BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The sound is unmistakable, hatred pours from inside the Ford Center. A select few on the camera crew are impressed at being able to capture the veracity from the parking lot. The cause of such hate is quickly revealed. Michael Sloan walks into frame, a disgusting smile etched on his demented face.

He walks through the parking lot like king of the world, playing up his reckless image and disregarding everything around him. However, all of his arrogance comes crashing down when an equally confident and smiling Brandon Pierce emerges from behind a van. He stands in front of Sloan, blocking his path towards the arena. The crowd gives him a good pop; one they’d give any person who stood up against the monster from Hell’s Kitchen.

Brandon Pierce: You’re looking a bit lonely there Sloan.

Michael pats the Intense Title belt strapped around his waist.

Brandon Pierce: Yeah, that’s a nice belt you have there. It’s going to look great around my waist too.

Chainz: Keep dreaming Bra… I mean Meat.

Brandon Pierce: Just can’t let that go can you?

Chainz: I work with what I’m given. Now get out of my way, I’ve got important business tonight.

Brandon Pierce: I had important business tonight too, but I like to work fast and take care of things before…

Sloan balks at The Symphony of Destruction, refusing to listen any longer. He walks by the Intense Title contender and makes his way through the parking lot until he’s stopped dead in his tracks by the snickering Brandon Pierce.

Brandon Pierce: Hey, where’s your MUCH better half?

Chainz: What did you say?

He turns to face Pierce with a glare that would buckle most knees and stalks. Pierce backpedals but keeps his control over The Monster.

Brandon Pierce: Well, like I said last week, if I had a pretty gal like that I’d never let her leave my sight. You should know best of all Chainz, there are plenty of crazies running around PRIME. You’re the biggest of course, but you’re not the only one. I had so much fun taking Lisa from you, I figured I’d step my game up a bit this week.

Chainz: You’re playing a dangerous game here Brandon. I don’t think you’ve fully thought about the ramifications of your actions.

Even though he's backing away, the grin grows bigger and bigger on The Symphony's face.

Brandon Pierce: I’ve thought about them plenty. You’re the only running around doing as you please, hurting everyone around you, and not giving a damn. I’m here to say no more. First I took Lisa, then I took Tracy, and soon I’ll take your belt.

Chainz: Not if I take your life first.

Sloan drops his belt to the ground and methodically advances on Pierce, whose smile quickly disappears. The look of murder in Sloan’s eyes is reminiscent of a horror movie slasher. In short, fucker scares people to death. However, Pierce maintains his ground and quicker than a hiccup, the fisticuffs fly back and forth.

The sound of fists smacking flesh echoes through the empty parking lot. Chainz snags the upper hand and manages to push Brandon Pierce onto the hood of a nearby car. Brandon kicks Chainz in the face and drops from the hood. He floors Chainz with a clothesline and is about to lay in with boots, but is shoved aside by Christian Daniels.

Christian Daniels: Beat it fucker, this cunt's mine.

Brandon Pierce doesn't appreciate being called names, even by someone who is much larger and more sadistic. He wants to spin Daniels around and pop him in the jaw, take the behemoth down and pummel him into the concrete. His hand extends out to grab Daniels by the vest, but his ears perk up. Two pairs of footsteps roar into the scene and he slyly slips his hand back. He glances over his shoulder and finds the retraction warranted, Devin Shakur-

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

-And Tony Gamble are ready to blindside The Monster. Without ulterior motive, Pierce backs away from the scene but can't resist getting in a jab for the road.

Brandon Pierce: You’ve got such a lovely doll Chainz, you shouldn’t keep her all to yourself.

Chainz is pissed. Fucking pissed. He lunges at The Symphony, ready to rip his spinal cord out and choke him with it. Unfortunately, he's stopped by The Biker, who lands a few solid shots on the forehead. They are full shots. Roy Nelson would have to throw twenty punches to match the equivalent of power in one Daniels shot. Christian caps off the offense by sticking his boot up and slumping Chainz against the bumper.

More and more people crowd the Ford Center and all of them are conflicted. They want to cheer. They want to boo. They hate Christian Daniels and Shakur as much as an oversized buttplug in a dry asshole, but they hate Chainz like the anal wart that never heals and is always inflamed.

Nick (OSV): Chainz can't deal with this numbers game. He can take a massive amount of punishment, but this is too much.

Richard (OSV): And this has got to go on all night. His backup better get here, stat.

In the parking lot, Chainz continues to deal with Team Shakur. Christian utilizes his height and weight advantage, trapping Chainz legs and his arms. Dude is like a giant slab of meat dealing with two Rocky Balboa's. Gamble's shots are bruising and annoy The Monster. Shakur's shots are agonizing, the ones which will crumple people on command.

Devin Shakur: I feel like I should wash my hands after touching you Sloan.

Chainz spits out some blood in Shakur’s direction but misses. If it was his penis, and Shakur had been Tracy, his aim would have been true. Speaking of penis, that’s exactly where Tony Gamble places a hard kick.

Chainz crumbles to the ground uttering profanities that even Shakur frowns to.

Christian Daniels: Fuckin' pig. You wanna get involved in our shit, bitch? I'd watch your goddamn mouth.

The Biker rifles a brutalizing kick to the side of the head, rolling Chainz across the parking lot. A referee emerges from out of nowhere like that bad case of crabs you thought you’d taken care of weeks ago.

Seeing an opportunity, Devin Shakur quickly pins Chainz.

One…

Two…

Thr-

The Man in Black mutters underneath his breath. Chainz manages to kickout and slowly rise to his feet, despite the beating already absorbed. Pushing through with his legs, The Monster muscles to a standing position and fights back. He clocks Daniels in the face and kicks Shakur in the gut. Both recoil in anger and pain. The man who manages to impede the momentum is the ever crafty Tony Gamble, kicking the back of the kneecap. Shakur and Daniels regroup, angrier than they were before.

Devin Shakur: Now we're mad.

The triumvirate grab Chainz around the shoulders and head, their tongues wagging like Pavlovian dogs and grins beaming. Their target is the driver's side door of Matt Mills Honda Civic. Planting their feet, all three charge forward and shove Chainz' head through the window. Glass shatters in all directions. Shit just got serious.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Nick (OSV): Hell of a way to start off ReVolution wouldn't you say, partner?

Richard (OSV): Chainz is bloody. I don't know whether that is good or bad.

The Man in Black whistles a jolly tune and reaches inside the vehicle, popping the trunk. He does a little dance and retrieves a tire iron from the trunk.

Nick (OSV): Uh oh.

The unrecognizable tune resonates through the parking lot while Daniels and Gamble pull Chainz' head from the car. Blood covers his eyes and dabbles on his chin. Shakur isn't about to show mercy, winding up and whacking Chainz across the forehead with the weapon. Chainz wobbles in place and collapses. Tony Gamble drops for the pinfall.

One…

Two…

Three…

Nick: (OSV) Well that’s one pinfall for team Shakur, and if Chainz’ teammates don’t hurry to the back they’re going to pile up pinfall after pinfall.

Richard (OSV): Even if they do, would it matter? These guys already have the advantage.

Nick (OSV): Hessian can make up for a lot of shortcomings.

Richard (OSV): Are you implying Chainz has a small penis, because I'll tell him that.

Nick (OSV): [facepalm]

There is a funny thing about announcer foreshadowing. Whenever they proclaim something, seconds later their prophecy materializes. Motherfuckers have ESP. They need to start picking lottery numbers. Barreling (damn near breaking it from the hinges) through the Exit door is a roaring mad Hessian. Following suit behind him is The Greediest Player in the Game, Tyler Nelson. Neither man backs away from the fight, jumping into the fray immediately. Like Nick stated, Hessian's size evens up the odds. The Murder Show wallops Gamble with a headbutt that floors The Grin. Spittle flies from his mouth, decorating his beard as his eyes slowly peer toward The Man in Black.

Devin Shakur: Great. I gotta try now.

Hessian charges Shakur and unloads with malicious rights and lefts. The first one wobbles Shakur, but the groggy Man in Black swings his weapon. This leaves him exposed. Even Rashad Evans would know what to do next. The left sends the tire iron to the ground, Shakur's knuckles bracing against the concrete to prevent him from going down also. The Biker looks to stop Hessian, but Tyler Nelson of all people gets in his business. Christian is a tad confused. Who the hell is Tyler Nelson to get on him? The Biker throws a meaty paw out and shoves him against the back of a pick up truck. The CEO doesn't lose sight of what's around him, sneaking the tire iron off the ground.

Richard (OSV): Hey batter, batter, batter-

Hessian is being worked over by both Shakur and Daniels, but they have their back to Nelson. Even though he's a sly weasel, the man knows how to use a weapon. Christian pounds Hessian for all he's worth, but Nelson moves forward, burying the cold steel in The Biker's back. A loud groan emanates from Daniels and he falls to the ground. Nelson doesn't relent, leaping from the ground with every shot and damaging The Biker.

Hessian and Devin Shakur continue their battle with Hessian getting the advantage. He lifts the much smaller man in a gorilla press positions and drops him on the top of a car.

The Grin rises to his feet and cheap shots Tyler Nelson, who is on his sixth round of acquainting Christian Daniels with tire iron. He moves The Greediest Player in the Game away from Daniels, tackling him into a nearby car. Nelson is confident enough in his abilities to take Gamble and swings. Rights and lefts send both men to the ground and they roll around looking for the advantage. While all the action is going on, a bloodied, but suddenly conscious Chainz quietly slides over to a fallen Christian Daniels and places a hand across his chest.

One…

Two…

Three…

Richard: (Off screen) You can knock him down, but you can’t keep him down. Chainz is a true man.

Nick: (Off screen) 1-1 now.

Tony Gamble spots the pin but is unable to stop it in time.

Tony Gamble: Son of an Oompa.

The Grin abandons Nelson and goes to help out his buddy's buddy. An uncomfortable wave of shock rushes through his body when Chainz leaps to his feet and smiles sadistically in his direction. Blood pours from his temple and forehead, but the crimson is driving him into a bloodlust.

Nick (OSV): Who ya got in this one?

Richard (OSV): Chainz is the only one Gamble hasn't dethroned in his most recent run.

They lock up, each fearless of the other. Gamble connects on a couple clubs to Chainz spine, but The Monster shrugs them off and slams a knee into The Grin's gut. He lets out a giant "OOMPA"...I mean "OOF".

Meanwhile, the Great American Nightmare grudge match picks up. Hessian climbs onto a minivan and brings Shakur with him. He tucks the head in between the legs and goes for a powerbomb onto the concrete. To say that a move like this would knock Shakur unconscious is an understatement. With Hessian's power, he'd need to have his skull surgically operated on once he hit the ground. Seeing his life flash before his eyes, Shakur frantically claws at the giant's eyes, succeeding in slithering away from the powerbomb. He goes for a brave Muay Thai clinch and forces a knee into the forehead. It takes Hessian off guard. Shakur decides to go for broke, clinching the head and pushing forward, toppling Hessian down in a DDT through the windshield.

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick (OSV): HOLY SHIT!

Richard (OSV): Well, Hessian might need some medical attention after that one. WOW!

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

The shattering of glass stirs everybody from their brawl, eyes glancing over at the carnage atop the car. Hessian lies on his side while Shakur rolls off, holding his back. The Biker awakens from his slumber and tries to shake free from the cobwebs.

Nelson seizes the advantage and runs over to put Tony Gamble at a numbers disadvantage. The Biker rushes into the scene and isolates Chainz, fighting side by side with Gamble and Nelson. Now it's 2 on 2.

A short distance away, Shakur crawls back onto the car and nudges Hessian onto his back. The big man slips off the car and falls onto the concrete. Shakur does an awkward flip and lands on top of him.

One…

Two…

Three…

Nick: (Off screen) Devin Shakur just pinned the Elite Champion in a preview of their Pay-Per-View matchup. His team is now up 2-1.

Chainz lands a pair of headbutts, freeing himself from The Biker. He darts over to where The Man in Black is trying to crack his neck. He gets one side popped and uses his hands to pop the other. Well, let's rephrase that. He wanted to. Chainz interrupts with his massive forearm, smashing it against Shakur's throat in a clothesline. The Monster from Hell's Kitchen is on top of Shakur like black on emo, pummeling him with fist after fist. The Grin leaps into the scene and breaks it up. He's willing to take one for the team. Chainz and Gamble tumble to the side where they trade punches.

Tyler Nelson and Christian Daniels are battling as well, with neither gaining an advantage.

The Man in Black latches onto the hood of the destroyed car, using it for leverage. He's still unable to comprehend where Chainz came from but he wants to get back into the fight. He turns and looks for Hessian, only spotting a pool of blood where the body used to be. An unsettling feeling washes over him. He can feel the heat of Hessian behind him and knows what awaits when he turns around. Although, he also knows he can't run. Might as well get it over with. Shakur swings around and comes head to chest with The Murder Show. Hessian snatches him from the ground and Hellevators him on the hood of the car. A faint cough escapes from his body while Hessian covers him.

One…

Two…

Three…

Richard: (Off screen) And now it’s tied 2-2, with Hessian matching Shakur’s pinfall earlier. I can’t wait till they square off one on one.

Nick: (Off screen) While they continue to shorten each other’s life spans we’ve got to get the rest of this show going.

An angry drumbeat mingles with heavy guitar rifts and the sound of ReVolution blasts through the speakers. The Sound of Madness.

The overwhelming frame of Hessian wields itself into the scene. He's covered in sweat, standing over the broken bodies of Desade and Wyatt Connors with the Elite Championship held high above his head.

Yeah, I get it
You're an outcast.

Tony Gamble makes The Original Villain, Jason Snow, tap out to his Smile for Me finishing maneuver.

Always under attack.

Christian Daniels catches Lindsay Troy in the middle of her Crowning Glory, lifts her off the canvas and launches her through the announce table.

Always coming in last,
Bringing up the past.

Kazys Jankauskas shocks the world by winning the ReVolution 200 Battle Royal by eliminating his partner Elise Ares.

No one owes you anything.
I think you need a shotgun blast,
A kick in the ass,

Chainz stares into the camera with a sadistic glare and flashes the Intense Championship.

So paranoid...
Watch your back!

Kaiser Vashaun takes Jason Snow onto his shoulders, causing the crowd to explode with joy. He holds the top dog in PRIME a second before spiking him into the canvas with a Weight of the World.

Oh my, here we go...

Brandon Youngblood stands in the middle of the ring, sickening grin on his face and microphone in hand. The Pariah is back in PRIME.

Another lose cannon gone bi-polar
Slipped down, couldn't get much lower.

Elise Ares does a little dance, shouts "Que Tal Eso" and spits into the camera.

Quicksand's got no sense of humor.
I'm still laughing like hell.

Jacob Cross stiffens the jaw of Troy Douglas with a right hand.

You think that the cryin to me,
Looking so sorry that I'm gonna believe,
You've been infected by a social disease.
Well, then take your medicine.

Devin Shakur lifts Tyler Rayne high into the air and powerbombs his unconscious body into the canvas with authority.

I created the Sound of Madness.
Wrote the book on pain.
Somehow I'm still here

Brandon Pierce slams Troy Douglas into the canvas.

To explain,

Hoyt Williams smacks the forehead of Tony Tagliabue causing him to fall backwards flat as a board.

That the darkest hour never comes in the night.
You can sleep with a gun.
When you gonna wake up and fight... for yourself?

Benjamin Johnson smirks at the camera. Another of the new faces roaming through the halls.

I'm so sick of this tombstone mentality,
If there's an afterlife,
Then it'll set you free.

Soaring through the air like nobody else on the roster, Bryan Dawkins delivers a 'Hang Loose' gesture in mid-air before slamming into the body of High Flyer.

But I'm not gonna part the seas
You're a self-fulfilling prophecy.
You think that cryin to me,

Tyler Nelson's bruised arm is raised into the air at Colossus VI, after his shocking upset over The Supreme Machine, Killean Sirrajin.

Looking so sorry that I'm gonna believe,
You've been infected by a social disease.
Well, then take your medicine.

A well manicured hand swings the camera around to view the self proclaimed most gorgeous face in PRIME, Chandler Tsonda.

I created the Sound of Madness.
Wrote the book on pain.
Somehow I'm still here,

David Noble coldly blinks into the camera.

To explain,
That the darkest hour never comes in the night.
You can sleep with a gun.
When you gonna wake up and fight... for yourself?

The Redeemed beatdown both the Wolves of Slaughter and Wicked Ways.

I created the Sound of Madness.
Wrote the book on pain.
Somehow I'm still here

Adam Garcia sneers into the millions of home watching ReVolution.

To explain
That the darkest hour never comes in the night.
You can sleep with a gun.
When you gonna wake up...
When you gonna wake up and fight...

Troy Douglas sends Dusk to the End of the Road and captures the Intense Championship back at UltraViolence 08.

I created the Sound of Madness.
Wrote the book on pain.
Somehow I'm still here,
To explain,
That the darkest hour never comes in the night.

Jay Phoenix waves goodbye to The Anti-Superstar, Jason Natas, having finally defeated him at his own game.

You can sleep with a gun.
When you gonna wake up and fight... for yourself?

Lisa Tyler sits behind her desk, arms folded across, creepy boss glare into the camera.

When you gonna wake up and fight... for yourself?

Jason Snow stands over Chandler Tsonda at Culture Shock the new Universal Champion.

When you gonna wake up and fight... for yourself?

And over Kaiser Vashaun at Colossus VI, the new 5 Star Champion. A double champion.

When you gonna wake up and fight... for yourself?

PRIME...Number One by Definition.

The Ford Center is still buzzing over what just occurred in the opening portion of the show. If that was going to be measuring stick by which the rest of ReVolution 208 had to rival, the show would be a fitting send off to the Great American Nightmare. Even though both factions are hated by the majority of those jam packed into the building, a good display of violence always entices the PRIME fan.

A wave of pyrotechnics crash into the stage signifying the last leg of the tour. Four explosive matches will don the squared circle. They've already gotten a hellacious preview of the Main Event and all of the other slated contests should live up to expectations. Overhead cameramen are hard at work trying to get as many fans into the moving shots at possible. A few of the rowdy alcoholics topple over others just to keep their fifteen milliseconds of fame going a little longer. They will be watching the rest of the program from their homes or listening on the radio.

Over at the announcers table, Richard Parker munches on a barbecue sandwich while Nick Stuart scans the run sheet. When they notice the camera on them, one of them changes their action and accommodates the fans.

The other uses the camera for a mirror to see if he has any pieces of greatness stuck in his teeth.

Nick: WELCOME LADIES AND GENTLEMEN TO REVOLUTION 208!

Richard: Wow, I've got a fat-

Mike Gundy: FAT!

Richard: ...The hell did that come from?

Nick: We are LIVE from the Ford Center in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma in what promises to be a chaotic night.

Richard: I still don't know where that soundbyte came from.

Nick: In our opening contest, Adam Garcia, who we saw a smidgen of last week-

Richard: Being a complete and total dumbass.

Nick: Will take on Jacob Cross, who appears to be headed for a clash against Hoyt Williams.

Richard: Hoyt is going to demolish that little prick.

Nick: Our second contests pits a couple of perennial fan favorites against one another. Jay Phoenix-

Richard: Tony Gamble's midget.

Nick: Will take on Troy Douglas-

Richard: Brandon Youngblood's comb.

Nick: Do you ever have anything productive to say during this portion of the program?

Richard: My productivity matches yours, bucco.

Nick: Then I am blocking you for the rest of the segment.

BLOCKED!
BLOCKED!

Richard: (inaudible)

Nick: The third match of the evening pits Brandon Youngblood against Brandon Pierce in what should be an interesting matchup. Both guys are looking to continue their momentum heading into the Pay-Per-View

Richard: (inaudible)

Nick: Well said, partner. And -

Richard: (inaudible)

Nick: Heh, heh, heh, you are funny. And our Main Event will feature the six guys you just saw. Tyler Nelson, Chainz and Hessian take on Tony Gamble, Devin Shakur and Christian Daniels in an Iron Man match scheduled to last all night. That should be one for the ages and our cleaning bill.

Richard: (inaudible)

Nick: I agree, we should go backstage.

Richard: DUDE, WHAT THE F-

Miles Long wore a loud purple suit with a lavender dress shirt underneath that was clearly too small for his potbelly. His gray hair stood in disorderly shafts on end, making him appear twice his real size. A retired heavyweight boxer, known for his powerful punches and knockouts; this man was on a mission. Looking as if he had no business in the backstage area, Miles Long pulled the golden megaphone which rested at his side to his mouth.

Long: THE CHAMP IS HERE! THE CHAMP IS HERE!

As the words echoed loudly throughout the corridors one of the locker room doors flew open and out stepped Adam Garcia. Clad in a red boxing robe over his wrestling attire and matching gloves, the "Pinnacle Performer" strode boastfully; nose high in the air like you "couldn’t tell him nothing", toward his new manager. Backstage crew and talent looked over to see what the big commotion was but resumed with their daily tasks when they noticed it was only Garcia. Adam rolled his shoulders a couple of times, began to jog in place and even threw a few shadow punches. Miles fought to contain his laughter.

Long: You ready, son?

Garcia: I was born ready, Miles! It’s about to get ugly ‘round here. They don’t call me "his airness" for nothing ya know? How’d the great Ali say it again?... Oh yeah! Gloat like a dragonfly swing like a tree! It’s going to be a lot of gloating and swinging tonight baby!

Miles Long scratched and shook his big sweaty head in utter confusion. His eyebrows cocked to the side and his jaw dropped slightly.

Long: Umm, I’m pretty sure "his airness" is Michael Jordan and Ali said float-

Garcia: Yeah, yeah.

Adam immediately interrupted as if what Miles had to say was not important.

Garcia: Sure, sure. That’s great and all but none of the matters right now because tonight is all about ME!

Adam nodded his head with every step he took as he made his way to the ring. He continued the little boxing getup he had going on. He decided to leave a few minutes early this week, just in case he got lost again. This wrestling business in the states was still new to him, and changing arenas every night didn’t make matters any easier.

Garcia: Besides, after tonight no one is going to care what old washed-up has-beens like Michael Jordan or Muhammad Ali had to say. No offense to you at all Miles but, I’m the future homes. It’s me they’ll be quoting. Little kids will be asking mommy and daddy for sombreros and ponchos for Christmas as they yearn to walk in the Prince of PRIME’s shoes. That’s right, I said it!

Long: Woah! Hold your horses young buck! Let’s get through tonight first. Don’t get a big head just yet. Your opponent is no pushover ya know? He’s been in the big times a lot longer than you have, and he did very well against your upcoming Great American Nightmare opponent, Benjamin Johnson. You should be looking to learn a lot from him tonight.

Adam stopped dead in his tracks and turned to look at Miles Long in disbelief. The kind of look that said, "are you kidding me?" It wasn’t apparent to Miles yet that Adam was one from the great Garcia Wrestling family over in Mexico. His father was legendary Hector Garcia. But all that didn’t matter now, this was a fresh start.

Garcia: Listen here, ‘bruh’.

Adam pointed a finger into Miles’ face to make his point more clear. Miles grinned enthusiastically, rolled his shoulders, and squared up to Garcia, ready for action. Reading this; Adam remembered that Miles—though fat—could knock him back to Mexico, and so he backed off. He patted Miles on his shoulder, an apology of sorts.

Garcia: …I mean comrade. I hear ya’ but let’s just be honest. This Cross character can’t beat me his best day on my worst day. And Benjamin who? Oh! You mean that guy who that big bozo Hessian made his little rag doll last week?

Both Adam and Miles looked around to make sure that Hessian was nowhere in sight to hear that comment. Relieved he continued.

Garcia: You’ve got to be kidding me! I can beat him with both eyes taped shut! And don’t let me get on this Hessian character. He better hope I don’t run into him anytime soon or it’s going to be lights-

Miles chuckled sarcastically and slapped Adam on his back. He really just wanted to disrupt Adam from saying something that might get them into trouble.

Long: Yeah, you’re probably right and Adam please don’t…

Paranoid, they both looked back once more.

Long: You know what? Let’s just hightail it out of here! You never know who’s out there listening and word does seem to travel fast around here!

Adam shrieked like a little girl and nodded in agreement.

Garcia: Right!

The two got of there and fled as fast as they could. Miles dropped the megaphone accidentally but had no intentions of going back. You'd never think you'd see a fat man run so fast.

Brandon Pierce is not exactly in the best of moods.

Walking into the arena, bruises dotting his exterior from the brutal beat down at the hands of Nelson’s henchmen from last week, he looks like he’s generally ready to tear someone’s head off. Claire tries keeping up with him, but each step forward is at such a brisk pace, it’s hard to imagine her doing well in this endeavor.

Chainz was on his mind. The Intense Title? Sure. But Chainz had taken him places he never thought imaginable, and as a result, needed to hunt the behemoth down.

Pierce turned the corner, only to have his path impeded. And in his way? A side note. Something that wasn’t properly on his mind.

Brandon Youngblood.

Youngblood stared right through Pierce with a somber glance. From what Pierce could read, there wasn’t hatred moving him, but rather, territorialism.

Youngblood: If you’re walking after our match, it’s because I’m merciful. No offense.

Pierce didn’t know how to react to the very upfront threat.

Pierce: What?

Youngblood stepped forward.

Youngblood: I don’t repeat myself.

And before Pierce can even respond, Youngblood was already walking away.

Welcome to the second installment of Chris Smith's Dictionary/Thesaurus. Today, we will be discussing imbeciles. As always, we have visual aids for those of you who find this portion of the program to be hilarious.

First, before I get to anything, I must ask...How in the hell does this guy



Win Around the Horn. Way to go, Reali.



Anyway, onto the words of the day. The first one is, as mentioned in the preview...

IMBECILE



Also, see DOOFUS



And if you think these guys are intellectual and accurate individuals, then



YOU STINK!

Brought to you by the Master...And ruler...Of the world.



GOOD NIGHT NOW!

(Again: Credit goes to the people who posted these in Yahoo and Google searches for me to find.)

"Unbound" by Avenged Sevenfold

Nick: You know what that means… it’s time to kick off the action here in Oklahoma!

Richard: I suppose this means I have to focus now.

Nick: Not at all. Go ahead and keep your head in your ass… I’ve been hoping for the opportunity to call some epic matches with a new color guy.

Richard: They can’t fire me, pal. And you better watch it, tossing around the word "colored". That’s not PC.

Jacob Cross pushes through the curtain, emerging atop the stage to the cheers of the fans. Quickly, he begins his march toward the ring as "Unbound" echoes through the Ford Center.

Vince Howard: Ladies and Gentlemen, the opening contest is scheduled for one fall with a twenty-minute time-limit. Introducing first, from Marlow, Oklahoma…

RRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!

A huge roar for the home-state boy.

Vince Howard:… weighing in at 230lbs… Jaaaaaacccoooooobbbb Crrrrrrrrrooooooooossssssssss!

Plenty more cheers for the man from Oklahoma as Cross makes his way up the ring steps and through the ropes.

Richard: PRIME really ought to do something about homefield advantage. Isn’t fair.

Nick: What are we supposed to do? Never book shows in the cities and states anyone on the roster is from?

Richard: We can book shows in Nelson’s hometown. Or our esteemed Universal Champion’s stomping grounds.

Nick: Canada doesn’t like Snow any more than the rest of the world does. I suggest Mr. Garcia stay focused tonight and block out the crowd. ‘Road teams’ win all the time in professional sports.

"Unbound" fades away and is replaced by the sounds of Weezer’s "The Greatest Man that Ever Lived". And the cheers disappear as quickly as Cross’s music. A chorus of jeers welcome Adam Garcia as he makes his way down the ramp toward the ring.

Vince Howard: And his opponent… from Mexico City, Mexico… weighing in at an even 200lbs… the Pinnacle Performer… Adaaaaammmmm Gaaaaaaarrrrrrcccccciiiiiiiaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

Nick: It’s good to see that Garcia was able to find where he was going this week.

Richard: Very funny. You try being locked outside in Calgary. Not fun. There’s ice and polar bears and ice up there. And now the guy has to wrestle in Oklahoma against a guy from…

Nick: We get it. It’s been a tough welcoming to PRIME for Adam Garcia. Fight through and change your own luck.

Garcia practically struts to the ring, almost soaking in the boos as if they were cheers of admiration. Sliding under the ropes, he raises his arms to the crowd, only for the boos to increase.

Richard: No respect. It’s because he’s Mexican.

Nick: Would you stop.

Vince Howard clears the ring as the sounds of Weezer dissipate, and the referee calls for the bell.

‘DING DING DING!’

Nick: Here we go!

Garcia raises a hand high in the air, asking Cross for a test-of-strength. Cross looks puzzled, but lifts an arm and steps forward. Immediately, Garcia puts his hand down and turns away, shaking his head.

BOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Richard: Good call. Cross has a solid 30lbs on The Pinnacle Performer, no need to get into a battle of raw power.

Nick: Then why even make the attempt in the first place?!

Cross makes a "what gives?" gesture. Garcia smiles and again lifts his right hand, nodding for Cross to test his might. Cross stares at his smaller opponent for a moment, then looks out to the crowd. When he turns his attention back to Garcia, Cross explodes forward with a clothesline.

YYYYYEEEEAAAAAHHHH!

Garcia rolls to his feet and is met with a second clothesline. Hitting the mat, the superstar from Mexico City again is right back up. This time, Cross’s clothesline misses, as Garcia ducks underneath and hits the ropes. Bouncing back, The Pinnacle Performer takes to the air with a cross-body block, but Jacob catches the smaller superstar in mid-flight. Flinging Garcia up and overhead, Cross drives him down with a fall away slam. Scurrying across the ring, Cross hooks a leg and makes the cover.

ONE…



TWO…



TH…

Nick: A kick-out by Garcia.

Cross wastes no time, picking his opponent up and hoisting him overhead. Holding him vertical, Cross lets the flash from hundreds of cameras around the arena explode before slamming Garcia down with a stalling vertical suplex. Whipping the Pinnacle Performer into the ropes, Cross catches Garcia and spins him through the air before bending his spine in half across the knee.

Nick: Titl-a-whirl backbreaker, and Jacob Cross is lighting it up!

Richard: Absolutely not fair. I told you!

Cross drags Garcia off the canvas, but as he does so, Garcia reaches out and rolls up Cross. The referee is quick to react and makes the count.

ONE…



TWO…



T…

Cross kicks out, drawing a large pop form the crowd. As soon as Garcia’s grip is broken, both superstars roll to their feet. Cross charges in with a knee to the gut, which doubles Garcia over, leaving him prone to a vicious DDT.

As Garcia’s skull drills the canvas, Cross pushes him over onto his back and makes the cover.

Nick: Huge DDT! This might be enough…

ONE…



TWO…




THR…

Nick: No!

Richard: This Garcia kid is tough!

Cross lifts the Pinnacle Performer and fires off a right hook. The shot staggers Garcia, and Cross begins to work his opponent towards the corner, landing repeated punches that land square on the jaw. With Garcia against the turnbuckles, Cross lands a massive clubbing forearm across the chest before whipping the Gravity Defying superstar across the ring. Garcia regains his wits at the last second and leaps onto the second turnbuckle. As Cross comes rushing in for a follow up splash, Garcia arcs back and contorts his body in mid-air, crashing down with a modified corkscrew moonsault.

Richard: He calls that the Foxtrot!

Whatever he calls it, it’s found its mark and changed the momentum of the match. Garcia immediately jumps to his feet and heads for the ropes. Again, he leaps onto the second rope and springboards back, turning and dropping an elbow right across the throat of his opponent.

Nick: A springboard elbow drop. And Garcia goes for the cover…

ONE…




TWO…



THR…

Nick: Cross kicks out again!

The Pinnacle performer pulls Cross off of the canvas and executes a textbook Russian leg sweep. When he rises to his feet, he holds his hands out, letting the crowd take in the site of perfection.

BOOOOOOOOOOO!

Not seeming to hear the boos, Garcia pounds on his chest before looking down at Cross and visibly mouthing "ya just don’t measure up!"

Nick: Awfully arrogant for a guy who couldn’t even find the boss’s office last week.

Richard: Watch your mouth.

Garcia drops two quick elbows before spinning on his heels and turning his back to Cross. Jumping high in the air, the Gravity-Defying superstar executes a standing moonsualt.

YYYYEEEEAAAAHHHH!

But he finds only a gut full of knees, as Cross pulls his legs up in defense. Garcia is hits with a groan and flips through to his feet, clutching at his ribs. Cross grabs an arm and whips the Pinnacle Performer into the ropes, again lifting and spinning his opponent with a tilt-a-whirl. This time, however, Garcia turns fortunes in mid-move, locking his legs around Cross’s head as he’s spun around and using the momentum to flip Cross over with a head scissor take down.

Richard: What incredible athleticism!

Nick: Indeed, now drop the showboating and go for the pin.

Garcia doesn’t, but it’s not for ego. Hitting the ropes, the Pinnacle Performer comes sprinting towards Cross, who’s up to his knees, and lands a low drop-kick to the jaw, snapping Cross right back down to the canvas. Now, Garcia hooks both legs, looking for the pin.

ONE…




TWO…




THR…

YYYYEEEAAAAAAHHHHHH!

Richard: What?!

Nick: Cross showing his own determination and resiliency.

With the crowd building a cheer, urging Cross on, the wrestler from Oklahoma climbs to his feet. Garcia fires away with a right hook, but Cross blocks the move and returns the favor with one of his own. This one finds its mark and draws more cheers from the crowd. Dipping a shoulder, Cross lifts Garcia up and slams him down with a Samoan drop.

Not wasting a second, Cross rips Garcia to his feet. A big punch slams into Garcia’s jaw. More punches follow before Cross whips his opponent across the ring. Garcia hits the ropes and comes rushing back with a clothesline, but Cross ducks under the arm. When the Pinnacle Performer hits the opposite ropes and comes barreling back, Cross wraps him up and slams him down.

Nick: Side belly to belly suplex! This has been a furious pace.

Cross steps through the ropes and climbs to the top turnbuckle, patiently waiting for Garcia to get to his feet, Cross takes to the air, driving home a top-rope dropkick.

YYYYEEEAAAAAHHH!

Nick: That was a 230lbs missile coming from the top rope!

Cross hooks the leg and makes the cover.

ONE…



TWO…




THRE…

Richard: Garcia kicked out!

Cross tucks Garcia away into piledriver position near the ropes, looking to compact The Pinnacle Performer’s spine, but the Gravity-Defying superstar lifts his shoulders and sends Cross tumbling outside the ring with a back body drop. Cross hits and rolls towards the corner of the barricade

Immediately jumping to the opposite top turnbuckle, Garcia looks out to Cross and then starts to run across the top rope, leaping as he crosses the cable and landing on Cross’s shoulders, taking him over with a hurricanrana.

Nick: Good Lord!

Richard: Did you see that?!

Nick: Incredible balance and high flying.

Richard: He just bolted across the top rope and hit a flying hurricanrana outside the ring.

Both men are groggy, though Garcia is first to his feet, and once vertical, he again pounds his chest to the dismay of the crowd. Cross is to his feet a moment later and Garcia rolls him under the bottom rope then climbs the turnbuckles.

Jumping off, Garcia looks to connect with a leg drop, but Cross rolls out of the way. With Garcia seated on his rear, screaming in pain. Cross hits the ropes and comes in with a dropping clothesline.

Nick: The counter by Cross, and now the pin!

ONE…



TWO…



THR…

Garcia kicks out. Cross attempts a northern lights suplex, but Garcia grabs the top rope to put a stop to the maneuver, then lifts his feet off the air and delivers a standing tornado DDT. As soon as Cross’s skull hits the mat, The Pinnacle Performer goes for the pin, making sure to put his feet on the middle rope.

Nick: C’mon ref.

But the ref doesn’t see it and begins the count.

ONE…



TWO…



THRE…

RRRAAAAAHHHH!

Richard: No way!

Nick: Cross kicked out, even with Garcia’s feet on the ropes.

The Pinnacle Performer slaps the mat in frustration a couple times before looking up and yelling at the official, complaining of a slow count. The fans boo the tantrum as Garcia climbs to his feet and grabs Cross by an arm, pulling his opponent up with him.

Garcia whips Cross into the ropes and attempts a clothesline, but Cross ducks underneath and hits the other set of ropes. When he comes back, he hits a huge spinning elbow that drops Garcia.

Nick: Huge impact on the elbow.

Cross reaches down to lift Garcia, but the Pinnacle Performer slams a fist upward right into Cross’s groin.

Nick: Low blow!

The ref is unable to see the illegal maneuver, positioned behind Cross.

Richard: If the ref doesn’t see it, it didn’t happen.

With Cross doubled over, Garcia hits the ropes and comes back, jumping into the air and bringing his right leg down with vicious speed across the back of Cross’s head.

Richard: The Decapitator!

Nick: A violent axe-kick to follow up that illegal low blow!

Garcia drops to the canvas and hooks both legs, rolling Cross up. The referee slides into position, still oblivious to the low blow and makes the count.

ONE…



TWO…



THREE!

‘DING DING DING!’

Richard: Garcia overcame the odds!

"The Greatest Man that Ever Lived" does battle with a chorus of boos as Adam Garcia rolls to his knees and raises his arms in the air.

Nick: It all changed on that shot below the belt!

Richard: Please. Garcia came into Cross’s backyard and just started his PRIME career off on the right foot.

Vince Howard: Ladies and Gentlemen, your winner of the match… AAAADDDDAAAAMMMM GARCCCCCCIIIIIIAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

More boos from the crowd as the official raises Garcia’s hand and the Pinnacle Performer gloats about his victory.

Richard: Complain all you want, Nick. The high flying, the top rope sprinting hurricanrana, the most impressive looking axe-kick I think I’ve ever seen...

Nick:… one shot to the groin that the ref didn’t see…

Richard: … and that was an impressive debut.

Nick: The match moved a mile a minute, back and forth, and by hook or crook, you do have to hand it to Adam Garcia, he just picked up a noteworthy first victory.

Nick: So... I don’t know what this is all about.

Richard: All it says on the itinerary is award presentation.

A red carpet covers the ring canvas as a man in a Tuxedo stands with a microphone and next to him is a massive trophy that reads "Wrestler of the Year".

Bob DuMont: Hello everybody I’m Bob DuMont chairman of the National Wrestlers Hall of Fame!

The crowd pops.

Bob DuMont: I’m thrilled to be standing in this ring today to add yet another name to our impressive Hall Of Fame with this stunning award for WRESTLER OF THE YEAR!!

Nick: Very nice! I wonder who it is.

Richard: Nelson is a Nike shoe in.

Bob DuMont: Let’s not string this thing along and get right to it. I’m proud to announce the winner of the 2009 wrestler of the year award…..HOYT WILLIAMS!!!

Nick: What????

Richard: I stopped watching when Hoyt left and I’ve been tuned in religiously ever week since his return. This is perfectly logical.

"Personal Jesus" by Depeche Mode whips the crowd into a fevered frenzy like a shaken bee hive on a summer day. From the back enters Hoyt Williams looking a little confused and caught off guard as he is wearing his street clothes perfectly tailored Hushpuppies, blue jeans, a Bob Kraft T-shirt of dollar signs and cheese, and a Chicago Bears hat. He walks proudly to the ring ignoring the crowd.

Bob Dumont: Hoyt Williams has stunned the wrestling world time and time again with his brilliant in ring promos and amazing wins over some of the finest wrestlers in the world. Every time he is counted out he amazingly rises from the dead to capture the win. The best mind player in the sport, he knows how to work over his opponents over long before the bell is ever rung. 2009 and the National Wrestlers Hall of Fame welcomes Hoyt Williams!

Hoyt looks over the trophy and is obviously impressed as he gives it a thumbs up before shaking the hand of Bob DuMont. Hoyt grabs the mic as he waves out to the crowd. Bob points him to a camera facing the west where he tells him they need to record his induction speech for the Hall of Fame video wall.

Hoyt Williams: It’s true, I am the greatest wrestler of 2009 and let’s face it OF ALL TIME. I know it’s unfair when you think about it since I do have God and Country clearly on my side and those are two heavy ring men. Yes, he is a man. Now, it’s also true I’ve already conquered PRIME and pro-wrestling --everybody knows this as I dominated the ranks here YEARS ago. I then go to Hollywood and absolutely light up the big screens across America as the ladies love me and the men want to be me. Listen I’m no stranger to award shows that is why this speech is so good!! As a matter of fact if they had an award show for award show speeches I no doubt would win artist of the year and give an AMAZING speech….

Before Hoyt can say another word he is hit in the back HARD with a steel chair held firmly by Jacob Cross.

Nick: He thought he took Cross out last week in that sick ambush but here he is now returning the favor!

Richard: Arrest him! Arrest him!

Cross slams the chair into Hoyt again as the crowd pops hard giving Cross motivation to do it again, and again, and again, and again, and again until Hoyt isn’t moving. Cross picks up the microphone.

Jacob Cross: Wrestler of the year?? You haven’t fought a match! I set this whole thing up because I knew your ego was so stupid it would fall for something that didn’t even make sense. Are you kidding me? You talk a GREAT game. You play behind the scenes like a puppet master BUT WHAT HAVE YOU REALLY DONE? You NEVER wrestle, you just talk, and talk, and AMBUSH, and talk, and TALK! Every man in that locker room and every fan in attendance; we are sick of it. At Great American Nightmare all the TALK ends. I was in the back pulling my own strings and I have worked out a match between you and I at Great American Nightmare bell to bell and hell in between. Accept it and be there, or show the world you are nothing but talk, a coward, a phony, and nobody should take you serious again.

Cross drops the mic and stands firmly on the top rope as the crowd gives him a massive ovation.

Nick: Time for Hoyt to put up or shut up!

Richard: He’s a former Universal Champion I’m not too concerned.

Nick: You can’t always live in the past.

Nick: I'm getting word that cameras are picking up the Main Event again. Remember, we're tied at two pinfalls a piece.

Richard: This is either the smartest or the dumbest thing that Lisa Tyler has ever done. Allowing those six individuals to destroy this arena could get her in some big trouble, which would be a good thing for Mr. Nelson. Actually, this could be win-win for Nelson.

Nick: You’re an idiot. Let’s head backstage.

Once the camera switch occurs, Mark Griffin, cameraman extraordinaire, hits the deck, barely ducking underneath a chair that was aimed at his head. Judging by the scenery, we appear to be in the catering area, or what’s left of it, that is. There are tables set up on each side of the room, full of various snacks and finger foods such as meat and cheese trays, sandwiches, and fruit. In the middle of the room, the war that started in the parking lot now consumes the popular backstage spot. Some tables have been overturned, and chairs are displaced throughout the room.

Richard: Jesus! Someone, quick, get back there and get me a plate of sloppy Joe’s and macaroni salad!

Nick: There is absolute carnage happening in the catering area!

The action is fast and furious as Main Event Mayhem continues to live up to its name. Hessian grabs a trash can and clobbers Christian Daniels across the back. Devin Shakur catches the Construction of Destruction with two lightning quick kicks to the abdomen, doubling Hessian over, before Chainz whips Shakur around and scoops him up. Sloan whirls around, finds a table, and slams Shakur through it. The Man in Black clutches his back as Chainz sneers sadistically over him. Suddenly remembering that pinfalls count anywhere, Sloan collapses onto Shakur, who is still in the table remnants. One of the referees quickly comes over for a count.

ONE!

TWO!

Nick: Shakur kicked out!

Christian Daniels cinches in a front face lock on The Murder Show and drops him with a DDT on the trash can previously used against him. As Chainz pulls Shakur to his feet, we pan over to find Tony ‘The Grin’ Gamble’ and Tyler Nelson going toe to toe….or thumb to thumb, as it turns out.

Gamble: One…

Tyler: Two…

Gamble: Three…

Tyler: Four…

Gamble and Tyler: Now it’s time for thumb war!

The Grin and The Greediest Player in the Game engage in a vicious thumb wrestling match, their hands and arms jockeying for position as they look for an opening with their thumbs. Tony smiles, as he always does, while Nelson’s face is of complete determination. The King of Greed’s tongue sticks slightly out of his mouth as he maneuvers his thumb.

Nick: Can you believe what we’re seeing? Tony Gamble and Tyler Nelson are thumb wrestling!

Richard: Shut up already! This is as intense as it gets! I heard Mr. Nelson was the thumb wrestling champion in prison.

As the two men continue their battle, Nelson’s face turns into a frown. The Grin’s thumb curls and bends back in such a way that The Greediest Player in the Game can’t get a hold of it. He raises his elbow high in the air in an attempt to gain some sort of leverage on Gamble’s thumb, but to no avail.

Tyler: What the hell? Is your thumb double jointed or what? That’s cheating!

Gamble: Cheating? Don’t think I didn’t see you grease your thumb with that pat of butter. I got eyes all over the place.

Gamble smiles, but Nelson can’t figure out if he’s smiling to mock him or if it’s just how he looks. Suddenly an Oompa appears from underneath one of the food tables. He stands up and head-butts Nelson in the groin. Tyler grimaces as he doubles over, using his free hand to clutch his family jewels. Gamble quickly takes advantage and pins Nelson’s thumb against his fist.

ONE!

TWO!

THREEE!

Nick: Tony ‘The Grin’ Gamble just pinned Tyler Nelson’s…..thumb?

Richard: This is a travesty! How can Tony Gamble be allowed to associate with people who are smaller than he is?

Nick: I’ve just been informed that the pinfall will count, which puts Team Shakur up 3 to 2!

Gamble puffs his chest out and breaks into a pimp strut. He turns away from the groaning Nelson only to be flattened out by a running boot to the face from The Murder Show! The Grin lands hard on the ground, his head bouncing off the floor.

Crowd: OOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Hessian towers over the fallen Grin and smirks until he’s clobbered from behind by a large ceramic bowl of potato salad courtesy of Devin Shakur. The bowl shatters into thousands of pieces, causing the Construction of Destruction to clutch the back of his head in pain. Meanwhile, Nelson performs a standing splash on the downed Tony Gamble, then grabs a handful of The Grin’s tights as he makes a cover.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Richard: Yes!! It’s tied back up!

Nick: Even though Gamble’s brain was scrambled by Hessian’s boot, Nelson still felt the need to grab a handful of tights.

Richard: Win if you can, lose if you must, but always cheat.

It’s Nelson’s turn to gloat as he displays a broad smile on his face while he gets to his feet. He turns to see Hessian and Shakur squaring off, with The Murder Show blocking a chair shot from the Man in Black with his arm. Shakur cocks the chair back for another shot, but Nelson snatches it out of his hands. The Greediest Player in the Game waves a finger at Shakur just before he gets plowed by a clothesline from Christian Daniels. Shakur nods at his brother, who motions toward the fist flying toward the Man in Black’s face. Shakur dodges Hessian's paw just in time, then catches The Murder Show with a martial arts kick to the stomach. Daniels moves in on Hessian, but he’s sawed in half by a spear from Chainz. The two men knock over tables and chairs as they fall to the floor.

Nick: I can barely keep track of the action, Richard.

Richard: And that’s why you should be worried about your job.

Two sets of hands reach out from beneath a table, grabbing the ankles of Tony Gamble and yanking him under the table in one swift motion. Seconds later, two men dressed as Oompa Loompas waddle out from beneath the table and begin to pound on the fallen Tyler Nelson. It is at this moment, when the numbers game has finally caught up with Nelson's group, that the odds even out once more.

Nick: No, what are they doing out there?

Richard: YES! I just hope Elise doesn't mess up her hair. She hates it when she messes up her hair.

Kazys takes an Oompa in each hand as Ares helps Nelson to his feet. Little legs are kicking in the wind as The Iron Wolf practically licks his chops. A swift kick to the shin catches his attention, but when he looks down and only manages to see a leg tuck back beneath the table it really pisses him off. He tosses the Oompas against the wall then takes a hold of the edge of the table and flips it backwards to reveal the forever grinning visage of Tony Gamble. Sitting there with a slice of turkey breast wrapped around his index finger, Tony cannot help but point toward Kazys.

Richard: Oh, now he's gone and done it!

Nick: I don't think he's pointing at Kazys.

Indeed, he is actually pointing at the two African American males that have rushed through the door and started to pummel on the back of the tag team champion.

Richard: No one even likes these guys, what are they doing here?

Nick: The Redeemed have come to make sure that the Wolves don't take advantage of the situation.

Hessian has Devin Shakur in his arms, squeezing the life out of him with a bearhug. It is the running start that causes Shakur's eyes to widen, considering the only thing behind him is a wall. Well, it was behind him. There is a hole in the wall now, and both men are covered in pieces of drywall as they struggle to rise to their feet. Elise has joined Kaz in his battle with the Redeemed, as Nelson joins Chainz in keeping Daniels laid out on the ground. Chainz drops down and hooks the leg as Nelson drives another boot into the skull of Daniels.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Richard: Team Nelson up four to three, Nick!

Nick: Wait...look!

Though both men are dazed, Hessian has managed to roll onto his chest and drape a hamhock of an arm over the chest of Devin Shakur.

ONE!!

TWO!!

THREE!!

Richard: YEEEEESSS! Five to three!

Nick: A commanding lead for Team Nelso-OOOOOOH!

Tony Gamble came running full speed and dropkicked a steel chair into the face of Hessian just as he got up on all fours. He hops to his feet, but gets caught right away by Chainz from behind. Chainz launches Gamble up and over with a belly to back suplex.

Nick: He landed on his feet!

Richard: Chainz!! Watch out!

With steel chair still in hand, Tony rears back like A-Rod in his PRIME...Only to feel his grip on the chair loosen as Tyler Nelson rips it from his hands. Tony turns around to a face full of chair. It is Nelson's turn to smile as he admires the indention of Tony's face in the unforgiving steel. He should have paid more attention to the roar of the man charging at him with the sole of his big ole boot aimed at his head.

Nick: Daniels nearly took his head off with that boot!

Richard: No, leave Hessian alone! Your boss needs you!

Daniels manages to drop down on top of Nelson and the ref wastes no time in making the count.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Nick: Team Shakur on the comeback.

Richard: Don't they see...That's what Lisa Tyler wants them to do!

Nick: Regardless of who wants them to do it, they didn't come out here to lose.

Marquis Peeples slams Ares into the wall, then catches a big boot from Chainz that smashes his skull against that same wall. Dawkins rushes over after tossing Kazys into a tall stack of chairs and spears Chainz into the wall. Elise helps Kaz to his feet, pointing behind him at the door.

Elise: Hey, look. I wonder what Lisa's doing right now.

Kazys: Uhm, we're kind of in the middle of something.

Elise: Yeah, yeah. This is going to be going on all night. Just call time out.

Kaz stares at his partner for a moment, then looks back at the action that is continuing down the hall.

Kazys: We can't just call a time out.

Elise: I heard she has candy. I could really use a Now and Later right now. Come on.

Ares takes a hold of the knob, twisting it before glancing rather queckly down the hall.

Elise: Hey, hold on...we'll be right back.

Kaz follows his partner, as Shakur drives an elbow into the small of Hessian's back. On one knee, the Murder Show still manages to grab Shakur by the neck. Another elbow shot connects with the back of his neck, but only manages to loosen Hessian's grip around his neck a bit. Gamble joins the duo of the Redeemed in laying the boots to Chainz as Daniels tosses Nelson into the fallen stack of chairs scattered around the ground.

Suddenly the scene cuts to the inside of Lisa Tyler's office, where Dam is already staring holes into The Wolves Of Slaughter. Meanwhile, Lisa has made a point to no sell the fact that they are even in the room. Continuing to sign paperwork she doesn't even make the slightest move in acknowledging the fact the PRIME Tag Team Champions have invited themselves in.

Elise Ares: You know what... we need to talk.

There is no response, only silence as Lisa Tyler stays buried in her paperwork. The clock ticks back and forth, Kazys and Dam measure each other up as Elise continues on.

Elise Ares: I really like what you've done with this place though. The plain walls and complete lack of color is a great reflection of your personality.

Dam just continued to stare down the pair as Lisa Tyler continues not to react.

Elise Ares: This is totally lame, it's like the doctor's office without any candy or copies of Better Homes & Gardens.

Kazys Jankauskas: I believe what Elise is trying to say is that we'd like to speak with you.

Lisa Tyler: Busy.

That's the only word that escapes her lips. Elise Ares pulls up a chair and sits down across from Lisa. She continues to fill out paperwork as The Swaggeriffic One rests her hand on her head.

Elise Ares: What a rip, I was told you had candy in here. Whatcha doin though? Is this kind of like when the president is about to leave office and he's giving people all kinds of pardons on his way out?

No dice. Lisa ignores her. Elise refocuses her annoyance attack to Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas.

Elise Ares: So is your name really hard to pronounce because you're from Lithuania like Kaz, or do you just enjoy being insufferably difficult?

Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas: Boss, I dun think she gonna shut up.

With a frustrated sigh Lisa Tyler slams her pen down on the table and looks up at Elise Ares, who has the massive Kazys Jankauskas hovering over her.

Elise Ares: Nice of you to join us.

Lisa Tyler: Get on with it.

Elise Ares: A few weeks ago I was trying to do a justice to the fans of PRIME and retire the tag team championships until a more suitable opponent came along. You see, I'm sure by now the fans are sick and tired of watching Kaz and I beat the living hell out of The Redeemed every single week. I figured I might give the ownership and possibly some of the roster a little motivation to try and give us a real challenge.

Lisa Tyler: In my estimation I think you were just trying to get away with not having to defend the tag team titles.

Elise Ares: Well as usual, your estimation is wrong.

The boss shoots a glare back at the Wolf In Sheep's Clothing, who as usual is wearing a particularly smug smirk of arrogance on her face.

Elise Ares: These are exactly the types of decisions that'll inevitably get Tyler Nelson this job.

Lisa Tyler: Well, he's failed so far...

Elise Ares: That's because he hasn't had us. You see...

The Swaggeriffic One gets up from her seat, and begins pacing back and forth. Clearly a tactic she'd picked up from some interrogation sequence in an action movie.

Elise Ares: Brandon Youngblood thought it'd be a great idea to stick it to us, go running to Lisa Tyler and volunteer his services. Try to suck up to the boss, who is clearly on her way out, and get ahead in this place as fast as he could. Of course, you obliged... giving him a shot at PRIME's greatest and most marketable wrestler.

Elise pauses as she's being glared at by Kaz.

Elise Ares: Err... one of PRIME's greatest and most marketable wrestlers. Sure he won... but only because I was focused on creating a memorable event for all my fans. These people beg to be entertained Liz. They don't want no personality, mindless robot wrestlers coming out with greco roman backgrounds with 20 different blackbelts and using moss covered three handled family gredenzels. They paid for a show Liz, they paid to be given a good show.

Lisa Tyler: They got one, Brandon Youngblood kicked your butt.

Elise Ares: That bastard did NOTHING to me compared to what we did to him the week before. Maybe you didn't catch that one. I don't think you missed Youngblood laying in a heap, in horrible horrible pain soaked in a puddle of his own blood on the concrete. Did you?

Lisa Tyler: Unfortunately, I did catch that.

Kazys Jankauskas: It was a blast. I haven't had that much fun since the war.

A sly smile crossed the face of Kazys as Lisa Tyler simply shook her head.

Elise Ares: The next week... Jay Phoenix and Meat Pierce went through it too.

Lisa Tyler: Get on with it Elise, you're wasting my time.

Elise Ares: All I'm saying is, it'd be really... REALLY horrible if something like that were to happen to you, don't you think? I don't know if Dammy Boy here would quite know what to do with himself.

Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas: I ain't scared of you. Boss ain't either.

Elise chuckled to herself as she looked back at him.

Elise Ares: Good, good. I wouldn't want you to lose sleep over it or anything. Just take this little meeting as a formal request Liz to reconsider your decision to give The Redeemed another shot at our tag team titles. Because after we're done with The Redeemed and we're the only tag team worth a damn left on this roster, we're going to be awfully bored. We'd have to find new ways to entertain ourselves.

Kazys Jankauskas: And you know what... the past couple of weeks have been a blast.

Kaz laughs a bit as he opens the door, leaving Lisa Tyler shaking her head in disbelief as Dam takes a few steps in front of her not taking kindly to any petty threats of harm onto the boss.

Elise Ares: When Tyler Nelson takes over this place, I'll make sure to put in a good word for you Liz.

With that said the door slams shut leaving the boss and her freakish intimidator inside to take whatever they'd please from the little chat they shared. Once outside Elise looks back and forth down the hallway, noticing it's awfully quiet. No one is around. Not an intern, not a crew member... no one.

Elise Ares: I think that went well, I guess we'll just have to wait and se...

The Swaggeriffic One notices something is different from when they left it.

Elise Ares: Wait... where'd everyone go? Wasn't there a fight going on here?

Kazys Jankauskas: There was, I'm assuming they've moved on.

Elise Ares: DAMMIT, they were supposed to wait for us!

Kazys Jankauskas: They're not just going to stop fighting you kno...

Kaz didn't even get to finish his sentence before Elise was halfway down the hallway, adamantly looking for the fight that started at the beginning of the night. As he jogged to keep pace with the much faster Havana Harlot, one thing passed through his mind.

"This is going to be a long night."

For Adam Garcia, life's pretty good right about now. He loves the fine art of talking shit, and he got to participate in it earlier in the night. Now, he's got himself a Gatorade, which he sips away at, and is roaming the halls. Why, he doesn't know yet. Maybe he'll find himself a rat that snuck backstage. Maybe he'll find a camera and the chance to talk some more shit. But he'll find something. He always does.

Garcia: Man, I am the SHIT around here! Wonder how long it is before I'm 5-Star Champ! Two, maybe three weeks? Ain't like they can stop talent.

He shadowboxes a little bit. Yeah, he can see it in his head right now: Charley Horses for everyone in his way, and gold wrapped around his waist or draped over his shoulder. Fame and fortune: all of it he can handle.

His daydreaming, however, is interrupted by one of his fellow newcomers to PRIME. This newcomer happens to be 6'5", and not very happy.

With that information in hand, one can deduce that it's Benjamin Johnson, 1-1 in PRIME after stepping into the ring with the Goliath known as Hessian.

Garcia: Hey, you don't look so happy, man? What's wrong?

The cocky smile on Garcia's face, coupled with the fact that Garcia had insulted the newcomer earlier, seems to indicate that Garcia knew exactly what was wrong.

Johnson: Nothing much. Just sort of amazed that I've been here two-three weeks and I've already got an arrogant little shit running his mouth at me.

The Mexico City native gives a "who, me" look that was probably borrowed from some of his idols in the sport.

Johnson: Yeah, I lost to Hessian. But I had the guts to step into the ring with the PTC Elite Champion, with one of the most dangerous men in the history of this sport, and put on a damned good showing. I'd like to see you step up to the plate against someone like him, rather than fighting battles with that motor-mouth of yours.

Garcia: Please. Hessian wouldn't last five minutes in the ring with my speed! I'd run him in circles so bad that he'd be pleading for a water break and an oxygen tank!

Johnson: Yeah, I'm sure. But really, I don't care about that. What I DO care about is you trying to make a name at my expense by talking shit about me. See, I've been doing this a long time, Adam. A long, long time. You have any idea how many people have dropped my name to try and make themselves a name? More than you can possibly imagine, "ese."

If Garcia's remorseful at all, he doesn't show it, simply looking up into the clearly emotional eyes of Benjamin Johnson.

Johnson: You want to say that to my face, that's fine. I don't have a problem with you running your mouth. But do it when I'm not there to hear it...and I'm a little ticked off. So here's what I've got in mind, Senor Garcia. You want to make a name in PRIME. I want to make a name in PRIME. Next week is the Great American Nightmare. From my home state of Texas. Best I can tell, you're from right across the border, so I'd imagine that you're going to have a fair number of your countrymen in attendance. So what do you say? Texas versus Mexico, live on pay per view?

Adam doesn't look particularly frightened or scared by the proclamation, and he shrugs his shoulders.

Garcia: Fine with me. If you're so eager to lose in front of Texas, I'll be more than happy to show millions of people around the world why I'm going straight to the top.

The smile on Adam Garcia's face is equal parts disingenuity and arrogance, but nonetheless, he extends a hand.

Garcia: But if you're going to be stupid enough to agree to this, why not shake hands on it?

The trap seems evident, but Benjamin Johnson's been around the block a time or two. He accepts the hand, shaking it, waiting for any of the usual gambits: being pulled in close, kicked in the groin, anything. None is present. Garcia even releases his hand.

Garcia: Best of luck, gringo. You're gonna need it.

Shaking his head at the arrogance of youth, Benjamin fixes his eyes on Garcia's, and chuckles.

Johnson: Might say the same for you, kid.

And then, he makes his one mistake: he turns to leave.

Johnson doesn't make it two steps before he's sent careening down to the floor, courtesy of a little ditty Adam Garcia likes to call the Kick Start. Those with less of an affinity for cool move names might call it a "superkick." The arrogant Mexican talent crouches down above the Lone Star, shaking his head and clucking his tongue.

Garcia: You're supposed to be a veteran? Any veteran would've seen that coming! This is gonna be easier than I thought. This isn't about winning. This is about showing those people -- my people what I can do. I'm going to embarrass you at the Great American Nightmare. In front of all of your fellow Texans, and in front of your family.

Confident words spoken, Adam's still somewhat quick to leave: after all, the larger Benjamin Johnson is starting to come around from being kicked in the back of the head, and one can't imagine that he'll be too happy when he gets up.

Nick: The nerve of that young man, to say such a thing!

Richard: He's got balls. You need those to survive around here. And Hell, if it gets Benji's panties in a twist, he can try to do something about it at the Great American Nightmare.

Up on his hands and knees, Benjamin Johnson rubs the back of his head. If nothing else, Adam Garcia was right that he *should* have seen it coming.

But the thing about Benjamin Johnson is that this has happened to him countless times.

It's a tired old cliche, but he's a tired old wrestler, so what the Hell?

Benjamin doesn't get mad. He gets even.

Producer: You're up after the break, Troy.

Troy Douglas was in the zone, as it were, standing in what "inside" wrestling fans knew universally as the Gorilla position just behind the curtain, waiting to hear the familiar opening riffs of "You Know My Name" to crackle over the PA system so he could go out and do his job.

Turns out, something as simple as a drink of water can completely disrupt a man's focus.

Douglas turned around to grab a bottle off a nearby table, and as he brought the bottle to his lips, out of the corner of his eye he saw something on the other side that caused him to turn tail and leave the entranceway: the figure of Brandon Youngblood.

Producer: Uhh, Troy? You're on in like two minutes.

Douglas: I'll be back. Got some business to take care of.

Quickly, Megatron is right on top of PRIME's Pariah, so quickly that Youngblood barely has a chance to react.

Douglas: Going somewhere?

Youngblood pulls a dismissive glower and starts to walk down the hall. A roadblock appears in the form of Troy's right hand, shoving him back.

Youngblood: I told you last week, you aren’t ready for me. So get your hand off me.

Douglas: Still singing that tune, huh? You stop paying attention after you stuck your tail between your legs and ran away last week and miss what I did to Tyler Nelson? Because it was meant as a special sneak preview for what'll be on your plate come Great American Nightmare.

Despite Troy's heated glare, Youngblood remains nonplussed.

Youngblood: You got a win off of a broken old man who needs mountains of muscle to protect his every move. You think shit like that impresses me?

Just like the week before, Troy Douglas slowly begins to clench his right fist, grinding his knuckles. For his part, Brandon Youngblood sneers slightly as he sees his words begin to raise the ire of his rival.

Youngblood: You won one match. One out of how many others that you’ve choked away, that you’ve pissed yourself over. Congratulations, you finally won a curtain jerker match.

Douglas smolders, every second coming closer to unleashing his balled-up right hand.

Douglas: I ... I ...

Youngblood: What’s the matter? I might be a little hard of hearing, but I can still smell the shit in your pants.

The Pariah grins again, relishing in Troy's state.

Youngblood: Because…what I say…you know it's the truth…pal. Because you know, deep down inside, that every single word I'm saying is the gospel truth. You can't hack it in this company, and you ... can't ... beat ... me.

As Youngblood slows his words, Douglas grits his teeth into a fine powder, ready to break through the cinder block wall at a moment's notice.

Youngblood: Do I need to…clear things up for you?

Douglas: Just ... this.

Brandon knows its coming, but unlike last week, this time around, he's not quick enough. The right hand meets the Pariah's jaw before he can even move, sending Youngblood's head rocking backwards. By the time he can even start rubbing his jaw, Troy Douglas is already halfway down the corridor, waiting for his cue once again.

Brandon Youngblood has been around the wrestling business to know exactly what message the straight right was sending.

(FADE TO: Lisa Tyler inside her office, hands folded across the table. A 'World's Best Boss' mug lingers around the edge of her mahogany desk.)

Lisa Tyler: People said hiring a wrestling linebacker was a gimmick, a cheap publicity stunt.

Lindsay Troy gives Jason Snow a swirly. He doesn't appear too fond of it.

Lindsay Troy: DON'T FLUSH TWICE OR I'MA ROLL YOU LIKE DICE, BITCH! SNAKE EYES, BABY! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Lisa Tyler: Ever since we brought Lindsay Troy into the fold, our productivity has gone up a staggering 46 percent. Although, when we received an employee complaint-

Jason Snow sits in a room, wringing toilet water out of his hair.

Jason Snow: DON'T FLUSH TWICE? Does this WENCH know who I am? I was a DUAL Champion! I can flush TWICE. I'm the Universal Champion...

Snow glares exceedingly hard at the camera.

Jason Snow: STOP STARING AT ME, PLEBE! THE MERE SIGHT OF ME HAS BEEN KNOWN TO CAUSE ORGASMS!

Lisa Tyler: I had to follow employee handbook policy, so I hired someone to lecture the roster on sensitivity training.

Chainz strolls through the halls with Lisa Tyler at his side.

Lisa Tyler: I brought in Michael Sloan because he is the most sensitive, yet intimidating, individual I know.

Chainz in his locker room.

Chainz: If there is one thing I know about, it's fucking sensitivity. Whenever I'm killing a bitch, I always consider her feelings before my own. I take time to perfect the craft of sensitivity. If I see one of our assholes out of line, they are gonna get one of these.

A sticker which reads 'You've Been Fucked By' with Chainz' creepy bald head below the caption.

Fade to Lindsay Troy, appalled, in her locker room.

Lindsay Troy: SENSITIVITY TRAINING? BABY THAT DON'T PHASE ME! I'M AN EQUAL OPPORTUNITY OFFENDER! MY BEATDOWNS KNOW NO RACE, GENDER, OR CREED! SO BRING IT ON, BABY!

Back in the wrestling environment. Tony Gamble and Devin Shakur stroll down the hall. Shakur's ears are more astute than The Grin's so he hears the incoming rumbling and ducks into a nearby janitor's closet. Gamble tosses his can into a trashcan and immediately feels the impact.

Before Lindsay Troy can drop one of her witty catchphrases, Chainz hands her one of the cards.

Chainz: Here ya are, bitch. Stop picking on the little kids, they are what drives our merchandise-

Tony Gamble: I'M A WRESTLER!

Chainz: Pipe down, pipsqueak.

The Queen of the Wrestling Linebackers looks offended and reluctantly takes her card, storming off and toppling a water cooler in the process.

Chainz: I knew we had an E-11 situation with Lindsay Troy so I stripped her jersey, took a giant whiff of that bad boy, MMMMMMM...and I reassigned her to the lowest and most degrading job I could think of.

Lindsay Troy shuffles in behind the regular interns of Chandler Tsonda.

Chandler Tsonda: Newbie, can you fetch me a chicken sandwich and some waffle fries, hold the mayo, thanks.

She's beaten this guy for the Universal Championship at a major PRIME Pay-Per-View and now she has to get him a sandwich?

Lindsay Troy: Ugh.

The ex-wrestling linebacker begrudgingly heads to the catering section and orders the custom sandwich and fries.

Tsonda doesn't approve of the lettuce to chicken ratio and flings the sandwich back in her face. The former Champ holds her temper the best she can.

Back in her locker room.

Lindsay Troy: THIS AIN'T THE LAST YOU SEEN OF LINDSAY TROY! Just because I'm down now, don't mean I'm gonna be down for the count! Just because you took the corridors away from the wrestler, don't EVER mean you gonna take the wrestler out the corridors.

Lindsay Troy folds one of Chandler Tsonda's 500 dollar dress shirts.

Lisa Tyler: Unfortunately, with hiring Chainz, there are some immense drawbacks.

Chainz sniffs one of the female stagehands and lifts up her legs, licking her foot. Yes, it's more disgusting than you can imagine.

Lindsay Troy hangs Tsonda's pants on a clothesline (clothesline, get it, wrestling, HAHAHA, that pun was approved by Ryan Murray) and watches in disbelief.

Chainz goes over to another female staffer and runs his hands down her body, getting two handfuls of ass. Troy drops Tsonda's pants and rips off her regular work clothes, revealing another Wrestling Linebacker jersey underneath (Sorry, guys).

Lindsay Troy: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

With lightning fast speed, Troy bolts over and tackles Chainz to the ground. The Monster from Hell's Kitchen looks up in shock.

Lindsay Troy: YOU CAN'T MAKE A PASS AND PINCH FAITH'S ASS! THAT'S OLD SCHOOL RULES, BABY! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Troy flings one of the cards down on Chainz and struts away victorious.

Lisa Tyler: With Lindsay back, our productivity has gone up another 46 percent.

Jason Snow puts his locker room phone on 'Speaker'

Jason Snow: Yes, I'll have two medium pizzas with Canadian BA-

Guess who?

Lindsay Troy: DIS AIN'T YO HOME SO DON'T USE THE SPEAKER PHONE, SLAG!

Vince Howard: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! The following contest is scheduled for one fall!

Nick: Alrighty folks time to get under way with another match!

Richard: Excellent deduction Watson, how did you figure that one out?

Nick: Oh, I couldn't possibly divulge that kind of information, what I can divulge is that Troy Douglas will be looking to upset Phoenix after a string of recent losses. Going into the Nightmare a win over Phoenix would definitely psyche Megatron up for his encounter with Youngblood.

Richard: It's going to be tough, on both accounts.

Nick: In any case let's go to the ring for the next contest, keeping in mind the six man match is still going on somewhere out there. We've got cameras following the action but for now let's get to Phoenix versus Douglas!

Vince Howard: INTRODUCING FIRST! Hailing from Greensboro, North Carolina and weighing in at 260lbs...TROOOOOOY DOOOUUUUGLAAAAAASSS!

"You Know My Name" by Chris Cornell plays out over the arena as Megatron appears on the stage. Throwing up his arms to a chorus of cheers from the crowd, Douglas smirks and smacks his fists against his chest before taking off down the ramp at speed. Sliding in under the bottom rope Douglas pops up and taunts the crowd again, relishing the cheers as his music fades out.

Vince Howard: AND HIS OPPONENT! Hailing from Flagstaff, Arizona and weighing in at 215lbs...he is the HOTTEST star in wrestling...JAYYYY PHOEEEENIIIIIIX!

A haunting guitar melody plays over the PA system as on the VideoTron flames start to appear, curling up to completely cover the blackness of the screen.

A drumbeat fills that air as words, sung in a powerful, pure voice can be heard mingling with the melody as a bass driven counter melody joins with an electric guitar to complete the music.

"Day by day, watching you disappear
Wishing that you were still here beside me
On my own, swimming against the tide
There's nobody on my side but your memory"

The flames on the VideoTron die down, leaving the screen completely black again … until suddenly with an explosion of light and noise the flames reappear, this time in the easily distinguishable form of a Phoenix that fills the whole screen.

"Then I'll rise, right before your eyes
On wings that fill the sky
Like a Phoenix rising
Like a Phoenix rising"

The crowd are on their feet, cheering and screaming as the realisation of just who it is hits them.

"Wings of fire, tearing into the night
Screaming into the light of another day
Carry me out of the hurricane
Into the smoke and flame and we'll fly away"

On either side of the ramp way two bursts of flame leap out, sending two fan shaped flares of fire across the entrance, through which a silhouetted figure walks as on the screen, superimposed on the mystical flame bird symbol, two words appear … JAY PHOENIX.

"And I'll rise, right before their eyes
On wings that fill the sky
Like a Phoenix rising
Like a Phoenix rising

Higher, higher hear the thunder roar from above
Fire, fire, fire make me whole"

Phoenix stands on the ramp way, the flame still bright behind him, as the music still plays. He is dressed in a black leather look body suit, flame motifs running up the side of both legs, meeting at the thigh where they join together to form almost a belt of fire. The arms are cut off at the shoulders exposing muscular biceps, the left one covered with a glistening tattoo of a stylised Phoenix in flight surrounding by bands of gold and red flames. Black and red elbow pads are met by taping that covers his forearms and wrists. A silver necklace hangs around his neck, falling down to his chest, and when the light catches it at the right angle it can be seen to be a disc containing thin interlocking strands, a bright purple amethyst at it's centre … a dreamcatcher.

"And I'll rise, right before their eyes
On wings that fill the sky
Like a Phoenix rising
Like a Phoenix rising

Wings of fire, tearing into the night
And we'll fly away ... "

A smile plays across Phoenix's face as he pans his attention around the arena before slowly walking down towards the ring. When he gets to the ring, Phoenix, with a quick move, jumps to the ring apron and climbs the turnbuckle, holding an arm up to the fans, who resume their cheering in response, before vaulting over the ropes to land in the centre of the ring.

Nick: Phoenix got an impressive main event win last week thanks in part to his partner Jason Snow. He's looking confident as he squares off against Troy...

Richard: That wouldn't be anything to do with the fact he's one of the hot favourites to win the GTT is it?

Nick: Quite possibly Richard. A few good men have signed up for the PTC tournament from PRIME, and with the brackets and matches having been announced this weekend let's take this time to wish luck to our brave PRIMEates taking on the mammoth tournament, won last year by Snow!

Richard: KICK SOME SCCW ASS YOU SONS OF BITCHES!

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Nick: And there's the bell! Phoenix and Douglas lock up immediately, jockeying for position here and it's Douglas with the stronger upper body forcing Phoenix to buckle to his power.

Richard: You make it sound so racy, Nick.

Nick: Douglas wrenches the left arm around into a hammerlock – thanks Richard it's my job – Phoenix dancing to the beat here as Douglas works the left arm.

Suddenly Jay flips around and grabs Douglas by the arm, dropping to the mat and sending Megatron flying into the canvas with an arm drag. Douglas is back up immediately and meets Phoenix with his fists flying.

Nick: Phoenix quick to power out of the hammerlock there but Douglas is right back on him with lefts and rights met with equal force by the Eternal Flame. Douglas catches Phoenix with a quick kick to the gut, hits the ropes and-Phoenix with a cross body!

Richard: Phoenix is so damn quick, Douglas is gonna have to keep his eyes on the little bugger.

As they hit the mat Megatron uses the momentum to roll though the cross body until he is atop Phoenix. He cheekily hooks Phoenix's leg as referee Elvis Nixon makes the count.

ONE!!

TWO!!

Nick: NO! Kickout by Jay. Douglas chancing his luck there.

Richard: I've never seen a straight man so eager to get on top of Phoenix like that.

Nick: Douglas pulling Phoenix up and sends him into the ropes. Phoenix rolls under the clothesline by Megatron and hits the second rope! Douglas turns-HURRICANRANA by Phoenix! Douglas is down and Jay goes for a pin!

ONE!

TW-NO!

Kick out.

Phoenix licks his lips, feeling the adrenaline pumping now. Getting up he sprints to the corner and hops up the turnbuckles to the top, wasting no time in flipping back off with a corkscrew splash on Douglas! Megatron is barely on his feet before 215lbs of Native American come crashing down on him. The crowd let out a roar as Phoenix gets to his feet and hollers back at the Oklahoma crowd.

Richard: Quite the go-getter isn't he?

Nick: He certainly is as he pulls Douglas to his feet and-..kick to the gut by Megatron! He hoists Jay up, BOOM! Powerbomb! He's still got Phoenix, he's lifting him up for another powerbo-Phoenix counters with another hurricanrana!! Both men are down.

Richard: And in the case of Mr. Phoenix...OUT-AH!

Nick: One day he's going to sue you for all this harassment and I'll be right up there in the dock testifying against you.

Richard: Bring it bitch. I'm a Hall of Famer. I got cheese to spare.

Rolling onto his back, Jay glances over at Douglas and jumps to life, scarpering over him and going for another pin.

Nick: Elvis Nixon with the ONE...TWO...THRR-NOOO!! Douglas kicks out.

Richard: Damn skippy. He's not going to give out so easily for what is this...the umpteenth week in a row?

Nick: He's holding well againt the Eternal Flame here in the early going and-...wait a minute, Richard I'm getting word of action in the backstage area from the six-man match! Let's cut to split screen and see what's occurrin'.

While Phoenix and Douglas collect themselves, the screen splits to show the scene unfolding in the backstage area of the arena. At first an empty corridor is shown, propped along one side of which is a steel frame holding up a black curtain behind several rigging cases. All of a sudden Christian Daniels crashes into view, smashing into the crates and knocking them askew as Chainz flies into view, bringing his knee crashing down onto Daniels' chest.

Back in the ring Phoenix is up and running off the ropes. As he rebounds Douglas suddenly bursts to life and catches Phoenix before he can connect, scooping him up and driving him into the canvas with a magnificent spinebuster.

Backstage Shakur and Nelson have now entered the fray whilst Chainz is pounding on Daniels. Shakur effectively blocks every one of Nelson's punches and kicks and retaliates with hard-knuckled revenge on the King of Greed, staggering him with hard lefts, a couple of rights and a roundhouse kick into a stack of ladders for good measure. The steel clatters and falls as Nelson tries to cover his landing, while Chainz pulls Daniels to his feet only to receive a kick to the gut by the Biker, who subsequently knocks the Monster from Hell's Kitchen to the floor with a headbutt.

Nick: No sign of things letting up back there, meanwhile right in front of us Douglas has Phoenix back on his feet, doubles him over and a hard stomp drops him to the canvas....

Backstage, Daniels grabs Chainz by the legs and sets him up for a hip toss through the steel frame. Out of nowhere Hessian charges into the scene, making a bee-line for Shakur. Daniels drops Chainz and cuts Hessian off, lunging at the Elite Champion and taking him down with a brutal spear into the rigging cases!

Richard: They're tearing Matt Mills' interview area apart!

Nick: ...Douglas grabs Phoenix around the mid-section and lifts him up into an inverted bearhug!

Richard: Cold rush of blood to the head for the Injun.

Nick: Douglas twists and OHHH, slams Phoenix into the canvas with a hard belly-to-back suplex! Goes for the pin...

ONE!!

TWO!!

THRE—NO!!

Backstage and referee Bernie Roberts watches carefully as Shakur grabs one of the ladders standing by Nelson and slams it down on the King of Greed's legs. The knocking of steel on bone echoes as Nelson lets out an agonising yell, while Chainz suddenly leg sweeps Shakur and mounts him, poundign him with hard fists. Tony Gamble suddenly flies into the frame, dropkicking Hessian in the skull as Daniels grabs his legs but before he can kick him in the crotch Hessian pulls his legs free and kicks Daniels squarely in the gut, sending him flailing backwards straight into the cameraman and cutting the feed!

Richard: looks like we just lost CAM 17.

Nick: That was to be expected. Folks we'll catch up with the six-man later on, for now let's focus on the action in the ring as Douglas locks in an armbar on Phoenix. Elvis Nixon looking for the tap as the Eternal Flame tries in vain to reach for the ropes.

Richard: See right there is where guys like Phoenix literally fall short. They can perform all these athletic high risk manoeuvres, but when they're grounded they're like sitting ducks.

Nick: I don't understand...

Richard: The hell DON'T you understand about that?

Nick: Where's the gay joke?

Richard: Oh......OH!

Nick: Yeah, see you can do constructive criticism!

Richard: Aw...gee...thanks.

Douglas works the arm of Phoenix, arching his back and wrenching the hold to its limit. Phoenix kicks out profusely, whacking Douglas's shins with his other arm and trying still to get closer to the ropes, all of several feet away. Megatron keeps a firm hold of Phoenix's arm and pounds his leg into the throat of the Eternal Flame. Referee Nixon checks Jay again, only to back off as Phoenix thrashes out wildly.

Nick: Phoenix trying desperately to shake off the armbar, but Troy Douglas has...

Richard: What a tool!

Nick: Douglas releases the armbar! Phoenix is favouring that arm, and now Megatron's pulling him to his feet. He whips Phoenix to the corner, the Eternal Flame scowling as his bad shoulder takes the brunt of the impact. Douglas chases him in-Phoenix counters with a boot to the face! Douglas staggers, Phoenix is heading up top!

Richard: Look out Jay!

Troy Douglas recovers from the kick and suddenly rushes the corner as Phoenix ascends to the second rope. The fans know what's coming as Douglas ploughs into Jay with a hard forearm, doubling him over. Cheers fill the arena as Douglas hooks both arms and with a triumphant roar executes the piledriver, crumpling Phoenix's neck into the canvas! The Eternal Flame lies in a motionless heap as Douglas goes for the cover.

Nick: Douglas has it, he's got it!

ONE!

TWO!

THREEEE!

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Vince Howard: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! Your winner.........TROOOOYYYYYY DOUGLAAAAAASSSS!

"You Know My Name" by Chris Cornell blasts through the speakers as Douglas has his hand raised in victory.

Nick: Well folks there you go, Douglas pulls out the win and now he's got some fire under him going into the Great American Nightmare against Brandon Youngblood!

Richard: Where he will ultimately be crushed!

Nick: I don't know about that Richard, he just put Jay Phoenix down in the blink of an eye. Youngblood would be crazy not to take notice here, and come the PPV we'll see who's done their homework.

Richard: Ok let's just cut to commercial or something while Phoenix gets his pansy ass dragged out the ring.

Tyler Nelson was a very busy man, his hands in the pot of almost every single conflict in PRIME. He might not have been the one in charge, but he certainly was one to set the tone.

It was rare that The Greediest Player In The Game was without protection, but he was without it now. He walked carefully through the corridors of the arena, keeping a wary eye out for the members of Team Shakur. They had been waging war the entire evening, and he was quite sure that the target was squarely on his back, considering he had monsters for partners.

It wasn’t until he heard the rather memorable gruff tone addressing him that Nelson realized how big that target really was.

Youngblood: So…

Nelson relaxed his shoulders, closing his eyes and shaking his head. He had been so concerned with Shakur, Daniels, and to a shorter extent, Gamble, that he failed to notice him.

Tyler: Mr. Youngblood. Fancy meeting you here.

Nelson turned around, a faint smirk across his lips. But his personal space was invaded by the chest of the Pariah.

Youngblood: I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you. What?

Nelson looked away, pruning his face and waving a hand in front of it.

Tyler: May I suggest breath mints, Mr. Youngblood? Because it’s rude to get this close to someone, especially when you know the consequences.

There was no emotive response.

Youngblood: You have a bunch of muscle bound men making sure you stay guarded. Fine. You used your resources to get a Universal Title shot. Fine. But then you go and piss yourself on national television against Troy Douglas?

That one had to sting.

Tyler: I-

Youngblood: Look…I do what I have to in this company to thrive. And if I have to butt heads with you to get where I need to get, don’t worry. Because you showed me something when you went against Troy Douglas.

Tyler: And what’s that, Mr. Youngblood? Please, enlighten me.

Youngblood: It’s that you’re less than he is.

Tyler: The sun shines on a dog’s ass every once in a while, Mr. Youngblood. A wise man once told me that. Perhaps if you like I can give you his number, because you’re on the verge of doing some very unwise things. You’ve already been introduced to my associates once, I’d hate to see what happens when things are more personal.

Youngblood presses into Nelson, nose to nose. Flashing a grin, he begins backing away.

Youngblood: Next time we meet, you’ll be the one in the heap.

Brandon walks off, leaving Nelson with more on his plate than he started the night with.

ReVolution 208 has been all about violence. From the opening scene, two factions have gone toe to toe in the most brutal fashion possible. It's hard to imagine that any of these men could find a moment to escape from such carnage in order to carry on other business endeavors.

But it seems Devin Shakur has found the time to do just that, strolling through one of the many corridors in the Ford Center. He apparently trusts Tony Gamble and his brother enough to leave them with three of the most dastardly mean on the PRIME roster.

Although, he might be aware that Tyler Nelson has also deviated from the fight in order to make some calls.

In a rare moment that sees her outside of her office, Lisa Tyler walks away from a water machine with a bottle of H20 in hand. Of course she didn't have to pay for it. She just swiped her Lonely Island 'Like A Baws' card underneath the coin slot and two bottles popped out in an instant. She's executive like that.

Unfortunately, when she rounds the corner, she comes face to face with the man who made her ReVolution 207 one of the most unpleasant experiences in recent memory.

Devin Shakur: Evening, Lisa.

The bottles of water drop to her side. Once again, Shakur has managed to isolate her away from Dametreyus, who is inside her office watching the Justin Timberlake/Peyton Manning table tennis matchup. He's amused by them celebrities.

Lisa Tyler: Mr. Shakur...Don't you have a fight to finish?

Devin Shakur: It can wait a few moments.

The Boss tries to forget what occurred last week, holding out her fist in an enthusiastic manner.

Lisa Tyler: Make sure you knock Nelson a few for me.

Devin Shakur: Yeah, I'll see what I can do about that. So...Have you given my demands any more thought?

The Boss lets out a loud sigh. It should have been apparent someone like Shakur wouldn't forget.

Lisa Tyler: Mr. Shakur, you better than anyone know the limits of successful business-

Devin Shakur: That I do.

Lisa Tyler: You were a former CEO. You know what sells and what doesn't.

Devin Shakur: Indeed

Lisa Tyler: So why can't you see that something like this wouldn't go over well with the Board?

Devin Shakur: I figure you would relish at the prospect. Nelson has been a pain in your ass for so long and this would be the one way to get rid of him for good.

Lisa Tyler: PRIME is already losing more money than I would care to admit-

Devin Shakur: I've read the reports.

Lisa Tyler: I've got to make a note to ensure you can't do that anymore.

Devin Shakur: Employees have a right to know and I've got pull. So, stop deviating from the subject. You know this is going to keep me around. Right now, you can't afford to lose any big names. I might be an asshole-

Lisa Tyler: There's no might about it.

Devin Shakur: That bumped you up the Christmas card list. Anyway, I might be an asshole but the recognition I bring to the product is second to none. People come out to boo me to hell and have the chance to punch me in the face. I'm the most hated heel on the roster, despite what Nelson, Chainz or Hoyt Williams would like to believe.

Lisa Tyler: You are good for business, I can't deny that.

Devin Shakur: I'm great for business. I'm at least willing to put myself out there unlike most of the other stuck up pricks on the roster.

Lisa Tyler: I'm aware of that.

Devin Shakur: I could easily make the argument that I'm your biggest and richest asset, so I deserve this.

Lisa Tyler: It's not something I'm willing to allow.

Devin Shakur: I hope you are willing to hold firm in that decision.

Lisa Tyler: I am.

Devin Shakur returns the loud sigh.

Devin Shakur: Then don't take personally what happens to you next.

An uncomfortable feeling comes over Lisa Tyler. She looks down at Shakur's hands and feet, knowing they are lethal weapons and she's all alone.

Devin Shakur: I'm not going to wound your face Lisa, I'm going to wound your pride. Soon, you'll see things my way. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to other matters.

And just like that, The Black Plague has disappeared down the corridor.

Lisa Tyler unfastens the cap on one of her water bottles and downs the liquid quickly. She's gotta make some calls.

"We've passed this door three times now."

The frustration in Kazys Jankauskas' voice is apparent immediately as Elise Ares frustratingly comes to a stop. The door to her right reads "LISA TYLER". Looking at the door Elise notices the same thing. The Swaggeriffic One spins around in a circle confused. Kazys just simply stood back and watched in amazement as she uttered the next line...

Elise Ares: How many offices does she have?!

Kazys answered deadpan.

Kazys Jankauskas: One.

Elise: Dammit! How'd we end up here again?! I swear we were going the right direction.

Kazys: Why don't we just ask one of the crew members running around, they're asked to keep filming the action and they have to know where the fight is.

Kazys' words fall on deaf ears as Elise's attention has already been caught by something else. A twig is on the ground just a few paces ahead of them snapped in half. Walking up to it she picks it up off the ground and looks at it. Tossing it into the air, it hits the tile floor once again and Elise looks back over her shoulder at Kaz.

Elise: The fight went this way.

The Iron Wolf resisted the urge to facepalm.

Kazys: But we've already gone this way three times! Remember, we left the office and we turn this direc...

She's gone.

"Don't strangle Elise. Don't strangle Elise. Don't strangle Elise."

Over and over again in his head, that had to be the line running through it as he raced to keep up with his co-Tag Team Champion. As soon as he caught up to her she'd become distracted by something else. A large white poster board sign now hung on the wall with words written on it in black shoe polish.

<--- FIGHT IS THIS WAY

Elise: I told you! It worked for the Native Americans and it works for me too! I told you when we beat the daylights out of Jay Phoenix that I'd learn a thing or two!

Kazys: You've got to be kidding me, there is NO WAY that's accurate.

Elise: It wasn't here before. You said we keep going past the same places over and over again, but neither of us had seen this sign. We haven't been here yet.

Once The Swaggeriffic One had made a decision, there was no changing her mind. Scratching his head Kazys was trying to figure out where the sign came from. Maybe in some kind of weird way she was right. While his surroundings did look familiar, they didn't really look all that different from everywhere else. The backstage area can be kind of a maze sometimes, everything tends to look exactly the same. Same walls, tile, nameless doors... the fight could even come to them. Maybe walking around in circles was actually working to their benefit.

It could be worse, they could be following the fight around like Elise thought she was. If they stayed behind it, chances are they'd never catch it.

Kazys: Fine we'll give it a...

She was gone again.

Kazys: She REALLY needs to stop doing this.

As she goes storming towards some push doors, she doesn't even realize the sign directly above them reads EXIT in bright red letters. Lowering her shoulder, Elise Ares throws her bodyweight into the steel door making it burst open. Stepping outside she's joined by Kazys Jankauskas just barely making it out before the door closes. Looking around the parking lot, all is quiet. There is no fighting. There is no ruckus. Not even as much as a stray cat howling.

Elise: Fine... I was wrong. So what.

Kazys: Now can we go back inside and ask someone.

Elise: Whatever. They should've never left in the first place.

The two turn around and go to walk back into the building. Placing her hand on the handle, Elise Ares turns it... but it doesn't turn. It doesn't even budge. Jerking on the handle harder nothing works.

Kazys: Open the door.

Elise: I can't!

Kazys: Are you KIDDING me?!

The scene quickly shifts back inside where you hear the handle jiggling from outside. The jiggling turns into the pounding of Kazys Jankaukas' massive fists against the door. It's just too strong, the door doesn't budge as suddenly out of a side door walks out two men. A roar erupts from the capacity crowd as their faces are recognized. Tyrell Dawkins and Marquis Peeples... The Redeemed.

Elise: HELLOOOOO?! LET US IN!

The muffled voice of Elise Ares can faintly be heard screaming from the other side of the steel door as Tyrell looks over at his tag team partner with a smile.

Tyrell Dawkins: Think we should help em out?

Taking a moment to ponder the decision, it doesn't take Marq any longer than that to decide.

Marquis Peeples: Naaah.

Raising his hand in the air, Dawkins' high-five invitation is quickly accepted. They share a laugh as the pounding from outside grows more and more rapid as The Wolves of Slaughter desperately try to get back into the arena to rejoin the match. The Redeemed simply walks away. Strolling down the hallway, Dawkins suddenly pauses and looks back at his tag team partner.

Tyrell: I almost forgot.

Jogging back down the hallway, Tyrell rips the white poster board sign off the wall before wading it up into a ball and tossing it into a nearby plastic dumpster.

Tyrell: I'd hate for someone to accidentally let them back in.

Nick: Uh oh, gang-

Beef: JINKIES!

Richard: Where the hell did you guys come from...And what the hell are you doing here?

Steve: WAFFLES.

Nick: Folks, it's Free Waffle night at ReVolution 208. We should have known that would bring out the weirdos and freaks.

Steve: (points to everybody else) LOSERS.

El Janito has himself a waffle sandwich with syrup in the middle and munches down. Syrup goes all over the announce table. Nick and Richard aren't happy at this.

What, we have a match going on?

Fuck.

The scene cuts backstage in time to see Nelson spearing Christian Daniels as the Biker holds Chainz up on his shoulders in preparation for an Oklahoma stampede. Daniels hits the concrete with the Monster falling on top of him. Nelson rolls out of the way and straight into a series of boots to the gut by Tony Gamble. Down the hall a door bursts open and Devin Shakur and Hessian collapse into the hallway trading punches. One of the cameraman dodges out of the way just in time as Shakur catches Hessian with a hard right to the chin staggering the giant.

Nick: The action is all over the place back there! Hessian and Shakur are going tooth and nail, while Nelson and Chainz try to fend off Daniels and the Grin!

Richard: Where exactly are they?

Nick: Judging by the "B-1" sign above those double doors I'd say they're right behind the crowd next to the PRIME*View.

Surely enough, as Hessian scoops Shakur up and charges through those very same double doors, they burst open into the arena, where the crowd explode with cheers as the violence spills into the audience, next to the looming big screen and the stage. Planting the Man in Black with a body slam, Hessian takes a moment to recuperate. Nelson and Gamble fall through the doors after a hurricanrana from the Grin, sending the King of Greed sprawling into the back of Hessian's legs. The giant topples forward into Shakur, who capitalizes by leg sweeping the Elite Champion onto the ground.

Nick: They've stuck close together since the Phoenix match it seems, constantly battering one another for the pinfall, of which there have been none since earlier in the show.

Richard: My God look at Daniels!

Back on the doors, Daniels comes barreling through with Chainz hanging off his back with a sleeper locked in. Roaring out, Daniels throws himself into the ground, flipping in mid-air and just barely missing a broken neck to slam Chainz into the concrete. A loud wheeze escapes Sloan's lungs as he's laid out on the ground. Spotting him, Gamble quickly scales the stairs next to the doors leading up to the higher seats and hops over it, connecting with a leg drop to the back of the neck of the Intense Champion. Rolling him over, Gamble goes for the pin. Referee Elvis Nixon is on the case.

ONE!

TWO!

THREEEEE!

Nick: We got a pin! That makes it 5-5! Both teams are tied right now!

As Gamble pops back to his feet and throws his arms up in celebration, Nelson suddenly lunges forward to his feet, spearing Gamble in the back and slamming him into the ground. The King of Greed wastes no time in going for a pin of his own.

ONE!

TWO!

THRE—NO!

Nixon calls two as Shakur manages to pull himself away from Hessian in time to break the cover. Focusing on Nelson now, the Black Plague mounts him and hammers his face with elbows and fists. Nelson covers up and can only take the punishment to his forearms as Shakur unloads on him. Daniels is back on his feet now, in time to meet Hessian who is back on his. The two trade punches but it is Daniels who gets the advantage, blocking a forearm by the Murder Show and hooking the arm around his back.

Nick: Hammerlock by Daniels on the larger Hessian. The Elite Champion struggles to—OH! Headbutt by Hessian! Daniels staggers, Hessian with a big boot to the gut, doubles Daniels over...hoists the big man up for a suplex! My GOD look at the height! That's fourteen vertical feet of pure muscle right there!

Richard: Jesus H.P. Sauce! Hessian is one strong son of a bitch! I bet Daniels never thought he'd be on the business end of a suplex in his life!

Nick: That right there is the definition of SUPERplex, Richard! The blood will be rushing to the head of the Biker and dizzying him, wait look behind them!

Popping up behind Hessian and Daniels, the Monster from Hell's Kitchen favours his neck as the Elite Champion falls backwards. As he connects with the suplex, Chainz catches Daniels legs on his shoulders and the two monsters connect with a combo suplex powerbomb! As Hessian gets back up Chainz utilizes his own brute strength and hoists Daniels back up once more, planting the Biker with another powerbomb and holding him down for the pin! For added weight, the Elite Champion places a boot on Daniels' chest and bears all his weight down on the Biker.

ONE!

TWO!

THREEEE!

Nick: 6-5! Hessian and Chainz put their team back in the lead by one! Shakur and Gamble see it and get on the two monsters!

Shakur shoulder blocks Chainz in the back of the knees while Gamble dropkicks Hessian in his. The two fall to the ground as Shakur follows up with a reverse headlock, while Gamble hops onto Hessian's back, locking his legs around the giant's chest and his arms around the neck.

Nick: Gamble with a full body lock on Hessian! The Grin using his entire body to try and wear the Elite Champion down!

His arms flailing, Hessian staggers around as Gamble maintains his grip, squeezing the lungs and windpipe of the Murder Show. Shakur drops Chainz with a reverse DDT and goes for the pin.

ONE!

TWO-NOO!

Nelson breaks up the cover with a boot to the temple of Shakur, knocking him off his partner. A massive THUNK echoes throughout the arena and the competitors turn to see Hessian fall flat on his back with the Grin breaking his fall! Sliding off Gamble's body, Hessian gives himself time to recuperate while Gamble is motionless on the deck, limbs limp and eyes rolling in his head. With everyone else grounded Nelson goes to work on Shakur, pulling him to his feet and stunning him with an uppercut before whipping him into the steel handrail running up the stairs by the exit!

Nick: Nelson pulling no punches as he mercilessly whips Shakur into the steel handrail! Shakur staggers back and BOOM! Nelson connects with the White Collar Crime on the Man in Black's ghoulies!

Richard: Ghoulies?

Nick: Ghoulies.

Shakur drops to his knees, his mouth hanging slack as pain courses through his groin. Referee Elvis Nixon even winces, unable to do anything about the low blow under the match stipulation. Grabbing Shakur's legs, Nelson drops a boot onto his groin once more, eliciting a yelp of agony from the Man in Black. Chainz is the first to stir of the other combatants, pulling himself to his feet and holding his neck while Nelson once more pulls Shakur to his feet. Setting him up for a powerbomb, Shakur suddenly pushes up, throwing Nelson over him and sending him crumpling into the ground. Before Chainz can do anything Shakur charges into him, knocking him down with a short arm clothesline. The crowd boo and hiss as Shakur stands over his fallen foes, holding his hands out and licking his lips like a predator.

Nick: The offense is constantly changing here, but it looks like Shakur is on top now as everyone else is laid out around him!

Casting a gaze over his opponents, Shakur sneers at the figure of Hessian writhing on the ground, and chooses him to be next. Grabbing him by his bushy beard, Shakur drags Hessian to his feet and pulls him through the crowd, stopping every so often to drive a fist into the face of the Murder Show. Hessian struggles to keep his footing as Shakur pulls him through the mob of fans eager to either pat Hessian on the back or get in Shakur's face. Pushing past them all Shakur finally makes it out to the barricade, where he turns and drives a knee into Hessian's face.

Nick: They're out there by the ramp now Richard, meanwhile back at the exit door the other four men are stirring.

Checking the high barricade against Hessian, the Man in Black suddenly realizes it might be a struggle to get the giant over. Before he can make a move however, Hessian tears his beard free of Devin's grip and unleashes a brutal clothesline, sending Shakur crashing over the barricade and tumbling to the ramp. Stepping over after him, Hessian grabs Shakur by the throat and hoists him into the air, slamming him down with unbridled force.

Nick: Hessian with a chokeslam, aaand he hoists Shakur up again and—NO! No Hell and Back today! Shakur grips the arm and pulls Hessian to the floor locking in an armbar!

Richard: Nice counter.

Meanwhile back up in the crowd, Chainz and Nelson are once more squaring off against Gamble and Daniels. The crowd gets rowdier, anxious to see more violence. Daniels and Chainz answer the call, locking up and trading shots while Nelson locks up with Gamble before hip tossing him through the crowd. He follows up with a series of kicks that stun Gamble each time, sending him rolling further through the crowd. Picking the Grin up, Nelson attempts to whip him towards the barricade, only for Gamble to reverse it back. As he does so Nelson suddenly pulls him close and hoists him up, executing a brutal spinebuster at the feet of the fans!

Nick: Money in the Bank! Nelson lays Gamble out with a perfect spinebuster!

Richard: Daniels and Chainz are hot on their tails.

Surely enough, Chainz comes flying through the tumult as Daniels mercilessly whips him into the fans. He barely misses the crowd until he trips up on someone's foot and goes sprawling into Nelson, knocking him on top of Gamble. Daniels follows up with a boot to the groin before hauling Chainz up off the ground, only to receive a headbutt for his troubles. Sloan stays on the offensive, locking up with Daniels and doubling him over he then hoists him up for a powerbomb, and lumbers towards the barricade where Hessian has just powered out of the armbar after thumping Shakur's legs with his fists, similar to the armbar set-up earlier between Phoenix and Douglas. As he rolls free the massive frame of Christian Daniels smacks against the steel of the ramp as Chainz connects with a beastly powerbomb.

Nick: Team Nelson starting to eke back into the fore here, four men are now hitting ringside while the King of Greed and Gamble are still in the crowd.

Richard: Not any more, they've hit the barricade further up the section...look. They're at the corner now by the stage.

Surely enough Gamble and Nelson come spilling over the barricade in front of the stage, still trading punches. Looking slightly fatigued, Nelson plants a boot into the sternum of Gamble and upon seeing his comrades around the corner whips the Grin straight into the ramp. Slamming into the side of it Gamble collapses as Nelson now takes a moment to recover his stamina, while Hessian and Chainz face off against Shakur and Daniels.

Nick: If this heads into the ring these guys could be there through the rest of the show until bell time.

Richard: And wouldn't that be fun to watch?

Daniels and Hessian lock up, the Biker pulling an arm free and going low, firing hellacious shots into the ribs of the Murder Show. Shakur meanwhile strikes hard and fast against Chainz, catching him upside the head with a flurry of knuckle-crunching knocks. Chainz staggers into the barricade and takes a kick to the gut, doubling over and allowing Shakur to connect with a leg drop to the back of the neck. Hessian finally blocks one of Daniels' shots and doubles him over, hoisting him onto his back and locking him in the Canadian backbreaker.

Nick: Potential Hellevator! Hessian could knock Daniels out of the match right now with that brutal finisher!

As the crowd screams for the Hellevator, Hessian instead turns and smacks Daniels' skull against Shakur's head! The Man in Black staggers over Chainz and collapses to the ground as the Murder Show carries Daniels past the ramp around the corner to where Gamble now has Nelson on the ground with an anklelock. Before he can take any action however, Daniels squirms free of the backbreaker, still holding onto Hessian's arms he drops the Elite Champion with an unorthodox neckbreaker. With Nelson locked down Daniels seizes his opportunity and pins Hessian.

ONE!

Nick: Hessian down for the count, can Chainz make the save?

TWO!

Chainz pulls himself to his feet and charges in for the save, only to feel his feet fall away from under him as Shakur chases him and trips him up. Chainz skids to a halt right in front of the pinning situation and feebly reaches out to the Biker.

THREEEE!

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Nick: We have another pinfall! Christian Daniels has just equalized with a 6th pin on Hessian before Chainz could make the save! Going into the last quarter of the show it's all tied up now as Tyler Nelson, Hessian and Chainz take on Tony Gamble, Christian Daniels and Devin Shakur on the final ReVolution before The Great American Nightmare!

Richard: As the fighting continues at the stage exit let's go to something else!

Matt Mills sits at home in his boxer shorts, a scorching hot laptop burning the extra sensitive skin on his legs. He suffers for his craft, though. Nobody can make such an egregious amount of money in this line of work.

Probably because, well, you aren't going to make any money no matter how hard you try.

Full Tilt Poker.

25000/50000 No Limit Hold Em.

...Play Chips.

Yes, Mills has fallen off the wagon. He is a gambling degenerate who craves the rush of a six or seven figure pot. It makes his blood boil and riles up every molecule in his body.

Right now, he's sitting at the table with a healthy five million in chips.

He will have enough to participate in 10 of the 500k 40 dollar real money freerolls.

The Millsinator is getting back on top baby.

Matt Mills: Gotta play the small blind and then I am outta here, ha, ha.

Mills watches as the cards are dealt and he is given the Ace of Clubs and Kings of Clubs.

Someone raises to 100k, Mills watches as the action is folded around to him. He promptly re-raises to 300k. The big blind folds and the original raiser re-raises to 1 million. Mills ponders for a second and listens to the beep of the software, indicating that he has fifteen seconds remaining.

Matt Mills: He raised from early position so he probably has a hand like Ace Queen or a medium pocket pair...No, he's been playing pretty tight for the last few hands.

Mills checks his notes and confirms his notion.

Mills moves the clicker over and raises to 2.5 million.

He is instantly re-raised to 5 million.

And calls.

The guy flips over 2 of spades and 7 of hearts.

Matt Mills: WHATTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT?

Flop: Ace of hearts, King of hearts, 4 of diamonds.

Matt Mills: YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Turn: 6 of hearts.

Matt Mills: NO! NO! DON'T YOU DARE! I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD-

River: 9 of hearts.

Matt Mills: AUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Mills launches his computer out the window and leaps out after it.

Nick: And we are back from commercial for our third match of the evening.

In the ring, Brandon Pierce is pacing around.

Vince Howard: This contest is scheduled for one fall.

I have a competition in me. I want no one else to succeed.

The gruff tone of Daniel Plainview’s voice quickly transitions to the hammering of rising drumbeats and heavy cords. The rising action of Devin Townsend’s ‘Bastard’ preludes his arrival.

P A R I A H

Screaming white light bathes the entire entrance area, the PRIME*View flickering through the assorted highlight package of Brandon Youngblood. Throwing back the curtain, he saunters towards the ring, barely visible through the blinding light he appears from. His eyes are trained on Pierce, his face remaining stoic as the fans give him a mixed response.

Vince Howard: Introducing his opponent… from Winnipeg Manitoba Canada…standing six feet three and weighing in at two-hundred forty pounds…he is a former three time PRIME 5-Star Champion…the PRIME Pariah…BRANDON…YOUNGBLOOD!

His eyes remained locked on Pierce as he continues ambling down the aisle, his focused demeanor seeming to be completely detached from his surroundings save his opponent. Walking across the ringside mats, he slowly stalks his way to the stairs, each stabbing step forward loud enough for Pierce to hear as if he was marking his territory. Stopping at the top step, he shifts his neck downward as he continues to stare right through his opponent. Slowly grasping the ropes, he paces across the apron and steps through the ropes, remaining vigilant of his opponent’s position. Slackening his limbs, he starts stretching out his shoulders before exploding out with forceful steps to the far corner ring post. Nearly brushing against Brandon Pierce, Youngblood finally stops looking at his opponent so he can step on the middle ropes. Peering towards the crowd, Brandon’s stoic expression does not change.

Stepping downward, Brandon resumes his stare as he walks across the ring and grabs onto the top rope. Pulling it to completely stretch out his arms, he lets go and casually strolls over to his designated corner. The top rope clasped inside his hands, Youngblood rests his back against the turnbuckles as he waits for his opponent to make their first move.

DING DING DING

Nick: And we are underway here, with the Battle of the Brandon’s, Pierce taking on Youngblood. Pierce just staring across the ring at Youngblood, and the completely unemotional glare of the Pariah is all that is there to welcome him.

Richard: And Pierce be looking fit.

Nick: These two exchanged moxie earlier in the evening, and even though both men are pointed in different directions, you have to think their attentions are on this evening.

Pierce grows impatient with Youngblood just staring back at him and begins walking towards him, his hands out for a knuckle tie up. Youngblood grabs onto Pierce’s hands, clinching his fingers. When Pierce goes to test his strength, he starts to realize that his size advantage isn’t everything it is cracked up to be, as Youngblood uses leverage and overpowers Pierce, crushing him across the chin with the point of his right elbow.

Nick: And Youngblood has dazed Pierce here. Pierce trying to keep away and Youngblood rushes towards him, grabbing onto him with a muay thai clinch.

Richard: Pierce looks like he got rocked.

Nick: Youngblood BURIES a knee into the ribs of Brandon Pierce. And another! Another! Pierce getting overwhelmed here and Youngblood wrenches the head down KNEE TO THE HEAD! And another! Brandon Pierce collapses after that shot!

Richard: What the hell?

Nick: Pierce on his hands and knees on the canvas and Youngblood follows to the canvas with a hard elbow to the back of Pierce’s head. Front chancery applied and Pierce is trying to KNEE to the top of his head! Another! And another! Youngblood caught Brandon Pierce at the beginning of this match and it has just been all down hill.

Richard: He’s getting butchered here. Maybe he was looking ahead.

Nick: Youngblood dragging Brandon Pierce off the canvas. HALF NELSON SUPLEX! Cover! One! Two! Three! And wow what a statement made here!

DING DING DING

Youngblood rolls out of the ring mere seconds after getting the victory, a dyspeptic glower on his face as he saunters towards the ramp. Bastard by Devin Townsend rips through the speakers as the fans…they begin cheering out of the sheer brutality displayed.

Richard: That was…a shocker.

Nick: And Brandon Youngblood wins this battle, without much resistance.

Nick: I understand we have Hoyt Williams standing by backstage.

The Camera cuts to a back room where Hoyt Williams is seated in a chair with bandages all over his head. Next to him is the fake trophy for Wrestler of the Year.

Hoyt Williams: Cross all you had to do is ask. That’s it. You wanted an ass kicking "bell to bell" that bad you should have been a man and asked me. Instead as I’m receiving an award you come in and throw a temper tantrum. As Wrestler of the Year it would be a delight to step into the ring with you. I will show you why such prestige is shined upon me. It’s true the fans have been hankering for a vision of excellence that they can only witness with me in the ring. The problem is every time I schedule a match my opponent see’s the angels and hears the voice of God in their dreams and nights scaring them away from the match. It’s hard being me Jacob Cross but if its salvation you seek it really will be a Great American Nightmare for you. See you in the ring, if God don’t talk you out of it first.

The camera cuts back to the broadcast desk.

Nick: Well it looks like its official we will be seeing Hoyt Williams versus Jacob Cross at the Great American Nightmare.

Richard: Cross better show.

Nick: Oh please.

The camera crew has had a busy night with all the brawling of the main event contenders so it’s a breath of fresh air to them as they spot two lovely ladies walking into the arena. Claire and Tracy, sporting large shopping bags, enter the arena all smiles as they talk about something pleasant.

Tracy: I really liked that top; I wish I could’ve fit.

Claire: I bet you would have if not for them.

She points at Tracy’s breasts. Actually, to the delight of the crew and all the male fans in attendance (and lesbians of course, sorry ladies) she cups Tracy’s giant breasts as best she can with her hands.

Claire: No wonder your husband is so damn big, I’d have giant muscles too if I had to lift these bad boys every night.

Tracy giggles.

Tracy: Hey let go, I’m ticklish. You’re going to make me spill my water.

Right on cue, thank you God, Tracy spills the contents of her bottled water right on her already skimpy top. Her nipples perk up immediately. One of the crew members collapses with a smile on his face.

Tracy: Ah crap, I need to change. Here, hold this.

She hands her bags to Claire and begins to remove her tank-top as everyone in attendance cheers.

Richard: (Off screen) Oh my, yes, please God yes! I have a boner in sweatpants.

Just as she’s about to remove her top for the whole world to see a dark shadow covers the two ladies completely. All the cheer and excitement is immediately sucked out of the room. Tracy’s overbearing husband, Michael Sloan, grabs her by the arm halting her disrobement.

Chainz: Where have you been!?

Startled by his tone she sheepishly replies.

Tracy: We were just shopping.

Chainz: You couldn’t answer your cell?

Tracy: I can’t find it. I think I lost it somewhere.

Chainz: Mother…

Chainz curses as he realizes he was played, but the look of anger still doesn’t come off his face. He turns his attention to the scared Claire.

Chainz: You should have a chat with your boyfriend about keeping his hands to himself. If he ever lays a hand on my wife it’ll be you who pays the price. You got me?

Tracy: Michael don’t…

He cuts her off.

Chainz: Not right now, get your shit and let’s go.

Tracy apologizes with her eyes to Claire as she’s pulled away by her angry husband. Before they turn the corner he shoots Claire one last death stare. It’s a glare that she will see in her nightmares for years to come.

Claire: Damnit Brandon.

The camera crew quickly scurry off as the chance to see some tits has vanished.

With what had transpired earlier, Troy had made it clear; he was sick of Brandon Youngblood. He was sick of being second guessed and shit on by a pompous, self-aggrandizing prick that somehow thought he had a notion as to what constituted success. He’d been in the company for years, and to this point, nobody had categorically no-sold Troy Douglas like Brandon Youngblood.

But after the smoke had cleared, it was simple; he had to shut him up. Or else he would never hear the end of it.

Bags packed, and cell phone ready to make a call to the girl who had so taken his heart, Douglas was ready to get on with the evening.

But the Great American Nightmare’s tendrils would not afford him respite. Not yet anyways.

A hand yanked him around, and instantly, Troy knew who it was. Making sure to get distance as to not get hit with a cheap shot, Douglas armed himself as Youngblood stood before him, still dressed in his attire.

Youngblood: Twice with Pierce. He ran you down, gave you ever damn reason in the world to want to rip his head off.

The two just stared at one another; for a change, it was Youngblood who was showing the emotion, showing the rage.

Youngblood: You see? DO YOU SEE?! Pierce stuck in your craw for months. MONTHS! And you didn’t put him down. You didn’t shut him up. He gave you every reason in the world. And guess what?

Brandon stalked the space between them, pounding his chest as he continued.

Youngblood: I walk into the ring with him ONCE and knock him out cold! I don’t need to get into pissing matches. I don’t need cheap shots. All I need is a person to wrestle and that’s enough. But people like you? You need people like me to push your goddamn buttons. You need people like me who look you in the eye and make you think of Hitler, of Hussein. People like me have to be the villain because the hero is nonchalant. He really doesn’t care.

He took a harsh breath, the space between the two closing considerably.

Youngblood: Come the Great American Nightmare, you’re stuck. Because all you are doing is fighting this thing to gain my respect. To prove you belong. And if you do?

Douglas: Who said I wanted respect from a piece of—

Youngblood: If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have engaged with me at all. Bottom line. You want to see if you have what it takes to shut me up. If you belong, I’ll shake your goddamn hand and we’ll be through. But you better come prepared. Because if you don’t? I will end you.

There were mere inches between their faces, and neither was blinking, the intensity so palpable between the two that should Jack Bauer himself walk into the Ford Center at that very moment, he'd run screaming to hide under the covers with Chuck Norris.

Douglas: I would love to see you try.

Youngblood: There's no "try" here, buddy.

Douglas: Then I guess you'll be disappointed, Master Yoda, because there's not going to be any "do" either. Better men -- FAR better man -- than you have tried to break me before, and after a decade, after a damn decade of being beaten down again and again, I'm still here.

Those last three words are punctuated by successive pokes to Brandon Youngblood's chest.

Douglas: Pierce? He was just spouting bullshit, and after all this time, it just goes in one ear and out the other. And guess what? At the end of the day, I beat him ... twice. I didn't need to break him, I just needed to beat him, and that's just what I did. You? You decided to get in my face about it, and because of that, you became my special little project.

Youngblood: Isn't that --

Douglas: For once in your miserable existence, you can wait your turn, Brandon. This is you and me now, and let's be honest, if you didn't think I was worthy of getting in the ring with you, you never would have opened your mouth in the first place. You know exactly what I'm capable of, and at Great American Nightmare, I'm turning all of that right at you.

The words stop, but the stares don't. Both men are locked on each other, each waiting to see if the other blinks first, shows any sign of weakness.

Youngblood: Color me unimpressed.

Douglas: I'll stick to turning you black and blue.

Youngblood doesn't answer with words. He doesn't need to talk any more. A shove to Troy Douglas' chest sends the perfect message.

Troy answers in kind, and soon enough the space between them closes to zero, each at the other's throat. Luckily for any innocent bystanders, a horde of PRIME security swarms to the scene and separates the fuming pair before they can lay waste to whatever parts of the arena tonight's main eventers haven't already destroyed.

Douglas: We end this at Great American Nightmare.

Youngblood: Wouldn't have it any other way.

Matt Mills stands in the middle of the ring, microphone in hand.

Mills: Ladies and Gentlemen, I'd like you to join me in welcoming the #1 contender to the Universal Champion...

RRRRAAAAAHHHHHH!

Mills: ... the former Intense and 5 Star Champion... The Next in Line...

RRRRAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!

Mills: Kaaiiissseerrrr Vashaaaaauuunnnn!

Cue "Sound of Madness", and the state of Oklahoma losing their minds.

RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

As the Ford Center erupts, Kaiser Vashaun emerges from behind the curtain and makes his way towards the ring, each step focused and placed without hesitation.

Nick: The Next in Line! In 18 days, deep in the heart of Texas, Kaiser Vashaun will put his career on the line, all for the right to step into the ring and capture the Universal Championship... to end the reign of one of the most dominant, and disgustingly arrogant Universal Champions of all-time.

Richard: That's Mr. Snow to you. And how gutsy, how ballsy, how out-right utterly stupid is this guy to put his entire livelihood on the line against The Original Villain?

Nick: No doubt, its a questionable move. But Kaiser Vashaun knows he has what it takes, and he... and every fan that will fill Heart O Texas Coliseum... want to finally conquer the ego of Jason Snow.

Kaiser makes his way to the ring and reaches up to grab the middle rope, pulling himself up onto the apron before stepping through the cables and climbing the middle turnbuckle. Stretching his arms out to his side, The Next in Line releases an animalistic roar.

RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!

Richard: Somebody should remind this guy, no matter he thinks he's capable of, Jason Snow knows what he's capable of. The Universal Champion already defeated Kaiser Vashaun at CVI. Armed with that knowledge, he'll do it again at The Great American Nightmare.

Kaiser steps down from the turnbuckle as "Sound of Madness" fades out.

Mills: Kaiser...

RRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!

Mills: Kaiser, in a little over two weeks, at The Great American Nightmare, you will square off, one-on-one, with the Universal Champion, Jason Snow.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Richard: Typical lack of respect.

Mills: For starters, how are you feeling physically following that brutal assault at ReVolution 206, and a grueling match last week in the main event of ReV 207?

Vashaun: Doesn't matter. I don't care if I have to crawl into the arena at GAN, I will step into that ring with Jason Snow. And there will be no excuses, and no apologies for what I do to the Original Villain.

YYYYEEEEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: That's a fighter's spirit.

Richard: That's a dead man walking.

Mills: Last week, you confronted Jason Snow prior to the main event tag match, and you informed him that the match at GAN would officially be No Holds Barred. Why request the stipulation?

Vashaun: I figured it was time to really up the ante... raise the stakes...

Richard:... instert gambling cliche.

Vashaun: Since we're going to do this again, might as well make it bigger than Colossus. And despite Jason Snow's impressive list of accomplishments, when we step into the ring at the Great American Nightmare, with no rules... anything goes... he'll be stepping into a world I dominated for 200 days.

Mills: Fair enough. I think the real match stipulation that everyone is curious about, is your agreement to put your career on the line against The Original Villain. For Snow, his title belt will be on the line, but for you... the stakes are so much higher. Why put everything on the line?

Vashaun: That one is simple, Mills...


...



...


"Right Next Door to Hell"

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Richard: Thank Hoy! We've been saved from this nonsense!

Nick: What the hell does this guy want.

At the top of the ramp, Jason Snow pushes his way from behind the curtain, microphone in hand. He stands at the top of the stage, Universal Championship gleaming on his left shoulder.

Snow: If these inbreds will shut up, I think I can answer that question on behalf of The Next in Line.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: Nobody needs, or wants, to hear him answer for Vashaun.

Snow: Why did this plebe agree to my conditions? Why did he agree to put his young, promising, and ultimately underachieving career on the line? Like he said himself... that one is simple.

Vashaun: Why don't you come down here and step into this ring and we can talk face to face.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!

Snow: Patience, ape.

The Original Villain paces back and forth across the stage.

Snow: Kaiser Vashaun agreed to put his career on the line, because he had no choice. His opportunity to capture the Universal Championship came and went with CVI. For weeks, I told him that I would defeat him in the middle of the ring, and I did just that. And instead of stepping up like a man and shaking my hand and saying "you're just better than me", this fool tried to make my life miserable... assaulted me. Cost me my 5 Star Championship...

Richard: All true.

Snow: All because he was too ashamed to just admit defeat. His shame played tricks on his mind. His pride got the best of him... convinced him he has what it takes, if he could just get another crack at the single most dominant wrestler of all-time. And that's why he agreed to the stipulation. That's why this plebe put his career on the line.

The Universal Champion slowly begins to walk towards the ring, eyes locked on Vashaun the whole time. In the squared circle, Kaiser Vashaun nods his head and rolls up his sleeves, ready to kick-off GAN a little early. The crowd begins to roar s the distance between the two is closed.

Snow: Kaiser, you agreed to put your career in jeopardy because your ignorant pride just won't let you admit that I'm the better man. You're too ashamed to just say it. And so you'd rather put everything you have on the line just for one last chance to prove it. Let go of the pipe dream, plebe.

Jason walks up the ring steps casually, then steps through the ropes. Now, the entire arena is buzzing, feeding off the tension.

Snow: It's a fools mistake, Kaiser. You could have just owned up to your inferiority. Could have had a wonderful career wrestling just before me, the lead in to my main event. You could have been a multi-time second tier champion... ruled the Intense division... been the seco... third best wrestler in the world. But you were just too stubborn. Too stupid. And now, you're two weeks away from unemployment. Because the truth is... you can't beat me. Couldn't at CVI... and you won't at GAN.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

The Next in Line takes the microphone away from Matt Mills and gives a slight push to the interviewer, knocking him out of harms way. Burning a hole through Snow with his cold eyes, Kaiser takes a step forward, all but eliminating the distance between the two superstars.

Vashaun: I agreed to put my career on the line, champ, because you and I both know just how close it was at Colossus. I agreed to your stipulation, to that condition, because I crave the Universal Championship and I look forward to shutting you up far more than I fear the end of my career.

RRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!

Vashaun: Jason Snow... you don't scare me... you don't intimidate me... you don't do anything other than piss me off! And two weeks from this Sunday, I promise you that I'm going to take more than just your Universal Championship. It might be my PRIME contract on the line... but at the Great American Nightmare... I am going... to end... your career!

RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!

The Ford Center explodes as The Next in Line throws down the microphone. Snow drops his mic just a moment later and the two superstars each take a half step forward, till they're chest to chest.

Nick: A promise from the #1 contender. And we may not have to wait till GAN to see this one!

Snow is the first to fire off a punch, causing the arena to crank up the volume, and Kaiser immediately returns the favor... the Ford Center losing it completely.

Nick: Here we go!

The two superstars fire off a couple punches, but before any real fireworks can erupt, a dozen security guards and PRIME officials hit the ring and pull the two superstars apart.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: Let 'em fight!

Richard: They're just trying to save Kaiser... but at GAN, they'll be no one to save his career!

The officials struggle to keep the two warriors apart, each trying to push across the ring towards the other, but the sea of security between keeps the distance.

Nick: This was already one of the most heated rivalries that PRIME has seen in a long time. But now, the stakes have been raised perhaps higher than ever before. At The Great American Nightmare, these two men will clash for the second time. Jason Snow will put the most impressive Universal Title reign of all time up against the very career of Kaiser Vashaun. One of these two men will walk out of Texas with their foundation rocked. One of them could walk out with his career in shambles!

I was going to make this commercial about Pete and accusing him of rocking a fake mustache, but in the process of the show being late I found something much funnier, at least to me.

Hey Sarah, time to meet Ms. Tyler.



GIDDY UP HORSE FACE

COME ON GIRL, COME ON

[Manual buzzer]

If you want to see the whole video, and that picture in context, go to the video below.



That's gotta be the funniest damn thing I've seen in the last two months.

Props to whoever actually got the picture and the guy who meshed the YouTube video. Pimps.

Nick: We've seen the gauntlet this evening, truly a rambunctious ReVolution.

Richard: And we've still got ten minutes on the Main Event.

Again, that creepy instance of announcer foreshadowing finds its way to the forefront. Stacking out from behind the curtain and littering the aisle are the six participants in the Main Event. Christian Daniels clobbers Hessian with a right hand, the big man falling over himself and coming to a halt in the middle of the aisle. Chainz squeezes The Man in Black like a teddy bear. That's not cute and picturesque. This is Chainz we're talking about. The man squeezes like a fucking viper. Shakur can't claw free and has to endure steel barricade being driven into his back. Tony Gamble and Tyler Nelson are trading girl slaps because they are both fierce.

Nick: Nelson and Gamble are two of the hardest slappers in the game. You don't know which way this will turn out.

Richard: GAMBLE! NELSON! NAILS! THEY ARE USING NAILS! OHHHHHHHHH MYYYYYYYYYYYY GODDDDDDDDDDD! DANGEROUSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS! BY GAWDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!

Nick: You want a towel?

Richard: Yes, plz.

The Murder Show and Biker roll around on the barricade, exhibiting their dirty boxing skills all the way up the aisle. Daniels has the natural edge with the boxing background, but Hessian hits like a horse so he's not being discredited. Daniels pops an inside jab and slams his forehead into The Murder Show's busted nose. Chainz holds Shakur on his shoulders and slings him into the front row. A group of inebriated Oklahomans pick Shakur up and throw him back over the barricade, wanting nothing to do with him. Chainz clutches Shakur's wrist and slings him into the stairs, toppling the top half of the steel onto the nearby mats. The Monster from Hell's Kitchen runs ahead and sends his knee into Shakur's forehead.

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: If that didn't cause a concussion, Shakur's a robot.

Richard: For sure, man.

Gamble and Nelson trade atomic drops, jumping up and down and moaning after the opposition plants his knee into the junk. The Grin fakes an atomic drop, changing tactics to a military press and launching Nelson toward the ring. Nelson squirms away, but that doesn't benefit The Greediest Player in the Game. Instead of being dropped safely inside the ring, Nelson's body straddles against the bottom rope in a painful display of botchalism.

Botchamania 101 holla atcha boy.

Chainz doesn't let The Grin get a moment of satisfaction, locking him in a Full Nelson submission. Gamble uses his technical proficiency and slips the leg, spinning around the back and reversing the hold instantly. Chainz has an above average submission game, but not many people have the testicular fortitude to place a hold on him. His neck is being strained and his arms are tensing up, feeling like they'll pop from the sockets. It wouldn't be wrong of him to submit in this predicament, but the match is tied up at 6 a piece. With the clock dwindling, every pinfall is critical.

Plus, he's Chainz. You think motherfucker is going to tap?

He uses his one hundred and seven pound weight advantage, powering Gamble back into the steel stairs. Just as Shakur looked to get his vertical base back, Chainz took it from him, reeling him back into la-la land with Gamble. Now both competitors are slouched against the stairs.

Nick: Team Nelson is quickly gaining the upper hand here.

Richard: This leaves Christian Daniels all by his lonesome, and he's having a pickle of a time dealing with Hessian.

The Greediest Player in the Game hangs from the ring like a booger. Daniels tries to kick him in the head, but Hessian slowly gaining a power advantage over him, muscling his arms away from his body. Chainz reaches underneath the ring and grabs a steel chair. Christian fights even more reckless, the realization that he has a lot to lose coming into play. The overwhelming strength of Hessian prevents him from moving and Chainz gets closer and closer. The Monster from Hell's Kitchen winds up the chair and connects to the gut. Hessian puts all of his body weight into keeping Daniels vertical and barely manages to keep him standing. Chainz lands another shot. Daniels grunts and goes for a kick, but Chainz backs away. Third chair shot.

Nick: They are isolating each team member, inadvertently or maybe not, and taking them down. I'm surprised one of them hasn't gone for the pin on Shakur.

Richard: SPEAKING OF SHAKUR!

The Man in Black leaps from the apron and wraps his arms around Chainz. Usually this would be a quick slam dunk for the Intense Champion, but he's been in a two hour brawl. Shakur's 214 pounds sends him stumbling forward. The Black Plague has one of the most intense vice grips in the industry. When he chokes someone, they aren't lasting long unless they have a lot of perseverance. Hessian goes over and yanks The Man in Black away milliseconds before he puts Chainz to sleep. Grabbing him like a claw snatching a toy from the machine, The Murder Show shoves Shakur back first into the ring post. A massive wave of pain shoots through The Man in Black. Hessian grins like a Cheshire cat and lifts Shakur off the stairs-

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Only to slam him back on the stairs. The scream Shakur emits rattles through the building, sending chills through even the most hardcore of haters. The man's spine could have exploded on that move.

And Hessian isn't going to make life any easier. He knows Shakur is immobilized and isn't hesitant about taking an advantage. He backs up a few steps and leaps into the air, intent on crushing Shakur's sternum with 355 pounds of pure mayhem.

Only, he gets a different target. Showing one hundred percent unity toward his partner, Christian Daniels moves his brother out of the way at the last second and takes the crushing weight on his back. Shakur has another chance while Daniels has taken himself out of the match.

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: That was DEVASTATING!

Hessian mutters under his breath. He had the optimum chance to squish The Man in Black like the bug he is, but missed on the opportunity.

Nonetheless, he's going to take the pinfall.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Richard: We are at 7-6 with about six minutes to go.

Nick: One has to wonder how much more punishment can any of these men endure without breaking?

Richard: Well, we're going to find out.

Tony Gamble is the only viable option for his team at this point, and that is not lost on The Grin, who scampers around the ring looking for anything that isn't nailed down. He needs weapons. Technical prowess be damned, he's not going to submit his way through both Chainz and Hessian. Nelson perhaps, but neither of them. He would have to be quicker than a lightning fast hiccup in order to get any kind of advantage.

Nick: I don't know what Gamble is trying to do here. He has got to be aggressive and pin one of these three men. Nelson is going to have at least one of the big men around him at all times.

Richard: Which means The Grin can't sneak a pinfall.

Nick: He would have to be extremely crafty in order to do that.

So, in lieu of such events, Gamble does what any smart man would do. He walks over to Shakur and whispers something in his ear and pats him on the shoulder. The Man in Black wheezes and Gamble bails out stage left. He runs around the ring, avoiding the weary eyes of Chainz and Hessian and when he gets the opportunity, runs up the ramp and through the curtain.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: What the-

Richard: Man, that is showing some team unity isn't it?

Nick: After Daniels gave up his back, literally, to save Shakur, Gamble is playing the role of a coward and walking out of the match.

Richard: Well, the man knows when he has had enough.

Nick: Shakur and Daniels are hurt. Hessian and Chainz know one of them has to get a pinfall in order to win the match. I'm saying this as someone who hates Devin Shakur-

Richard: And he really does. Lifetime ban if he had the chance.

Nick: I'm more disgusted by Tony Gamble at this point.

The bleeding forms of Hessian, Chainz, and Tyler Nelson can breathe easy at this point. All three stare up at the clock and take a little break. They manage to inquire from one of the Shakur fans that Gamble ditched on the match and all share a chuckle. Shakur and Daniels are out cold in a heap of blood and agony about ten feet from them. Neither of them have the strength to get up at the moment. Daniels crawls over toward the barricade, inching his way up to a standing position, but he doesn't have the reserve remaining to get halfway up. He slumps down while Shakur ducks his head under the ring.

Richard: Well, you want to go ahead and call this?

Nick: Would you be surprised if Lisa Tyler stopped this one?

Richard: After the destruction we've seen? Absolutely not.

Nick: Four minutes remaining. Even if Shakur and Daniels can mount some sort of comeback, Chainz and Hessian only have to play defense and let Nelson sip on some water until the final bell rings.

However, things aren't as quiet as they appear on the home front. While The Man in Black might be in a heap, he's not ignorant on the scorecard. He was inches away from the pinfall when it happened. For the remainder of their contract, Shakur will be buying The Biker all of his beers, possibly for the entire crew they run with as well. Knowing the abrasiveness of Daniels, he's not likely to take anything easy, even on his brother. The Man in Black sneaks a chair underneath his body and grabs the chains from Daniels' pocket, wrapping the two looping pieces of steel around the chair repeatedly. He doesn't know how far Chainz and company are, so he's still being secretive with his intended strike.

Nick: About to hit the three minute and change mark. Gamble still hasn't been seen since.

Richard: Daniels can't get up, but he has given The Man in Black an asset that could reap benefits if Shakur can utilize.

Nick: I think Shakur is biding his time at the moment. If he's got the wherewithal to make such a complex knot around a chair, he can intelligently fight.

The Man in Black puts the final pieces to his mega-weapon and rolls away from the ring. Upon glancing up, he spots the towers of power moving their way around the ringside area, gloating with a few fans and shoving drinks into the faces of others. Nelson expertly stands behind his men and allow them to do all the work while he'll end up taking all the credit. This is an verbatim business maxim according to one man.

Shakur springs from his comatose state and charges forward at Nelson, the handcrafted amalgamation of steel and super hard steel wielded over his head. The Greediest Player in the Game shifts his head and comes face to face with the weapon.

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: SHAKUR DESTROYS THE PRETTY FACE OF TYLER NELSON WITH THAT SHOT!

Richard: Fiddlesticks.

Chainz and Hessian both notice something is afoot and seek to make it right. They turn toward a fearless Shakur, who stands before the monsters and motions with his hands for them to come and get some. Noticeably befuddled, Chainz and Hessian share a hearty laugh with one another before advancing on The Man in Black. When he presents the weapon of choice, they tilt their heads to the side in confusion.

Well

WHACK!
WHACK

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: Would you believe the sound you are hearing?

Devin Shakur is actually getting a damn face pop.

WHACK!

Another shot drops Hessian on sight. Shakur goes over to the dazed big man and rings his bell again, staggering him back against the barricade, small arches of blood flying from the chair into the first two rows. A hell of a lot of contamination lawsuits will go down, but none of the men deep in the trenches are apathetic toward their dilemma.

Nick: SHAKUR HAS BECOME A MADMAN WITH THAT WEAPON!

Richard: The great equalizer if you will.

Nick: But the time is ticking down. They are under two minutes.

Richard: And the next portion of the match will be written by Completely Toasted Ambien Chris. Take it player.

Tyler Nelson appears to be the smartest out of the group, escaping inside the ring where he feels comfortable. Right now, Shakur has a single minded focus and wants to obliterate Hessian and Chainz, who are moaning and groaning from The Man in Black and his ultra triple steel chair of pain. Tyler Nelson goes to reach his hand out and grab the weapon, give Shakur a temporary distraction and possibly take control of the chair...But something out of the corner of his eye tickles his fancy.

A hundred dollar bill lowers from the rafters.

Nelson can't resist leaping into the air and trying to snag the piece of paper.

However, when his greedy fingertips reach the money, the bill rises out of reach. Nelson frowns.

The bill lowers a second time. Nelson reaches up and misses. Bill goes back up.

Hessian and Chainz have been cornered by The Man in Black, who is swinging back and forth with the ultra steel chair on both of their bodies. Dude is rolling like he's in the Home Rub Derby. Hessian gets crushed.

Chainz groggily rises to his feet and gets put down.

The C-Note descends one more time. Nelson doesn't take the bait right away, letting the bill get to its lowest valley before grabbing a hold and locking the bill in a headlock.

Shakur slings the chair into Chainz head and follows through with a roundhouse to the side of the dome. The big man slumps against the steel barricade. The Black Plague lowers his eyes toward Hessian, in a scene reminiscent to earlier in the evening. A devilish smile forms on his face.

Hessian: Bollocks.

Shakur winds up the chair and swings the steel into Hessian's bleeding forehead. He just exerted all of his remaining power. None of the blood reduces the unadulterated force being brought forth by Shakur's arms. Even though he's tanked, the sight of Hessian spilling blood like a faucet sends Shakur into a psychotic rage. For emphasis, he places the chair against Hessian's head and rocks his world with a Good Times, Painful Memories head kick.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick (OSV): I can't believe people are cheering Devin Shakur.

Richard (OSV): Well, something had to give in this, didn't it?

Nick (OSV): I know we've got about fifteen seconds before the match concludes.

Slamming the chair against his fallen opposition, Devin Shakur slowly walks toward the ring. An eager Tyler Nelson is ready to shove him out...

When the 100 dollar bill comes down again, and it's very close to the ring. Very close to the hands of Tyler Nelson. He won't need to jump for this. Just reach his hand out and grab it.

Shakur gets a leg into the ring and pushes the rest of his body in behind. Nelson reaches up and goes for the money one more time.

Nick: SEVEN SECONDS!

Richard: SIX SECONDS!

Shakur knows that is his cue to strike. Nelson reaches up for the money one more time and on the way down receives a Good Times, Painful Memories head strike.

Nick: FIVE SECONDS!

The Man in Black, exhausted at the offensive onslaught he just displayed, drops over top of Tyler Nelson, and lets the referee count the fall.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Nick: 7-7!

Richard: Shakur comes up clutc-

DING! DING! DING!

Nick: Wow, what an absolute melee, Richard.

The crowd stands up and delivers mountainous waves of rounding applause at all six competitors...Well the five competitors who were brave enough to stay out for the entire match.

Nick: I've never seen such destruction.

Richard: But yet...Neither team got the advantage.

Nick: I would think that....Hessian and Devin Shakur...

Richard: Yeah, exactly, none of these guys have an advantage going into the Pay-Per-View.

Nick: The biggest winner might be Christian Daniels and he's in the worst shape of the six right now.

Richard: Still though...Wow, and we are going to have to get an official ruling on this.

Vince Howard: Ladies and Gentlemen...For the last hour and a half, you have seen six of the most valiant warriors battle up and down the halls of PRIME, covering a tremendous amount of the building in an attempt to entertain you fans. Let's all give these stars the respect they deserve.

And that is just what the crowd does, even though their isn't one among the bunch that could be considered likable on a religious holiday.

Vince Howard: The final tally according to all of our referees scattered throughout the building...Team Devin Shakur acquired SEVEN pinfalls on the evening.

Tyler Nelson tries to add up the match, wondering if he and his boys were able to sneak in more.

Vince Howard: And Team Nelson...ACQUIRED SEVEN PINFALLS!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Vince Howard: Which means that this contest...IS A DRAW!

The Grin glances over and spots The Murder Show and Monster making their way in his direction. It's safe to assume they aren't coming over to give him any congratulatory messages. They are coming to beat him into a pulp.

Seeing that his safest option is to backpedal, The Grin scans over his shoulder once in a while to make sure that he doesn't step over the stairs. Chainz and Hessian put some pep into their steps, causing the 5 Star Champion to start running backwards. Doing something like this requires an immense amount of skill.

A series of skills that The Gamble-

Stumble

Apparently doesn't have. Hessian and Chainz pounce like a pair of cheetahs and sling Gamble into the ring. Both slip underneath the bottom rope and pummel Gamble with alternating boots. He's being hampered by six hundred and fifty pounds of fury. Shakur and Daniels aren't able to get back into the melee just yet, so Gamble has to endure the onslaught for a few more moments.

Although

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

He's got an unintentional ally storming down the ramp, very eager to join the party.

Brandon Pierce.

The Symphony of Destruction rolls under the bottom rope and immediately goes after Chainz, backing him into the corner and driving his shoulder into the midsection. The fatigued Monster doubles over after every shot. Hessian stomps over and removes Pierce from his partner, flipping him backwards in an awkward German suplex. Pierce is undeterred, picking himself from the canvas. Hessian's massive Size 22 E boot is on a collision course with his head. Pierce checks the massive boot and goes low.

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Real low.

The Murder Show clutches at his boys and falls backwards in slow motion. Pierce shouts "TIMBERRRRRRRRRRRRRRR" for effect.

He probably should have paid more attention to the other elephant in the ring that just took his head off with a stunning clothesline.

The Symphony is spun inside out and dropped to the canvas. Chainz jumps on top and starts tearing into Pierce, something he's been craving for the past couple of weeks. Furious rights and lefts redden his skin and open up cuts around the sensitive areas of his face. He is going to need stitches by the time Sloan is done with him.

If Tony Gamble was appreciate of the assist from Pierce, he's not showing it, opting instead to kick Tyler Nelson while he is down.

Nick: What is the justification for that?

Richard: Nobody tries to upstage The Grin in a thumb war.

Nick: They ended up going to a draw, Richard, the match is over. They need to head back to the locker room so we can head out to Texas.

Richard: You are delusional if you think something like this is just going to dissipa-

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: HERE COMES JAY PHOENIX!

Richard: Great, we really can't ever have enough freaks and weirdos roaming through these parts.

The Eternal Flame makes a beeline for Gamble, using the stairs to assist him in flying through the air and tackling The Grin. Phoenix peppers The Grin with shot after shot, refusing to let up.

In the ring, Brandon Pierce manages to turn the tide on Chainz and mount him. While Chainz is more enraged because Pierce has tried to ruin his life, Pierce doesn't mind taking a few weeks off Chainz career. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left.

On the other side of the ring, Christian Daniels and Devin Shakur have isolated Hessian in the corner and are bringing the pain. Shakur lands a boot to the head. Daniels connects on a shot to the chin.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

But Hessian is about to receive some help from the allies who have been trying to find the fight all night.

Elise Ares and Kazys Jankauskas dive into the ring and head for Shakur and Daniels. Looking at the big picture, Kazys clobbers Daniels across the back and gets his attention. This in turn, gets Shakur's attention and he gets annihilated with a spinning heel kick from The Havana Harlot. She struts her stuff for the cameras, shouts Que Tal Eso and spits on Shakur.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: This crowd is confusing the dickens out of me.

Richard: Well, this is the Canada of the Americas.

Nick: That didn't make a damn bit of sense.

Richard: Oklahoma doesn't make a damn bit of sense.

Kazys muscles The Biker from the canvas and slams him down with a pump handle slam. Elise joins in on the mugging and puts the boots to Daniels. She goes to deliver the same humiliation she just did to Shakur a moment ago, but-

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: THE REDEEMED!

Richard: Are you friggin serious? We've got everybody coming out of the woodwork. Why don't we just have the entire locker room clear the hell out in the process?

Nick: I don't think we have enough cameras to go to the back but I'm sure a few of those guys are getting it on as well.

Richard: Thanks for the disturbing imagery.

Nick: Anytime, buddy.

Scattered throughout the ringside area, the action is fast and furious. Jay Phoenix and Tony Gamble choke one another against the barricade, struggling to keep one another on their toes. The Grin kicks at the kneecaps of The Eternal Flame, slips through his legs and goes for a Through DDT, but Phoenix spins around and catches him, locking him in a belly to belly suplex and throwing him into the crowd. The fans who were supportive of The Grin a moment ago part like The Red Sea, allowing Gamble to fall into a sea of steel chairs. His body contorts up and the groans are heard a few rows back even though Gamble doesn't have a microphone on his person.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Chainz and Brandon Pierce claw into one another like two lions fighting over the last rabbit. Chainz digs his fingers into the open wounds of Pierce, trying desperately to literally rip him apart limb from limb. The Monster doesn't appreciate anyone gawking over his woman, especially someone he's going to meet in two weeks at Great American Nightmare. Instincts taking over, Pierce does what comes natural to him and gets out of the predicament. He stomps on the foot and knees Chainz in the groin, slamming The Monster head first against the steel stairs with a DDT. Even though he is rocked, a hint of rage is seen in Chainz' eyes when Pierce gets on top of him. He'll get the fucker back in due time.

The Wolves of Slaughter and Redeemed are standing in the ring going toe to toe. Ares is being overwhelmed by Marquis Peeples while Tyrell Dawkins and Kazys Jankauskas vie for position. Peeples whips Ares into the ropes and meets no resistance, but when she comes back, he telegraphs a back body drop and eats a kick to the sternum. Elise is confident that the damage has been done, although when Peeples ascends from his doubled position, she isn't sure anymore. He rips her from the standing position, throws her into the air and slams her violently with a Samoan Drop. Jankauskas drives Dawkins into the canvas with a spinebuster and picks up the fight on Peeples.

Tyler Nelson, meanwhile, has managed to escape from the brawl completely unscathed. Sure, he took the last pinfall of the night and could ultimately be seen as the man who ended up causing the tie, but he's not involved in the carnage going on around the ring. Normally, he would give his boys some help, and should, but he doesn't want to get involved. He's a businessman and has already put in his time this evening.

When Nelson hits the top of the stage, he looks down on the carnage with a hint of arrogance. Nobody can touch him. He's The Greediest Player in the Game.

That's when the building explodes.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: OH MY GOD! BEHIND NELSON!

The only man on the roster who could warm the heart of an entire building?

Chandler. Tsonda.

Nelson stumbles into The Model Citizen and knows something is wrong. Now he has to make a decision. Does he run forward and try to test his legs or does he fight back.

In a comedic moment, he looks up at one of the screens over the ring to see who is behind him.

He lets out a large sigh.

Tsonda grabs him by the dress shirt and pants, runs over toward the right side of the stage and flips him through a set of tables.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Richard: MY BOY! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

For the first time in a long time, Richard Parker gets some damn exercise. He rushes over like a man possessed, risking life and limb, maneuvering his way up the ringside area and trucking toward the injured Nelson. Tsonda stands over his adversary and cracks one of those million dollar smiles.

The last brawl not to be mentioned is still taking place. Christian Daniels takes an unflattering bump across the announce table courtesy of The Murder Show. His back ricochets off the edge and collapses the table, sending Nick Stuart in a panic away from the pieces. Shakur makes the ballsy decision to jump on Hessian's back and attempts to choke him. The Murder Show slings him off like an ant and captures him over the shoulder.

Everybody in the building knows what is coming next.

Drop.

Hellevator on the concrete.

Shakur is sprawled out. Unconscious.

Although, nobody is around to announce they are stunned at the development. Hessian dusts his hands and demands the house microphone. After witnessing such a display, Vince Howard isn't about to argue that the show is running over.

Hessian: So, Shakur, you want to play such a dangerous game, and ya even said I could pick the stipulation for our match. Well, I've got this fetish for watching my opponents squirm and writhe in pain so I'll tell you what we are going to do. You also seem to be pretty fond of cages, so we're going to throw one of those around the ring. It's not going to be any kind of standard cage though...It's going to be a Hessian Special. Hell in a Cell combined with weapons hanging all over the cage for my amusement. Oh, and to ensure that Easy Rider can't involve himself in the match, the door is going to be covered in barbed wire.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHBOOOOOOOOOOO!

Hessian: You've bitten off far more than you can chew little man.

The Murder Show slams the microphone against Shakur's chest and raises his arms high in the air.

A logo for the Pay-Per-View appears on the screen.



Ain't this gonna be a doozy?