leadoff story on Entertainment Tonight. None of them would’ve been pounced on by the media for hitting a woman, because none of them mean a damn thing in the grand scheme of society. No one gives a shit about wrestlers, but everyone cares about actors. I spared you a lawsuit by not taking a swing at the bitch.

There’s another silence. Hin See finally throws his hands up and sits back, not having a response in either direction. Danny nods in approval, then goes on.

Danny Ferguson: So since I got relegated to runner-up in the JITC on that unfortunate series of events…

Hin See: Excuse me, how does losing in the semifinals make you a runner-up?

Danny Ferguson: Well maybe we can call in Amy or Karina and see what they think? Oh wait, they don’t WORK here anymore. Ipso facto, I’m #2, with the asterisk that says I could’ve beaten Tchu pillar to post if I didn’t get cock-blocked, so to speak.

Hin See: Is this all you came in here to talk about, Danny?

Danny Ferguson: Give me a minute, Hideki, I haven’t even gotten to the point yet. My screwjob in JITC combined with another bullshit finish to last week’s Trick Or Treat match – you probably just signed that Mexican to a contract 15 minutes earlier and told him where to find me - mean that I’m the best competitor in this company and I’m not getting recognized for it.

See massages his temples as he sits back in his chair, not really wanting to deal with this right now.

Hin See: Well, I’m sorry, Danny. I wish I could make it up to you, but that’s how wrestling goes.

Danny Ferguson: Hey, I agree, man. I’ve gone through it all, I know it’s like a roll of the dice.

Hin See: Good.

Danny Ferguson: So I’ll just take my title and be on my way.

Hin See: Sure, I- wait, excuse me?

Danny Ferguson: You know, that 5-Star belt you’ve got sitting around since Youngblood’s gone AWOL. I figured since we've got a vacant singles titles, and since my performances as of late must have made me a LOCK for the top contender to that title, that I must now be the champion by default. It’s simple math, guy. If-then, not only-but also, you know, transitive shit.

Hin See: Danny, I don’t know if-

Danny Ferguson: I know, we’ve got this nonsense about Jesse Jamester, but if you just hand me the title, we can forego his title shot, since I just pinned him like three weeks ago. Plus he just got that shiny new title from Hoyt, and God detests the greedy. So anyway, about handing me the title…

Hin See: Mr. Ferguson, that’s really not my intention. It would be an instant devaluing of the belt.

Danny Ferguson: Are you kidding? With a guy like me sporting it around town? It’s an INSTANT step up from the collection of hacks and wannabes that have been buckling it until now. Which reminds me, we will have to do something about the name...whaddya think about the "Superstar" Championship? I guess then we'd be certain that it's around the waist of someone with real star caliber. You know, for a while, I'll be the only qualified contender, but sooner or later I'll probably get bored with it, and then we can hand it over to someone else. Deciding titles by matches is awfully passe, See. SO 1997. I think we all need to get over ourselves, follow Hoyt’s lead and jump into the new era. You can start by giving me a belt. Don't worry about cleaning it or anything - I'd probably have my people change all the panels to real gold instead of this plated shit you're working with now.

He pauses to hear what Hin See has to say, and See just stares at him. The bright side of this was that the Nelson problem was no longer weighing on him. The headache made sure he didn’t get a chance to remember. Finally, he clears his throat and shuffles some paper on his desk.

Hin See: Danny, I think your foremost concern should be the match you have against Emilio Rage tonight.

Danny Ferguson: No worries. I’ve decided that it’ll be a non-title match. After all, the roster would probably riot if some schmuck who’s done nothing to deserve a belt just waltzes in here and takes it. I'm not sure what it is about cluster matches that rattle the bones of the dead and give the "old guard" a chance to return, but that’s your problem, not mine, so I’m going to go out and get my revenge and then start penciling in some real title defenses. I think First Blood has been putting on some strong performances as of late, and should be named a top contender.

Hin See: You’re not getting that belt, Danny.

Danny Ferguson: You want me to have someone design a new one?

Hin See: No, I mean you’re not going to be the 5-Star Champion unless you earn it.

Danny Ferguson: Oh yeah? And how do you plan on determining a new champ?

Hin See: I…I don’t know yet.

Danny Ferguson: Well you’d better make a decision…or else I’ll make it next week.

There’s a mild reaction from the crowd, and See’s eyes grow wide.

Hin See: Are you?

Danny Ferguson: I’m pulling the trigger, Kenzo. Next week Revolution is live from Chicago, IL, and a big-time city needs a big-time authority figure running the show. I’m redeeming my "General Manager for a Day" reward.

See swallows hard, then regains his composure. He slowly rises from his chair to come face-to-face with Danny.

Hin See: Then I will speak to you tomorrow afternoon. Tonight, though, I’m still running the show, and I would suggest that you let me do so, or the Revolution where you control PRIME might be your last one in PRIME. Excuse me.

He shows the men to the door, and Team Ferguson surprisingly agrees. Shutting the door behind them, See retreats to his desk. Trouble was at a premium for him this month.

Infiltrating for Dummies

It wasn’t that hard to sneak past "the World’s Finest," AKA Danny Ferguson’s body guards. More because of the factor they happened to be with Danny, not inside his dressing room guarding whatever needed to be guarded, but that was beside the point.

Upon intruding Ferguson’s room, Facey made an attempt to slip past unnoticed, and he was doing fine. In fact, he didn’t have anyone to run in to that was really of importance, aside from Danny’s "maintenance staff," as he called them.

All of his managers and agents sat gathered in his catered room, waiting for the former actor to return to make their existence seem a little bit more worth while.

Whatever, Facey thought. It was all irrelevant to him. All he wanted was his shot at revenge like everyone else, and he thought he should be recognized for it. He and Tony Danza had humiliated him, in his mind. And the message had to be sent to Danny to let everyone know he was serious.

So, he shaved Danza.

ALL OF DANZA.

And then decided to take his earnings of the shavings, and provide the Ferguson clan with a fully catered meal to their liking. That is, if they liked hair.

Obviously, with the phone call from Danza not making the impact he’d expected, Facey had to resort to more drastic measures. Sure, he stole Danny’s ring gear, but so what?

This time, he had to go for the heart.

Allan North: Wait a minute, who are you?

Facey had been stopped at the front door by Ferguson’s talent agent. He was generally doing nothing because, let’s be honest, no one wants to book Danny for shit.

The Illustrious Face-Eater: Ooops, my bad. I’m Ferguson’s new tag-team partner, Tony Rolo.

Allan North: YOU’RE TONY ROLO!?! But I thought he doesn’t wear a mask!

Facey notices that he is still wearing his match. Touche, Allan North, he thinks, before quickly ripping it off.

The Illustrious Face-Eater: My bad! Look, it really is me. I just wear this silly thing to keep my hordes of female fans from flocking to my loins! Now let me in without suspicion and stop asking questions!

Allan North: Alright!

Allan lets Facey in, and immediately, Reggie Delray takes objection.

Reggie Delray: He’s not supposed to be here!

Allan North: But he’s Tony Rolo! Danny’s new tag-team partner!

Reggie Delray: That’s not Rolo and Danny sure as hell doesn’t have a new partner. You see how he gets along with us, and you think he could share success with someone?! Hah!

The Illustrious Face-Eater: Shut up! I am too Rolo and you’re just jealous because he likes me more than you.

Reggie Delray: THIS IS AN OUTRAGE!

Reggie begins to walk away, muttering things like "insanity," and "dealing with idiots," and "Melissa Joan Hart would’ve been nicer." Allan North just looks at Facey, rolling his eyes towards Reggie and doing the universal "that guy’s a loon" sign.

Facey turns his attention to the room, still occupied by the group, but scans for what it was he needed.

Ahah.

Car keys, to Danny’s Hummer H2.

It was quick and easy. Facey picked up the set of keys, and walked towards the door.

Vicki Siguchi: WAIT A SECOND, WHERE ARE YOU GOING!?

He turns around slowly.

The Illustrious Face-Eater: Who, ME?

Vicki Siguchi: Yes, you! And what’s in your hand?!

Facey goes pale for a second.

Vicki Siguchi: No! You’re that masked guy who has it out for Danny, and you’re going to steal his car keys so you can sabotage our ride home! Well, not on my watch you aren’t—hold on.

Vicki is interrupted by a buzz in her purse, her cellphone.

Vicki Siguchi: Hello? Oh, damn. (Turning to Facey) Can you hold on a second? This may take a while.

The Illustrious Face-Eater: Yeah! Sure!

Vicki turns away, beginning to yell in some inaudible words over the phone and generally causing displeasure to anyone else on the line. Facey meanwhile, sneaks out of her line of sight, and outside the dressing room.

Mission? A-fucking-ccomplished.

Resurrection of Olsig: II

(FADEIN: The scene shows a plain black screen with the word "Honor" in an old movie text. The Text fades and replacing it is a montage of Vangelus Olsig pinning and eliminating Hoyt Williams out of GTT4)

(CUEUP: "Same Dark, Sinister Organ music as before" )

(V/O): Appoxiametely one year ago, One victory practically secured my career in PRIME.

(CUTTO: Montage of the Hangman's Noose match at Colosuss II also involving Trashcan Man and First Blood)

(V/O): Approxiametely three months ago, one victory practically ended it.

(CUTTO: Montage of his first victory over Ozric Mortimer in the Alias League Challenge I)

(V/O): Humble Begginigs were rough...

(CUTTO: Montage of Nova and Olsig standing victorious over Brandon Youngblood and Killean Sirrajin)

(V/O): But will, determination, and the help of many placed my career back on track.

(CUTTO: Montage of Olsig bowing at the feet of Vampir Nosferatu)

(V/O): I thought I had it made when I sold my soul to the devil incarnate himself...

(CUTTO: Montage of Olsig battling Hessian with the Dark Age nowhere to be found)

(V/O): But then I was shown the light...

(CUTTO: Montage of Olsig holding his face in the palm of his hands while on his knees in the center of the ring)

(V/O): I have one person and one person to thank for that shown light...

(CUTTO: Montage of Olsig giving the middle finger to everyone in attendence)

(V/O): But stagnated selfishness has kept me from granting that long overdue honor...

(CUTTO: Black screen with the number 1 in the center once again in an old movie text)

(V/O): One man saved me from my abyss...

(CUTTO: Montage of Olsig hanging from the Cross-like structure is shown once again...)

(V/O): And as the Resurrection of Olsig draws near...

(CUTTO: Solid of black and white image Olsig standing in the ring with his hands raised in victory)

(V/O): I finally pay honor to that one man...tonight.

(FADEOUT)

Teh Greatness (c) vs. Tyler Lopez and Tyler O'Neill

Vince Howard: The following match is for one fall and it is for the PRIME Tag Team Championship!

Nick: What a treat! We don’t get to see too many title matches on ReVolution.

Richard: See what happens when you have smart men in a position of power?

Nick: What?

Richard: Things have gotten consistently better since Motoki came back.

The Lox’s "Money Power Respect" tears through the arena as Tyler Lopez and Tyler O’Neill both enter the arena.

Vince Howard: Introducing first, the challengers. Tyler Lopez ad Tyler O’Neill!

A chorus of boos land on the duo.

Nick: The crowd clearly NOT on the side of the Tylers.

Richard: They just can’t recognize greatness.

Death Trend Setta pours through the arena and the fans are on their feet.

Nick: The Greatness?

Richard: Hardy-har-har. Jackass.

Oxios and Matthews step out from behind the curtains to a second wave-ovation from the fans.

Vince Howard: And introducing next, Scott "Rampage" Matthews and Vangelleus Oxios… YOUR PRIME Tag Team Champions… TEH GREATNESS!!

The two rush down the ramp and slide into the ring, heading straight at the Tylers, who both slip out of the ring - leaving Teh Greatness time to work the crowd. Quickly Lopez slides back in the ring and head directly for Oxios. Vangelleus is jumped with a Lou These Press & Knuckle.

Nick: Lopez goes right for the kill, wasting no time!

Richard: You know, Lopez has GOT to be the favourite here.

Nick: Why’s that?

Richard: He’s the veteran here in PRIME. He’s coming up on his 40th match. And that doesn’t even include the Halo or large Battle Royals.

Nick: Dick, you need to calm down.

O’Neill is holding Rampage off on the outside while Oxios is finally starting to turn the tables on Lopez. Veteran or not. Oxios works his way back to standing. Laying in lefts and rights on his foe. Lopez backs up and finds himself trapped in the corner. Vangelleus hits him with a Snake Eyes on the ropes.

Nick: That’s illegal!

Richard: Well, if the ref doesn’t see it.

Nick: Why’s the ref even worried about those two!? Start with the match in the ring.

Richard; Well, Nick, technically there is no match in the ring. It hasn’t even started yet. I didn’t hear a bell.

Nick: Wha--

Richard: Until those two get to their corners the bell can’t be rung. Looks like everything’s legal.

Nick: Loopholes.

Richard: Who? Rampage & Oxios? I agree.

Vangelleus Irish Whips his opponent to the ropes and on the way back, sends him high into the air with a Back Body Drop that plants him…

Nick: Oh my god! The Scientific Apparatus just fell the better part of ten feet in a free fall to the outside after that move from Oxios!

Lopez almost bounds back to a vertical base, maybe from the force of the impact, but The Whole Freakin’ SHO isn’t about to stop!

Richard: NOW THAT’S ENTERTAINMENT!

Van dives through the ropes with a Spear that drives Lopez into the black plastic barricades. Both men are down.

On the other side of the ring Rampage and O’Neill are still at it. An Irish Whip sends Scott Matthews hard into the steel ring steps, dislodging them.

Nick: Rampage favouring that shoulder now! This match is really wearing these men down! Even T.O. is taking a breather!

Richard: I wouldn’t say this match is wearing them down.

Nick: Why not?

Richard: It still hasn’t started.

The official is pleading with the participants to get into the ring, but they aren’t interested. Tye is grabbing up the steel ringsteps while Lopez and Oxios are fighting to a vertical base.

Nick: This one’s a brawl, pure and simple. Nothing fancy. I think I’ve only seen one wrestling move.

Crowd: HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

Nick: Rampage just got a HUGE face full of ring steps!

Richard: And he’s bleeding.

Tye tosses the steps and starts putting the boots to Rampage.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the Scientific Apparatus and Sky High are in the crowd, pushing people aside to use their chairs.

Richard: They’ve both got chairs over there!

Both men turn and swing a full-force swing, each coming from the opposite direction and both make devastating, and silencing contact.

Nick: You’ve gotta be asking yourself if the Tag Titles are worth this!

Richard: To these guys? Gold is all that’s important. These titles have been held by some greats! Adam, JTF, First Bloo--

Nick: Tony Rolo, Joey Troy, Ignatius Lisieux, Black Ang--

Richard: Yeah, yeah. Except all your examples are of losers.

Nick: What? ¾ of them were Global/Universal Champions!

Richard: Technically.

Rampage has fought his way back to his feet. The referee has thrown himself in between the two men (Scott and O’Neill) Tye consents and heads into the ring, but when he turns around to address Matthews--

Nick: RAGE! Tommy Giles just got RAGEd!

Richard: This match has no hope now.

Rampage is breathing hard now, standing over the fallen official when his name is called out from in the ring. Scott turns to look and sees O’Neill soaring over the top rope, over top of Rampage, grabbing his head on the way down and landing almost an airborn reverse stunner.

Nick: The Skyline from Tyler O’Neill!!

And he’s not stopping there. He picks up Matthews and Irish Whips him into the ring, following up shortly by sliding in and locking on an STF. Scott fights it, but can’t get free and despite being almost on top of the ropes, with no referee to break it and with no real match taking place there’s nothing he can do but survive it.

Nick: The other two are stirring!

Richard; No doubt this match has been brutal, Nicholas.

Nick: Nicholas?

Richard: Hey, you can call me Dick!

Nick: Fair enough. Look! Both Lopez and Oxios are making their way to the ring. And the referee is moving now!

Richard: We may just make a match out of this yet!

Nick: Oxios breaks the hold! Rampage is free and both members of Teh Greatness are standing side by side… and now the Tylers are getting to their feet.

Things have been pretty even so far, but there is still no match, no matter. Lopez jumps at Matthews with a Collar and Elbow tie-up, he jumps up and throws his body weight into a DDT, splattering some blood on the canvas. (From the rings steps from earlier) at the same time O’Neill lunges with a Clothesline that is easily sidestepped and countered with a trademark Jawbreaker from Oxios. Then some brutal kicks to the side.

Nick: Vangelleus Irish Whips O’Neill to the far corner! He falls out onto the apron!

Richard: Giles is up!

Lopez quickly grabs Oxios and Clotheslines him over the top rope, but he manages to stay on the apron opposite O’Neill.

Richard: Did you hear that?

Nick: The ring bell the match has FINAL--

Richard: RAGE! RAGE! RAGE!

Tommy Giles slides into the ring and drops to count the pin as Oxios and O’Neill scramble to get to their feet and get into the ring.



ONE!



TWO!!




THREE!!!

Both tag partners break the pin *just* after the three count.

Richard: That match was… like… what? 4 seconds long?

Nick: That may be the new shortest match in PRIME.

Richard: Shorter than that match between TCM and Token Weed?

Nick: Maybe… we’ll see what Nova, PRIME’s Statistician, has to say about it.

Tennis Ball

Our scene opens on a pair of feet. Black Kenneth Cole sneakers. Pan up. Chandler Tsonda. Already in street clothes. This new enthusiasm for actual in-ring competition that we’ve seen this week doesn’t mean he’s gonna stick around to watch other people fuck up things he could do.

He rounds a corner and he’s in the home stretch, the parking lot. He almost lets out a chuckle when he sees where Dave Gibson’s career was put on sabbatical. Suddenly, the lights in the parking lot begin to flicker. He breaks the silence with his steady voice.

Chandler: Just perfect. How the fuck am I gonna find my car in the dark? Thanks a bunch and a half, Ohio!

The camera doesn’t show anything more then dark really, but there are continued grunts and rumblings from Tsonda and the sound of his sneakers hitting the pavement. There is an abrupt opening in the darkness, from where a small blue sliver of light emanates. Chuckling, Tsonda speaks again.

Chandler: I knew this thing would come in handy! Yeah, try to pull that shit against this mini MagLite AS SEEN ON TV!

Ignoring the self-shredding irony of the preceding events, Tsonda points the blue light wildly around him. There are loud sounds, like something BIG is being dragged. And the noises are getting closer to Tsonda. The light flickers on behind Tsonda and he spins, only to see it go out again. This time, the voice of the Model Citizen is not quite so powerful.

Chandler: Listen, buddy, I don’t know what you want, but I am NOT giving an autograph under these conditions. Also, if you happen to be a criminal, I’ve got a…uhhh…Glock 380 automatic armor-piercing…umm…gun. So, ya know, I won’t hesitate to just start spraying this whole parking lot.

The noise is now very close to Tsonda, who is frantically throwing the blue light around to try and catch a glimpse of anything.

Chandler: I’ve got hairspray! Within seconds, I will commence spraying this air to make it unbreathable and flush you out, you pussy.

Alongside the dragging sounds, we now hear the hiss of the hairspray bottle and some of the fumes are visible through the blue light, which Tsonda is now attempting to keep stationary in a slow rotate around the area, but his hand is shaking wildly.

Chandler: We’ll just see how many felonies you can commit if you can’t procure vital oxygen for your lungs, guy. It’s just a matter of…*cough* *cough* *cough* It’s just a…*cough* DAMMIT! *cough*

So now the only sound is Chandler’s coughing. There’s no more dragging. But then…a strange whirring sound. The electricity seems to be coming back on. A bizarre scene is in front of Tsonda as the lights turn on. Eight large green things that look like tripods are making the whirring sound in front of him.

Chandler: Hmmm…this appears to be some strange robot ritual. Maybe if I slip out quietly, I can get to my car. He takes a step towards the eight machines and all of a sudden…

THWOCK!

THWOCK!

From the two machines on the ends come two tennis balls going about ninety miles per hour, zipping by Tsonda’s head. A terrified look comes across his face, but for a moment, he’s a deer (one of the most attractive deer, that is) in headlights. And six more presents come flying right at him, all with the speed of a major league level fastball.

THWOCK! THWOCK! THWOCK! THWOCK! THWOCK! THWOCK!

"God DAMMIT!

What a foul-mouthed machine! No wait, that was Tsonda reacting to being hit by four tennis balls in the chest.. Immediately, he hits the deck and starts cursing up a storm again. Five seconds pass. Then ten. He slowly creeps back to his feet.

Chandler: You can’t keep a good man down with eight tennis balls! I conquer adversity every day! I declare war on your-

THWOCK! THWOCK! THWOCK! THWOCK! THWOCK! THWOCK! THWOCK! THWOCK!

This is followed by eight different "oww’s" as each tennis ball finds a spot on Tsonda’s body. One navigates fearlessly into his nether regions, which sends him back to the cement ground, except this time without the fearless speech. However, he still has the piece of mind to pinpoint a suspect. He talks in gasps, still very much reeling from that nut shot far worse then any delivered in the ring.

Chandler: Motherfucking *gasp* O’Shea! You *gasp* asshole you’ll *gasp* pay.

However, Tsonda doesn’t seem to be in position to make anyone pay, as the scene ends with him crawling slowly back towards where he entered the parking lot.

THWOCK! THWOCK! THWOCK! THWOCK! THWOCK! THWOCK! THWOCK! THWOCK!

"OWWWW!"

As Long As You Remember, No One Ever Dies

Paul Cain did not have a purpose for being at the Nationwide Arena, in fact he had been advised to stay away. Damien Kahn had taken the week off in order to try and persuade Paul to do the same but he wouldn’t budge. Despite the physical exertion of his battle with Blackwolf last week, Paul had insisted he needed to be at Revolution because his grandmother would have wanted it. Others had said "Take time off, get away from it all, and recharge your batteries" but he couldn’t sit alone in his apartment thinking of her, he just couldn’t bear it. Instead he walked the corridors of the arena like a ghost with his head down, in silence and hands thrust deeply into his leather jacket pockets. PRIME staff attempted to talk with him but he just breezed past them, his thoughts far away. However as he turned the corner of the corridor, he could not fail to notice the huge frame of Mark Blackwolf standing in front of him. Paul Cain had not come here for trouble this week; in fact he had come to work to get away from things in his head that might CAUSE him trouble. Blackwolf’s glare was intense and Cain sighed to himself as he realized that not even for one week in his life, could he get away with having his own space without some kind of confrontation.

Cain: Look, I am having a REALLY bad…FUCKING…week….I am NOT in the mood for anymore shit with you…I PROVED to you…What happens when you bet on Imperium…DEAL with it…And get the HELL out of my way…!

The staredown continued and it was quite apparent that Blackwolf would not relent. Cain was low on patience and high on anger at the moment, dealing with a tantrum controlled child trapped in a man’s body was not on his list of things to do this week. He edged forward and looked up into the eyes of Blackwolf and as he spoke, the spittle could be seen coming from his lips.

Cain: I TOLD you...Get….out….of…my…WAY!

The cue for the inevitable brawl was there and waiting, until a cough came from behind Cain. His body stayed still but his eyes moved to the side as he felt a presence behind him. A glance back to Blackwolf saw a smile cross his face as he pointed behind Paul.

Hoyt Williams announces his presence behind Cain along with Peter Vetra and Jesse Jamester.

Biting his bottom lip, Paul slowly turned to look over his shoulder at the three other members of Imperium. His expression remained furious and almost wild in the eyes as he looked from Vetra to Jamester and then finally to the leader, Hoyt Williams.

Cain: Now isn’t this just nice and cozy?

Hoyt Williams: Blackwolf chill. Listen up sinner I have a hot line to heaven and your grandma is on and she asked me to ask you what she would think of your juvenile behavior?

At the mention of his beloved Grandmother, Cain began to feel the fire growing in his belly as he watched the smug expression on Hoyt’s face. He extended his forefinger in Williams’ direction.

Cain: Don’t you fucking DARE even WHISPER my Grandmothers name from your lips! She’s more of a decent human being than YOU and your PUPPETS could EVER be!

Hoyt Williams: No pa,l these men are warriors you’re grandma would be the puppet. Think about it sinner as I am a verbal genius lets examine this. Lets compare Miss Piggy to you’re old, old lady. Both are ugly, both like hands up their asses, and both have no pulse. Deceased. Taking a dirt nap…well not so much miss piggy.

Peter Vertra: She is a pig and they do root around in the dirt.

Hoyt Williams: Oh I guess I was right then, yup both are taking a dirt nap.

Mark Blackwolf could be seen opening and closing his fists impatiently as Paul looks at the ground as the words sink in. He said nothing in response but just took in everything that was said as he remembered the wonderful woman that his grandmother was.

Hoyt Williams: The Serial Thrilla! THRILLA? What the hell is that an album from Michael Jackson in the 80’s? Don’t answer that let me explain death and life and everything in between to you. Some people live their lives and leave behind greatness like Jesus Christ or me. But your grandmother left you nothing because she was nothing. A void to the world around her with no impact on anybody’s life except maybe yours Mr. Thrilla. But since yours is also meaningless I guess her memory ends. Right here right now. Sorry game over. "C'est la vie", say the old folks, goes to show you never can tell.

Hoyt does a little bit of a twist as he sings the old Chuck Barry lyrics while the words fly around and around in Paul’s head as he looks up to the heavens. He whispers to himself his own message to her; "Please forgive me for what I’m about to do Grandma" as he then slowly moves his head down to glare at Hoyt. It seems he has taken the Imperium bait.

Hoyt Williams: What Would Hoyt Do kiddo? Is something wrong Thrilla?

With that, Paul swings around and goes to land a punch on Blackwolf which is blocked swiftly. Mark retaliates by landing a high kneelift into the stomach of Cain and then the ferocious battle is on. Using his superior strength and size, Blackwolf manhandles Cain, throwing him against the corridor wall and then back against the opposite one. Raising his fists in triumph, Mark grins as he watches Cain wincing in pain. However, fuelled by the image of his grandmother in his head, Paul lunges forward and spears Blackwolf, sending him careering back first into a soda machine. Hoyt slowly walks on following the action, beckoning the other warriors of Imperium to follow him.

Hoyt Williams: Oh no I just got word God is kicking grammy out of heaven for allowing her grandson to be so damn worthless with no respect for the Universal Champion…..God’s Champion in Jamestar….Mr. Vetra……oh and me again the PTC Extreme champion.

Cain shuts off from the words of Williams as he grabs Mark’s head and drives into the side of the soda machine. As he steps away from Blackwolf, to plan his next move, he turns and notices two engineers working on an open elevator. His eyes glance to Blackwolf and then to the elevator and back again. Cain grabs the neck of Blackwolf and begins to pull him up but Mark is playing possum and slams a fist into Paul’s stomach, winding him. Three more blows rain in and Blackwolf then gets to his feet, sending a hard clothesline crashing against Cain’s neck. Hoyt Williams claps his hands with pleasure and Peter Vetra raises a thumb up to the monster.

Hoyt Williams: Howellllllllllllllllllllling mad Blackwolf with the comeback!

Blackwolf drags Cain up off his feet and scoops him up, slamming him down hard onto the concrete. He adds insult to injury by stomping away hard on the prone body of the Serial Thrilla. This however is not enough as Blackwolf again hauls Paul to his feet, grabbing a tight hold of his hair and then running forwards before hurling Cain against the wall next to the elevator. Paul’s neck snaps back and he falls at the feet of the two engineers who are working on the lift. One of them nervously takes his blue cap which matches the rest of his uniform and attempts to reason with the assailant.

Engineer: Sir, this is NOT a safe area to be in, please we don’t want any trouble!

Blackwolf answers silently with a forearm to the face of the engineer, causing his colleague to run off, losing his cap in the process. Just as Blackwolf goes to grab Cain again, Hoyt steps in.

Hoyt mentions the constant interference of Cain and that he can no longer be allowed to threaten the growth of Imperium. He then orders Mark to prove he is worthy of the Imperium name by throwing Cain down the lift shaft. (The doors are jammed open and the elevator itself is on the floor below. It’s not far enough down to do fatal damage but far enough to finish a career).

Peter Vetra and Jesse Jamester pick up the prone Paul Cain and turn him to face the elevator shaft before letting go of him. This is Blackwolf’s big opportunity as he sets up Cain for the "Death From Above" with the imaginary target painted on the elevator a floor below. As Blackwolf goes to hoist Cain up on high, Williams smiles and adds a final taunt to the Serial Thrilla.

Hoyt Williams: Our Father, who art in heaven,
Hallowed be thy Name.

A sick smile comes over the face of Blackwolf as he moves closer in.

Hoyt Williams: Thy kingdom come.
Thy will be done,
On earth as it is in heaven.

Vetra bows his head as Hoyt recites the lords prayer.

Hoyt Williams: Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses,
As we forgive those who trespass against us.

Hoyt gives the nod of execution to Blackwolf who grabs Cain. Hoyt, Vetra, and Jamester turn to walk away as Hoyt continues the prayer with out being a witness to the crime about to be committed.

Hoyt Williams: And lead us not into temptation,
But deliver us from evil.

Blackwolfs large hands move down in slow motion as the rest of Imperium countine to walk away. Just as Blackwolf attempts to lift him up, Cain fights back squirming like crazy and kicking his legs desperately. Mark loses control of his victim who slips forward to his feet and spins around with a hard kick to Mark’s chest. Cain savagely fights back with his fists firing at Blackwolf sending him backwards to the opposite wall. Mark then attempts to retaliate himself, launching a big boot towards Cain’s face only for Paul to swerve out of the way. Mark falls forward and stretches his arms out to stop himself from falling down the shaft because of his bodies momentum. Cain then flies forward and slams his full weight into the back of Mark Blackwolf, sending him careering forward into the depths of the elevator shaft.

Hoyt Williams: For thine is the kingdom,
and the power,
and the glory,
for ever and ever.
Amen.

This was not what Imperium had in mind.

Hoyt turns around instinctively as he hears the echo of a yell falling down the shaft. It doesn’t take him long to realize the wrong sinner has fallen. He quickly takes acting charging Cain with the rest of Imperium.

Hoyt Williams: An eye for an eye gentlemen.

The three members of Imperium pull knifes out their pockets swinging them like pirates on a cruise ship. Before they can cut and dice Mr. Cain out of nowhere walks Emilio Rage carrying at two bats. He tosses one to Cain before smiling and winking at the Universal Champion.

Emilio Rage: I guess I brought a bat to a knife fight. Silly me. How you doing champ? You look a little down? Did somebody fall and can’t get up.

As Rage and Williams face off, Cain walks to the edge of the shaft and looks down with a twisted smile on his face. He slaps his right hand against his chest a number of times and then points to the sky.

This was for you Grandma.

That Boy Needs Jesus

THUD!

A fist slams against a metal door; the driven force of which is seen from Tyler O'Neill who stands outside the rear of the Nationwide Arena where temperatures vary around 39 degrees. The wind blows quietly, but shifts locks of hair down into Tyler's eyes; diminishing the sight of noticeable anger deep within him. Tyler slowly lifts his fist off the door…

THUD!

…and without hesitation slams it into the door once again, this time making a small dent which appears around the view of bruised knuckles; two of which have definitely been broken in the past and that is revealed from the flat, deformed skin covering them. This time Tyler presses his body into the door with his right fist as he sweeps the hair in front of face out of the way of his eyes.

The tense jaw, the cold stare, and his slow heavy breathing are pieces that have been put together to establish Tyler's resentment; possibly from his match no more than fifteen minutes ago. Leaning against the door and staring at the asphalt with only his battered hand to hold him up, Tyler's balance is thrown off when the door begins to open from the inside. Staggering backwards, and in anticipation, Tyler watches to see who is opening the door.

The view of a thick beard peaks through the door and a very large framed man comes into view. The man is none other than PRIME Universal and PTC Extreme Champion, Hoyt Williams. Raising his shoulders in quick reaction to the cold, Hoyt looks at Tyler, whom stares back.

Hoyt Williams: Damn kid, I thought you were knocking. Heard the poundin' a few meters away. No one else seemed to bother to open it so I guess a real man had to do it. What are you doing out in the cold? Especially with you soaking wet? Haven't you ever had a mother preaching not to do things like this?

Tyler continues to stare at Hoyt and seems to acknowledge absolutely nothing Hoyt is saying to him. Hoyt squints his eyes and tilts his head in a manner revealing that something just hit him.

Hoyt Williams: Wait a minute. You're that new guy that just lost to those guys who think they're funny. Well not just you, but you had a partner.

Tyler rolls his eyes and attempts to make his way inside. Hoyt steps to the side to let Tyler slip in.

Hoyt Williams: Wait, you're not angry because you lost a match, are you?

Continuing his silence and angry façade, Tyler attempts to shrug off Hoyt's questions.

Hoyt Williams: Kid, seriously. I've been here for a long time. I've had my numerous shares of losses, which of course were never my fault. But irregardless, I am a double champion. Universal and PTC Extreme Champion if you were unaware.

Tyler makes his way towards the locker room area and Hoyt follows close behind.

Hoyt Williams: You can never let one loss hold you down hoss. I mean, think of it this way…but be aware, this is possibly the best advice I've ever given anyone, so listen closely…What Would Hoyt Do?

Tyler shakes his head as he continues his walk either towards his locker room, or away from Hoyt Williams. Hoyt stops as he spots Duke Williams from afar and yells out to Tyler.

Hoyt Williams: Hey kid, I was just trying to help.

Hoyt shrugs his shoulders and makes his way towards Duke as Tyler turns another corner and walks out of sight.

Hoyt Williams: That boy needs Jesus.

Sprinklers

Another scene that opens on a pair of feet? Black Kenneth Cole sneakers. Pan up…to an ice pack being held over the genital area. Chandler Tsonda. Nuts: sore. Pride: severely bruised with several contusions. The result of the Pulse Title is far in the back of his mind. However, a search for Paddy O’Shea in the backstage area was unsuccessful. But how to prove it was O’Shea...Tsonda was attacked in the dark by a bunch of tennis ball shooting machines. Thus, this is not the night for revenge. In fact, it’s been time to go home for a good half an hour.

Luckily for Tsonda, there’s a back entrance to the parking lot that will bring him to his car, albeit via the long way. But when you’ve been attacked by machines, you’re not exactly crazy about running into them again (look what they did to Zion, by gum!). Nonetheless, there is now a security guy alongside Tsonda, who told him a long story about getting jumped by the tennis ball machines.

Chandler: It’s O’Shea, I know it is!

The security guard is not as sure, but he goes along with the stunt.

Security Guard: Of course it was, sir. It was definitely Mr. O’Shea who cut the power to the parking lot, dragged eight tennis ball machines into the parking lot, and placed them in position to hit you.

Chandler: You goddamn right it was.

Yeah, Tsonda doesn’t realize the sarcasm in the guard’s voice. They reach the hallway that enters into the parking lot. Tsonda abruptly stops.

Chandler: You go first. I’m much too important to die.

The guard gives him a "what the hell?" look.

Chandler: C’mon, if you die, all that happens is the number of Hungry Man Dinners purchased gets cut in half.

The guard shakes his head, then steps through the door, out of Tsonda’s sight. The Model Citizen waits, tapping his foot impatiently. He feels water on his forehead. Then looks up and sees water droplets coming from the sprinkler above.

Chandler: I can’t even make any more Ohio jokes. YOU ALMOST DONE IN THERE, SPARKY? Any more robot armies?

No response. Just as a note, things are about to get far worse. Tsonda is not taking any chances, so he takes a couple steps back. And then…

WHOOOOOOOOOSH!

It’s not a giant toilet flushing. It’s all the sprinkers in this wing of the building going crazy and spraying on full blast. Water cascades down onto Tsonda, who already looks like a wet dog, with his usually perfect hair hanging down over his forehead.

Chandler: ARRRRGH!

There’s no choice but to retreat. He sprints back a full corridor, through the falling water that has thoroughly soaked his clothes and his skin. In the fashion of this night, the last step Tsonda takes sends him sliding onto the floor, face up towards the full brunt of the sprinkler. And just as Tsonda puts his hands up to protect his face…the flow stops. Tsonda pops up and looks around. The security guard is taking his time, looking down.

Chandler: WHERE WERE YOU?! He just attacked me again!
Security Guard: What the hell happened to you?

Chandler: THE SPRINKLER SYSTEM HAPPENED TO ME! IT WAS O’SHEA!

Security Guard: Listen, Tsonda; if it was Mr. O’Shea who was attacking you, I could do something, but you appear to be the victim of two very random unfortunate events.

Chandler: It was…he was…the sprinklers. GO FUCK YOURSELF!

A very wet, very angry Chandler Tsonda storms off, once again back in the direction he came from. The security guard shakes his head again. But the fact remains that, despite his best efforts, Tsonda is still in the building. And that makes him a very, very angry panda.

Memories, All Alone in the Midnight

Replay a couple of moments in your life that you’ll never seem to forget. Moments that fly around in your head like guardian angels. These are the times you look back on and smile; times that signify the daffodils and flutters of birds, where everything seemed unique, liberated, serene, blissful and open. In these moments, there’s a significant obstruct that keeps away the infected epoch. Think as hard as you can about them and study them. How long has it been since there’s been a moment like such in your life? Will there ever be a tireless moment of freedom again? Has the sun stopped shining or have I been closing my eyes? See, when I focus on the better half of memories, lodged like stones in the crevices of brain sponge-walls, I reintroduce myself to them and play them out as they were, just to experience the high I felt. Inside a perfect state of ecstasy that quietly rests in the womb of my mind, I sat there and watched myself burn a man in all its glory; lighting him ablaze without even the slightest care in the world.

It felt great.It looked great. It made me great.

I was considered part of the immortal mighty – a superhero, for Christ’s sake – blooming into the free world. Stained with hatred from those watching and obliterated by journalists worldwide, I figured that this was my peak in life. I succeeded and bringing a certain tone in the wrestling ring. I performed an intentional stunt on someone I literally can’t stomach. I nearly beaten while inside Morris-Country Hospital by a deaf person; just some joe-schmo dedicated fanatic, who fancied beating people with nubs of cement. So, my face was mangled and he bit me on a couple sections of my left leg, enough to break a couple blood vessels. Of course, I’m still standing and letting anyone back into my familiar little circle of chaos.

Anyways, I’m dragging on about things that really aren’t important right now. Let’s get to the real deal, right? What has brought me back here? Why has PRIME simply opened its doors to me? Where do I go from here? Why, telling you now would almost completely ruin it for you all, and I would never want to do that. Let this new revolution of mine be a surprise to all of you. Let it shrivel you up as you sleep the night away. Let it rip into you until it swells and rots. I was never here to warm the hearts of the children here, holding unoriginal signs up in the air. I’m here to poison the water you drink in. I’m here to flummox you to a drool. I’m here to suck you up like a vacuum and control you like no other infomercial has done.

A shattered fishbowl lies in its entire scatter on an unmade bed, which is covered in sand and shells. There isn’t a pillow and one white sheet covers the mattress. A mahogany coco-clock sat on the wall directly behind the fishbowl, ticking to the beat of a heart beat and equally loud. The fish – a simple goldfish – lies on its side for a moment. Its eyes dying amongst the vortex of life; glassed over and no longer sheltered by water. Flip – Flap – Flip – Flap- Flopping in tumbles, struggling to find air to protect its lungs, it continues to roll over, like an obedient dog, and force out wooing sounds. Zooming out, the girth of the room is now in view. There were Baseball posters, football trophies, a birdcage hanging from the ceiling – a parrot occupying it – and notebooks.

This is my room. I kicked that fishbowl over during one of my fits. I don’t recall what the immediate reason was that made me angry in the first place, but I do remember my violence chamber. It was deep and vast. I’d go through streaks of violent antics before I woke up to the realization of what I was doing to myself and to others. Did I stop? Hell no. It made me become more interesting in that study towards humans. It made me want to leap to several different levels of mistreatment. That’s why I burned you down, Iggy. I did all of this to see how much of a superhero you actually were. Truth be told, it became quite obvious what your limitations were. I wonder how many of your fans have left you because of that. I mean, you certainly disappeared. You certainly let down a lot of people by turning away from what I did to you. If you were rightfully Ignatius, then a couple of burns wouldn’t have stopped you. You’re fake and I’ve come back to endorse that once and for all.

The room slowly fades and reinvents itself into a rundown shack. The posters and trophies were now gone. The birdcage was empty and rusted. The bed was nothing but a square of rusty springs and the window to its right was boarded up. The room that completes the numbing release of reality. Suddenly, the whole room crumbles down – sheet rock, furniture, birdcage and all – and forced a plumb of dust to rise where an abandoned bedroom once stood. Soon after the dust is cleared we’re taken to what looks like the backstage corridors of an arena. A spine tingling pop from a crowd watching goes off as a dazed Cimmerian can be seen hanging from a meet hook; his eyes in the back of his head.

November represents party time for a guy reinventing himself in the capture of reality. I’ve been away for a long time and I’ve got so much to say, so many things to do, and so much God-damn controversy to stir.

The camera lowers down toward Cimmerian’s dangling feet, showing a heap of clown clothes, along with a portrait of a smiling Ozric Mortimer in black and white, dressed to kill and be a clown – until now…

Danny Ferguson vs. Emilio Rage

Nick: What a night it has been so far, I mean we have had so many different things happen, you never know what is going to happen here in PRIME.


Richard: You could say that again, but the more important thing is Emilio Rage is going to make his in ring debut right now!!!


Nick: As my counter part just told you we are going to see one of the leaders against the Dark Age, who are no longer around, make his in ring return against everyone's favorite actor Danny Ferguson.


Richard: I guess Rage did his job when he got ride of the Dark Age, because we know they have disappeared.


Nick: That is not necessarily a bad thing.


Richard: I know we got the Imperium instead!


Nick: Oh joy; we have our referee Wesley James in the ring awaiting the competitors.


The first couple riffs of 'Unleashed' by Chris Classic featuring Nazareth come on and the fans are expecting to see Danny Ferguson in his traditional wrestling attire. But instead we see Danny emerge from behind the curtain in his street clothes. He is wearing a green shirt, khakis, and a set of dress shoes. He slowly saunters to the ring getting a mixed reaction from the crowd.


Nick: Looks like Danny has still not found his clothing, he is wrestling in the clothing he arrived in.


Richard: That shoe looks like it is going to hurt a lot more then a normal set of wrestling boots.


Nick: That is for certain a good kick with those will send Emilio Rage to the hospital in no time. Speaking of Emilio Rage it looks like he is ready to come to the ring as we hear Cold Feelings start to ring throughout the arena.


Danny Ferguson is in the ring stretching a little more as he waits for Emilio to get to the ring. The song hits the first verse just as Emilio pushes the curtains away and takes a step out into the ramp way.


Nick: We have not seen Emilio Rage in a PRIME wrestling ring in a long time and it looks like the fans are excited to see him back.


Richard: It looks like he hasn't learned not to wear that stupid bandana.


Nick: That is his trademark bandana and many fans love it, as you can see some young kids are wearing it in the arena tonight.


Richard: Great just what we need our society looking up to become illegal immigrants, who can't speak English.


Nick: You are impossible.


Emilio Rage makes his way to the ring getting a great ovation from the fans. Just as he slides in he is met by a shoe to the head from Danny.


Nick: It looks like Danny is looking to get any advantage he could possible can.


Richard: He doesn't look all that happy to be honest with you.


Rage quickly gets to his feet after being struck so brutally. Rage comes back with fists of fury and clocks Danny Ferguson with a right fist. But Danny comes back with a right of his own. They switch blows for a good couple of seconds.


Nick: The two of these men are taking aggression out on each other and it looks like it is going to be a physical match.


Richard: Good that is what we need here in PRIME.


Rage sends the last punch that lands on the right temple of Ferguson and it sends him to the mat. Referee Wesley James comes over and warns Rage.


Nick: Rage is not taking much of the words the ref has just said, he is picking Danny up by his red hair.


Richard: Good maybe we can beat him like a red headed step child!


Nick: I think that is a little overused Richard.


Richard: So is a kick to head, or a punch but you never say anything then do you?


Trying his best to ignore the comments from Richard, Nick turns his focus back to the match, where we see Rage picking up Danny Ferguson and setting him up for a vertical suplex. He grabs him by the khakis and picks him up straight in the air and they both land hard on the mat.


Nick: Danny just took the most of that blow and we can see he is grabbing his back like it might be hurt.


Richard: Danny is a real wrestler he can't be hurt.


Rage is quick to get back to his feet not wanting to let Danny get ahead of him.


Nick: It doesn't seem like there is all that much ring rust with Emilio Rage.


Richard: There should be, I was hoping Fergie was going to take this home easily.


Rage goes for a round house kick but Danny quickly ducks it and sends a quick blow to the lower region of Rage sending Emilio down to the mat in pain instantly.


Nick: What a cheap shot by Danny Ferguson, how can the ref allow that?


Richard: What the ref doesn't see doesn't matter.


Nick: How could have not seen that it was right in front of him.


Richard: Maybe he was blinking or something.


You can see the rage and anger in the eyes of Ferguson as he waits for Rage to get up. Once Emilio is on his feet Danny quickly steps in and sends an elbow to the head of Rage. Danny then follows up with a side headlock.


Nick: It looks like Danny Ferguson is trying to set the pace of this match, and maybe even work on his neck to set him up for the BOB!


Richard: We don't want to see a BOB from Ferguson tonight, he looks angry and it looks like he might hurt someone.


Nick: He only really hurts people when he wants to.


Richard: Yeah, look you have Dave Gibson and Kyle Lamen. Both of which Danny tried to hurt and successful did.


Nick: Well he is not holding the lock on Rage for too long as Emilio is taking his elbow and jamming it into the stomach of Danny Ferguson.


Danny Ferguson starts to keel over at the waist and Rage grabs his neck and slams him down with a huge DDT.


Nick: Emilio Rage is taking all his anger out on Danny.


Richard: I am sure he has a lot he has been out of wrestling for quite some time now.


Nick: Sucks to be Ferguson….


Richard: We will see when that bell is rung who it sucks to be.


After Rage slams the cranium of Danny Ferguson into the mat he slides down and starts to work on the ankle of Danny with an ankle lock submission.


Nick: The expression on the face of Danny Ferguson shows how much pain he is actually going through right now.


Richard: He must be going through a world of pain, but he needs to find a way to get out of this hold.


Just as Richard says that is seems like almost Hoyt himself just gave Danny Ferguson a burst of energy as he reaches out and grabs the ropes which were far away.


Nick: Referee Wesley James is calling for Emilio Rage to break the hold; it doesn't look like he wants to.


Richard: He will if he knows what is good for him.


After a moment or two of coaxing from the ref Emilio Rage lets go of the hold. Emilio gets to his feet quickly and raises his hands get an ovation from the crowd.


Nick: It looks like the crowd is glad to see Emilio Rage is back.


Richard: I am still not too sure why, they like this guy for some reason.


Danny Ferguson gets to his feet although he is hurting a little but he gets there slowly but surely is the saying. Emilio Rage Irish whips Danny Ferguson into the ropes and when Danny bounces back attempts to do a huge powerslam.

Nick: Rage was just successful in landing a huge powerslam!


Emilio Rage is going for a quick cover.


1..


2….


3….




Nick: No the Ref is only showing two fingers Danny Ferguson must have gotten his left shoulder up just in time.


Richard: That was a close one; we almost gave millions of Mexicans a reason to sneak into the country.


Nick: And what is that?


Richard: Because they almost thought that anyone could be a wrestler.


Nick: Oh because Rage is Mexican, and he got a win that means anyone can wrestle?


Richard: Now you are finally catching on…


Nick: Folks the words of my partner are not condoned by me or anyone else with Playboy Television.


As Nick continues his little speech mocking a disclaimer Rage looks at the Ref as if he did not count fast enough. He looks rather furious but there is nothing Wesley James is going to do about it. With Rage's attention turned on the Ref Danny Ferguson gets back to his feet and comes with a low blow sending Rage to the ground quickly. Before the ref can even realize what is going on Danny starts kick the mid section of Emilio Rage,


Nick: The Ref is quick to give another warning to these two competitors who both seem to be playing a little dirty tonight.


Richard: It makes things interesting again.


Danny Ferguson kicks the mid section of Emilio Rage a couple of times before the ref finally pulls him back. This gives time for Rage to get to his feet and just as he does he is attacked by a clothesline from Ferguson.


Nick: That clothesline just sent him to the ground hard.


Richard: It sure did, I wonder if Rage even knows where he is right now.


Danny Ferguson drops to the mat and goes for a quick cover.


1…
2…


Nick: Only a two count,


Richard: So close I thought this misery was almost over.


Danny Ferguson gets up off the mat in anguish knowing that he almost had Emilio Rage. But Rage is also quick to get to his feet. The two of them lock up and Rage sends Ferguson into the ropes, Emilio tries for a clothesline but it's ducked by Ferguson and when he comes back Emilio is set up for a back body drop but that is foiled by Danny who kicks him square in the face.


Nick: Great head up move from Danny there.


Richard. It's almost like this is scripted…


Nick: What?


Richard: Get it Danny Ferguson is an actor…. Nevermind


Danny Ferguson grabs the neck of Emilio Rage and drops down with forceful DDT. Danny Ferguson looks like he is going to capitalize here by throwing Emilio Rage into the corner turnbuckle.


Nick: What is he about too do?


Richard: Looks like he is going to mount him and start punching him.


Nick: Well the crowd is ready to count with him.


Danny winds up for the first punch the ref and crowd count with him.


1…


2…


3…


4…


5…


6…


7…


8…


9…


Nick: He should only have one final one, he swings and nails it and the crowd yells out 10!


Richard: You can really feel the intensity in this match tonight.


Danny Ferguson gets down of Emilio Rage as he starts to stagger around a little bit. Danny Ferguson watches as he walks over towards the middle of the ring looking like he is going to fall down and Ferguson helps by giving him a standing side kick to the back of the head. Emilio Rage hits the ground hard.


Nick: It looks like Danny Ferguson has control over this match.


Richard: You can tell by the look in his eyes he is enjoying himself.


Danny is quick to pull Rage back to this feet and again Irish Whip him into the corner.


Nick: What is he planning on doing now?


Richard: Wait and see wait and see my good friend.


Danny Ferguson helps Emilio Rage to the top of the turnbuckle. Both men are standing on the top of the ropes. He grabs him in the mid section look liking he is getting ready to set the Box Office Bomb up.


Nick: It looks like this match might just be over.


Richard: Could he possibly be hurting another of our superstars?


Danny starts to pick him up but Emilio Rage gives resistance, he tries a second time still met by resistance from Emilio Rage.


Nick: Looks like Emilio Rage isn't ready to give up yet.


Richard: Good he should win this match.


Danny goes for it one more time and gets Emilio's feet off the turnbuckle but Emilio actually uses the turnbuckle as a springboard and grabs onto Danny Ferguson and nails a tornado DDT.


Richard: ROAR!!!!~!


Nick: Ladies and Gentleman the tides have turned Danny Ferguson was going for the Box Office Bomb but it was countered by Emilio Rage's ROAR~!


Emilio lands hard on the mat almost as hard as Ferguson but is able to throw and arm over Danny for the cover.


1…


2….


3….

Nick: Emilio Rage has done it folks, he has just won his first match back.

Richard: Yay! He's back.

The Ref raises the hand of Emilio Rage as he looks notable exhausted.

Your Winner: Emilio Rage via ROAR~!

Nick: What a great match we just had it could have gone either way but in the end Emilio Rage was able to counter the Box Office Bomb with his ROAR and get the win. We will be back in a minute.

Free At Last

You’re probably sick of the feet, but hey there they are. Black Kenneth Coles. A beleaguered, frustrated Chandler Tsonda. It’s been a very eventful night, after all. This time we catch him sneaking down a back stairway quietly. He pushes open the door at the bottom of the stairs and finds himself in a remote wing of the parking lot.

Chandler: Hallelujah!

There’s no time to celebrate, though. He’s finally found an obstacle-free way to get to his rental car. HE DRIVES A DODGE STRATUS! He slinks over to the car and fumbles in the dark for his keys.

Chandler: Finally, I can go back to the hotel, order up some room service and po…umm…in-room movies.

After more fumbling, Chandler gets his keys and puts the key into the slot, but doesn’t turn it. He is horrified by what he sees inside the car.

Chandler: What…

After this night of exasperation, there’s not anything else to say. The windows are whited out. And not because of fog or frost. Tsonda opens the car, in hopes that the horror is all a dream, but it’s not. Foam comes pouring out.

Chandler: But…I…no!

There’s little that Tsonda can do besides yell out. He puts his finger into the foam that fills up the ENTIRE interior of the car. There’s nowhere to sit or place his things. There’s no room for anything. Tsonda falls to his ass on the cold concrete. There’s no other choice. He pulls out his cell phone, dials a number, and begins speaking.

Chandler: Yes…I’d like to call for a cab, please.

The Model Citizen lets out a massive sigh.

Chandler: Yes, I can wait half an hour for it to arrive. I’m at the Nationwide Arena. Yes, I’ll be waiting in the private parking lot.

It takes all his willpower for Tsonda not to throw the cellphone to the ground in anger, but he takes a seat on one of those yellow things that marks how far you can go in the parking spot. He notices something on the front windshield that he didn’t see before in his anger. His eyes go big as he reads what’s written, in white soap:

FECK YE

Pulse Title notwithstanding, this would be the part where we say…

"This means war."

Hoyt Williams and Peter Vetra vs. Killean Sirrajin and James Farwell

I bet you cringed again when you read who was writing this. Not to worry, though, for I don’t intend to foul it up too badly. Besides, after four pages or so, Tywon’s set to kick in. So at least you’re only getting half screwed.

And with that out of the way, let’s get on with the slaughtering of Vetra and Williams. Or their characters, at least. Three cheers for shady match writing!

"Control" starts off the string of entrances, as James Farwell slowly steps out onto the stage, adjusting his left elbow pad while the intro to the song leads into the first chorus. Lifting his right arm into the air, Farwell slaps hands with a few of the fans who actually want to as he walks to the ring, waiting to enter the ring as the lights die down and Earshot turns into A Perfect Circle.

Nick: There’s one-half of a very unusual team in tonight’s main event, and Clyde Walkins is conspicuous by his absence, as he usually always accompanies his partner…well, everywhere.

Little does Nick know, James lured Clyde into a broom closet with the promise of cookies to come, hoping to trap him long enough to actually not get screwed out of a win for once. Fat chance of that happening, though.

Richard: It’s not that unusual when you think of it. After all, Killean’s mentor defeated Farwell’s protégé years ago, so it’s only fitting now that they have to team up.

Nick: How is that fitting? And you just read that in his roleplay, didn’t you?

Richard: …I just wanted to sound like a big man for once…

With the lights down low, and the intro to "Passive" giving way to the full blast of Killean’s theme amidst cheers from the crowd, red and silver spotlights and strobe lights begin to spin and flash around the arena. Cameras in the crowd go off as Sirrajin appears on the entranceway, his arms and head hung low, before he slowly raises his eyes to the fans, bringing another cheer from them.

Nick: Do you hear these fans? Killean has them in the palm of his hand!

Richard: Let’s just hope he washed it. Lord knows whose pants it’s been down looking for a raise.

His arms are the next thing to lift into the air, and an explosion of pyro comes up behind him as they do. Looking impressed, Farwell claps for Sirrajin and the display of pyrotechnics behind him, while Killean starts the trek towards the ring. The Supreme Machine looks over to the Innovator of Old School as he reaches the ringside area, nodding in respect as both men slide under the bottom rope and into the ring, taking to a different turnbuckle as they raise their arms to the cheering fans.

Richard: Now that’s just cheap. Old Man Winter’s piggybacking off Killean’s heat!

But the cheers turn into boos at the drop of a hat. Well, not so much a hat as the changing of music from "Passive" to "Personal Jesus". Either these people hate Depeche Mode, or Vetra and Williams aren’t too popular in comparison to Sirrajin and…sigh…Old Man Winter.

Richard: Here’s a man you can be proud of!

Nick: Where? All I see is Hoyt Williams.

Richard: That’s Jesus to you!

The two members of Imperium both enter in unison, each man seemingly already looking past this match as they take a quick moment to mouth a few words to the other. Shrugging off the reaction from the fans in attendance, Hoyt and Peter take their time in getting to the ring, making Killean and James wait for them.

Richard: All things come to those who wait, but unfortunately for Sirrajin and Farwell, they’re waiting for death in that ring right now.

Finally reaching the ring, Williams is the first onto the apron, but Vetra is the first in the ring as he slides under the bottom rope, while his partner takes a few seconds to mouth off to a fan in the front before stepping into the ring. Your Personal Jesus hands the Universal Title to Bernie Roberts after lifting it into the air right in front of Killean’s face, which isn’t much appreciated by the crowd, to say the least.

Nick: And once Hoyt gave his belt to the ref, Killean struck first blood!

Richard: Cheap shot!

The blow from Killean sends Hoyt back into the ropes, causing Peter to lunge forward, only to be caught by a clothesline from James. As Vetra rolls back to his feet, he walks right into a scoop slam from Sirrajin, followed by another from Farwell the moment he’s back up again. Giving up and rolling out of the ring, Vetra stares back at his opponents, while Williams, having stayed in the ropes the entire time, backs off and steps out of the ring as well.

Nick: Imperium was caught off guard by Farwell and Sirrajin, and maybe now these two have realized they can’t look past this match.

Regrouping on the outside, Williams and Vetra go over a few more details, each man looking over to the dumpster positioned at the rear of the ring every few seconds. Finally hatching some sort of plan, the two part and move towards opposite sides of the ring, as both men slide in at the same time.

Their entry is thwarted, however, as Farwell and Sirrajin immediately lay the boots to them, causing Imperium to back out the way they came.

Nick: Obviously that plan doesn’t look like it’s gonna work.

Seizing the opportunity, Richard decides to mock Nick by mimicking his voice, adding in a nasal whine for the hell of it.

Richard: Obviously that plan doesn’t look like it’s gonna work.

And now back to normal voice.

Richard: Thank you very much for that brilliant deduction, Mr. Holmes.

Deciding on a new plan, this time Hoyt and Peter stay at the same side of the ring, as both men make a move to slide into the ring at the same time. Except Hoyt stops short as Peter slides under the rope, and the brunt of the attack is placed squarely on Vetra’s back.

Nick: Williams just sacrificed his own teammate, but that may have given him the opening into the ring that he needed.

And indeed it did, as Williams quickly jumps into the ring while Sirrajin and Farwell are occupied with Vetra, immediately going for Killean.

Richard: You like cheap shots, Killean? How do you like them cheap shots?!

Williams pummels Sirrajin with both fists, forcing the Supreme Machine back into a corner as he fires back with shots of his own. Using the distraction caused by Williams and Sirrajin battling, Vetra pushes Farwell off him and clambers to his feet, blocking a right hand and delivering a harsh chop of his own to the chest of James Farwell.

Nick: What a shot! You could hear the slap even above these screaming fans, and Farwell’s hurting from that one.

Richard: And the weak link breaks.

In the corner, Hoyt wears Killean down enough with punches to back up and place his boot on the throat of the Supreme Machine, choking him out as the ref is helpless to do anything.

Nick: For those of you wondering, a Dumpster Match is no-disqualification, meaning anything goes until both men are placed inside the dumpster with the lid closed. Chokes, low blows, it’s all legal.

Richard: Even shankings?

Nick: I…uh…that’s never come up.

Trying to pry Hoyt’s boot from his neck with little success, Killean decides to take the easy way out with a stomp to William’s supporting knee, causing him to drop his leg immediately. Hobbling back across the ring, Williams receives another kick to the left knee, before Vetra takes out the back of Sirrajin’s right leg with a chop block after having dropkicked Farwell over the top rope.

Richard: Predator, meet prey.

Not yet going down, Killean starts to turn around when Hoyt suddenly drives a forearm into the side of his head. That, coupled with a kick to the midsection from Peter as he fully turns around, followed by a snap DDT, is enough to put Sirrajin down on the mat.

Nick: Certainly, Imperium looks to be firmly in charge right now. Farwell seems to be a bit out of it on the outside now after taking that hard fall over the top rope, and Williams and Vetra are systematically dismantling the Supreme Machine inside the ring.

Richard: Since when has Imperium not been in charge?

Shaking his leg a few times to work the kinks out of it after the hits from Sirrajin, Williams soon rejoins Vetra in stomping on the downed man. After a few good shots, both men take a leg and turn Sirrajin over onto his back, applying a step over toe hold on each side. Wrenching the knees of Killean, Hoyt and Peter apply more pressure, then simultaneously drop to their knees, further tightening the hold as Killean pounds the mat in pain.

Richard: Ring the bell! He tapped out!

Nick: One, he didn’t tap out. Two, there are no submissions. And three, why do you all of a sudden smell like beer?

Richard: It’s a new game. Take a shot every time a double team move is performed.

Nick: But there’s only been one…and the bottle’s already half empty! And isn’t there some sort of prohibition going on in PRIME right now?

Richard: I’ll prohibition you!

Showing no signs of letting up on the hold, Williams and Vetra smile each time Sirrajin cries out in pain, but the smiles are wiped off their faces as Farwell reenters the ring in grand fashion. Namely, a boot to the face of Hoyt Williams.

Richard: Hey, you can’t treat Jebus like that!

Nick: Did you just say Jebus?

Richard: Sejus. Juses. Oh god, I’m gonna get fired…

Farwell quickly shifts focus from Williams to Vetra, knowing that after taking out one member of a team, the other can’t be far behind. And he’s right, as his quick thinking pays off by enabling him to stop a kick from Vetra heading straight for his midsection. Flipping off Vetra while holding his leg, Farwell then delivers a kick of his own, but this one’s not going for the stomach.

No, this one’s heading straight for Sackville.

Nick: Farwell blocked that kick from Vetra, and countered with one of his own! Now he’s got him up on his shoulders…could be looking for the GME here…

But just as James swings Peter out and over his head, Hoyt comes out of nowhere with a kick that actually does hit the midsection of Farwell, and Vetra’s left to glide harmlessly to the mat.

Well, not as much harmlessly as painfully, but you get the point. Either way, he didn’t take the full brunt of the move.

Richard: Hey, Farwell! Go To Hell!

Doubled over, James is pulled into a standing head scissors by Hoyt, who readies him for a powerbomb, but the attempt is thwarted by Killean. Visibly limping, Sirrajin grabs Williams from behind and locks in a dragon sleeper, while a staggering Peter Vetra is able to take advantage of Farwell’s prone position after stumbling to his feet.

Nick: Killean managed to surprise Hoyt and turn him over into The LC, and now Peter Vetra locked that standing guillotine choke onto Farwell to even the odds.

Fighting to try and get out of it, Farwell finds his power taken away from him as Vetra jumps up and wraps his legs around the Innovator of Old School’s waist while maintaining the choke. Unable to walk further, James has a hard enough time keeping on his feet, and Vetra applies more pressure to the hold with each passing second.

Richard: C’mon, you fossil! Die!

But Killean notices this happening, and realizes he’ll be back on his own if Farwell loses consciousness, so he quickly releases the hold on Williams in favor of prying his opponent off his partner.

Nick: Sirrajin sacrificed taking Williams out of the match to help Farwell out, and now he and Vetra are exchanging blows.

Richard: That sounds so gay. Are you sure you never announced for Queer As Folk?

Falling back to the mat, Farwell breathes heavily as Hoyt does the same on the other side of the ring, and all the while Sirrajin and Vetra fight back and forth in between them. After a few shots, Killean takes the advantage with an exceptionally hard right hand that sends Peter back a step, before he catches Vetra with The Arrow as he walks right back into Sirrajin’s waiting arms. Meanwhile, Williams pushes up to his feet and approaches Sirrajin from behind, planting a boot against the back of his head as Sirrajin starts to stand after delivering the harsh spinebuster. Unable to stand after the kick to the skull, Killean falls over Peter and holds the back of his head, while Hoyt prepares to go to work on his nemesis.

James Farwell, though, has other plans.

Nick: Farwell’s looking a little worse for wear after being locked in that choke, but he’s repaying the favor to Sirrajin from earlier.

Stopping Williams in his tracks, Farwell spins the Universal Champion around and both men instinctively throw right hands at the same time. Which just so happen to connect with each other midway through, however, causing both men to shake their hands in pain. Neither wanting to relent, they each go for a shot with the left instead, and the same thing happens. Throwing caution to the wind, they each shake off their left hands, before lunging forward with stereo headbutts that connect on target.

For a second it looks like nothing happened, then both men slowly start to waver, stagger back a step or two, and drop to a knee. And with them out of it for the moment, Vetra dropkicks Farwell in the side of the head, while Sirrajin does the same to Williams.

Richard: What a fool that Farwell is, headbutting Hoyt and hurting himself in the process!

Nick: But Hoyt did the exact same thing, with the same results.

Richard: Except better!

Still feeling the effects of everything leading up to this point in the match, Vetra forces himself to his feet, while Sirrajin does the same. Favoring his legs, Killean pushes the pain away long enough to stand, but Peter’s up before him and delivers a snap kick to the back of the right leg. And another. And another. And one more for good measure.

Nick: Vetra’s working over that right leg of Sirrajin right now, and he could be looking to take out the support system of the bigger man here.

Taking Killean down with a dropkick to the back of the same knee, it isn’t long before Peter Vetra is able to lock in a figure-four, instantly applying as much pressure as possible to the gradually weakening limb of the Supreme Machine. Vetra continues to wrench back on the leg, leaving the former Universal Champion squealing in agony.

Nick: Look at Vetra, trying to weaken the obvious bigger man here in order to gain an advantage.

Richard: That’s Imperium brilliancy my friend. When you have a prophet such as Hoyt Williams on your side, nothing can go wrong!

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a revived James Farwell comes flying off of the second turnbuckle and connects with a dropkick across the neck of Peter Vetra, forcing him to break the maneuver.

Nick: Where’s your prophet now, Rich?

Richard: Look…all that matters is the end result, and if the end result isn’t a victorious Hoyt Williams, by golly I’ll sing the Canadian national anthem!

James Farwell quickly pushes himself back up to his feet before reaching down and picking up a staggering Vetra. He whips Vetra into the ropes, lifting up his foot in order to catch Peter with a big boot on the rebound, but out of nowhere Hoyt charges and spears Farwell down to the mat, mounting him with big right hands.

Richard: The savior lives!!

After numerous blows, Hoyt finally stands and picks up Farwell along with him. He kicks Farwell in the mid-section and places his head in between his legs in powerbomb position. Hoyt screams out "Go to Hell!!" as the crowd responds with a chorus of boos before he lifts up James Farwell setting up to slam him with the powerbomb. Instead of slamming him immediately, though, Hoyt runs and powerbombs him on top of the dumpster!

Nick: My Goodness…Hoyt almost sent Farwell through the lid of that Dumpster with that devastating powerbomb!

Richard: That’s the power Hoyt possesses Nick…its about time you realized that.

Nick: Bite me.

Richard: The sad part is that you’d actually enjoy that.

Hoyt cheers himself on in the center of the ring before making his way to the outside of the ring where he reaches under the ring and pulls out some wood! (A table for all the clueless out there)

Nick: And things are not about to get any prettier. Fans, if you were expecting a classic technical match…you’ve come to the wrong place!

Hoyt slides the table inside of the ring before rolling in himself. As soon as he rolls in, though, he is bombarded by a series of attacks by a fueled Killean Sirrajin, which draws an incredible deafening amount of cheers from the fans.

Richard: This place has erupted as Killean lays into our Universal Champion. I declare covetousness!

Nick: Expanding vocabulary, eh?

Richard: Yeah, I also learned how to use the phrase "Nick…is…a douche."

Killean reaches down and yanks Hoyt up by his hair, pummeling him with big right hands to the forehead with every shot making an even louder and sickening crack on the skull of the Champion. Finally the last shot sends the champion to the mat, covering an open wound over his head.

KLANK!

Out of nowhere, Vetra strikes with a huge steel chair shot to the back of Sirrajins neck, sending the Supreme Machine face first into the mat. As the only man left standing and proud of what he has accomplished, Vetra holds the chair high in the air with his back turned to the dumpster, boating himself as the crowd gives off a less than pleased reception.

Richard: What a guy! It’s great that the Angles are able to help the Prophet when he’s in trouble.

Nick: Oh, so Vetra’s an Angel now? Who is he…Michael?

Richard: Nick, Michael was Satan…someone as talented and skilled and sweet kind hearted as Vetra could never be compared to that of Lucifer.

In a case of too much boasting, Vetra turns around and out of nowhere…

KLINK!

Farwell comes leaps from the dumpster into the ring with a missile dropkick that sends the chair into the face of Peter Vetra, nearly beheading the former Alias Champion.

Nick: And if there was any doubt of Vetra’s holiness before this, there is none now…because Farwell just kicked the HELL out of him!

Richard: That wasn’t right…BLASPHEMY, I say…BLASPHEMY!!!

Farwell, countering the mistake Vetra made earlier, grabs Vetra by the leg and begins dragging him to the far side of the ring right in front of that dumpster.

Nick: And it looks like we’re about to see some disposing of Peter Vetra!

As Farwell reaches down to pick up Vetra and dump him into the Dumpster, a revived Hoyt Williams is setting up the table that was brought in earlier in the middle of the ring. Suddenly, after the table is set up, Hoyt notices Farwell trying to rid his partner and runs over delivering a club shot to the back of Farwell which stalls the process of disposing Vetra. Hoyt then takes Farwell by the back of his neck and the tights and dumps him over the top rope right into the dumpster instead!!!

Richard: Farwell’s in the dumpster! It’s halfway over!!

Nick: Not yet Richard! Both members must be in the dumpster at the same time…

Richard: Like I said…halfway over. There’s no way there letting him out now, so all they must do is dispose of Killean and its over baby!

Nick: Like to think outside of the box a lot, don’t you?

Hoyt reaches in between the second and third rope and tries to close the lid on the dumpster in order to keep Farwell in there, but Farwell lifts up his hands, pushing the lid of the dumpster upward in an attempt to keep Hoyt from closing it. Hoyt struggles trying to close it as Farwell just won’t let him. Suddenly, Vetra comes out of nowhere and connects with a baseball slide under the bottom rope which catches Farwell dead in the face as he’s in the dumpster sending him crashing down and thus releasing the lid for Hoyt to slam shut.

Nick: Yes! Yes! One down one to go!

Hoyt climbs unto the apron of the ring and steps on top of the lid of the dumpster in order to keep Farwell from escaping. Hoyt stretches out his arms as a taunt to the crowd, but only receives a thundering chorus of boos.

*THUUUD*

Suddenly, Hoyt’s attention turns back to the center of the ring after hearing that loud thud to reveal Peter Vetra laid out by a revived Killean Sirrajin who leveled him with his finisher, the Supreme Justice!

Nick: Supreme Justice! Vetra is out of it, which leaves a Colossus II rematch showdown between the former Universal Champion Killean Sirrajin an-..

Richard: The CURRENT Universal Champion…you love him…you know him…he prays for your sins and mine…Hoyt Williams!

Nick…Thank you Howard Finkle.

An enraged Sirrajin locks eyes with Hoyt Williams who I still standing on the top of that dumpster. Hoyt begins to fret as he realizes that Sirrajin is coming for him and the only way out…is down. Sirrajin charges between the ropes, on the apron, and right onto the Dumpster where he meets the Champion with a huge roundhouse right hands that nearly beheads the champion and sends him crashing unto the cold lid of the dumpster!

Nick: This place has exploded as Sirrajin is taking it to our Universal Champion!

Richard: It won’t be long before Hoyt ends this once and for all by taking out Killean with his almighty powers…mark my word.

Hoyt bounces back up to his feet, only to receive the same treatment. Hoyt right back up, then right back down. This time, Killean doesn’t give him a chance to get back on his feet, but instead mounts him with cold right hands that only open up the wound over Hoyt’s forehead even more! Blood rushes down the face of the Universal Champion, but that doesn’t stop Sirrajin who’s fist seem to grow harder with the sight of blood.

Richard: Someone stop that maniac. He’s destroying the landmark portrait known as Hoyt’s Face. Someone arrest that deviant.

Nick: Our universal champion is getting his ass handed to him and the fans are eating it up. Listen to this ovation Nick!!

Richard: How can I not? Someone tell these grapefruits to SHUT UP!

Finally, as he becomes a bit weary, Sirrajin pushes himself off of Hoyt Williams who is probably more than relieved. Sirrajin’s attack isn’t over just yet, though, as he reaches down and picks up Hoyt, placing Hoyt in a piledriver position. He lifts Hoyt up and CLUNK!, delivers the devastating piledriver unto the cold lid with so much impact that it places a dent in the lid!

Richard: Oh my Hoyt…this is too much to witness.

Nick: Just look at me then, so you want have to watch your so-called Savior get the living hell beat out of him.

Richard: …It isn’t THAT bad.

Killean immediately stands to his feet, yelling out to the crowd as they respond with an even louder chorus of cheers the fuel the big man like never before. Killean reaches down and yanks Hoyt up by his bloody hair, placing the champ’s head between his legs before hooking his arms as if going for a pedigree.

Nick: Uh oh…what’s Killean about to do here?

Suddenly, Killean lifts Hoyt up in a double arm Powerbomb position and leaps off of the Dumpster and into the ring, throwing Hoyt through the table with the Double Arm Powerbomb!!!

"YEEEEEAH! KILL-E-AN! KILL-E-AN! KILL-E-AN! KILL-E-AN!"

Nick: BY GAWD, BY GAWD, THE CHAMPION HAS BEEN LAID OUT IN THIS SLOBBERKNOCKER! IN MY ENTIRE YEARS OF WRESTLING, I’VE NEVER SEEN ANYTHING LIKE THIS BEFORE! THIS IS CARNAGE, BY GAWD ITS CARNAGE!

Richard: …wrong guy Nick.

Nick: Oops…my bad. I got caught up in the moment.

Hoyt lays non-moving in the rubble of wood as Killean lies there as well, trying to regain his composure. The rafters are nearly shaking with the crowd going wild. Now, with Hoyt off of the lid, Farwell begins trying to push the lid open, but seeing this Vetra crawls over to the dumpster and reaches between the third and second rope to try and push the lid back down. It’s another struggle for Farwell, but this time he has a plan. Out of nowhere, a handful of disgusting, stinky trash comes heaving out of the dumpster and into the face of Vetra which causes Vetra to let go of the lid and allows Farwell to push it open and climb out unto the ring apron.

Nick: And one half of the tag champs is back!!!

As Vetra stands back up to his feet, A rejuvenated Farwell leaps unto the top rope and springboards off, catching Vetra with a clothesline from hell that nearly beheads him! Farwell, wasting no time, then wraps his massive hands around the neck of Vetra…choking the life out of the Imperium member. The referee attempts to pry Farwell off of Vetra, but all he receives for his trouble is a back elbow from one half of the tag team champions that catches him in the mouth and sends him down to the mat in pain.

Richard: This is chaos! These two have snapped and poor Hoyt and Vetra are the recipients of it all!

Nick: If you ask me, they’re getting exactly what they deserve.

Richard: No one asked you, Dr. Phil

Finally Farwell lets go of Vetra before picking him up by his chrome and tossing him unto the outside of the ring. Meanwhile, Killean picks up Hoyt but out of nowhere, Hoyt catches him with a thumb to the eye, which has the Supreme Machine fiddling around the ring holding his stinging eye. Hoyt uses this time to regain himself before grabbing Killean by the wrist and whipping him into the ropes. Hoyt looks for a clothesline, but Killean ducks under it and proceeds unto the opposite rope. The clothesline that Hoyt was looking for was so devastating that it nearly threw his arm out of socket when he missed, and turning around to be hit with the SUPREME JUSTICE didn’t help either.

Nick: SUPREME JUSTICE! The champ just got laid out by Killean’s finishing move, The Supreme Justice!!!

Richard: This isn’t fair…this isn’t fair at all.

Nick: All’s fair inside of the ring Nick, especially in a dumpsters match!

On the outside of the ring, Farwell peels Vetra off of the barricade which he’d thrown him into earlier and whips him into the cold steel side of the Dumpster with so much force that he himself falls down. The impact of Vetra’s body against the side of the dumpster is so great that it puts a dent in the side of the dumpster and even causes the dumpster to move a couple of inches.

Nick: You’d better warm up those vocals, Rich, because things aren’t looking too good for team Imperium right now!

Richard: Mark my words, Nick…this isn’t over yet.

Farwell reaches down and picks up Vetra, trying to dump him into the Dumpster. He struggles at first, but finally disposes of Vetra inside of the dumpster as the fans erupt in cheers. Farwell climbs unto the apron and tries to close the lid on the dumpster, but suddenly out of nowhere a green substances comes flying out of the dumpster and into the eyes of Farwell who begins holding his burning eyes.

Nick: Was that what I think it was? That was alchohol Richard! There a quarter-amount of alchohol left in that bottle and it just got heaved into the face of James Farwell.

Richard: I never thought Vetra coule become any more brilliant, but he just has!

Nick: How can you approve such actions.

The crowd boos as the camera focuses in on the label of the bottle and the fans realize its alchohol. Vetra smiles as he climbs out of the dumpster and unto the apron. He jumps down to the outside floor where Farwell is rolling around holding his aching eyes. Vetra reaches down and picks up Farwell, throwing him shoulder first into the steel steps before picking him up again and throwing him shoulder first, this time into the barricade.

Nick: That shoulder could very well be tarnished after those two shots.

Richard: Forget that, Look inside of the ring! Killean's about to powerbomb our savior s-...

Nick: Your savior...

Richard: Oh I forgot you're a aliest. Anyways h-...

Nick: You mean Atheist.

Richard: Stop interrupting me Nick. Like I was saying, Killean is about to p-..

Before Richard can finish his sentence, Vetra is already inside of the ring and delivers a low blow to Killean who has Hoyt lifted up in powerbomb position, ready to slam him down to the mat. Killean drops Hoyt as a result and falls to his knees leaving Hoyt to land on his feet. Hoyt retaliates by bouncing off of the ring ropes and sending a straight kick right into the bridge of Killean's nose which sends him fully to the mat holding his now bleeding nose.

Richard: That the way to do it! I told you it was only a matter of time, Nick!

Nick: Whatever...that was a cheap shot by Vetra, and you know it.

Richard: Yeah, but as you said earlier...alls fair inside of the ring, especially in a dumpster match!!

Hoyt and Vetra taunt inside of the ring as small amounts of cups and paper come flying out of the crowd and into the ring, showing the disapproval by the fans who continue to boo. Hoyt and Vetra brush it off, though and pick up Sirrajin together, taking him over to the ropes where the Dumpster is located. They lean Killean up against the ropes and take a few steps backwards before running full speed at Killean...

Richard: There gonna double clothesline him right into that dumpster!

Suddenly, Farwell reaches underneath the bottom rope and pulls Killean down to the mat by his foot, leaving nobody home for Hoyt and Vetra which in turn makes them flip over the top rope together right into the dumpster!

Nick: There in that Dumpster!!

Hoyt immediately tries to climb out of the dumpster, but Farwell leaps unto the apron and slams the lid right on top of his head sending him crashing back down into the trash. Killean gets to his feet and both Farwell and Killean slam the lid shut as the referee rings the bell signaling them the victors of the match.

Nick: They did it!! They Did it!! The Universal champion and his Alias partner have been dumped just like the pieces of trash they are, and Killean and Farwell are victorious.

Richard: T-...This can't be happening. I can't believe this...BLASPHEMY!!!

The crowd is going nuts as Killean and Farwell stand on the apron holding their hands up in victory. Killean pats Farwell on the back in a sign of sportsmanship as Farwell nods in return. Farwell leaps unto the arena floor and begins making his way out to the back knowing he's gotta retrieve his tag partner, but Killean stays around for a bit, climbing back into the ring celebrating with the fans who are still going going crazy. Officials help Hoyt and Vetra out of the dumpster and take them into the back as Killean continues to celebrate with the fans whom he performs for every single night.

Nick: Go ahead, Rich...you said you would do it. Sing O Canada babay!!

Richard: (Sigh..) ooooohhhh CAAAAAAANADDDAAAA!!

Suddenly, the microphones start screeching...

Richard: MY...something...something something!! OHHHHH CANNNNNAAADDAAAA!!

The Resurrection

Suddenly, Richard's terrible singing is interrupted as the lights grow completely black.

Richard: MY Ho-...what the hell?

Nick: I don't know what's going on here, but I'm not liking it.

The sound of what seems to be people fighting in possibly a war of some kind creeps throughout the arena as whites strobe lights pan the audience. Finally, the sounds stop and strobe lights meet in the center of the stage. Thunder crackles, and as if on cue the music to "Die Hard" by Abortion Candy erupts throughout the arena. Out of the darkness and into the light shining on the stage walks a man with wearing a black trench coat...

Nick: Oh my G-...THATS VANGELUS OLSIG!

Richard: What's he doing here? I thought he was missing?

Nick: We've watched the Vignettes all night long, but we never expected to seem him again!

As the crowd recognizes Olsig, they send a mixed reaction not knowing whether to boo for the man who constantly belittled them, or cheer his presence, in light of recent events. Olsig doesn't pay them any attention, though, as he simply stands there in the spotlight surrounded by the darkness that covers the rest of the arena and the sounds of Abortion Candy with his emerald green eyes focused deadlocked on the man in the center of the ring.

Nick: Th-...This isn't very comfortable at all. Look how he's looking at Killean...its that same look he had under the reign of Vampir Nosferatu.

Richard: Yeah, and we know the result of that. By golly, I'm still glad to see Emilio Rage alive after the attempted massacre unleashed on him by Olsig and the Dark Age.

Olsig finally begins walking down the ring in a very slow manner, not taking time to peak around him, but simply staring inside of the ring at Killean Sirrajin who does nothing but stand there in a defensive position, ready to retaliate at what looks like an inevitable attack. Olsig reaches the ring whereh e leaps unto the apron and stands there standing at Sirrajin who remains steadfast in the ring, returning a glaze at Olsig's pale face.

Nick: The history between these too men extends far beyond the squared circle. They've tried to destroy each other countless times, and no one can forget that classic Universal title match between the two on the road to Colossus.

Richard: Yeah, Olsig even blames Killean for the recent demons that have haunted his life.

Nick: Thats right...Killean is the one who persuaded Olsig to change his name from the dark age name, Dani Furher, and to his real name Vangelus Olsig as well as depart from the Dark Age altogether...one must wonder if thats one of the reasonings around Olsig's earlier reports of witnessing demons in the form of Vampir Nosferatu.

Olsig finally steps between the ropes and inside of the ring where he positions himself right in the face of Killean Sirrajin. The sounds of Die Hard fade as the lights in the arena come back on. Olsig, though, continues to stand there staring into the eyes of a fretful Killean Sirrajin.

Nick: Something's about to go down...I can feel it.

Richard: Listen to the reaction of this crowd, Nick...there almost at complete silence in anticipation of this meeting.

Nick: I'ts been a mightly long time since I've seen such a pale, disheartening look on the face of Vangelus Olsig.

Richard: And look at Killean...he's doesn't know what to expect of this himself!

As the crowd tries to pump up Killean, Olsig continues to stand there with his eyes deadlocked on the Supreme Machine.

"KILL-E-AN!! KILL-E-AN!! KILL-E-AN!! KILL-E-AN!! KILL-E-AN!!"

Killean looks around at the fans all on their feet cheering him on before locking eyes with Olsig once again. Suddenly...Olsig makes the first move in the form of...

An extended Handshake.

Nick: what is this? He's extending his hand for a handshake?

Richard: This is soooo un-Olsig like. I wouldn't do if it I were Killean.

Nick: Contrary to popular belief...I have to agree with you partner.

Killean is just as bewildered by the motion as the fans, but he turns to them one again for their view on the situation. Some are chanting yes, while others are chanting no...but the chant that rings most loudly is a familiar one at best.

"KILL-E-AN!! KILL-E-AN!! KILL-E-AN!! KILL-E-AN!! KILL-E-AN!!"

Killean runs his hand through his hair before placing his hands on his hips in deep thought of how he should take the motion laid down by the very man who could almost be considered an arch enemy. Despite the fact that he vowed to "end" Sirrajin for good...despite the fact that he publically blamed Sirrajin for his personal demons...despite the fact that his constant attempts to help Olsig were rebuttled by selfish belittlements...

Killean shook his hand.

Suddenly, Olsig tugged Killean foward so that there noses were only centimeters apart from each other and simply uttered the words...

"Thank You"

Upon hearing Olsig mutter those words, the jam packed arena explodes into a roundhouse of cheers as Olsig and Killean embrace in a hug in the center of the squared circle. Killean then lifts up the hands of a resurrected Vangelus Olsig as the crowd shows their high approval with one side chanting Killean and the other chanting Olsig.

"KILL-E-AN!! OLSIG!! KILL-E-AN!! OLSIG!!"

Nick: Fans, I can't believe it...but Vangelus Olsig has ressurected with two simple words...Thank You. Thank you Killean, for putting me on the map...Thank you Killean, for believing in me when I didn't even believe in myself...Thank you Killean for support, despite my constant rebuttles.

Richard: This is making me sick...to think, I respected Olsig once.

Nick: Show some respect, Rich. Killean Sirrajin basically made Olsig when he took a chance on him, giving him that Universal Championship match...and for Olsig to grant him a long overdue and proper thank you almost brings a tear to my eye. I can finally say...that I respect Vangelus Olsig...

"KILL-E-AN!! KILL-E-AN!! KILL-E-AN!! KILL-E-AN!! KILL-E-AN!!"

The fans continue to chant as Killean Olsig continue to celebrate the resurection of a career as well as a new found alliance that is long overdue.

Nick: He said it in the vignettes that aired earlier...he would finally pay honor to the man who shaped him, but Killean is the very last person I thought that would be. If you don't know the story between these two, then you can't fully understand the significance in this...but for those who do, I believe you can join me in saying that this is a very, very special moment for both men. And with that, another excellent edition of PRIME ReVolution ends in a tasteful manner. On behalf of Richard, Vince Howard, and the rest of the crew, this is Nick saying Good fight...good night.

SSDD

It has been a long night for "Superstar" Danny Ferguson, between receiving threats, making threats, losing his ring gear and his match against Emilio Rage, not to mention the issue with the hair of Tony Danza in his catered food. Now, as he is exiting the venue, one of his guards had explained that the keys to Team Ferguson’s rented green H2 were missing, and had been for about an hour. Obviously, Danny went ballistic, but we’ve all seen him do that so many times before, so we skipped that part.

As he pushes out the door of the Nationwide Arena, he’s still cursing.

Danny Ferguson: …not sure if either of you ever do anything right. I mean, I give you two jobs – don’t lose my shit and don’t let me get hurt. Do you ever succeed?

Over his shoulder, the Illustrious Face-Eater comes sprinting towards Danny with a pipe in his hand. Before he comes close, though, an outstretched fist from Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas takes him off his feet and leaves him on the asphalt. Unfortunately for the guards, Danny didn’t hear any of it, since he was looking at something in the distance.

Fortunately for Face-Eater, the damage he had already done hurt worse than the damage he was trying to do with that pipe.

Danny’s face is bathed in flickering orange light, and flickering orange light almost ALWAYS means fire. Sure enough, when the camera swings around, the H2, dented so severely on all four sides that the walls have caved in and devoid of any glass panels, is on fire. Just slightly, though – it’s hard for a tank of gas to catch fire and explode when it’s full of sugar, salt, flour and other various baking implements. The alarm on the car blasts at full-bore.

The fire belches a little, and something comes shooting out from it. With a jingle, a set of keys skitters across the parking lot and stops just a few feet away from Danny, smoking. Wrapping a towel around his hand to prevent burns, Danny picks the keys up and observes them, then pushes a button on the keychain.

The car alarm beeps, then stops. Danny turns to look at his posse.

Danny Ferguson: This is us.

He turns and heads back inside, not willing to spend another minute in the cold Columbus night. His manager, Vick Siguchi, immediately begins calling for another rental to be delivered. The guards turn to follow Danny, and find that the Face-Eater has disappeared. The damage, after all, had been done. And then that damage was peed on, and then lit on fire. All to send a message that still wasn’t quite being received.

Baby Likes To Rock It Like A Boogie Tchu Train

Sitting at a backstage chess board is God’s Champion Jesse Jamester and the Duel Champion Hoyt Williams. Hoyt is engrossed in a move plotting, planning, and prepping for his next move with his hand on his chin in a thinking mans pose. Jesse is obviously getting impatient.

Hoyt Williams: Sucks about Blackwolf huh? A good game of chess always gets my mind off suck a monumental loss.

Jesse Jamester: You really need to go before the third coming of Christ shows up.

Hoyt Williams: This is a thinking mans game and I’m a man of thinking.

Vetra who is snacking on David sunflower seeds is kicked back on the couch reading "An Idiots Guide to Commitment and Responsibility" laughs out loud at Hoyt.

Hoyt Williams: What the hell is so funny?

Peter Vetra: Nothing.

Hoyt Williams: (under his breath) That’s about what you add.

Hoyt wiggles his nose towards Vetra who immediately begins choking on his sunflower seeds. Hoyt seizes the opportunity to cheat moving a few pieces around as Jesse checks on Vetra who recovers and again begins to laugh.

Hoyt Williams: Check Mate.

Jesse Jamester: Oh hell no, you cheated.

Hoyt Williams: I’m offended I would never cheat I’m the king of KINGS!! The PONTIFF OF PRIME!! THE CHAMPION OF THE CHAMPIONS!!!

Jesse Jamester: Relax you get off on these damn tangents and give me a headache. Do you NEED TO YELL ALL THE TIME. WE can hear you just fine you’re loud enough.

Hoyt Williams: Moses never bitches about the volume of the burning bush. Most people don’t know that was me!! Copperfield is an amateur.

Jesse Jamester: Listen if a burning bush was talking to me, its volume would be my last worry but until you take the form of a burning bush instead of a loud chess cheater I would take it down a few notches.

Hoyt Williams goes flying through the chess board busting the table under it as pieces fly everywhere. Vetra drops his book and jumps to his feet like a confused man trying to get a grasp on the situation.

Nick: Tchu!!

Richard: God bless you.

Nick: Tchu!!

Richard: Gesundheit.

Nick: My God Tchu is taking it to the champion like sex on satin.

Richard: Sex on satin?

Jamester looks to change the tide but the quick thinking Tchu wallops God’s champion with the Chess board cracking it into three pieces.

Nick: HA HA as Hoyt said Chess is a mind game.

Richard: What the hell have you been drinking tonight?

Vetra now tries to make a move but like an experienced swat man…or Batman Tchu reaches for his belt and pulls out a can of mace which he uses into the eyes of the bald one sending him backwards with burning eyes.

Tchu: I thought this was going to be the end of me, just a little wake up call bitch.

Tchu looks over his carnage before calmly walking to the door like he’s the cock of the walk. A smile comes over his face but is wiped clean by running into a drunk Duke Williams covered in two kinds of lipstick.

Duke Williams: What the hell?

Before Duke can figure out what the hell is happening he is met with the right hand of Tchu. This upsets him as it bloodies his nose. He answers back swinging and braking his bottle of Wild Turkey Liquor a cross the face of Tchu dropping him like he was hit with a shot from a gun. His face gashes open and he begins to bleed on the carpet. Duke wipes blood from his face as the rest of Imperium is now up and ready to get revenge.

Peter Vetra: That fuckin’ blinded me.

Hoyt Williams: Blinded you?? That Chess board was given to me by the king of Kenya for all my racial equality work. He’s a dead man.

Jesse Jamester: Nobody messes with me like that.

Game. Set. Match. A beat down of Tchu begins and it’s severe as the four men take turns punching and kicking the fallen giant and number one contender. The message is clear, don’t mess with Imperium and bypass your number one contenders position.

Duke Williams: Lets end him.

Hoyt picks up Tchu and begins to do the Crucified and Saved on him bouncing him off of the walls instead of the ring posts smashing his back hard into the cylinder blocks that make up the cold wall. Hoyt finally power slams the already broken body of Tchu in the center of the destroyed locker room. Duke grabs a carpet and they begin to roll Tchu up in it mob style.

Duke Williams: Hey, let’s get him out of here. Vetra can you help take him out of here?

Peter Vetra: My eyes are still burning man.

Duke Williams: Shit.

Duke peeks out the locker room door and spots somebody walking down the corridor.

Jesse Jamester: It’s that quiet kid.

Duke Williams: Anybody know his name?

Hoyt Williams: Tyler I think, we spoke earlier. A bit strange but I think we can trust him.

Tyler glances towards the door in recognition of hearing his name. Walking past the door he doesn't break stride, but after meeting eyes with Hoyt Williams, he turns his eyes back forward and attempts to continue walking.

Duke Williams: Tyler wait. I need to talk to you hoss. Don't worry, I'm not looking for trouble.

Slowing down his steps and shortly after coming to a stop, Tyler turns his head around and takes three steps back; enough to see the carnage that moments earlier just occurred in the Imperium locker room. Tyler shakes his head and anticipates to continue to walk.

Hoyt Williams: C'mon kid, help a brother out.

The dense words of Hoyt echoed through Tyler's ears for a split second and then it hit him. Tyler turns around and walks cautiously up to the locker room where stable members line the floor more than the coffee stains have from over the years. Tyler turns his head to Hoyt and gives him a nod; he was merely returning the favor of help. Duke puts his hand on Tyler's shoulder and Tyler quickly shifts his attention to Williams.

Duke Williams: Easy kid, it's fine. Have you ever got rid of a body?

Duke is quick to smile and he stares at Tyler waiting for him to fluctuate his lips into some sort of humor expression...

...he waits...

...but nothing.

Duke Williams: Alright kid, that works for me.

The door to the Imperium locker room shuts closed cutting us out of the action. Cold, dark, and gray is the steel door and the entire situation.

Nick: What the hell did we just see? They need to get medical attention to Tchu look at that gash on his face and the beating he took.

Richard: I think they are going to dump him in a lake. So long Tchu!!

Nick: This isn’t funny! What is going to happen can we get security or something?

Business is About to Pick Up

The Nationwide Arena erupts in a whirl of frantic cheers as the feed changes to a shot of a long narrow hallway where Emilio Rage, looking sore and tired from his bout with Fergy, marches quickly down the hallway.

The area is deserted except for a number of sheepish arena workers who keep their distance as Emilio tromps by. The camera focuses in on the gleaming eyes of Emilio Rage as he pushes it away with one hand.

He’s walking with a purposes. Indeed, he lets out a low-pitched growl as he rounds the corner and-

Finds himself starring face to face into the unsuspecting eyes of Tyler Nelson.

The CEO of Nelty stands by his lonesome, holding a steaming hot vanilla cappuccino. Emilio’s eyes began to twinkle mischievously as the former PRIMEal Rage Champion folds his arms firmly across his chest and stares down the former owner of PCW with a smirk on his face.

But this is no time for mind games. This is business.

Nelson: Oh…shit.

Jaw gaping, Nelson looks down to see that he has accidentally spilt the cup on the floor. (But not on his shiny black shoes, of course.) Letting out an uncomfortable sigh, Nelson blinks his eyes before making his tactful recovery at which point he forces a fragile smile on his seemingly warm countenance.

Nelson: I know a real good chiropractor that can-

Emilio: Enough!

Emilio cuts him short with a growl. With no meaning for words at this point, Emilio tosses his logical mind aside like a stack of bricks and lets his primordial mind take over. Before Nelson can press the buzzer he’s meanwhile has been reaching for in his pocket, Emilio makes a leap...

...Underestimating the athletic ability of the former PCWer, and taking a swift boot to the chin. Emilio goes flying into the sidewall where his skull cracks against the cement. He tries to shake it off but is too dazed as he slides down the wall as Nelson moves in to plant him with a heavy right. Emilio ducks the haymaker, however, and pops up to belt Nelson in the mid-section, doubling him over, as his knuckles meet the bare cement.

Nelson mutters obscenities under his breath as Emilio shakes off the cobwebs.

Emilio: Pure and simple: you fucked me up, now I fuck you up!

Emilio tries to grapple with Nelson but is held off as the smaller man ducks low and uses his leverage to force Emilio back. While Emilio is seething in rage, Nelson is apparently content for a standoff. But rather than regroup, Emilio vies for the kill and lounges at Nelson again.

This time the attack is simply too brutal and vicious for Nelson to fend off as he is taken to the floor with a volley of mounted punches. Using his superior technical abilities, though, Nelson manages to roll away and surprises Emilio as he rolls around his side and grabs Rage in a headlock. Emilio fights him off easily with a sharp elbow, and a moment later they stand toe-to-toe in a fist fight of epic proportions.

Fists fly in every direction as moment by moment Nelson is forced to take the defensive, unable to sustain his defense under the full might of Emilio’s rage.

The camera focuses in on the smiling face of Tyler Nelson though, blood starting to leak from his bottom lip, as Emilio looks on puzzled. Grabbing Nelson around the head, Emilio is about to hit him with The Roar before he is tackled from behind....

"Get him!" the familiar voice of Toshiaki Motoki rings out in the background.

Half a dozen security personnel, armed with billy-clubs, begin viciously smacking Emilio around the legs and arms. Nelson lets out a quick huff of disgust as he turns and books it down the hallway, finding the exit at the end of the hall. He releases an urgent scream as he hits the door.

Nelson: START THE GODDAMN CAR!!

As the security officials continue to pound away on the prone exposed flesh of Emilio, a number of brutal red welts begin to appear. Unfortunately for these security officials, they should have thrown the book aside and went for the head...

Because in an angry, adrenaline-guided spark of anger, Emilio leaps to his feet and turns to face them.

Night sticks go flying and heads go rolling as Emilio ruthlessly fights his way to the end of the hallway, much to the disbelief of Toshiaki Motoki.

Motoki: You bumbling fools! Get him!

Emilio exits the arena, however, only to look on in disgust as the long black limousine of Tyler Nelson peels off in the distance.

Emilio’s shoulders slump in defeat as the energy leaves his body, and he’s tackled from behind by an ever-growing number of security officials.

The PRIME copyright fills the lower right-hand corner and the screen fades to black.

Credits

Konichiwa!


Sebs and Paul Cain

The Arrival


Tyler Nelson

Pre-Game Chat


Paddy and Will

Angels Flying Too Close to the Ground


Al


Will

Resurrection of Olsig: I


Tywon

A Plea for Forgiveness


Tyler Nelson

...A Prize Awarded...


Tyler Nelson and Emilio Rage

Power Lunch


Repchak

God Bless You


Al


FaceyJoe and Emilio Rage

Keep Your Friends Close and Your Enemies Closer


Darryl and Mattchu

Keep the Ship Sailin'


Sebs and Tyler Nelson

Eat Your Heart Out, Theo Epstein


Repchak

Infiltrating for Dummies


FaceyJoe

Resurrection of Olsig: II


Tywon


First Blood

Tennis Ball


Will

As Long As You Remember, No One Ever Dies


Imperium, Paul Cain, and Emilio Rage

That Boy Needs Jesus


Al and Tyler O'Neill

Sprinklers


Will

Memories, All Alone in the Midnight


Ozric Mortimer


Peter Vetra

Free At Last


Will


Tywon and the Forsaken

The Resurrection


Tywon and Darryl

SSDD


FaceyJoe and Repchak

Baby Likes To Rock It Like A Boogie Tchu Train


Imperium and Mattchu

Business is About to Pick Up


Emilio Rage and Tyler Nelson

Results compiled and archived with Backstage V2.

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