PRIME’s Vice President of Talent Relations, Lisa Tyler, has had a fairly good past couple of weeks. The ratings are back in the right direction. She got a nice boost from the returns of Tyler Rayne and Tchu last week, and as a result she took a little less heat from the board of directors. After they got past the gun and sword display, that is.

She walks at a brisk pace through the backstage area, a few strands of her red hair dancing around her face. Looking over last weeks numbers, she can’t help but let a slight smile crack her lips. Lisa closes the folder and tucks it confidently in the crook of her elbow. As she arrives at her office, she greets PRIME’s head of security, the massive black behemoth affectionately known as Dam.

Lisa: Good evening, Dam.

Dam: Hey now, Miss Lisa.

The mountainous security guard motions with his head toward her office door, then nods. He doesn’t need to say anything further. Lisa pauses briefly at the door, taking in a deep breath and exhaling slowly before turning the knob and shoving the door open.

Lisa: Well, if you’re anything, you’re predictable.

Seated in a chair across from her mahogany desk is Tyler Nelson, dressed in an immaculately tailored grey suit. He has one leg crossed over the other and his hands folded neatly in his lap. He doesn’t acknowledge her barb. Lisa moves around and takes a seat behind her desk, placing the folder gently down and scooting the chair forward so that she can rest her arms on top of it.

Lisa: What is your business? I have a show to run. Would you like to see last week’s numbers?

She pushes the folder across the desktop toward Nelson. He never casts an eye toward them.

Tyler: I’ve seen them already. They’re still low.

Lisa: They’re steadily getting better.

The piercing glare she is famous for finds its mark.

Lisa: Now, what do you want?

The grin that had been plastered to The Greediest Player in the Game’s face all of last week is a distant memory. He’s all business now.

Tyler: You know damn well why I’m here, Ms. Tyler. Do you think that your despicable show of bias regarding the match-ups for the second round of the Jewel in the Crown tournament went unnoticed?

Lisa: I guess you didn’t pay attention last week, which isn’t unusual for you, but I clearly stated that those pairings were totally random.

The King of Greed’s tone is soft and steady, which belies the anger that he’s trying to hold inside.

Tyler: I don’t believe for one second that those matches were made in any sort of random draw. It’s blatantly obvious that you made those matches in order to affect some sort of discord within my group. You’re scared that we’ll become that much more powerful by holding a monopoly over the Universal Title after I take it away from Jason Snow at King of Kings, and you’re trying to eliminate that threat.

Lisa: Frankly, Mr. Nelson, I don’t care what you believe. Furthermore, I don’t have to explain myself to you. So if you are here looking for capitulation, I’m afraid you’ve wasted my time.

The former owner of PRIME slowly rises from his chair, carefully fastening the front of his suit coat. His voice is still steady, but the tone is decidedly different. There’s an edge to it. It’s getting harder to hide his anger.

Tyler: Perhaps I’ve been going about this whole process the wrong way, Ms. Tyler. It seems that the incentive that works best with you is physical peril. When there are imminent threats made to your physical wellbeing, you fold like the cheap suits I used to have to wear. It worked magnificently for Mr. Shakur.

Nelson leans over Lisa’s desk, propping himself up on his fists. Lisa barely flinches; a few extra batted eyelids the only real evidence that she’s unnerved.

Tyler: Maybe that’s what I need to do in order to end this cat and mouse game. Is that what it takes, Lisa?

The Greediest Player in the Game slowly reaches out with his right hand, angling it toward Lisa’s neck. The VP of Talent Relations leans back in her chair and pushes away slightly from the desk.

Tyler: Do I need to grab you by the throat?

He glances over toward the wall, an evil look on his eyes.

Tyler: Should I slam your head against the wall? Would that get your attention? Would this finally end?

Lisa glares up at Nelson, adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Lisa: I strongly suggest you leave before one of us does something regrettable.

Nelson snorts as he stands upright, tugging at the cuffs on the sleeves of his dress shirt.

Tyler: You mistake me for someone capable of having regrets.

With that, Nelson turns, and with a deliberate stride, heads for the door. As soon as the door shuts behind him, Lisa releases a breath she had been holding for what seemed like an eternity.

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.

The permasmirk of Tony Gamble livens the camera. He might be a clown, but don't underestimate him you'll end up being a master of the tap dance. A quick flash of his infamous encounter with Jason Snow is seen, the current Universal Champion submitting.

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.

Iron Wolf, Kazys Jankauskas, stuns the world by emerging victorious in the ReVolution 200 Battle Royal by defeating his own tag team partner, Elise Ares.

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

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

So paranoid...
Watch your back!

Hoyt Williams stands in the middle of the with Our Lady of Gaga, having just defeated Jacob Cross at Great American Nightmare by an act of God.

Oh my, here we go...

Brandon Youngblood, standoffish by nature, shakes the hand of Troy Douglas and steps through the ropes at Great American Nightmare.

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.

Diego Foster stomps Chet Worth into the canvas over and over again.

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

Adam Garcia shadowboxes like the greatest of all time.

To explain,

Nitz Donnelly poses for the crowd. We can't tell you what their response is, at least in this introduction.

That the darkest hour never comes in the night.
You can sleep with a gun.

Tyler Rayne methodically demolishes Jeb Stewart. Oh yeah, he's back.

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.

Bryan Dawkins soars through the air, completing a high flying maneuver onto newcomer Johnny Raindance.

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.

Johnny Raindance prepares himself for the PRIME journey.

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

The Inhuman Being, Tchu, defeats Tony Gamble in a classic and declares his intentions to be the 2009 Jewel in the Crown.

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 hold the Tag Team Titles triumphantly over their heads.

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

Roque de la Red. What more needs to be said?

To explain
That the darkest hour never comes in the night.
You can sleep with a gun.

Jacob McKail defeats Jenny Piccolo at ReVolution 211.

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?

PRIME...Number One by Definition.

With the official pyrotechnic introduction to 212, Round 2 of Jewel in the Crown and the latest turn in the road for PRIME are underway. The overhead cameras scan the crowd for the most riotous fans in the building and make them famous for a nanosecond. No wrestlers have planted themselves in the crowd with hopes of flashing signs to get themselves even more camera time...Well, we think. A few people don't make the head count-

Somewhere in the building, Tony Gamble is filing a complaint. It's not our fault he's so short.

Over by the announcers table, Richard Parker licks his fingers and tosses an empty bucket of ribs onto the floor. His digits are still a little greasy so when he goes for Nick's soda, the longtime face announcer cocks his fist back and threatens to bop Richard one right between the eyes. Richard grunts and demands a bottle of water from a stagehand. Someone screams in Nick's ear that it is go time.

Nick: Welcome everyone to ReVolution 212!

Richard: Do I have something in my teeth?

Nick: Coming off ReVolution 211 where we saw the returns of Tyler Rayne-

Richard: He will be fired here this evening, either by Lisa Tyler or Tyler Nelson-

Nick: Tyler Nelson doesn't have a beef with Tyler Rayne yet.

Richard: You don't take a man's first name, Nick. How would you like it if I went around saying I was Nick Parker?

Nick: ...Ok, point.

Richard: See if you can sleep now.

Nick: In addition to his return, we saw Tchu in action for the first time in a long time and he is another Round 2 addition.

Richard: That was simply appalling. Tony Gamble never deserves to go out in Round 1.

Nick: Well this evening we are going to see four matches. Newcomer Johnny Raindance seeks an opportunity to prove himself, and he's going to have one heck of a litmus test against Troy Douglas.

Richard: Do you think he knows that his finisher is the same as a Boys 2 Men song?

Nick: How long have you been waiting to ask that one?

Richard: Oh dude you have no idea.

Nick: The first Jewel in the Crown contest will take place with Tyler Rayne going against Hoyt Williams-

Richard: The perceived God vs the actual one-

Nick: But don't count out Bryan Dawkins-

Richard: This is an A to B conversation. Dawkins needs to C a pineapple and hulu his ass outta here.

Nick: Richard just discovered Hulu folks.

Richard: IT ROCKS.

Nick: The tag team titles will be defended when the debuting Change in Spades take on The Redeemed.

Richard: Wolves of Slaughter aren't happy about that one, let me tell you. I saw Elise Ares earlier and man she was hot.

Nick: Were you looking through the peephole in Tyler Rayne's locker room?

Richard: ...Look, the point is she's angry.

Nick: And in the Main Event, speaking of Elise Ares-

Richard: I'd rather she not speak.

Nick: She will be part of the second triple threat match that also features Diego Foster and Brandon Youngblood.

Richard: And for those of you who are interested to see the next episode of Matt Mills: Poker Addict, the show has been bumped this week due to YouTube buying up all our commercial space.

Nick: Oh boy, no telling what those guys are going to pump out for us.

Richard: Well, only one way to find out. Let's get to the shenanigans, sucka.

Devin Shakur's feelings about PRIME have changed ever since ReVolution 211. He's gone around acting like the big fish in the small pond, using the threat of the Golden Ticket and his general douchebag behavior to hold down everybody else on the roster. Now, his views have changed. A lot of his past accolades, the ones he refuses to be silent about, have come out of the woodwork and want his head. The only true ally on the roster he now has is one Tony Gamble.

So when he gets summoned into Lisa Tyler's office, he can only envision that the night is going to start off in legendary fashion.

Lisa Tyler: Mr. Shakur, I would like to extend my apologies for what happened last week.

Devin Shakur: I'm sure you do. What do you want to apologize for? The alcohol giving me a giant headache and leaving me passed out in front of my door with a spider in my head?

Lisa Tyler: That's...

Devin Shakur: Or that somehow an Asian man leaped from my car stark naked and tried to kill me?

Christian Daniels: Dev...

Devin Shakur: Or how about you apologize for the weirdest thing of all...Mike Tyson PLAYING PHIL COLLINS ON MY PIANO!

Lisa Tyler: I'd hate to break this to you Dev.

Devin Shakur: An apology shouldn't be hard to break.

Lisa Tyler: According to your hotel bill, you watched The Hangover while intoxicated and have fused those memories with your own experience.

Devin Shakur: ...Oh...So wait, none of that happened?

Christian Daniels: Nope.

Devin Shakur: So how much do you think Mike Tyson charges to come in and do that, because I need to see it happen.

Lisa Tyler: Ahem.

Devin Shakur: Oh, right, your apology.

Lisa Tyler: What Tyler Rayne did to you last week was something I don't wish upon any of my wrestlers, even if they have been as destructive as you.

Devin Shakur: Indeed it was not, especially after you put me in the skybox so I wouldn't reveal his identity.

Lisa Tyler: Again, my apologies and it should not have happened. I've decided that this evening we will make it up to you. If anybody on the roster bothers you this evening, they will have to deal with me personally.

Devin Shakur: So where am I being shipped to this week?

Lisa Tyler: Wherever you want, but I've taken the liberty of giving you a gift to occupy the time.

Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas throws open the door with his massive right hand and holds in his left one an original Nintendo console.

Devin Shakur squeals. It's disturbing.

Devin Shakur: Where did you find one?

Lisa Tyler: Some guy on the street was selling them, claims I stole a Wii from him a few years ago.

Devin Shakur: [With hands clasped together in happiness] And it has a Duck Hunt gun.

Dam reluctantly hands over the console to Shakur who bolts from the locker room and down the hall, figuring out how to set the game up to his television. Christian sighs and follows.

Lisa Tyler: Now...I have to get Rayne in here.

"Nelson!"

Footsteps thud hurriedly down the backstage area as the Greediest Player in the Game turns a corner up ahead, either ignoring the call or too focused on other matters to hear it.

"Nelson, hold up!"

The pursuer swings around the corner and skids to a halt, practically slamming into the back of Tyler. Composing himself, he utters an apology as Nelson swings around and stares dead into the face of the Murder Show, Hessian.

Tyler Nelson: Von Kelsig. I'm a little pre-occupied right now.

Hessian: I understand but I need to talk to you.

Nelson feels his stomach turn but stands firm and holds his head high, gazing up at the giant

Tyler Nelson: I suppose I can spare a moment for one of my gears of war.

The Greediest Player in the Game glances at Hessian's wrist and notices the absence of a particular Rolex.

Tyler Nelson: Where's your watch?

Hessian: Oh, it's locked away safe and sound. Wouldn't want a token of appreciation like that to get damaged by some deviant on the roster.

Unlike cockier or more vindictive wrestlers, he really means it. Whereas it could be locked away in a pawn broker's display case or safe it's tucked away with the rest of Von Kelsig's treasures.

Hessian: Alright listen, I don't want you to think I'm being insolent or insubordinate here, but there's something on my mind that's been nagging away for the last week and I need it cleared up.

The King of Greed smiles, imagining that the Murder Show wishes to clarify his somewhat apprehensive behaviour the past few weeks. Or as it's otherwise known; getting the wrong end of the stick.

Tyler Nelson: Ah, I'm glad you decided to address this. Yes I wanted to talk about your-...

Hessian: Is it true what Devin Shakur told me last week?

Nelson is silent for a moment. In a split second he goes from stoic to shocked to angry and back to stoic, with a formulaic method behind his emotions.

Tyler Nelson: Shakur? What business has he with you or any of us outside of getting beaten to a pulp at the pay-per-view?

Hessian: Well you tell me. According to him there was something I should know about your whereabouts before our clan disassembled Chandler Tsonda.

Tyler Nelson: Good Lord man, that was a month ago! How am I supposed to-...

Hessian: If it comes from Shakur it must be important. Did he say something to you before we took out Tsonda? Did you have any kind of interaction with him? I really don't want to sound paranoid or anything but I get the feeling he's trying to get at me outside the box, if you will. I just want clarification on the where's and whys so I can sock him one for making me doubt you.

Tyler Nelson: And do you doubt me?

Hessian: Well technically I shouldn't. We both know I'm a mercenary by trade and you paid handsomely for my services, but there's a difference between just beating someone up and being part of a conspiracy.

Tyler Nelson: Conspiracy? Now you're sounding paranoid Von Kelsig. I suggest you go and do some preparation for next we-...

Hessian: No. See that's the problem. Lately it feels like a lot of shit is going down behind my back and I'm either being set up for the fall or part of something more sinister than just pulling the show away from Lisa. If Shakur brings you into the equation...well...I'm not a mastermind like either of you two but I know when money and evil get together they have a good time.

Tyler Nelson: What are you getting at?

Hessian: Like I said, I don't know! I just want to know what, if anything, you were doing before Tsonda was assaulted so I can put my mind at rest. Was Shakur involved at all?

The King of Greed stares dead into the eyes of the giant, simply sighing and slackening his gaze instead of giving away a tell and looking down or away. Raising a hand he plops it on Hessian's shoulder and gives the big man a pat like you would a happy-go-lucky Retriever.

Tyler Nelson: Prior to the Tsonda incident I was negotiating a business deal with a client. You know what PRIME is like yourself, if some kind of interaction had gone down between Shakur and myself it would have been taped and on the show. If it puts your mind at rest go ask one of the techies to pull up the Nightmare so you can see for yourself. But I promise you, I wouldn't sully my good name by associating with that...that...that man. I'm too well aware of the problems you two have had to go playing with fire like that. If you want my opinion, Shakur is playing mind games with you to try and secure that rematch. Don't take the bait Von Kelsig.

The Murder Show breathes a sigh of relief and takes Nelson's hand, shaking it firmly.

Hessian: You know what? You're right. Thank you Tyler, and hey, I've been thinking...

Tyler Nelson: Uh oh.

Hessian: Ha ha. No check it out. I know you're fuming about this JitC match next week. But I want to let you know; once you annihilate Snow at King of Kings and become Universal Champion you're going to be facing the Jewel winner at Culture Shock.

Tyler Nelson: Yes I'm quite aware of that.

Hessian: Well if I win this thing, never mind tonight, and become number one contender...I think maybe we use that as a bargaining chip.

Tyler Nelson: Elaborate.

Hessian: Well think about it. A private isn't going to challenge a General. You and I have no fight, and I certainly wouldn't want to do to you what I did to Shakur at GAN. Maybe if we strike up the right deal that contendership could be bartered in some way for any future dealings?

Nelson, captivated by the swishing of Hessian's beard, gives his own imaginary one a contemplative tug. The cogs are turning as he thinks about the idea of the Army holding all the cards in the Uni scene.

Tyler Nelson: I'll take it under advisement, but I like your thinking. You're a valuable asset to this group Von Kelsig. Don't let others pull the wool over your eyes. Like you said, you're a mercenary. You're here for the pain. Nothing else. Don't let anyone fool you.

The Murder Show nods and bids adieu to his leader for the moment. Turning tail and sauntering back to his locker room he leaves Nelson breathing a sigh of relief in the hallway.

Tyler Nelson: You are clever Von Kelsig...just a damn shame you're not smart.

For all actions taken, there are consequences. PRIME as of late has been rife with people taking action. Particularly against the Head Mistress of ReVolution, Lisa Tyler. There are consequences to these actions, too. Just ask Elise Ares. Then ask her what the five fingers said to the face. Because that shit would be fucking hilarious. The Vice President of Talent Relations has been taking it from all sides lately (insert Chainz joke here). She has the Prometheus Board of Directors breathing down her neck to improve ratings and profits. Devin Shakur is making shadowplays against her, bargaining with an ace up his sleeve in the Golden Ticket (he did not earn, like some people *cough*TylerRayne*cough*). Tyler Nelson is openly trying to usurp her power, going so far as to threaten outright mutiny. That’s not even to mention the constant threat of Michael Sloan and his disturbing ill intentions, the exhausting task of censoring the foul mouthed ruffians in her employ, managing a competent but under confident production staff, and dealing with the usual bitching and bickering of her egotistical roster.

Oh, and disinfecting every object Tony Gamble’s gaggle of Oompa Loompas get their orange little paws on.

On an average day, Lisa Tyler has more than her hands full trying to keep the ship of PRIME on course. Add in all these hungry wolves snarling at the castle gates and… well, we’re wandering a bit off topic. The point is, all actions have consequences.

When it comes to action, there are very few who can match the unpredictable Tyler Rayne. Even amongst some vile, vicious, and violent company on the PRIME roster, Rayne is a standout when it comes to outrageous action. There can be arguments made for the ruthless natures of men like Devin Shakur. The aggressive power of a man like Hessian. Consider the unconfirmed but entirely disturbing rumors of the atrocious acts committed by Chainz behind closed doors. Even a man like Jason Snow, who has decimated every opponent to step up and attempt to claim his Universal Championship. Violence and misbehavior breeds rampant in a setting such as PRIME. Still… all of these men fall short on the delivery of absolute mayhem when compared to Mr. Action himself. Last week is a mild example of things that can happen when Tyler Rayne is around. Guns and swords? Eh. Tame. Stabbing random people with scissors? Driving over rednecks with a sports car? Running down people with a motorcycle? Inside the building. Attempted lynchings? Career ending injuries (sorry, Ferg)? Ninjas? FUCKING NINJAS! Now that is action. Hell, we don’t even have to limit ourselves to the category of violence. You want some hot, steamy action? You like sex? Well we can guarantee that there has never been a man (or woman) in the existence of PRIME who has prompted more gratuitous full frontal nudity than the Underground Pimp. Strippers. Prostitutes. Drunken sorority girls. You wanna see tits? You watch ReVolution. You watch Tyler Rayne. He doesn’t go to the peep show. The peep show comes to him.

Shit. We’re wandering off topic again, aren’t we?

Consequences.

Tyler Rayne may as well be walking to the gallows. Remember all that stuff we mentioned in the paragraph above? Yeah. So does Lisa. Now considering the month she’s been having and her general distaste for the Golden Boy’s antics in general… perhaps it was not the most endearing idea to show up on his first ReVolution in six months and start pointing various death devices at the PRIME roster. Deserved or not.

Despite the undoubted shit storm he’s walking into, the longest reigning 5-Star Champion in PRIME history seems to be in decent spirits. He walks with his head held high, a slight grin brightening the shadow of stubble that encases his jaw. His black leather riding jacket sports a vibrant blue bolt that matches the blue slogan on his white t-shirt. Something about fucking. And possibly your mother. Most of it is obscured beneath the jacket. He marches with a fair amount of confidence… something his personal assistant is quick to point out.

Juli Lee: You seem to be in good spirits. Considering.

Tyler Rayne: Been awhile since I spoke with dear old Lisa. I kinda missed it.

Juli Lee: You do realize she’s going to tear you a new asshole, right?

Tyler Rayne: Like that’s new. So on a scale of one to [bleep] me running… just how pissed is she?

Juli Lee: I couldn’t understand all of the words she was using. Mostly because it was so loud the speaker on my cell phone got all distorted. I do remember something about your balls. And a jar. And her desk. She also seemed extra pissed that you were using me to screen her calls.

Tyler Rayne: You’re my personal assistant. That’s what people hire personal assistants to do.

Juli Lee: I thought about explaining that to her… but then I realized she terrifies me.

Tyler Rayne: You are rather mousy and puss like.

Juli Lee: [Bleep] you.

Tyler Rayne: Once upon a time, kid. Once upon a time.

The duo rounds another corner in this seemingly circuitous course. Tyler offers a nod to one of the production crew. A middle aged man with Coke bottle glasses and a desperate need for soap. The man produces a sheepish smile in return before busying himself with the very pressing matter of staring at his feet. Or rather, the bulbous bulge of midsection that blocks his own view of his feet.

Juli Lee: Have you, uh, noticed how people keep looking at you?

Tyler Rayne: Yeah. Saw that. Guess they feel sorry for me. What I’m ‘bout to walk into and all. Most people wouldn’t want the wrath of Lisa comin’ down on them like this.

Juli Lee: Why do you?

Tyler Rayne: I don’t. Honest truth, I don’t really go out of my way to piss the girl off. Just turns out we don’t agree… on a single [bleep]ing thing on this planet. I do things. She doesn’t like them. It’s sort of our thing.

Juli Lee: I’m surprised your thing hasn’t gotten you fired yet.

Tyler Rayne: Probably would’ve, had I not used the Golden Ticket to buy myself an iron clad contract. Sometimes… genius.

The Chinese-American former paralegal rolls her eyes. The last couple hallways are traveled in silence. Each of them pondering upon the tirade to come. It becomes apparent that they’re traveling in the right direction when less and less people happen to be milling about. Seems like no one wants to be too close to the Head Mistress these days. Shit. Might get slapped.

Their destination is at the end of the hall. The strange, man-sized Oscar statues guarding the door sort of give it away. Juli pulls in a sharp breath when she sees the sight. It is not the Enemigos that surprise her, though it certainly can be shocking the first time someone sees full-sized men adorned in form fitting, shiny golden spandex. That, in a strange way, she expected. Spandex and oddities. It is in fact what she doesn’t see that takes the her breath. She doesn’t see the door to Lisa Tyler’s office.

She can’t see a gods damned thing besides the immensity of one Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas.

As a personal assistant to the automatic TV-MA rating, Juli has had the pleasure of consorting with a handful of fellow professional wrestlers. Of course she knows Lindsay Troy. Has had the previous pleasure of shopping with Chandler Tsonda and will be spending quite a bit of quality time with the Pineapple King in the coming ReVolutions. Even Tyler’s old friend Duke Valentine is a tall and muscular man. None of these encounters could have prepared her for the sheer volume of humanity that is PRIME’s Director of Security.

Tyler Rayne: I’ll be fine from here, Jules. Don’t want Lisa thinkin’ she can come out and start bitchin’ at you, too.

Juli Lee: Yeah. I don’t think I want that either. I’ll just go see if Dawkins needs anything.

A nod. His personal assistant marches back down the hall the way she came. The Hero of the Day saunters right up to the door… or rather the mammoth human being guarding it. Tyler is all smiles and extends a fist as he approaches. The coolest cat in all of professional wrestling extends a massive hand in greeting. Knuckle to knuckle. The Golden Boy pauses to give the other golden boys of PRIME a long examination. These are not the rotund fatbodies of days past. No, sir. These are the hardened warriors of a new era. Muscles bulge from beneath the form fitting spandex. Tyler reaches a hand out and caresses one of their biceps, just to ensure they’re real. The Enemigo does not move flinch. Stone still.

Tyler Rayne: Hmm. Upgrades.

Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas: You got no idea how long it took ta git ‘em like dat.

Tyler Rayne: You put ‘em on the 300 workout?

Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas: Shit. Put ‘em on da "you don’t git in [bleep]in’ shape Dam gon' bust a cap in yo’ ass" workout.

The Underground Pimp nods his approval.

Tyler Rayne: You should put that on a DVD or something. These are impressive results.

Dam laughs. There is a moment of awkward silence between them. The black colossus stands firmly in place, arms crossed over his chest. Tyler blows out a breath.

Tyler Rayne: Um… Dam? I think there’s a door behind you that I kinda need to, like, get in. I’m not sure, cause I can’t [bleep]ing see around you, but…

Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas: No can do, Boss. Boss Lady says I gots ta pat ya down fo’ weapons fo’ I let’cha in.

Tyler Rayne: You’re shitting me.

The look on his face is answer enough. He is not shitting anyone. That would probably really hurt if he did.

Tyler Rayne: Son of a bitch. C’mon, Dam. They already frisked me when I came in the door, for Hoyt’s sake. She gonna have someone come around and pat me down every time I step out my locker room?

The Director of Security just shrugs. Seems like that option might have been open for discussion.

Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas: Look, man... I got no beef wit’chu pullin’ a piece on dat lil’ bitch Shakur af’er what ‘e did ta you. I don’ make da rules, though. Boss Lady says do sumthin’, I do it. So I gots ta pat yo’ cracka ass down and make sho ya ain’t got one hidin’ up yo’ sleeve o’ sumthin’.

Tyler Rayne: Fine, fine. Let’s just get this bullshit over… wait. Did you just call me a cracker?

Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas: You wanna pull a piece, Boss, I cool wit’ dat. But a sword? Dat’s some crazy ass white people shit. So today… you's a cracka.

Tyler Rayne: I… you … [bleep]. I have no argument for that. Pat away, chief.

The Underground Pimp raises both arms into the air for his best Jesus Christ impersonation. Dam hesitates for just a second. There are a thousand women in this arena right now that would sell their husbands for a chance to do what he’s about to do. Hell, probably a handful of Chandler Tsonda fans that would give their left testicle to do the same. Dam has to be on the shortlist of people who haven’t fantasized about running their hands across Tyler Rayne’s body.

Oh well. Here goes…

Dam is stronger than he realizes. His hands are the size of small dogs and when he pounds them against Tyler’s clothes, pressing the fabric up to Rayne’s form to ensure there are no unwanted bulges, the force of his search actually rocks the Golden Boy on his heels a bit. It is quick… though painless would be another matter. There might be bruises tomorrow. The Director of Security straightens back up to his full height. The job is done. The look on his face, though, is not one of satisfaction. He looks concerned and slightly disgusted.

Tyler looks up to meet his gaze, but Dam isn’t looking at his face. His eyes are focused lower. No. Little lower. Lower… There we go. As it turns out, there is still one bulge Dam has yet to search.

Tyler Rayne: You don’t really need to… do you?

Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas: You not hidin’ a gun in thur, are ya?

Tyler Rayne: I prefer to think of it as a sword. You know, with the poking and all.

Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas: I don’ even wanna think about dat. Jus’ don’ shoot ‘er or nuthin’.

Tyler Rayne: Shit, man, if I shot her with this… she’d probably loosen up a little bit. Girl could really use someone to just unload all over her fa—

Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas: Damn, man. I don’ wanna be hearin’ dis shit. Jus’ git yo' ass in thur. Damn. That’s nasty. Jus’ … nasty.

The Director of Security steps away from the door. His eyes are squinted with disgust and he even has one gigantic arm raised to shield him from the unpleasant thoughts threatening to invade the nice quiet recesses of his mind. Tyler Rayne chuckles and takes his first step across the threshold.

This is gonna fucking suck.

Nitz Donnelly and his newfound best friend, Tracy Sloan, are standing in a hallway chatting about something idiotic. That’s what Vance Raymes’ face tells us as he grimaces at the conversation from afar. Mindful as always for the monstrous Michael Sloan, Vance scans the hallways in all directions for the beast from Hell’s Kitchen.

Tracy: So are you nervous about your match later?

Nitz: Me? Nervous? Girly, I thought you knew me better than that.

She giggles. Nitz Donnelly loves when she giggles. The entire male population loves when she giggles.

Tracy: I know you macho wrestlers will never admit it, but I’m sure you all still feel a bit nervous before every match. You have to go out there and entertain thousands. I just have to stand there and clap every so often and look pretty.

Nitz: Doing a mighty fine job of that if I may say so myself.

Vance Raymes rolls his eyes at his lame partner. Then suddenly, his eyes see something in the distance that get’s the big man on edge. Tracy husband, Michael Sloan, approaches with a foul look on his face. What else is new?

Vance: Shit.

He quickly runs over and interrupts Nitz and Tracy. Without explaining himself he pushes them towards a nearby utility closet.

Vance: Get in and shut up.

Tracy: But, it’s hot and dark and scary in there!

He shoves the two of them in and slams the door. Leaning against it with his large frame he acts as nonchalant as a giant edgy man can. Michael Sloan walks by, and to Vance Raymes disappoint, stops and glares at the giant man.

Vance: What are you looking at Sloan?

Michael Sloan approaches the giant man and locks eyes with him. Vance has starred down some scary men, but there was something in the eyes of Michael Sloan that he simply didn’t like or feel comfortable starring at. Evil, pure evil, was the rumor around PRIME.

Chainz: Brand new and already with an ego like his partner. You should learn to watch your mouth in my presence.

Vance: Look man, you don’t scare me so why don’t you go find some little girl that you can spook.

Chainz: You seen my wife?

Vance: No I haven’t seen your wife. I don’t mess around with women like some.

Chainz smiles.

Chainz: What are you getting at?

Now it’s Vance who smiles. He speaks loudly so he’s heard well.

Vance: I don’t know why don’t you go and try to get a sniff of Lisa Tyler’s skirt like you do ever week. She ain’t gonna bone you, no matter how desperate you are. I figured you’re wife would be enough for you Sloan.

The bait was out there, but unfortunately Sloan wasn’t an idiot. He didn’t bite.

Chainz: You’re a funny man Vance and I like your little joke. Just remember, sometimes jokes can land you in a world of trouble. My father used to crack jokes all the time and then…

He just smiles, but it’s a sickening and crooked smile. Enough for Vance to get the message.

Vance: So yeah, if I see Tracy I’ll let her know you’re looking for her.

Chainz: Make sure you do.

He slowly backs off and disappears down the hallway. Vance lets out a sigh of relief after the somewhat intense interrogation. He lets Nitz and Tracy out of the utility closet. As he opens the door steam spills out and a sweaty and drenched Nitz and Tracy emerge.

Vance: Damn, you two got busy real quick.

Nitz: Real funny. That's a f**kin' boiler room genius.

Tracy: What was that about Lisa Tyler?

Vance: He wants to fu-

Nitz: Oh it’s nothing. I’ve gotta go get ready for my match Tracy, but I’ll talk to you later.

They shake hands and she walks away with a smile.

Nitz: Shit man that was close.

Vance: I’m telling you, I don’t like this game man. There’s nothing good that can come out of this. You're biting off a bit more than you can chew.

Nitz: I got it under control man, I got it.

With that, The Change in Spades head towards their locker room to prep for their match.

It's time for ReVolution so call your friends inside. You've already missed 25 percent of the show.

The timekeeper hits the bell twice. All in attendance know, from this, that the first match of the night is about to start. The opening bass notes to "Rain Wizard" by Black Stone Cherry fill the Colonial Arena.

Vince Howard: The following match is set for one fall under normal rules, with a fifteen minute time limit. Coming to the ring first from Verona, Missouri weighing 227 pounds... he is the only fourth generation professional wrestler in the world today... Johnny Raindance!

The ring announcement ends just in time for the guitar to briefly stop, allowing BSC's vocalist to shout, "HERE COMES THE RAAAIN!" With his music playing loudly throughout the arena, Johnny Raindance steps out into full view for all to see.

Nick: Johnny Raindance asked for this match as another chance to prove what he can do to the fans here in the United States and in PRIME after losing to Bryan Dawkins on Revolution 210.

Richard: Why? He lost. He should be gone. His spot in this match is a waste of valuable airtime that could go to an American wrestler who desperately needs work. Like Chris Collins. I heard he's turning tricks in bathrooms in New York's LaGuardia Airport to save up enough money to graduate to shoe-shining.

Nick Stuart, and the viewers at home (except for Collins) ignore the comment. Raindance wears the distinctive tights that symbolize the Mayan flag of his ancestral heritage, the 4-color tights featuring the two-tone split with white and yellow on the front on the front of the legs and the red and blue in the back.

Richard: That's too many colors on an outfit that doesn't involve a T-shirt print or graffiti on jeans. And besides, the Mayan people had their chance and they blew it hundreds of years ago. Johnny Boy needs to get with the times.

As Johnny Raindance reaches the ring, he hits the side and heads to the stairs, climbing up to enter the ring through the ropes. The fans may not boo him, but he's not a known entity yet so there's no slapping of hands or anything of the sort. Running the ropes to limber up, stretching himself a little in the corner, J-Rain means business and is serious about making the right impression. However he does wave out at the crowd, pointing out to those who seem to know and like him.

Nick: As tonight's only singles contest, this should set the tone for the contests we're going to see later on featuring the two Jewel in the Crown triple threat contests as well as the important tag team title match between the Redeemed and the Change in Spades.

Richard: The Wolves were so ready to retire those championships that they purged all research and experience beating Redeemed from their minds. But Spades'll be a decent team to keep the belts warm for the Wolves to get them back. But I'm more concerned with the Jewel in the Crown matches. Triple threats work great for Hoyt Williams and Elise Ares. Dawkins and Rayne will want a clean wrestling match and Hoyt will let them have it and then pick up the pieces, while Ares just has to wait for Youngblood and Foster to beat each other to death to sneak past. This opening match and the tag title contest are the only ones tonight where the result might be a little uncertain.

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

END.

OF.

THE.

ROAD.

Vince Howard: And his opponent...

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

Vince Howard: He hails from Greensboro, North Carolina and weighs in at 260 pounds... he is TRROOOOOYY DOOOUGGGLAAAASSSS!!!

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

Nick: Both of these competitors were active on Revolution 210, in losing efforts to start and end the show, respectively. Where Raindance fell to The Wave of Bryan Dawkins, Troy Douglas fought a true slugfest in every sense of the word with Hessian. Dawkins, as we know, will be in action in the match following this one in the next segment, against Tyler Rayne and Hoyt Williams, while Hessian will receive his quarter-final match against Chainz and Kazys Jankauskas next week.

Richard: I'm still calling bul--

Richard's headset microphone, unbeknownst to him, is shut off before he can make any further comment on how he feels about that match. As Douglas's song hits the chorus one more time, he slides into the ring, and salutes the crowd in all four corners.

Nick: Be that as it may, that's the way the chips have fallen, and you can't deny that it will be a massive match one way or the other. I really don't believe that the men involved will see much of a problem with it, so let's just enjoy the match when it happens.

As the chorus ends, the music fades and the lights return to normal. Troy Douglas comes off of the last turnbuckle and turns toward Johnny Raindance, sizing him up for the upcoming match while rolling his shoulders with wide swings of the arms. Raindance shuffle-hops on alternating legs as a psyche-up.

Nick: It looks like both men in the ring are ready to go; referee Tommy Giles is calling for the bell.

Douglas and Raindance meet for a handshake before circling the center of the ring.

Nick: It's nice to see two athletes showing that good sportsmanship and the lack of animosity.

After an initial positioning, both wrestlers move forward into the collar and elbow tieup. Troy Douglas gets the better of it thanks to his weight and leverage advantage, easily pushing Johnny Raindance back into the corner. The referee calls for the clean break, which Troy gives to Johnny without incident.

Richard: Good sportsmanship is boring. It's for people who can't win without getting a handicap, a mulligan, whatever you want to call it.

Backing to the middle of the ring, Douglas motions for Raindance to come back out and try it again. Raindance leaves the corner, rolling his own shoulders. Circling the center again, the two wrestlers throw themselves into another lockup. This time, Johnny Raindance leans in and lowers his weight, shifting the left leg behind himself in order to get a good base.

Nick: Troy Douglas's extra 33 pounds will give him the edge here. Even as Raindance has stopped himself from being pushed back, he's also not able to push forward. Johnny Raindance has to do something here, since he'll lose a stalemate if it lasts too long.

J-Rain drops down, attempting to pull the larger athlete into an arm drag. Troy Douglas sees it coming, though, and falls down with his legs out so that he's still pushing Raindance in the tieup, only this time it's with the shoulders pressed into the mat.

1...

2...

Nick: Johnny Raindance gets his shoulders off the mat with a kick up, but he's still on his back on the mat.

Richard: Douglas is going to have it easy here. He's already got the job, this is just a paycheck for him. Raindance is the one who has to impress and that pressure's gonna lead to mistakes.

After breaking the pin, Raindance pushes himself up onto the top of his own head to bridge himself off of the mat by the strength in his neck. Douglas drops the tieup to lock hands with J-Rain and push the hands down flat to the mat. With the arms as a base, Megatron lowers his torso and swings his legs up into the air, intending to tuck the knees and bring his weight down on the upper thighs of his opponent.

Nick: Raindance shifts his body to the right and Troy's knees hit the mat.

Richard: He was not going to take that weight on his legs.

Raindance not only shuffles his body to the side, but turns his body around and over to reverse the test of strength so that it's overhand/underhand with the disadvantage going to Troy Douglas. J-Rain immediately drives forward into a lateral press over with the hands locked.

1...

2...

Megatron frees his hands and kicks out. Johnny Raindance is sent a few feet away by Douglas's strength, and the two rise into a stand-off.

Nick: Interesting escape there by Johnny Raindance, but Troy Douglas recovers.

Megatron and J-Rain move together into a third collar-and-elbow tieup. Troy quickly backs Raindance into the corner once again. When the referee orders the break, Douglas does so, only for Rain to charge out of the corner and into another lockup. Megatron shoves him back into the same corner, then moves in for a follow-up strike.

Richard: He calls that a kick? He telegraphed that from miles away.

Troy Douglas catches the foot to stop Raindance from the Mule Kick. Megatron pulls Raindance out and drops the foot to throw a standing clothesline. Johnny falls back to avoid it, kipping to his feet and running to the ropes behind Troy. Douglas rushes to catch up and hits Raindance with a Shoulder Block as he rebounds.

Nick: Troy Douglas has deceptive quickness for his size. Johnny Raindance is learning that firsthand.

Staying close, Troy controls J-Rain with knife edge chops to back him into a corner. The referee begins a count to prompt Douglas to get out of the corner. By three, Douglas takes an arm and whips Raindance into the opposite corner.

Nick: And there goes the fleet-footed Troy Douglas following in with a body splash in the corner!

Richard: He was running like somebody threatened to cut that ridiculous haircut.

A snap suplex follows, and Troy gets a one count on a pinfall.

Richard: What I can appreciate from PRIME's roster, even if some people just fail at wrestling, is that they all at least act like they're trying to win a match. Not like some OTHER places where they're just circle-jerking most of the time.

Megatron stops Johnny Raindance on the mat, yanking back on his head with a Rear Chinlock to keep him down.

Nick: Troy Douglas opting to keep the luchador off of his feet. A smart move for the larger athlete, making use of his strength advantage.

J-Rain manages to shift his weight over and start to rise within the hold. Troy Douglas adapts by switching into the Side Headlock. Johnny Raindance uses a few elbows to the midsection to loosen Troy's grip enough to try to push him off, but Troy slides to a knee to retain control of the hold.

Nick: A good move to keep Johnny Raindance in hand.

As Troy Douglas pulls Johnny down to the mat, Raindance drops and turns, rolling Megatron into a pinning hold that gets a one count before Troy rights himself again. Both men in their feet in the headlock, Johnny Raindance pushes up with his legs to get them off-balance and then falls back to the ropes to break the hold. When the referee tells Troy to break, Raindance steps himself through the ropes while still in the headlock. Douglas reacts by releasing and attempting the Knee Lift. Johnny Raindance avoids the hit, pulling his head out of the ring, and quickly slings over the ropes to hit a Lung Blower.

Nick: Johnny Raindance shows some nice improvisational skills with that Double-Knee Backbreaker.

Douglas remains seated on the mat near the ropes. Raindance takes to the ropes and returns with the sliding dropkick. This prompts Troy to roll to the outside. Johnny Raindance keeps up the motion and momentum, taking hold of the top rope and slinging himself over the ropes as Troy Douglas looks up.

Richard: What the-- why would he land on the apron?

Nick: Johnny Raindance thinks twice about the Pescado and... runs to the corner?

Even Troy Douglas is confused as Raindance slings over the top cable and lands on the middle ropes, backflipping into the ring and kicking his legs up at the knees while pumping his arms alternatively.

Richard: …

Nick: I guess that's the Raindance of his namesake.

Richard: Not only does he deserve to lose, he should get herpes because of that.

Troy Douglas slides back into the ring without incident. Johnny Raindance puts up his hands for yet another collar-and-elbow tieup, but Megatron is done with that and simply kicks him in the gut. Troy Douglas hits Johnny Raindance with a series of European Uppercuts. On the fourth, he uses a windup on the arm, which puts J-Rain on the mat. Pulling him back up, Troy attempts the Single Leg Powerbomb. Raindance escapes it, landing behind Megatron, who throws a back elbow and then succeeds with a Gutbuster. Keeping hold, the Gutwrench Powerbomb follows.

1...

2...

Kickout!

Richard: You know, if Raindance works really hard, he might be a horrible wrestler one day.

Raindance gets pulled up into an Abdominal Stretch.

Nick: Troy Douglas putting pressure on the ribcage, stretching out those abdominal muscles.

Richard: I guess that's why they call it an Abdominal Stretch. Great analysis there, Gordon Solie.

With Raindance unable to escape the move, he instead chooses a unique escape and uses his trapped arm to pull his body upward, cartwheeling out of the stretch. Troy Douglas attempts the clothesline as soon as Raindance lands on his feet. Johnny Raindance ducks the clothesline, catching the arm.

Nick: Raindance getting back in the match with the Reverse Hiptoss!

The Gedo Clutch follows, with Troy Douglas kicking out at the one. As they get up, Johnny Raindance stays on the move and uses the Bulldog to take Megatron off of his feet.

Richard: What would you call that reversal, an Abdominal Stretch?

Nick: You know it's an Atomic Whip.

Richard: Just checking.

Raindance gets up to a seat after landing back first on the mat, but Troy Douglas is right there with the Sliding Lariat.

1...

2...

Kickout!

Nick: Troy Douglas stays on the attack with the Neck Whip.

Richard: See, this is what Douglas needed. He can't lose to Hessian every week, sometimes Tyler has to throw him a bone and an easy win over a guy like Raindance.

Raindance turns over onto his stomach, giving Douglas the opening for the Camel Clutch.

Richard: Look at him writhe in that Abdominal Stretch!

Nick rolls his eyes, but Raindance is in trouble because he can't move himself to the ropes. J-Rain tries pulling himself, and can get some forward movement, but it's just not enough. Of course, Troy changes up into the Dragon Sleeper with body scissors, so that becomes a whole other hold.

Nick: This is a bad spot for Johnny Raindance.

Richard: Him being in the ring period is a bad spot.

Raindance can't last long in the Dragon Sleeper and he knows it. But he also can't pull himself to the ropes being on his side. So Johnny Raindance does the incredibly stupid thing and pushes himself up in a bridge against the hold, placing a lot of additional pressure into it, just to swing his hips enough to put his left leg underneath the ring ropes.

Nick: Well, that broke the submission, but I can't imagine that Johnny Raindance is feeling good right now.

Richard: He's barely awake. Look at him roll out of the ring.

Troy Douglas knows the end is near after what Raindance did to himself. Douglas rolls out as well, and rather than attacking further he throws the main into the ring.

Nick: Troy Douglas wants the pinfall.

Richard: Countout, pinfall, the paycheck's the same.

As Troy goes underneath the rope, Raindance rolls out again.

Richard: Now this is just sad.

To keep Johnny Raindance on the defensive, immobile, Troy Douglas follows out once again, hitting more knife edge chops. Five, with a ringout count of six, is good enough and Douglas rolls into the ring again with his opponent for a pin after a brutal wind-up European Uppercut.

1...

2...

Shoulder up!

Troy Douglas decides that he's going to try another submission hold since they work well for him, and attempts the Stepover Leglock with Armbar. After turning Raindance over, Troy goes to a knee, but he can't get hold of the leg as Johnny Raindance rolls over and kicks Douglas in the back of the head. Raindance kips up and hits a Shining Enzuigiri to keep Douglas low. The Rear Waistlock is just a control hold, but J-Rain does roll to the side into a pinning predicament.

1...

2...

Nick: Troy Douglas kicks out, but Raindance holds on!

Raindance attempts the German Suplex proper, but Troy Douglas blocks it and hits another good back elbow to put Raindance off his game and stumbling away. Megatron yanks at the tights to keep the man from going too far and performs a crisp Release German Suplex of his own, crawling into the leg hooking cover.

1...

2...

3-Kickout!

Richard: That was so a three.

Nick: Johnny Raindance just barely got his shoulders off of the mat that time. Troy Douglas has been effective in his attack and it's not looking good for Raindance's chances on impressing Lisa Tyler with a victory here.

Troy Douglas brings Johnny Raindance to his feet again, choosing to end the match in a big way. A European Uppercut rocks the newcomer, and a second is none too pleasant either. Megatron steps back by a foot and spins around with his elbow cocked, suffering the Rolling Sole Butt to the sternum from Johnny Raindance.

Nick: Raindance recovers and clutches Troy Douglas in the Side Slam posi—ouch! Troy Douglas caught all of that move, it was like a 180 sitout shoulder jawbreaker!

Douglas flops over onto the mat, with Johnny Raindance making the lateral press cover with both legs hooked.

1...

2...

Richard: Kickout!

Nick: No, just a second too late!

The referee confirms by calling for the bell. The timekeeper complies and "Rain Wizard" comes up on the speakers again.

Vince Howard: The winner of this match by pinfall... Johnny Raindance!

Tommy Giles raises Raindance's hand, who remains on the mat shaking out his cobwebs.

Nick: Troy Douglas didn't realize what was going on until it was too late!

Richard: Total luck.

Nick: Maybe so, but 3 seconds of luck is all it takes to win or lose in PRIME and Johnny Raindance wins his match tonight.

"A gun?! A gun?! Are you [bleep]ing kidding me?!"

For anyone who ever made the mistake of thinking they’ve seen Lisa Tyler pissed… we present to you evidence to the contrary. The Vice President of Talent Relations is nothing if not an absolute professional. She has suffered some atrocious attacks during her tenure here in PRIME. Attacks against her character. Her position. Even threats against her physical well-being. She always stands tall. Resolute. She handles these matters in the most professional and efficient way possible. She is unflappable. It is a very rare occasion indeed in which she falters. A handful of times in probably as many years that could be noted as moments when Lisa lost her cool. Elise Ares has been witness to one of these moments. Her cheek is still stinging with the memory of it. Right now, Tyler Rayne is witnessing one of these moments as well.

Lisa Tyler is not calm. She is not cool and under control. With an outburst like that, she is definitely not being professional. She paces frantically behind her desk. One corner to the other and back again. The click-clack of her heels is like the ticking of a time bomb. It quickens the closer she comes to explosion. Her copper-blonde hair whirls about with each new turn of her pacing. It is a physical representation of the fire that rages through her veins. Her eyes are slits. Mouth a thin line of discontent. Blood boils just under the surface of her skin. Her face is almost the same color as her hair.

Tyler Rayne: So do they censor you, too, or do you get a free pass for being the boss and—

She turns on him like a rabid animal. One palm slams down on the desk with a resounding thud. A stack of papers flutters under the storm. She leans a menacing scowl toward him. Venom pumps through every throbbing vein in her forehead. A single finger levels in his direction, cutting short whatever smart ass comment he was in the middle of. The click-clack stops. Time has run out. Now for the explosion.

Lisa Tyler: Do not… do not… start with me. Sit there. Shut up and listen. I took a hell of a risk allowing you to come back for this tournament. I need ratings. I need revenue. As much as I loathe your existence, I am smart enough to admit that these are things you can provide in ways no other performer can. When… when … you are not pulling these stupid, ridiculous stunts on my program. You have stabbed people on national television. You have attempted vehicular homicide on two separate occasions. You once embroiled half of my roster in a fight with ninjas. Ninjas, Rayne! Ninjas! Now you show up and start pointing weapons at my employees. I could almost understand a gun. That would at least be normal for the sort of thugs and miscreants that populate this roster. But a sword? That doesn’t even make sense! Who the hell carries a sword?! I swear, the things I say to you, I have never had to say to another human being in my life. I could never have imagined a day where I would have to chastise someone for wielding a sword. This is ridiculous!

The Head Mistress collapses into her chair. Three deep breaths escape her lips. They seem to have absolutely no calming effect at all. Her right hand rises to her drooped head, pinching at the bridge of her nose.

Tyler Rayne: C’mon, Lisa. You know I—

Lisa Tyler: SHUT. UP.

Surprisingly, he does. Lisa makes another attempt to douse the flames of rage. More deep breaths. She counts to ten. She recites her favorite haiku. Then she opens her eyes to the ruggedly handsome face across the desk from her… and it all goes to shit. Calm is futile. Every breath she takes while looking at him is just oxygen to the fire. Her hand waves dramatically across the unusually clean desk, indicating the single stack of paperwork occupying space.

Lisa Tyler: Do you see this, Mr. Rayne? These files here? These are all the lawsuits we had to settle after that riot you started at UltraViolence. This is only a fraction of the subpoenas we received after that incident. Fortunately the majority of them had no basis for a solid case against this company. These, though… these people either had a legitimate case or a very, very good team of lawyers. We were forced to settle out of court to keep too much bad publicity from tainting the organization. Hundreds of thousands of dollars, Mr. Rayne. Sixty-nine different families we had to pay off because of you. And no, the irony of that number has not been lost on me.

Tyler Rayne: Are you seriously trying to blame what happened at UltraViolence on me?

Lisa Tyler: There is no trying, Mr. Rayne. I am blaming it on you. It is your fault. I have worked for this company many years now. I have seen all sorts of hideous acts of violence carried out in that ring. I have seen dozens of careers ended. And I’ll be damned if I didn’t think yours was one of them. Your little friend Bryan Dawkins just came back from a three month hiatus after Devin Shakur attempted to reenact what he did to you. Tyler Nelson and his pack of jackals have put Chandler Tsonda out for an indefinite period of time. You yourself even ended Danny Ferguson’s career. I could go on and on. All of these people were fan favorites. They were all loved by our fans. None of them had a riot started on their behalf. It is time you started accepting responsibility for your actions, Mr. Rayne. You don’t just have fans. You have a cult. People don’t just like you. They’re obsessed with you. I cannot recall a moment in the history of professional wrestling that compares to the riot you incited at UltraViolence. Those people jumped the barricade in an attempt to protect you. Not because they hated Devin Shakur. Not because some great act of injustice was occurring before them. Because of you. There were more than a dozen fans injured during that incident. Most of them were attempting to save you before Devin’s goons stopped them. Their hero was practically murdered in front of them… and they reacted. This is unheard of in our profession. There is something about you, Mr. Rayne. Some inexplicable factor that invokes extreme passions in people. People hate you or love you to insane extremes. The incident at UltraViolence is proof of both of these.

She sighs. The storm seems to be passing. Strangely, it is the look on his face that has sapped the fire from her blood. He is not confident. He is not cocky. There is no panty dropping smile under that five o’clock shadow. He is contemplative. Quiet. There is some truth to what she has just said. That, more than anything, is a devastating shock to his system.

Lisa Tyler: You are a danger to yourself. You are a danger to the people you work with. You proved that well enough with your stunt last week. Most importantly, you are a danger to our fans. To the very people you owe your career to. We lost three advertisers because of what happened last week. The money we spent settling those lawsuits could have paid a dozen salaries. I allowed you to return in the hopes that the six months you spent recovering would give you a new perspective. I was hoping you would return with a decreased tendency for suicidal behavior. That hope was obviously misplaced. You seem to think you are untouchable because of the contract you purchased with your Golden Ticket. Perhaps that is true. This stack of files says otherwise. You have a history for unnecessary and absolutely reckless antics. There is no doubt that you are a danger to everyone around you. Just look at your best friends. Bryan Dawkins almost lost his career because he took after Shakur in your name. Chandler Tsonda is on the shelf. I have not heard a peep from Lindsay Troy since June. Need I remind you what happened to Angelica Brooks during that SCCW invasion? There is something about you. People you love, people who love you… they always end up hurt. Everything you touch ends in blood. I cannot consciously let you do the same to this company that I love. I made a mistake allowing you to return. These lawsuits are all the ammunition I need to put a bullet in your PRIME career. Prometheus will have you suspended. They will have the contract shredded and burned. You can spend the next ten years on an indefinite suspension while all of our lawyers squabble over the legalities. You are an albatross. I will not let you sink my ship.

The office is as quiet as a tomb. He has no snappy comeback. No witticism to wipe away the sting of her diatribe. He can’t even look her in the eyes.

Tyler Rayne: Seventy.

Lisa Tyler: Excuse me?

Tyler Rayne: Seventy. There are sixty-nine lawsuits sitting in that pile. It should have been seventy.

She scoffs. The ire is brightening again. He brings his eyes up to meet hers. There is pain and hurt in those brown orbs that she never expected. Here he was. Tyler Rayne. Unflappable in almost every regard. He had been beaten and run down and left for dead on more occasions than she could count. He had lost matches. Lost wars, even. She had never seen him defeated until just now.

Tyler Rayne: You said that those people came to my aid because I was practically being murdered in front of them. There is no practically. I was murdered in front of them. You remember the match, don’t you? That grueling exhibition I put on before the so-called incident. That was one of the most intense battles I have ever been in. And I’ve been in some [bleep]ing wars. The doctors… they seem to think that the match just drained everything out of me. Adrenaline. Pain suppressors. Everything the body naturally produces to defend itself from extreme trauma. By the time Shakur was done with me… I had nothing left. It was too much. Too much blood. Too many busted organs. Too many broken bones. My body just… shut down. Uni freaked. So they tell me, anyway. I was only dead for five seconds or so. The EMTs acted very quickly. Lindsay tells me it felt like forever. She thought I was… well I was. I just got lucky enough to come back. I remember lying there when Shakur was killing me and I thought to myself… where is everyone? Tink. Hawaii. Uni. Dam. Just… someone. It seemed so odd that no one came out to stop it. I know they would have. I know they tried. What I don’t know is what stopped them. I don’t know why a team of security wasn’t sent to the ring to put an end to it. I don’t know why you didn’t stop him from killing me.

Lisa is pale. The blood drained from her face. Horrified. She never knew. She couldn’t have known. There was no way for her to have known. She is thankful he cannot meet her eyes. He can’t even look her in the face. Instead, the Underground Pimp stands and turns his back to her. He takes a few steps toward the door, arms crossed over his chest. He makes no attempt to leave. Just… stand.

Tyler Rayne: You and I have never gotten along, Lisa. Never. I am difficult to deal with. I understand that. What I don’t understand is how you could hate me so much you would want me dead. How my antics have produced such a horrid reaction. I just do what I do. I’m not trying to get in your way. I’m not trying to cause you problems. I take care of me and mine. A lot of our differences in the past have come from the fact that you seem to have problems with me and mine. So we butt heads. I knew you didn’t like me, but I never thought… It should have been seventy. I should have sued this company for everything it was worth. I could have. And I could have won. I didn’t because… I love PRIME. I love working here. I have worked for a lot of different promotions in my career. This will be my last. I never want to work for another company again. I like PRIME just the way it is. Hell, as long as you can keep from screwing me over, I even like the way you run it. I don’t want to destroy it. I don’t want to see it destroyed. We’ve both made mistakes. We have done some horrendous things to each other. That is the past. That is so six months ago.

Now he does walk to the door. He stops just short, though, hand hovering above the handle. He pauses as a new thought comes to mind.

Tyler Rayne: Had the roles been reversed… I’m not sure I wouldn’t have done the same thing. I was pissed at you for a long time. I even wanted to kill you back. But I’ve had six months to get over it. I’ve had six months to gain some perspective. The truth of the matter is PRIME means more to me than getting revenge on you. I am willing to let bygones be bygones. You and I have had quite a few battles over the hithertos and whyfors of my Golden Contract. Right now you have Tyler Nelson and Devin Shakur both battling to steal your throne out from under you. I have obvious reasons for wanting to ruin any plans either of those two might have. We don’t get along… but I’d rather see you sitting in that chair than either of them. So here’s the really [bleep]ed up part of our conversation. This is the part where I offer to help. I owe the both of them heaps and heaps of despair. Like I said, Lis... me and mine. They [bleep]ed with that. Now I wanna [bleep] with them. You have always argued over how much power that contract really grants me. Whether or not it allows me the same liberties it allows you. Well perhaps it’s time to stop arguing. You have the power to fire. To suspend. Levy fines. Make matches. You can do anything you want. [Bleep] over whoever you want. You want Nelson and Shakur? Well so do I. If you’d be willing to withdraw your arguments and just accept the terms of my contract… you might find that having two like-minded people with that much authority would be all sorts of hell for the people trying to take your job. You think I’m part of what’s killing this company. Well give me a chance to save it. Somethin’ to think about, Lis. You know where to find me.

The door opens. The door closes. Lisa Tyler is left alone in her office. Well, not alone. She now has an awful lot of interesting thoughts to keep her company. Lisa lets out a loud sigh, steps away from her desk and heads out the back entrance. She needs a break.

Jay Phoenix arrives at the office of Lisa Tyler and sees the familiar figure of the intense Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas standing impassively manning his post.

Phoenix: Hi, Dam – need to speak to Tyler.

No words from Dam; Just a simple shake of his head as he places his arm across the door.

Phoenix: Sorry, but this is really important – I’ll just be a second.

Stepping to the left of Dam, Phoenix quickly spins in place – as the large man moves to block him – and instead slides past on the right. Opening the door he steps in quickly, moving into the room.

Phoenix: Tyler, I need to speak to …

Phoenix goes silent, his mouth finally catching up with the fact that he is talking to n-one. The room is empty.

Phoenix: Dammit!

Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas: That’s what I was going to tell you; she ain’t here. Maybe you can come back later?

Phoenix: Maybe … or maybe I can just deal with this myself – right here, right now!

Whump!

Emerging from his locker room, Chainz isn't surprised when the hand comes out of nowhere and smacks hard against his shoulder. Where normal men would jump and cry in fright, the Monster from Hell's Kitchen simply turns and cocks an eyebrow.

Chainz: Hess?

Hessian stands over him with a vacant look upon his face, which quickly turns to a smile as he buries his doubts and greets his monster-in-crime.

Hessian: Sloan. I need a word.

Chainz: You’re worried about me kicking your ass next week aren’t you? Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you too bad.

Hessian: Heh, You're not nervous are you? Our first match against each other and all?

Chainz: I don’t worry, but the ramifications of this match are troubling to say the least.

Hessian: Yeah I spoke to Nelson earlier; he wasn't best pleased about that. Had that BLT tone about him, y'know? All matter-of-factly and get-to-the-point kind of way. Anyway, I want to ask you about something else.

Chainz: What is it?

Hessian: Last week a little birdie told me you were discussing match stipulations with Devin Shakur. My match stipulations; something about a No Hardcore rule. Is there any truth to that?

Chainz: Yeah, so?

The Murder Show's eyes flash in anger and he gasps.

Hessian: What?!

Chainz: Lower your tone big man. Come here for a sec.

Hessian pulls closer to Chainz and leans in as the Intense Champion whispers in his ear.

Chainz: Shakur isn’t a dummy like the rest of this roster. He was adamant about getting a rematch with you only a few weeks back and now suddenly he’s not interested anymore.

Hessian: Right.

Chainz: We both know that he’ll come after you sooner or later. He won’t let sleeping dogs lie. Now, instead of waiting for him to come at you, it’d be smarter if you faced him on your own terms. To do that, I had to dangle something in front of Shakur that he simply couldn’t refuse. A stipulation to rid you of your ability to fight the way you fight. Of course, because this is a big sacrifice for you it’s only fair you ask for something in return.

Hessian: Right.

Chainz stands up straight and holds Hessian by the shoulders, staring him dead in the eye. A stare a lot of people seem to give the Murder Show, but none as unsettling as this one.

Chainz: Golden Ticket.

The Elite Champion's eyes widen.

Chainz: Think about, just think. You’ve got the Elite title; I’ve got the Intense title. If Nelson doesn’t piss himself in a few weeks he’ll have the Universal title and the Wolves will eventually get their tag titles back. With you then holding the Golden Ticket, we’d have all the titles and all the glory in PRIME.

Hessian: ...I think I like this idea...

Chainz: All my ideas are gold ya moron.

The Murder Show playfully punches Chainz in the chest at the moron remark.

Chainz: So here’s what we do. Let Shakur think he’s got the upper hand and let him get riled up the way he does. In due time he’ll come to you and beg for that rematch. When he does we stick and get the Golden Ticket on the line. You shouldn’t have any trouble beating him again; he’s not in your league. Once you do, there’s no stopping us. We’re the ones holding this group together and with all the power between us, we’ll be the ones calling the shots.

The Murder Show bites his lip, taking a deep breath and exhaling as he thinks about the plan.

Hessian: Why didn't you come to me first about this?

Chainz: Don’t take this personally, but you wear your heart on your sleeve. You can’t lie worth a damn. Shakur would be able to read you like a book with something that juicy brewing. We can’t fully trust Nelson as his greed corrupts and the Wolves are just around for our personal service. I had to get things rolling. Shakur loves playing mind games, but he’s no genius like me. Everything will fall into place and we’ll rule PRIME like we’re meant to. You down?

Hessian: Damn you really are a genius...hell yes I'm down with that.

Chainz: Excellent, now prepare for next week. Hell, you might not even make it to your match with Shakur after the beating I put on you.

Hessian: Genius. It's what's for breakfast.

Hessian gives Sloan another tap and totters off quite contentedly, leaving Chainz growling sadistically in the middle of the hallway.

Chainz: I do love em dumb.

There is a tense silence filling the shared locker room of Tyler Rayne and Bryan Dawkins. The Underground Pimp has had a solemn look on his face ever since returning from his conversation with Lisa Tyler. He busies himself now with writing "Fuck You" across his taped knuckles. It is not an extensive task, but he does use it as an excuse to ignore the shifting glances of his personal assistant Juli Lee and The Flyin’ Hawaiian. Juli is sitting quietly on a stool at the bar, her dark hair dropping freely over her shoulders. A bottle of Dasani clutched tight in hand. The Pineapple King is taking an exuberant amount of time to tie his boot. His face is a battle zone of conflicting emotions.

Bryan Dawkins: You’re unusually quiet, bruh. Lisa must have really lashed into ya, eh?

His voice lifts a little at the end. A playful jab to try and relieve the tension in the room. It has the exact opposite effect.

Tyler Rayne: Something like that.

The Golden Boy’s response is a mutter. The darkness in the room thickens. Even Juli shifts in her seat uncomfortably.

Bryan Dawkins: Look, bruh, I don’t want this match to come between us. I mean if it’s this big a deal, then—

Tyler Rayne: It’s not the match. You were right. It’s Lisa. She said some things. Just… gave me something to think about.

Bryan Dawkins: I didn’t think you ever listened to what she said.

Tyler Rayne: Usually don’t. She was right this time, though. So are you. Um… sorry. The match. No matter who wins—

Bryan Dawkins: There’s no way I’m letting you knock me out of this tournament two years in a row, bruh. I am winning this match.

That response brings a smile to Tyler’s face. Not quite the exuberant expression we’re used to, but it’s better than his damn sulking.

Tyler Rayne: Jules, you got that bag I gave you?

Juli Lee: Huh? Oh. Right. Yeah.

She reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls out a plastic bag. The bag flies through the air and lands directly in Dawkins’ lap. The Hawaiian picks up the bag and studies its green contents skeptically.

Bryan Dawkins: I know I’m a high flyer, bruh, but this isn’t really what I meant by high.

Juli giggles.

Tyler Rayne: It’s not weed, dumbass. They’re tea leaves. Japanese herbal remedy. Supposed to date back to the days of the samurai or some bullshit. Not sure I believe it… but the shit works. It’s good for pain. Figure you’ll need it after I beat your ass out there tonight.

Now Tyler offers that infamous roguish grin. Dawkins laughs and tosses the plastic bag in the general direction of his civilian gear. Both men stand and execute a few rudimentary stretches.

Bryan Dawkins: Thanks, but I’m serious. I’m not gonna let you win.

Tyler Rayne: I wasn’t asking for your permission, kid.

Bryan Dawkins: Ya know, it’s kinda lame Lisa always puts us in these matches against each other.

Tyler Rayne: I have a feeling she’ll think twice before doing it again.

Bryan Dawkins: I hope so, bruh. I really don’t wanna keep beating you up like this.

The Underground Pimp responds with a mighty guffaw.

Tyler Rayne: Sure, kid. Sure. Let’s just agree that, whatever happens, Hoyt Williams doesn’t move on to the next round of the tournament.

Bryan Dawkins: For sure. Suppose this would have happened sooner or later, anyway. This year, one of the Amigos as gonna win the Jewel in the Crown. I can promise that.

Tyler Rayne: [Bleep]in’ A.

The two exchange some dap and a smile. There was a time long ago when this conversation would have been more heated. Tempers and egos would have flared. There would have been legitimate heat. Now it’s just competition. These two have been through too much, both together and separately, to let something like a wrestling match come between them.

The Dos Amigos step out of the locker room together. They walk as a unit to the ring. Regardless of which of them wins the match to come… that’s the same way they’ll walk back to the locker room.

"Great..."

Marquis Peeples stands in front of the vending machine with a frown on his face, his bag of chili cheese fritos dangling from the spiral rod that is supposed to rotate and free the item from its restraints. Unfortunately, the corner of the foil bag has managed to tuck itself beneath the bag behind it and will not fall free to the bin at the bottom.

Peeples: Come on!

He places a hand on both of the top corners and gives it a slight shove, hoping to shake it free from its captivity, but the stubborn bag refuses to budge. It mocks him. He shoves it harder, this time getting the front of the machine an inch or two off of the ground. It drops back down with authority, the unforgiving concrete sending a reverb that rattles the contraption but still fails to dislodge the corn chips from their captors weak grasp.

Peeples: I can't believe this.

A very large fist flashes from behind and strikes the machine on it's side, his bag of chips now floating effortlessly through the air like a feather.

Peeples: Hey, than-

Marquis gets lost in the barren wasteland found in the eyes of the Tortured Artist. Vance Raymes just stands there as his lips twist into a slight smirk.

Raymes: Excuse me.

Vance maneuvers past one half of the tag team champions and pushes the panel where the bag of chips now resides. He pulls them out and pinches the bag with his thumb and forefinger before doing the same on the other side with his other hand. Pulling them apart releases the heavenly aroma into the air, and Marquis manages to inhale the scent deeply before his eyes narrow and his brow furrows.

Peeples: That was my bag of chips.

Raymes: I don't remember seeing you put any money in there.

Peeples: It was before you walked in.

Vance just manages a slight shrug as he tosses a few chips into his mouth.

Peeples: I can't believe you just did that.

Raymes just stands there chewing on the chips, that 'Do I look like I give a damn' look in his eyes.

Peeples: You know what... Forget it. You can have them.

Marquis moves to walk away, but the comment that manages to pass through the lips of the Tortured Artist between chews stops him on a dime.

Raymes: I hope you're as willing to let go of the tag titles, since you won't have them much longer.

Peeples: Is that so?

Raymes: You don't think Nick and I came here to just look at them, do you?

Peeples: Trust me when I tell you that I haven't thought about either one of you. 

Vance just smiles as he balls up the bag of chips and tosses it into a wastebasket a few feet away.

Raymes: Too bad. At least you would have seen it coming if you had.

And with that, Vance Raymes turns and heads off down the hall as Marquis Peeples ponders taking the bag of chips out of the trash.

"Reach Out, and Touch Faith!"

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!"

The beat of "Personal Jesus" by Depeche Mode blasts throughout the arena as the Religious Icon of PRIME bursts unto the entranceway with a sense of pride evident in his demeanor as always. With his arms outstretched, he is showered with boos from the crowd in Columbia.

Vince Howard: Introducing first, hailing from Chicago, Illinois weighing three hundred thirty pounds…PRIME Hall of Famer HOYT WILLIAMS!

The crowd continues to voice their disapproval, with Hoyt either in denial of it or feeding off of it.

Nick: I actually thought that South Carolina would be a little more favorable to Hoyt Williams. I guess it's that he believes himself to be divine that the fans have a problem with.

Richard: When the Great Deluge comes to destroy this world, all shall turn to Hoyt Williams to spake his glorious word of salvation and release them from the cold embrace of death. And Hoyt shall laugh and turn his back upon the heathens that have so abandoned him. That's why Hoyt doesn't perform miracles on being challenged. It's not that he can't do them, it's that these ingrates don't deserve it.

As Hoyt climbs into the ring we hear--

"WOO HOO!"

The big screen comes to life with "Song 2" by Blur, accompanied by pyrotechnics, orange and aqua lighting, and the video package of "The Flyin’ Hawaiian" Bryan Dawkins. Dawkins strolls out of the back to an ovation from some of the crowd, to which he replies with the Hawaiian "hang loose" hand gesture, before jogging down towards the ring.

Vince Howard: His first opponent, from Hilo, Hawaii weighing two hundred two pounds... "the Flyin' Hawaiian" BRIAN DAWKINS!

Dawkins acknowledges fans at ringside and plays to the crowd before sliding into the ring and jumping up to each turnbuckle to give the crowd his signature "hang loose" hand gesture. He then dismounts from the last turnbuckle and removes his sunglasses prior to stretching before the bout begins.

Nick: The crowd reacting much more favorably to Bryan Dawkins.

Richard: It's like they didn't even attempt to make Hawaii sound like it was a rogue terrorist nation when Obama was running for President.

Finally, with Dawkins already in the ring, all music cuts for a moment, before the familiar EKG entrance from the prior week leads into "Stick 'Em Up" by Quarashi.

Vince Howard: And from Tokyo, Japan, he weighs two hundred seventeen pounds... "The Underground Pimp" TYLER RAYNE!

2008's Dual Halo winner runs down to the ring, sliding underneath the bottom rope. Giving a fist bump of solidarity to Bryan Dawkins, The Golden Boy backs up. The referee calls for the bell and the match starts.

Nick: Wow, right from the start Dawkins and Rayne are telling Hoyt Williams to stay back.

Richard: What did I say earlier? What. Did. I. Say?

The crowd is electric, on fire, bounding with excitement and anticipation as Tyler Rayne and Bryan Dawkins circle each other in the middle of the ring. Lunging forward, they throw their weight into a collar-and-elbow tieup. The two fight for control, but neither can secure it, and they spontaneously, simultaneously drop the hold for a moment.

Nick: These two men know each other so well and they have a lot in common as far as style.

Rayne and Dawkins throw themselves into another tieup, but can't get an edge. There's no leverage, no movement, they just have a stalemate. Dropping the tieup again, they decide to switch tactics.

Richard: Oh WE ARE NOT HAVING THIS!

Nick: Dawkins and Rayne are going in slow motion!

The third, slow motion lockup has Tyler Rayne securing a Side Headlock. Bryan Dawkins swings his arms for a moment, indicating pain, but then pushes Rayne away. Tyler Rayne loses his grip and casually walks to the ropes, turning and leaning into them before walking back toward Bryan Dawkins.

Nick: Bryan Dawkins waiting for Tyler Rayne. The Underground Pimp hits a shoulder block and Dawkins goes down!

Richard: That was a love tap! They're just wasting time!

Rayne walks to the ropes again. Dawkins flops over as slowly and dramatically as he can. The Underground Pimp carefully steps over his friend, then continues walking to the other side of the ring with Hoyt Williams rolling his eyes.

Richard: They're serious about this, aren't they?

Nick: Dawkins gets up and is walking in after Rayne.

Richard: You can cut out the play-by-play. You could saunter to the back for a coffee and get back before anything happens!

Dawkins stops, with Rayne turning at the ropes and walking toward the Flyin' Hawaiian. Bryan Dawkins leans forward for the Back Body Drop. Tyler Rayne lazily lifts a foot, that very lightly brushes Dawkin's shoulder. Bryan, of course, sells the kick like death with wild arm motions as he comes up vertical.

Richard: With any luck, Hoyt will skip the match altogether and simply smote these fools.

Rayne leans back into the ropes and then walks forward once more. Bryan Dawkins hooks an arm for a Hip Toss. Tyler Rayne easily steps over to reverse it. Dawkins blocks, with Rayne waving his arm wide and extra slow for a clothesline. Dawkins tiptoes underneath, Scooby Gang style, and as Rayne turns around, the Flyin' Hawaiian gives a very light paint-brush stroke of a slap to Tyler's chest.

Nick: Tyler Rayne knocked away, these two are really going at it!

Richard: Don't. Encourage them.

Dawkins moves in with another chop, but Rayne blocks it and hits one of his own. Dawkins shouts in slow motion, rubbing his chest and falling away. Tyler makes no move to follow in, not until Bryan gets back up. As Rayne moves in, Dawkins hits another chest slap. The two wrestlers go on like this, trading piddliest of "chops" on the chest in agonizingly slow fashion.

Hoyt: I parted the Red Sea faster than this, and that wasn't even the finish, that was just a high spot!

And while nobody else but the matchwriter probably gets that joke, our Personal Jesus turns away in disgust. Rayne and Dawkins take notice and immediately ramp things up one hundred fold, charging him with dropkicks to the back of the knees.

Nick: Hoyt Williams goes down!

The crowd gets into the match as Bryan Dawkins and Tyler Rayne undertake to stomping Hoyt Williams as hard and fast as they can.

Richard: Conspiracy! Such blasphemy against the Church of Hoyt shall not be tolerated!

Hoyt Williams puts his arms over his face to guard, but that only makes the two focus on his torso. Tyler Rayne jumps onto the Hall of Famer's stomach with a Double Stomp, bringing his arms away from his face. Bryan Dawkins takes advantage with the Fist Drop. Hoyt covers the head again, opening the body for a standing Moonsault from Tyler Rayne. Bryan Dawkins takes advantage with the Somersault Leg Drop over Hoyt's throat and top of his chest. Staying put, that only serves as the distraction from Tyler Rayne's standing Shooting Star Press.

Nick: They're kicking Hoyt Williams out of the ring!

With Hoyt removed, and a roar of the crowd in the process, the two high flyers nod at each other and then lay into it with knife edge chops. Real ones. Hard ones. Chop. Chop. Chop. Chop. The hits are audible across the arena and neither gives an inch.

Richard: Okay, if they're gonna beat each other senseless now, that's fine by me. Hoyt can take a breather on the outside, let the early match stink get out of the ring.

Tyler Rayne hits a dropkick to intercept a chop. Dawkins goes down, coming back up into a few more chops. Backed to the ropes, Dawkins reverses the Irish Whip, then runs after for the knee to the gut.

Nick: Tyler Rayne rolls over with the School Boy!

1...

Kickout by Dawkins. Rayne stays close, but gets taken down with the single leg trip. Dawkins attempts the cover, but is thrown off right away. Rayne stays low and dirves forward, pushing Dawkins off of his feet with the Double Leg Takedown.

1...

The Flyin' Hawaiian gets the shoulder up, with Tyler Rayne floating over with the attempted Anaconda Vice. Bryan Dawkins stops that with the grounded head scissors, though Rayne manages to escape and kips up to his feet. Dawkins rises into a side headlock. Pushed off, Tyler Rayne runs toward the ropes.

Richard: Hey! Not fair! He pulled the hair!

Nick: I'm not even about to ask how you think Tyler Rayne's Baseball Slide Dropkick involved a hair pull, but Hoyt Williams is back down on the outside!

Rayne is out on the apron. Dawkins follows in, but walks into a shoulder block through the ropes. Doubled over Bryan Dawkins falls prey to the Sunset Flip.

1...

2...

Dawkins reverses the roll to sit on Rayne's shoulders with the legs underneath his arms.

1...

2...

Rayne turns the hold back over the right way out of the Sunset Flip.

Nick: Bryan Dawkins kicks out. These two have really picked up the pace now that it's between the two of them.

Richard: Excuse me? Hoyt's still in the match. He didn't ascend beyond the physical plane to a state of pure awesome for our sins yet.

Nick: No dying for our sins?

Richard: Only losers die. Death jobs to Hoyt every day. It's part of Hoyt's morning routine.

Dawkins trips up Rayne with a Drop Toehold. Out to the apron, Bryan Dawkins gets ready for a high-flying maneuver. Tyler Rayne seems him, though, and stays low as he charges to the ring ropes. Dawkins hits the forearm, but it's Rayne who stuns him with the Rolling Koppou Kick.

Nick: Bryan Dawkins stays on the apron.

Tyler Rayne runs all the way to the other ropes, then comes back. Hoyt Williams asserts himself in the match, though, by pulling Dawkins off of the apron to the floor.

Nick: Tope Suicida from Tyler Rayne!

The Underground Pimp switched up the intended spear into the diving headbutt through the ropes. With Hoyt back on the ground, Tyler Rayne rolls Bryan Dawkins back into the ring, climbing onto the apron and slinging himself over the ropes with the Twisting Body Splash.

Richard: Tyler Rayne misses his Slingshot Abdominal Stretch!

Nick: Not that again.

Dawkins rolls back out to the apron to avoid it, Rayne landing stomach first in the ring. Dawkins himself slings over the ropes into his own Twisting Body Splash and succeeds, staying on top for the lateral press pin.

1...

2...

Nick: The Underground Pimp uses the ropes for the break, rather than use energy in a kickout. Smart move, conserving himself. He'll need that here against Bryan Dawkins; both men are familiar with each other, they're fast, they're agile, and they don't make mistakes. It's going to come down to which one of them runs out of steam first.

The Golden Boy rolls further into the ring. Bryan Dawkins follows after and lays in a toe kick to the midsection. Turning his back, the Flyin' Hawaiian runs toward the ropes and bounces off, only to receive a knee to the gut from a recovered Tyler Rayne. Dawkins is doubled over, and Rayne runs to the opposite ropes, only to receive the same knee lift from Bryan Dawkins.

Richard: Nick would usually talk about resiliency and all that, but truth is that these two are just weak. They could kick a baby in the face and it'd keep crawling around without any problems.

Rayne and Dawkins both take to the ropes, running side by side. While Dawkins somersaults over the top rope, Rayne spins 180 and backflips over for both to land on Hoyt Williams!

Nick: And they're still not letting Hoyt into the ring! This is a smart strategy for the two men. At six-foot-six and 330 pounds, Williams is a massive competitor and easily outweighs both opponents by over a hundred pounds. They've got to keep him down and out of the ring if they want the best chance of winning, because if Hoyt can actually throw his weight around--

Richard: Or throw THEM around.

Nick: -- yes, that will mean a big change to the match.

Richard: Hoyt is a Hall of Famer, a former 5-Star and Universal Champion, and he's usually the bigger man in his matches, so he knows how to ground, beat down, and dominate smaller and more agile opponents. We know Rayne and Dawkins are gonna get their blood boiling to the point that collusion won't help them. Hoyt isn't getting hurt, so when he sees his spot, he'll take it.

Back in the ring, Tyler Rayne hits Bryan Dawkins with a few forearms. Dawkins puts his arms up to block, with Rayne quickly switching up to a half-clinch with knees to the body.

Nick: Tyler Rayne is deadly with these knee strikes.

Richard: See? Didn't take long at all.

Rayne releases Dawkins and spins 360 for a Tornado Kick.

Nick: Bryan Dawkins acts fast with the Russian Leg Sweep!

But the Golden Boy only manages 180 degrees before getting stopped. Kipping up to his feet, Dawkins turns around and gets tripped up running to the ropes. Tyler Rayne floats over the body, but he can't lock in a grounded Side Headlock because Bryan Dawkins pushes himself backward with his arms, ending up behind a seated Rayne, who attempts to turn and rise only to be pushed back downward in a modified Crucifix Pin.

1...

2...

Rayne kicks out, with Dawkins wrenching the left arm, twisting into an Arm Wringer and stepping back slightly to hit a Back Kick that puts Rayne back on the mat.

Nick: Bryan Dawkins makes another lateral press cover.

1...

2...

Tyler Rayne kicks out once again.

Richard: When did it become "the thing" to do for every wrestler without a day of martial arts experience to try out all these fancy kicks like they'll be effective? These people have to realize they're not Keanu Reeves -- they can't watch a couple of old Chinese movies and go "I know kung-fu."

Bryan Dawkins brings Tyler Rayne up and whips him into the corner, following in with a Dropsault. As Rayne's body reacts by falling out of the corner, Dawkins awaits and traps the head in the front facelock.

Nick: Wait a minute, this is a combination that Rayne likes to do.

Dawkins runs up the ropes for the Tornado Ring Rope Low Blow counter by Tyler Rayne!

Nick: Rayne pushes Dawkins off of the DDT attempt, with Dawkins crotching on the top rope!

Richard: Career ambition 1, friendship 0.

Rayne leaves Dawkins on the rope, going to the perpendicular ropes at the corner and hopping to the middle rope, backflipping into a kick to the top of head.

Nick: Rayne calls that the Un-*bleep*ing-Believable, and that fits the bill quite nicely!

The Flyin' Hawaiian falls back into the ring, with Tyler Rayne making the cover with the hook of a leg.

1...

2...

Kickout!

Nick: Bryan Dawkins and Tyler Rayne know each other so well, they're having to switch up their usual execution and timing to get the upper hand. This is professional wrestling, this is PRIME.

Richard: People thought they were watching some other show? Are they that stupid? Should we give commentary extra slowly and use diagrams? HI, EV-ER-Y-BOD-Y! MY NA-AME IS RICH-ARD! I'M BET-TER THAN YOU! Okay? Let's stop to let that sink in.

Tyler Rayne backs Bryan Dawkins into the corner with more forearms. Rayne decides to show Dawkins how it's done, and uses the Dropsault to make the Flyin' Hawaiian fall out of the corner.

Richard: Feel that? Feels like righteousness!

Hoyt Williams reasserts himself into the match, crushing both men into the corner with a Running Body Splash that makes Rayne press into Dawkins. God's Champion steps to the side, with Tyler Rayne falling back onto the mat. Bryan Dawkins drops forward, with the unintended headbutt into Rayne's groin.

Richard: That's disgusting! They could at least wait until they're off the air and away from Hoyt's presence to go down on each other.

Hoyt adds insult to injury, of the non-Tyler Rayne submission finisher variety, by stomping Dawkins's head into the crotch. Williams doesn't dwell on it, just one stomp before rolling Bryan Dawkins off of Tyler Rayne and making the lateral press cover.

1...

2...

Kickout.

Nick: Hoyt's arrogance means that he doesn't hook the leg, and that allows Tyler Rayne to escape the pinfall.

Richard: Well there's always Dawkins.

1...

2...

Nick: No. Once again, Hoyt's neglect in hooking a leg costs him an opportunity to win the match.

Richard: Are you kidding? This is Hoyt's match to win now. After the other two wasted time on themselves, God's Champion is going to win the match AND magnanimously chose to give the people a show.

Hoyt Williams drags Bryan Dawkins on top of Tyler Rayne, heads and feet lining in the same direction. God's Champion spreads his arms for the people, allowing them the chance to voice their approval, before bouncing off the ropes with a Running Body Splash onto both men. Hoyt then rolls Dawkins off, next to Rayne, and the Hall of Famer uses the later press to pin both men at the same time.

1...

2...

Nick: Double kickout! Hoyt probably made it easier for Dawkins and Rayne to use their strength to push Hoyt's weight off of them, the distribution over a wider area.

Richard: They're still hurt. That's the important thing. You talked about kickouts and energy earlier... it's gotta take a lot to get somebody 330 pounds off of you, help or no.

As Dawkins is pulled up to his feet, Hoyt kicks him in the gut to double him over. Bryan Dawkins clutches at Hoyt's leg for dear life to try to stop the powerbomb, but Hoyt lays in some forearms to loosen Dawkins's grip. With Bryan's arms slipping, Hoyt seizes the moment and lifts him up for a Stalling Powerbomb. Deciding that that's not enough, Hoyt grabs the tights and uses all of his arm strength to elevate Dawkins further into the air, but the Flyin' Hawaiian slips out of Hoyt's hands and drops down below.

Nick: Foreplay from Tyler Rayne! Hoyt is down!

Richard: WAVERUNNER, TyRa!

Crowd: PRIME THAT *sound cut*! PRIME THAT *sound cut*! PRIME THAT *sound cut*!

Hoyt takes the running knees to the sternum from Tyler, who then suffers the Shining Wizard from Bryan Dawkins.

Dawkins needs a moment to regain himself, down on a knee, but starts to rise.

Nick: Both men are down, Bryan Dawkins just needs to pin one and the match is his!

But Dawkins, equidistant from both competitors, puts eyes on Tyler first, stepping forward, only to stop for a moment and reconsider.

Richard: Aww, he's thinking that he doesn't want to pin Rayne to win. Idiot.

Dawkins switches and puts the weight across Hoyt Williams's chest, with the hook of the far leg.

1...

2...

Richard: Kickout with the grace of God!

Hoyt stays in the match. Bryan Dawkins has no choice but to try to pin Tyler Rayne.

1...

2...

3-Kickout!

Crowd: RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Bryan Dawkins shakes his head, mentally kicking himself that the initial hesitation likely messed this up for him.

Nick: And Tyler Rayne kicks out, too! These men are putting it all on the line for the chance to advance to the semi-finals!

Hoyt Williams tries to push himself up. Bryan Dawkins notices and moves in with punches to the head to try to control Hoyt. God's Champion pushes him away, but Dawkins surges back in, with a battle cry for good measure, hitting a wicked forearm to the bridge of the nose. Hoyt catches Dawkins's weight, though, and drops him across the bent leg for an Inverted Atomic Drop.

Richard: Hoyt hits God's Lariat!

Bryan Dawkins flips backwards, landing chest-first on the mat from the power of Hoyt's lariat, which was only from the standing position. Hoyt rolls Dawkins over into the pin, this time hooking the near leg.

1...

2...

Nick: Bryan Dawkins kicks out at the last second! The fans are lighting this place up!

Hoyt Williams seeks to disappoint and even silence the audience, so he quickly pulls Bryan Dawkins up and whips him to the ropes.

Nick: Tyler Rayne grabs Hoyt's ankle, he's distracted!

Hoyt Williams kicks Rayne off of him, looking up just in time to push Bryan Dawkins away to thwart the Thesz Press.

Richard: They thought that would work? Hahaha!

Rayne receives a stomp to the chest for good measure.

Nick: Springboard Vertical Splash from Bryan Dawkins! Hoyt is off his feet!

Williams's shoulders are on the mat after The Flyin' Hawaiian's sitting splash. Bryan Dawkins reaches back to hook one of Hoyt's legs.

1...

2...

But in doing so, Dawkins puts himself off balance and Hoyt rolls Dawkins into his own Rana pinning hold as if he'd done a Sunset Flip.

1...

2...

Tyler Rayne runs in with the Dropkick over Dawkins's body, hitting Hoyt in the face. Rayne lands on his back, splitting out his legs and bridging up on his neck so that he's got Dawkins's legs pinning in the roll up!

1...

2...

Hoyt, still on the mat, push-kicks at Dawkins's lower back to push him through the pinning hold and take his shoulders off of the mat. This also results in Dawkins's legs landing over Rayne's arms, with The Underground Pimp being pinned!

1...

2...

The Golden Boy kicks out, with Hoyt Williams looking to kick Dawkins in the face. The Flyin' Hawaiian pushes forward, trapping Hoyt's legs under his armpits and rolling over into a Double Leg Bridge Pin!

1...

2...

Tyler Rayne rolls over Hoyt in the same way and also sits on Dawkins's midsection. Hoyt has two people covering him now, with the pinning cover credited to the Golden Boy.

1...

2...

Richard: HOYT KICKS OUT! HOYT KICKS OUT! HOYT KICKS OUT!

Hoyt starts getting up with Tyler Rayne rushing at him with elbows to the head. Bryan Dawkins soon joins in, and together they overwhelm him with a furious charge of elbows, forearms, and kicks to back Hoyt into the corner.

Nick: Rayne and Dawkins once again choosing to combine forces to take Hoyt out of the equation... both men to the opposite corner.

Rayne runs in first, with Dawkins waiting behind. Hoyt sidesteps Tyler Rayne and kicks his leg out from under him, sending him crashing into the corner with a leg caught on the top rope in a partial Tree of Woe. Bryan Dawkins tries his luck, but a Hiptoss puts him into the same corner crashing into Tyler Rayne!

Nick: Wait, what's Hoyt... he couldn't!

Richard: He can and he will!

With his near superhuman strength, Hoyt Williams lowers his center of gravity and locks both men into an Upside-Down Bearhug. God's Champion isn't done, and lifts them out of the corner entirely, turning around and holding both wrestlers on his shoulder.

Nick: Hoyt's signaling for Crucified and Saved!

Richard: He's so giving a Lord and Savior that he's willing to do a twofer!

Hoyt Williams jogs forward as fast as he can for the Oklahoma Stampede and drives into the canvas!

Nick: Tyler Rayne escaped!

Hoyt Williams tries to stand up, but a Shining Wizard to the back of the head clips him and keeps him low. Tyler Rayne gets up and continues off of the ropes from the front.

Nick: And there's a second Foreplay! He makes the cover on Williams!

1...

2...

3!

*DING DING DING!*

Vince Howard: Your winner of this match, by pinfall... TYLER RAYNE!

Ham Patrick helps Tyler Rayne to his knees, raising the victor's left arm as the crowd goes wild.

Nick: Tyler Rayne has done it! He's advanced to the semi-finals of the Jewel in the Crown at King of Kings! The Underground Pimp has the 5-Star Championship and the 2008 Dual Halo to his name, can he add the Jewel in the Crown to that, and if so, the Universal Title? He's not lost a step in his time away from PRIME and the sky seems to be the limit!

Richard: Hoyt will not take this lightly!

Unannounced, and with a fixed stare, Jay Phoenix enters the ringside area and walks down the ramp towards the ring. Phoenix walks around the ring, grabbing a microphone from the announce desk as he passes, and then climbs the steps to the ring. As he makes his way through the ropes his entrance music begins to play. With a cut-throat gesture he indicates backstage and waits.

Nick: Well we certainly weren’t expecting to see Jay Phoenix out here tonight – he wasn’t on our schedule list.

Richard: … the way this guy works even when he is scheduled you aren’t guaranteed to see him.

As Phoenix’s music cuts of before it can really begin he stands there, in the middle of the ring, and turns a small circle in place as he brings the microphone up to his mouth.

Phoenix: I know that I wasn’t meant to be out here, right now, so I will try not to keep you back too long … but I have something to say.

Richard: Do you want to get the popcorn?

Phoenix: You see, week after week, other people decide that they have the right to interfere with my life – with my career – with my matches! Ever since I first stepped foot inside a PRIME ring the same thing has been happening to me. Since day one!

Richard: Oh God – this could be a long one!

Phoenix: C.P. Cantrell did it first, but he most certainly wasn’t the last. High Flyer, Hunter Sabuani, Jason Natas …

The crowd cheer then boo at each name.

Phoenix: They all have two things in common. They ALL decided that they would screw with my career, they all decided that they would screw with my matches and cost me the chance to not only win the match but the prize at the end – titles or tournaments; accolades.

Richard: So far he is correct – they definitely played fast and loose with his matches, in the past.

Phoenix: And now it seems that a new raft of names have added themselves to the list of people who think that it is their God given right to interfere with everyone else whenever they see fit: Hessian, Chainz, Elise Ares … really they could all come under one name, couldn’t they?

The crowd explode with jeers and boos.

Phoenix: Tyler Nelson. Those other names are just the monkeys in this deal, you see; none of them would make a move without his say so. Some of them are probably so stupid that they couldn’t even move their bowels if he didn’t explain the process to them so, here and now, I am holding him … the organ grinder that is Tyler Nelson … personally responsible for costing me a shot at the Jewel in the Crown tournament!

He points up at the screen where images from ReVolution 209 start to play.


Nick: Lock up again, Irish whip by Phoenix ... reversed ... Phoenix into the ropes, oh come on! Chainz just drilled Jay Phoenix in the back with a forearm shot.

Richard: What? He slipped.

Giles heads over to accost Chainz, and with the ref distracted, Jankauskas sneaks up from behind and snaps Phoenix's neck over the top rope.

Nick: We're only a few moments in, and this is already absurd.

Richard: You're absurd.

Nick: Phoenix wobbly, and wobbles right into an enziguiri to the back of the head from Elise Ares! She spins right around ... spinning heel kick takes the Eternal Flame down!

Phoenix: And as if once wasn’t enough …

Phoenix follows up with a pair of elbows to the side of the head, but when he hits the ropes one more time, Chainz casually trips him and knocks him to the mat face-first.

Nick: Again with this blatant cheating!

Richard: You call it cheating. I call it Jay Phoenix being the world's clumsiest human.

Phoenix pops up and immediately starts shouting at Chainz, but while he's distracted, Ares dropkicks him in the back of the head and sends him over the top rope to the floor, where Chainz and Kazys are all waiting for him. Ares pulls Giles aside for a distraction, giving the two monsters on the outside a chance to rough Phoenix up even more, then pitch him back into the ring.

Phoenix: Then the third time – which proved to be the charm …

Phoenix grabs Ares and whips her into the corner, then puts her on the top rope. As he starts to hook her for a superplex, however, Chainz pops up on the apron across the ring, forcing Tommy Giles to come and deal with their presence.

Nick: Phoenix looking for the superplex --

Richard: PWNED.

Nick: Kazys Jankauskas just CRUSHED Jay Phoenix with a running boot from the apron! Tommy Giles didn't see it! Phoenix drops off the top ... TOP ROPE SUNSET FLIP BY ARES!

ONE...

TWO...

THREE!!!!!

DING! DING! DING!

The images fade to black, on the screen, as Phoenix stands still in the middle of the ring.

Phoenix: Does anyone … ANYONE AT ALL … think that if I had hit that superplex on Area, or if I had been allowed to wrestle her one on one, the result would have been the same? Does anyone have even a shadow of a doubt that it wouldn’t have been ME progressing on in the tournament?

The audience erupt in cheers.

Phoenix: Yeah – that’s exactly what I think too. I know that I should have won that match and, if it hadn’t been for Nelson’s army, I would have. Which is why I am calling him, and them, out right here and right now … each and every one of them!

Richard: … what?

Phoenix: Next week – ReVolution 213, which undoubtedly will be unlucky for some, I am calling you out! I don’t care it if is one on one, if it is a gauntlet match or if it is every one of you are the same time. I DON’T CARE! I’ve had enough of this asylum and think that it is time that the inmates were put back where they belong!

Phoenix starts to walk towards the ropes then stops, thinking better of it as he brings the mic back to his lips.

Phoenix: Oh yeah, I nearly forgot. I said that there was something that everyone had in common who had screwed with me in my tenure in PRIME … Cantrell, Flyer, Sabuani, Natas. They aren’t here anymore. They tried their best to beat me but, after all was said and done, I am still here and they aren’t. Think about that Nelson, think about THAT!

Dropping the microphone to the canvas Phoenix slips through the ropes and makes his way backstage.

Quack...quack...quack...

BOOM.

"Modern Warfare my ass..."

Quack...quack...quack...

BOOM.

"This is war."

The orange and grey pistol is held firmly in both hands, aimed squarely at the television. He draws a bead on another 8-bit duck as it emerges from the rushes with several more and just as suddenly explodes in a shower of pixels followed by the others. All shot down with military precision. Devin Shakur chuckles as the high score flashes up on the screen and cocking an eyebrow he blows the non-existent smoke from the end of the barrel.

Devin Shakur: Hope I didn't offend too many people with that gunplay...

Glancing at the camera with a coy smile he collects a chocolate chip cookie from a plate on a nearby ottoman and chases it with a glass of milk as another round loads up. He prepares to fire when a deep bellow erupts from somewhere in the hallway. Pausing the game he tilts his head and listens closely as the booming roar echoes louder.

"SHAKUR! WHERE ARE YOU?!"

Devin Shakur: Crap.

Recognizing the roar as that of Hessian's, Shakur drops the pistol and glances around the room. No Daniels and no back-up. Whatever Hessian wants he sounds like he's going to break thumbs to get it. Did the big ape suss out his little diatribe last week? No time to contemplate that now.

His heart races as he looks around the room for an escape route or a weapon. Staring at the floor in a moment of desperation he grabs the Nintendo pistol and points it at the door, then realizes what he's just done.

Devin Shakur: What the...Idiot.

He drops the gun and glares at the ceiling before the first knock. On the second he realizes the roof tiles are all plaster, and easily moveable.

The third knock is quickly followed by a shoulder barge, and a second sends the door caving inwards.

Hessian: Shakur! You son of a bitch where are you?!

Glancing around the room the Murder Show fails to notice as one of the central ceiling tiles slides back into place, as Shakur gently replaces it and quietly rolls a couple of times towards the edge of the room. A low creak at his belly causes him to pause and a whimper forces his hand over his mouth.

His attention span is short, he'll leave in a minute.

But the Murder Show remains bolted to the floor, hands on hips examining the contents of the locker room. Shakur's belongings are nestled in and around his locker, while a Nintendo sits beneath a large television next to a pistol lying on the ground. The big man isn't the smartest man on the planet; hell he got beat twice by Gamble, but he damn sure isn't a complete dummy.

Hessian: He was here...

The Murder Show glances at the cameraman but as is par for the course he can't involve the crew member in any of his investigation. There are fans watching worldwide and there is a certain etiquette in the business surrounding the involvement of certain crew at certain times in certain activities. One such example is hassling cameramen who are supposed to be filming backstage segments without prior knowledge of any kind of wrestler interaction.

Hessian: Damn it, I will find him.

Up in the ceiling, Shakur breaths easy as footsteps thud back towards the door. Removing his hand from his mouth and steadying himself on the tiles he prepares to descend the moment the door closes. Hessian is halfway out when a high-pitched ring emits from the ceiling, followed by a familiar lyric in ringtone form.

Midget is a midget
Midget Mi-Mi-Mi-Mi-Midget
Midget is a midget
Hey you guys- Word
Midget is a midget
Midget Mi-Mi-Mi-Mi-Midget
Midget (wo-wo-wo-wo-word) is a midget

Devin Shakur: I knew that was a bad idea...

Shak Diesel cringes as all of a sudden a pair of massive hands erupt through the plasterboards and wrap around his torso, yanking him clean through the ceiling and back to ground zero in a cloud of dust. Coughing and spluttering he feels himself being dropped to the floor and looks up through the cloud to see the 7'2" behemoth looming over him. Holding one hand up defensively he shakes all the dust out of his hair and wipes his eyes, while holding his cell phone in the other, the ringtone still blaring away.

Hessian: You got a minute?

Devin Shakur: ...Dude, I only get free minutes on Wednesdays at ten.

Hessian: What is that thing sticking out of your phone?

Shakur: An antenna.

Hessian rolls his eyes as Shakur pulls himself up and wipes himself off, cancelling the call and setting it to vibrate before placing it back in his pocket. With a meek grin he looks back up at Hessian and shrugs.

Devin Shakur: So what do you want?

Hessian: Seriously? I rip out a ceiling to find you hiding like a rat and you want to know what I want?

Devin Shakur: You're a scary guy. I'm hardly going to welcome a roaring ape like you with milk and cookies.

Hessian glances at the milk and cookies on the ottoman and sneers as Shakur sighs and sweeps them to his back with his leg.

Hessian: You know damn well why I'm here. When you said you were backing off last week I accepted it, ready to go focus on the Jewel in the Crown. Then you hit me with that little spiel about Nelson and Chainz and like a complete idiot I buy it, simply because it came from you. They both swore they had nothing to do with you, and you know what? I believe them. Why would anyone associate themselves with a lowlife prick like you? I shoulda figured you'd try to play some kind of mind game on me after I tore you a new one at the Nightmare.

Devin Shakur: But I'm not-...

Hessian: (poking a finger in Shakur's chest) No! You listen and you listen good. Outright challenges won't work, idle threats don't mean shit and mind games certainly aren't worth a damn to me. You are NOT getting a rematch no matter how hard you try and get it.

Devin Shakur: Seriously Hess, I was telling the-...

Hessian: Seriously, nothing! Leave me the hell alone! Alright? If I win this tournament you can use that Golden Ticket of yours to get in on the Universal Title match, but other than that you stay out of my business. You and your big bad booty buddy. Got it?

Devin Shakur: Will you just hear me-...

Hessian: GOT IT??

The Murder Show emphasizes the point with a face-to-face roar and spittle which spritzes Shakur's face. Composing himself, Shak Diesel wipes his face clean and glares at the Murder Show.

Devin Shakur: Got it. Now get the hell out of here.

The Murder Show holds a death stare with the Man in Black for several seconds before huffing like a bull and turning on his heels, walking out of the room and grumbling under his breath.

Kicking at the remnants of his door, Devin sighs and glances back at the Nintendo.

Devin Shakur: Christ, never thought I'd get into shit for telling the goddamn truth for once.

Matt Mills: Why is it that most of the time, I set out to find someone to interview and they're no where to be found?

Mills kicks his foot across the floor in frustration, the camera man following the action. His name was Steve.

Cameraman Steve: What should we do then?

Matt pats the end of the mic against his forehead, thinking of what to do next.

Matt Mills: Ugh, let's pack it up, go somewhere else. Obviously this is a dead area.

"How could you say that, Matty?"

From behind, Mills turns and is met by the towering 6'10" figure of the imposing Vance Raymes. Behind him is Leticia Mendoza, looking beautiful as ever. But Mills knew the voice didn't belong to him. From his other side, The Ego himself wraps his arms over the shoulders of the interviewer and gives him a rather rough and playful hug. The crowd can be heard in the arena, giving a slight pop to the team in line for a title shot in just a few short minutes.

Nitz: If you wanted to find us so bad Mills, all you had to do was ask. We haven't exactly been hiding tonight.

Vance: Uhhh, that's not entirely tr-

Leticia smacks Vance on the shoulder, interrupting him and closing the discussion.

Nitz: Yeah, so how's things Matty? Been a long time since we've seen you. You know, when you saw us at PRIME Headquarters before we showed up and you decided to try a little contest of your own on Twitter as to who exactly the Spades were.

Matt: No one came even close to knowing who you were anyways. I was just trying to get a little exposure and have some fun. No harm done right?

Nitz nods his head and glances over to his partner who also nods.

Nitz: True... no harm no foul. But in other news, there has been some harm done. Something does smell foul.

Donnelly removes his arm from the shoulder of Matt Mills and sniffs at him a little winning an odd look from the man with the mic in his hand.

Nitz: For once my dear Mills, it's not you!

Mills lifts part of his shirt and sniffs it, smiling brightly as he smells nothing but springtime freshness.

Matt: New detergent.

Vance: Good for you.

The big man rears back one of his catches mitt hands and slaps Mills lightly. Donnelly prevents the small man from falling flat on his face.

Nitz: No, it's not you Mills... it's the Wolves and being more specific, it's Elise Ares.

The crowd can be heard booing in the arena at the mere mention of The Swaggerific One.

Nitz: Damn girl, you gotta be one HELL of an ass jockey to have Lisa Tyler take my side in anything. Her and I haven't exactly been BFF's since the first day I ever walked through those doors. But you did the impossible, you made Lisa Tyler side with Nitz Donnelly and the Spades, giving us a tag team title match tonight. But it didn't come without a price. No it didn't.

Nitz pauses, wiping his black and silver hair from his face.

Nitz: Lisa, in her infinite wisdom, is taking a strangle hold of her company and telling everyone around here how it's gonna be. She even went as far as to censor us. For example...

Nitz leans back, looking at the ceiling a little, almost calling for the sold out crowd to egg him on.

Nitz: F**K!

A chorus of boos is coming from the audience in the arena seating while a few cheers, presumably from Parents Television Council plants are also heard.

Nitz: You see? Censorship, on FX... the same network where you see women giving BeeJay's with their TeeTay's hangin' out. The same network that is a very proud supporter of the PRIME product and the same network where they don't say poop, or crap or brown cable. No... THEY-SAY.. SHIT!

Donnelly once again pauses to remove the hair form his face.

Nitz: The chick in charge goes out and censors us... CENSORS ME, so I can't say f**k for all of you to hear. So I ask you my people, what f**kin' good is it when a f**kin' talent as f**kin' good as me isn't f**kin' able to f**kin' use the word f**k on a regular f**kin' basis?

Pause.

Nitz: F**k.

Pause.

Vance: F**k.

Pause.

Leticia: F**k.

Even Mills gets into the little foul mouthed game.

Matt: F**k.

Nitz looks over at him with a shocked expression.

Nitz: That's very un-f**kin'-professional of you Mills. I see a large fine in your future.....F**K! Cocksucker f**kin' son of a bitch f**k! Mattmillssmellslikehewasjustassf**ked!

Donnelly shakes his head.

Vance: Those boys are right on target with their censor button today.

Nitz: No kidding. ANYWAYS, as this proves, you gotta be one hell of a bitch on wheels to piss off the Boss lady so much that she gives us what we want. So you see, here we stand, ready to walk into that arena and show the world watching what Change In Spades has promised from day one. No more stale matches, no more same old shit. Nope, tonight, we respect the Tag Team Champions, we really do. But respect or not, we're taking those tag titles away in front of this wonderful Columbia crowd and taking home what we'll prove belongs to us. I can only assume that Elise will blow a tampon once we win and her partner will... well... do nothing. I mean the bugger stands there like a statue. Wolves, watch closely cause we're about to do something you couldn't just a few short weeks ago at The Great American Nightmare. Thanks for the time Matt. The Gorilla awaits.

He pats Mills on the back and walks in the opposite direction as Vance Raymes and Leticia follow, crossing in front of the camera. The people watching get a great view of some side boob.

Nitz: F**K!

He pokes his head back into the screen quickly.

Nitz: These guys are good.

He leaves again, leaving Matt Mills with something that he might not exactly classify as a great interview.

Matt: Phones will be ringing off the hook tonight.

No doubt.

ReVolution is now rolling. Have you got your food? If you don't, go out and get some. Perhaps we could interest you in rolling down the road for a Big Mac and Fries...Might have to out shoot these guys for it though.

Nick: Well, as you just saw, Change In Spades looks to be ready for their title match.

Richard: DEBUT title match. I still say The Wolves were completely cheated.

Nick: What Lisa Tyler says goes and unfortunately for her, Elise can't do a thing about it.

Vince Howard: The following contest, scheduled for one fall is for the PRIME Tag Team Championship!

Crowd: RUUUUAAAHHHHHHHHHH!

As soon as the pop dies down, "Eyesore" by Janus rips through the sound system, winning another large pop from the sold out crowd. Appearing through the curtain is PRIME's newest tag team lead by Leticia Mendoza. She stands at the top of the ramp and thrusts her arms to the side, Vance on her left and Nitz on her right. As all three strike a pose, a small but intense pyro set explodes around them and once it stops, all three Spades make their way towards the ring.

Vince Howard: Introducing first, hailing from Venice Beach, California, at a combined weight of 558 pounds, lead to the ring by Leticia Mendoa, THIS IS CHANGE IN SPADES!!!

Crowd: RUUUUUAAAAAAHHHHHHH!

Nick: Never thought I'd hear a crowd reaction like this for the dirtiest mouth in the game.

Richard: Never thought I'd begin to dislike him. His pandering to the people makes me feel somewhat ill. He's changed.

Nick: He'll be a champion tonight if the Spades can take out the champs.

All three Spades enter the ring. Nitz and Vance climb a turnbuckle and Leticia poses on the ropes between them. The crowd gives them a good reception as the sounds of Janus slowly disappear.

The lights dim slowly as the first few seconds of "Hero" by Skillet start to play on the PA system.
I'm just a step away
I'm just a breath away
Losing my faith today
Falling off the edge today


Just as John Cooper starts to sing the lyrics, fireworks spray from both sides of the entrance as The Redeemed step out from behind the curtain.

I am just a man
Not superhuman
I'm not superhuman
Someone save me from the hate


Vince Howard: And their opponents... They are YOUR PRIME tag team champions... Tyrell Dawkins... Marquis Peeples

It's just another war
Just another family torn
Falling from my faith today
Just a step from the edge
Just another day in the world we live


Vince Howard: THE REDEEEEEEEEEEEEMMMMMED!!!

I need a hero to save me now
I need a hero, save me now
I need a hero to save my life
A hero will save me just in time


The duo slap hands with the fans along the ramp as they make their way down, the cheers deafening as it has been a while since there were champions that had morals and values.
I've gotta fight today
To live another day
Speaking my mind today
My voice will be heard today


Marquis and Tyrell slide into the ring and make their way to the center of the ring, their arms raised with the titles high in the air as the music fades.

Nick: Here we go! Change In Spades... The Redeemed and PRIME's Tag Team Titles!

Richard: Wake me when something exciting happens, like the Wolves killing all these guys in the face.

Nitz is in the ring, apparently starting off the contest with Tyrell Dawkins. Elvis Nixon breifly shows the Tag Titles to the audience and hands them off to the outside of the ring. The bell then rings to start the contest.

Crowd: RUUUUAAAAAHHHHHHHH!

Nitz circles the ring with Dawkins and both move in. Dawkins goes for a tie up but Donnelly ducks behind him and kicks him in the side of the leg. Tyrell favors it for a second as Nitz backs away and both circle again. Nitz this time gets his leg caught in a single leg as he hops around, trying to avoid being taken to the mat. He twists his entire body around in one fluid motion and catches Dawkins with a foot underneath the chin, releasing the hold. Donnelly is quick to get back to his feet and moves in, throwing a couple sharp haymakers into the cheek of Dawkins dazing him into the ropes. Donnelly manages to whip the larger man to the opposite ropes but on the return, Dawkins digs in and takes The Ego off his feet with a shoulder block. Nitz flops to the mat and quickly scrambles to his feet, being caught in the neutral corner by a running clothesline from one half of the tag champs. The Ego stumbles out of the corner, caught by Dawkins and tossed over in a side belly-to-belly slam. Tyrell immediately tags his partner and he picks Donnelly off the canvas. He lifts Nitz onto his shoulders into a firemans carry as Peeples grabs the Spades member by the neck and falls to the canvas with a neckbreaker. He rolls on top of Donnelly, taking the first pinfall attempt of the contest.

Nick: Only a short two count before Nitz comes out of it but The Redeemed showing why they are tag champions with their teamwork.

Richard: I have nothing more to add to that.

Nick: Oh suck it up! This is shaping up to be a great contest!

Richard: My colon is currently shaping up something similar.

After the kickout, Donnelly attempts to get away to his own corner but is grabbed by Peeples and is hit with a swinging uppercut. Donnelly falls to the mat and Peeples drops an elbow.

Nick: A quick cover again only gets a short two count. Looks like they wanna end this match quickly.

Donnelly pops up and surprises his opponent with a back elbow, thrusting Peeples back into the corner. He then follows up with a short charge ending with a body flop in the corner. Peeples leans against the ropes and Nitz gets to his feet. As soon as his head turns to his corner, Peeples rushes out and grabs Nitz by the hair, dragging him to the canvas by the neck. Donnelly grabs the back of his head, a grimace etched on his face.

Nick: The crowd is showing support right now for both teams but Peeples has the right idea. They are keeping Donnelly grounded so his speed and high flying are both neutralized.

Richard: Way to deduce that plan Einstein.

Nick: Why ya gotta hate?

Richard: What the... NEVER TALK LIKE A WIGGER AGAIN!

Peeples picks up The Ego and wipes him from one neutral corner into the other. He charges in with a big clothesline that floors Donnelly once again. He then proceeds to plant a few well placed stomps into the extremities.

Nick: From the outset of this match, Donnelly has been taken down to the mat. He's gonna need to make a tag or this could get ugly very quick.

Richard: He just tried but he was stopped again.

Sure enough, Nitz made a quick leap while sucking up some power, but Peeples was there to stop his movement. Peeples decides to drain even more energy from Nitz, locking on a side headlock and grapevining Donnelly's legs.

Nick: They sure scouted Nitz from the onset of this match. They don't know much about Raymes except that he's a monsterous beast so they really don't want him in the ring.

Richard: He ate Peeples Fritos. He's a bully!

Nitz screams as he reaches desperately for the monster of a tag partner he has waiting in the corner. It's no use to try and make the tag, but he's close enough to reach out and grab the ropes breaking the hold. Peeples jumps off but doesn't give Donnelly the chance to leap for a tag, grabbing him by the ankle and jerking him away from the ropes. Getting a little bit of air, Nits lands in a push up position with Marq now wrenching the ankle in the middle of the ring. Using his upper body strength Nitz pushes off just enough to get some sort of rotation going, flipping his body into a somersault and flinging Marquis Peeples forward threw the ropes and to the outside of the ring.

Nick: This is Donnelly's break!

Richard: That ankle got messed up though, is he even able to stand?

The answer to that question is an emphatic "no" as immediately Nitz tries to get up to walk over and make the tag, but the pain in his ankle is just too much to support his body weight. Crawling across the ring like a World War II solider in the trenches, Nitz inches closer and closer to the monster waiting in the corner... leaning in and desperately trying to make the tag. Reaching out his arm, he's just mere inches away from making the tag. The crowd doesn't support one team over the other, a mixed reaction as they all want to see what the monster is capable of.

Nick: He's got it!

Richard: No he doesn't!

Nick: You're right, Peeples his his ankle from outside the ring.

With a firm grip around Nitz's ankle, Marquis Peeples isn't letting him go anywhere as Leticia glares on from the outside of the ring. Struggling, Donnelly doesn't give up. Clawing and scratching trying to get to Vance as he's being pulled out of the ring. With one last leap of faith, Nitz tries to dive across the ring for an all or nothing tag attempt. The result? Tag.

Nick: TAG! TAG!

Richard: This isn't going to be pretty!

Nick: But it's sure going to be fun to watch!

The crowd perks up as Vance Raymes steps into the ring and his tag partner is fully pulled out of the ring by Marquis Peeples. Vance sees no one in the ring with him so does the next best thing, charging Tyrell Dawkins standing on the apron completely unprepared for the speed of the stampeding Tortured Artist. Lowering his shoulder, Vance gores Dawkins like a raging bull sending him flying off the apron and almost into the first row of seats. That would've been a much less painful landing than the one he had. His chest bounces off the top of the barricade surrounding the ring, whiplashing his neck before bouncing him back to the outside of the ring in horrible pain.

Behind the Tortured Artist, Marq is up on the apron almost like he's trying to make a decision on how to approach the monster that is Vance Raymes. Unfortunately for him the one man wrecking crew turns around and sees him standing on the apron. Looking over his shoulder Peeples looks like he's looking for a place to go but sees Donnelly and Leticia behind him. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, Peeples tries to take on the monster head on. Just like you'd expect he rushes Raymes and is laid out hard with a ring shaking spinebuster.

Nick: Raymes has taken complete control of this match.

Richard: This is fun to watch Nick, it's almost like watching The Redeemed get in a car wreck.

Nick: Now I don't know if that'd be so fun to watch.

Richard: I've seen it in my head a million times, Nick. Brings a smile to my face every time!

Vance jerks Peeples up off the mat like a rag doll before hurling him into the ropes. Bouncing off the ropes, Raymes doesn't see Tyrell Dawkins sneak back up on the apron and make a blind tag to make himself the legal man. As Marq comes sprinting back Raymes uses his own momentum to implant him into the mat with an earth shattering powerslam that echoes throughout the arena. Raymes hooks the leg but there is no count from the referee.

Richard: No count?

Nick: He's not the legal man!

Richard: When did that happen?

Nick: Just now.

Richard: What a couple of sneaky bastards, no wonder they're so good at robbing things.

Nick: I'd just like to apologize right now to the NAACP. He didn't mean that.

The referee is throughly intimidated by the look Vance shoots at him when there is no count. He pleads with him, letting him know that Peeples is no longer the legal man. Frustrated Vance gets up and turns around just in time to get drilled by Tyrell Dawkins as one big man sends the other big man stumbling into the ropes and then over to the outside with a huge shoulder block. The crowd roars in approval of watching the big men go at it as quickly Leticia and Nitz go over to see how the big man is doing after the tumble. Meanwhile in the ring Tyrell postures in victory looking down at Raymes and talking trash before checking on his own tag team partner.

Nick: What a show of strength from Dawkins there! Knocking The Tortured Artist outside of the ring just like Raymes did to him earlier in the match.

Richard: Around her we call that payback.

Nick: Payback in spades, no pun intended.

Richard: Speaking of payback!

The crowds cheers of enjoyment from an exciting match quickly turn to jeers as suddenly Kazys Jankauskas slides into the ring behind Tyrell Dawkins, almost as if he's stepping up to take the "big man vs big man" challenge that'd just started to break out in the tag match. With his tag partner still down, Dawkins turns around to find out what all the crowd noise is about when he's jerked up off of his feet into a fireman's carry. Jumping over the barricade, Elise Ares uses blinding speed to leap then onto the apron and to the top rope.

When Change In Spades realizes what's going on in the ring and Nitz slides in to try and save their PRIME Tag Team Title aspirations it's already too late as Ares goes soaring off the top rope and lands a double foot stomp on the back of Dawkins' head before Kazys tosses him off with authority onto the waiting knees of The Wolf In Sheep's Clothing. The bell sounds and Nitz snarls on his stomach in the ring, swallowing the bitter taste of defeat... because he was just a second too late.

DING! DING! DING!

Richard: YAHTZEE! PACK MENTALITY!

Nick: And leave it to the Wolves Of Slaughter to ruin an amazing match!

Richard: You didn't even have to wake me up! They came to save us from sheer boredom just seconds before we all dozed off to sleep.

Hearing the bell sound, Vance Raymes recovers and dives back into the ring to join his partner but just as they reach their feet The Wolves Of Slaughter are out of the ring just as fast as they came in. Rounding the corner they make their way up the ramp, taunting Change In Spades about their tag title loss as the frustration sets in. The same frustration the Wolves have felt since losing their tag team championships over a month ago. This time it was their turn to share their pain with the fan favorites as the official announcement was made.

Vince Howard: The winner of this matchup via disqualification... THE REEEEEDEEEEEEEEMED!

"Hero" by Skillet plays over the speaks and is met with boos for the first time as both members of The Redeemed rolls out of the ring nursing their respective injuries. Quickly their tag team titles are ran over to them before they leave, obviously disgusted in the way their match ended. Their disgust however, has nothing on the look of what can only be described as "uber pissed" on the faces of Change In Spades as all three members watch from inside the ring as The Wolves Of Slaughter disappear backstage with a smile on their faces.

Nick: Neither team is happy with the way that one ended.

Richard: The Redeemed should be. When you're in a place like PRIME, you should take any win you can get.

Nick: Those two men have more pride than that. It's about more than just getting by with a win. To them it's about being the best.

Richard: With The Wolves of Slaughter here in PRIME, Nick... I'm afraid they're just going to have to settle for second.

Alyson Sparks is pacing around backstage, from time to time looking down at her watch, a worried frown on her face. Some men in suits walk by, giving her a dirty look as they pass. She lets out a deep sigh.

Her eyes suddenly light up, a look of relief washing over her face, though it is quickly replaced by anger, her eyes narrowing, nose wrinkling, lines of tension appearing on her forehead.

"Where the hell have you been?!"

Diego Foster walks on camera, entering stage-right. He looks tired, spaced-out, a little dirty in a sweat-shirt and jeans. A small pop can be heard from the crowd watching on the big screen.

"Can we talk about this later?"

Furious, Alyson clenches and unclenches her fists.

"Later?! There may not be a later! This is a do or die situation for you. You're in the main event in PRIME, going on in fifteen minutes, and only now do you walk up to the arena after being....incommunicado for over a week!!!"

"Incommunicado...?" Diego asks, his expression uncomprehending.

"It means you freakin' vanished off the face of this earth, you dumbass! I must have left you over a hundred messages, and no response, no sign that you were going to show up tonight, no sign that you were even still alive. So what the hell?"

"Yeah...." Diego says, closing his eyes, running his hand through his hair. "I'm going to stick with 'later' as our best option here. Trust me."

"Aaarrgh!" Alyson screams, throwing her hands in the air. "Fine, forget it. I don't care. You've already as good as ruined your chance in PRIME, no-showing last week. I don't even know why I'm here tonight, I'm beginning to think this was all a mistake."

Diego's forced smile begins to falter. "Look, I'm sorry, ok. But things...they've been complicated."

"Just get dressed." Alyson says, sighing again. Diego looks as if he wants to say something, but only nods sadly, before walking off camera in the direction of the locker room. Alyson looks after him, her anger giving way to worry.

This really was his last chance. A loss here and all his dreams, all her dreams were going to be stamped out like a discarded cigarette. The pressure was on as the main event loomed over their heads, their hopes balancing on the edge of it's blade.

Grumbling to himself, Hessian stalks down the corridor quite contented after his encounter with Shakur. Brushing a patch of dust from his shoulder he licks his lips and nods at various backstage crew on his way. Soon the staff peter out and the big man is on his own. His stomach rumbles, and he realizes he's gone the whole night without a bite to eat. Making a quick U-turn he stomps over to one of the crew hauling a rigging case and waves.

Hessian: Hey man, where's the canteen around here?

Crew Member: Uhh, back down the way you came and to the left. Then a right. Then through the double doors and second door on the left. Can't miss it.

Hessian: ….........OK thanks.

Crew Member: No problem, and it's Reidford, not Heyman.

Hessian: Huh?

Reidford: My name.

Hessian: Oh, ok. Cheers anyway.

Shaking his head, the Murder Show ambles off back the way he came, taking the first left as instructed and then to the right past a janitor pushing a floor buffer around. As he approaches the double doors his stomach rumbles louder, though this time its accompanied by a deep growl. Holding his gut, Hessian sighs and puts a hand out to open the doors when a clenched fist suddenly strikes out of nowhere against the back of his head.

He crashes through the doors and hits the floor hard as another growl emanates from a figure standing behind him. Turning around Hessian only has time to make out a large boot flying towards his face attached to a large figure clad entirely in black. The shot connects with his jaw and again he flops against the floor.

The figure gives him no time to rest, pulling at his feet and dragging him back through the doors. Stopping halfway through, the figure plants a boot into Hessian's gut and grabs one of the doors, swinging it hard into the body of the Murder Show. A feral yelp escapes the giant's throat as the figure takes the other door and begins simultaneously slamming them against Hessian's exposed ribs.

Reaching out with both arms Hessian stops both doors slamming into him again, only to receive another boot to the chest which rattles him. Clutching his chest, he feels himself being pulled a little further through the doors before the figure charges through and quickly pushes the doors shut around his throat, trapping his neck in the jamb. A gurgled roar fills the corridor as the figure produces a set of brass knuckles and slips them over his gloved fingers.

Pushing the double doors tight against Hessian's throat with one large hand the figure begins pounding on the skull of the Murder Show with the knucks. Large welts rise up quickly as Hessian feels everything going hazy. The figure relentlessy lands shot after shot into the temple of the big man until cracks in the skin split into long trampled cuts that leak blood onto the laminate floor. His roars turn to whimpers until finally the giant becomes silent, the only sound being brass on flesh as the figure continues his barbaric assault.

"What'nda f**k?!"

Suddenly two figures appear behind the figure clad in black looking on in shock. The figure stops dead and rises to his feet, the knucks dripping in thick red globules of claret. Making no noise he simply wipes the blood off and cocks his head at his handiwork.

"Fine mess you got yourself into now Von Kelsig."

Hessian groans, his eyelids fluttering as he pushes the doors apart and wearily drags himself through to the feet of the two other figures. He recognizes the man's voice immediately as that of the Man in Black, and looking up sees a blurry black shape, identifiable by the recognizable stance of Shak Diesel. By his side a large, similarly blurry figure in denim and leather that resembles Christian Daniels.

Hessian: Uhh...do...do something...

The figure in black suddenly disappears through the double doors, storming straight over Hessian's torso and eliciting a loud yelp from the Murder Show as the assailant takes off into the bowels of the arena.

Devin Shakur: Do something? You ruined my quiet time just to threaten me because I was telling you the truth. Hell, I told you those close to you couldn't be trusted and now you're lying there in a pool of denial. If I'm doing anything it's leaving your stupid ass in the dirt where you belong.

Christian Daniels: Ya wouldn't listen, now yer payin' the price. An' don't think fer a second Dev or me was behind this. If we wanted to kick yer ass we'da done it oursel'es ya fickle bastard.

With that, Shakur steps around the pool of blood and disappears down the corridor with his cohort, chuckling to themselves. Hessian tries to lift his head to call after them but the pounding pain in his skull is too much and finally his head flops back into the coagulated mess as he blacks out

While some might argue that this match was not anywhere near the most important in his career, Brandon Youngblood was still training for it like it was.

He’d made a vow of silence, only to be revoked when he earned the right to face the coveted Universal Champion. The only way he knew how to get there was staring him right in the face; become the 2009 Jewel in the Crown. As he shadow boxed near his locker, the thoughts of lost opportunities flooded into his head.

In 05, it was the Dual Halo, his body failing him even though his heart was willing. He’d passed out from the pain of Angelo Deville’s Soprano, further exacerbated by extreme loss of blood.

Later that year, it was Hoyt Williams. In a flash, all momentum he’d built up crashed, and one of PRIME’s most bitter personal feuds ended with Williams retaining the Universal Championship.

When he returned to the company, he hungered for just one chance at the pedestal, yet never got it. His shot was through the Jewel in the Crown, and while he had defeated Dusk and Digital Mortality, he also fell to Chandler Tsonda, losing a match and a chance without even being pinned to the mat.

As his muscles tightened and released with each strike to phantom opponents, he danced on the balls of his feet, sweat beading on his forehead. His impaired left eye was still covered with a black eye patch, fastened around his skull with a thin elastic strap. Rotating his shoulders, he began power walking out of the locker room, his face tightening into a stoic glare.

It wasn’t about getting his right to speak back; it was about making up for squandered opportunities, for taking a place he’d wanted to get to for years.

As he rounded the corner, Matt Mills was right there, microphone in hand.

Matt Mills: Brandon, any comments before the main event?

He wasn’t sure if he was being serious, or if he was trying to prove a point, or if it was just television journalism. He stood there, looking at the microphone, his eyes trailing up Mills forearm and then to his eyes.

He stared, expressionlessly, through him for a moment.

Before Mills could respond, Youngblood hand brushed past his arm, power walking to the ring, focused only on Diego Foster and Elise Ares.

It's time for the Main Event, everybody shake the cobwebs loose.

Nick: As the commercial said, our Main Event of the evening is coming up next and it should be a wild affair.

Richard: The consummate stoner Diego Foster against the Pariah Brandon Youngblood, however both of them are going to bite the dust against the eventual 2009 Jewel in the Crown, Elise Ares.

Nick: Something tells me Foster and Youngblood would disagree with your sentiment, but nonetheless you are entitled to it.

Richard: You damn right I’m entitled to the truth. It sets me free, Nick.

Nick: Youngblood came off a victory against Nitz Donnelly in a very close matchup on 209. Diego Foster defeated an out of shape Chet Worth and Elise Ares had a ton of help in beating Jay Phoenix.

Richard: You don’t think she’s going to have the help out here again?

Nick: I wouldn’t count my chickens before they hatch, Richard.

Richard: How else are you going to sell them before you realize they are useless pieces of someone’s ninety-nine cent Wendy’s Five piece?

Nick: RICHARD. Fans, I apologize for my partner’s insensitive comments.

Richard: NUMNUMNUMNUM.

Nick: Well, I don’t really know how to segue from that-

Richard: Basically, they didn’t teach him in segue school.

Nick: So we are going up to Vince Howard for the ring introductions.

Vince Howard: Ladies and Gentlemen, the following contest, scheduled for one fall is for the second spot at King of Kings in the 2009 Jewel in the Crown third round. Introducing first, weighing in at 261 pounds, and standing 6’4 tall…Diegoooooooooooo Foster!

Diego emerges from the back while his music 'Colony' by In Flames blares over the speakers. He gets a warmer reception than he did last week and slaps hands with a few kids at ringside. Tonight is going to be his
make or break moment.

Nick: Diego looks ready to go tonight. If he is able to get through Youngblood and Ares, he will have a banked ticket to King of Kings.

Richard: It would be huge for someone like him who is only feeding off a loss to the greatest wrestler ever in the universe.

Nick: He’s not feeding off the loss, people are praising him for his work.

Richard: In a loss.

Nick: But he’s not the one fueling the fire, other people are giving him credit and believe he belongs here.

Richard: Still doesn’t excuse the fact that he was defeated, Nick.

Nick: You are impossible to please.

Richard: Half the whores in South Carolina know that’s highly contrary to fact, bucko.

Vince Howard: Introducing the next participant, standing 5’6 and weighing 121 pounds, she is a former Tag Team Champion…The Havana Harlot, Eliseeeeeeeee Aressssssss!

All I wanna do is...

*GUNSHOTS*

Arena fades to a blue-violet color base with gold lighting highlights.

So Swaggerific
S-So Swafferific
So Swaggerific
S-So Swaggerific
How can you call it a lifestyle, when you don't live your life in style?
How can you call it a lifestyle, when you don't live your life in style?

As the pounding bass beat of "Swaggerific" by Verbz begins to play over the arena, it's greeted by a choir of jeers. Blue-violet and gold lights move around to the beat as Elise Ares explodes through the curtain making her way out into the arena. Taking a few steps forward with a hop in her step, Elise pauses and looks around at he crowd with a smirk before holding her arms straight and out and motioning her fingers towards herself as if saying "look at me!" She stops moving her fingers and just holds out her arms as if acknowledging the praise before making her way down to the ring.

Announcer Prompt:

They call me the walkin beauty paegant
Don't need a crowd with my jewelry flashin
10 girls behind me tryin to be like me
Hella fly till I die and there ain't no actin
I'm a connoseur and I'd like to help you
The look on your face got ya s*** devalued
How ya gonna rock donatella with a frown?
Girl this ain't a competition
Do you wanna ask the crowd?

Elise Ares starts her swagger down to the ring with a skip. The attitude in her step fumes of arrogance while she heads towards the ring. She wears a black leather bikini-style top with a blue-violet tribal pattern going across it. Several fans reach out to slap five with The Havana Harlot on her way down to the ring, and she pulls away from them... not wanting their grubby little hands to touch her.

She wears a black leather bikini bottom along with matching black leather studded chaps, with a blue-violet tribal pattern going up each leg of those matching the top. Reaching the end of the aisle she slides into the ring under the bottom rope and crawls across the canvas for a second on her forearms before somersaulting up to her feet.

I'm the type of girl who can make things rare
If I wear something, it'll sell out everywhere
I rock hells bells with my new chanel
You rock fake nails, chanel with two L's
I freak black pearls, I freak rose gold
Your pearls turned black when the paint got old
This is non a popularity contest
When God make me he made a new commandment

The Harlot walks over to the corner and pulls herself onto the top rope. Looking over at the crowd she holds out her arms and shakes her hips to the music with a bit of a cocky smirk. Jumping down Elise walks over to the other side of the ring and climbs that turnbuckle. Once again she shakes her hips to the music while waving her fingers towards herself in a "look at me" type motion.
Fly, fly, fly (and he said...)
Thou shalt be fly, fly, fly (til the end...)
Until the day you die, die, die
I'm fly, lemme testify
Not a habit, I'm just gifted
Lord please keep me swaggerific

Jumping down from the top rope Elise Ares backs into her corner where she jumps in place a few times to stretch for the upcoming match. The lights in the arena return to normal and "Swaggerific" fades into the boos of the crowd. Which Elise interprets in her mind as cheers, and responds with a smile of acknowledgement.

Nick: If she were to advance into Round 3, I think she would justify her behavior over the past few weeks.

Richard: Or draw into hotter water, Nick. You know she’s not the kind to take a victory silently.

Nick: She always looks the gift horse in the mouth is what you are saying?

Richard: … When are you going to figure out that some of your commentary arrangements are like bowling pins? I’m fat, Nick, I average a 220 at the lanes. I know how to knock some f**king pins down.

Vince Howard: Introducing the last competitor in the match, weighing in at 240 pounds and standing 6’3 tall, Brandonnnnnnnnnnnnnnn Youngblood!

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 Elise Ares and Diego Foster, his face remaining stoic as the fans loudly cheer for him.

His eyes remained locked on Foster 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 Ares and Foster 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 Foster, 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.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!

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.

The bell rings and all three competitors glance around the squared circle at one another. For each person in the match, their careers could be defined on this very evening. Diego Foster is looking to instantly cement his status in PRIME as one of the future headliners, Brandon Youngblood yearns for the chance to inch one step closer toward the ultimate comeback, and Elise Ares wants the monkey off her back and the opportunity to shine for the biggest Championship against The Original Villain, knowing full well she has an overwhelming advantage if she gets there.

Richard: Alright, play by play analyst, earn your money and tell us what we need to look for in this one.

Nick: Diego Foster is, simply put, looking to bang with both Youngblood and Ares, although more Ares than Youngblood. Ares wants to take this to the air because neither man is going to have the kind of comfort level she will on the top rope, and Youngblood...Well, you know what he's going to do and looking to do, wrestle.

Richard: Second best wrestler in the world behind Tony Gamble.

Nick: Only one of them is still in Jewel in the Crown.

Richard: I'm gonna break my foot off in yo ass once this match is done, son.

Youngblood startles his opposition by barreling out of the corner and heading straight for Diego Foster. One would naturally assume he would go after Ares, the person who he's decimated in the past. Foster doesn't make his charge comforting, slamming a kick into his body and letting the momentum carry Youngblood forward into the corner. Foster crunches Youngblood on the jaw with a straight left hand while Elise cautiously sneaks around to his blindside, hoping he doesn't catch her coming in. No stranger to being stuck in small spaces, Youngblood confidently release an elbow that clips Diego on the ear and moves him a few paces back. The sleeved arm winds up again and pats the jaw of the rising star, although a pat from Brandon Youngblood feels like having a brick smashed against your face.

Ares crouches in the corner, still unnoticed by both of her fellow competitors.

Nick: Foster and Youngblood testing the waters here, each man wants to see how the other one is playing with their strikes.

Richard: Playing with their what?

Nick: Strikes.

Richard: Oh, oh, strikes.

Nick: God you are disturbing.

Youngblood advances forward and goes for a European uppercut, but his slice is ineffective. Foster circles away and connects on a leg kick that spins Youngblood 90 degrees. Normally, Youngblood wouldn't be effected by something, but he didn't consider the Ares Factor. She springs from her state and reels off a picture perfect neckbreaker. Foster takes a step back while Ares slides her fingers around the windpipe of Youngblood and chokes the life out of him. Bernie Roberts nudges the youngster aside and demands Ares break the hold. When she refuses to do so, he gives her five seconds before disqualification occurs. One. Two. Three. Four...Ares breaks it.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Richard: Welcome to Heel University Day 1.

Nick: Ares loves to cheat and she'll do it whenever the time calls.

Richard: I wish she'd come whenever I beckoned.

Nick: Did that make it through the censors?

Richard: Oh yeah.

Only to place the hold back on before Youngblood has a chance to buck her off. Foster observes and waits his turn while Ares badmouths Youngblood in Spanish. Roberts is more demanding in his notion to get Ares off the second time, shoving her away from Youngblood. The Havana Harlot is none too pleased with the development and rises to confront the referee.

Richard: HEY! HEY! No, that is not cool, Bernie. I mean...Yes, it is, because you got to give Elise the business, but NO! You do NOT pull someone off another wrestler like that.

Nick: Nobody in the crowd is opposing the move.

Richard: That's because they all got to see a cleavage shot on the big screens.

Well, she thought she was at least. Foster snaps to life and pulls Ares down to the canvas with an STO. Ares feels a sensation running through her neck, one she might not get over until the next morning. Foster fluently rises to a standing position and drops an elbow across the neck. Ares lets out a yelp of pain while Foster swings around a second and third time to repeat the move. He flips her over and tilts her leg up.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Richard: If that stoner believes he's going to get a pinfall this fast, he better stick to the minor leagues.

Nick: I don't think Diego believed that at all.

Meanwhile, an angry Brandon Youngblood is collecting himself in the corner and preparing to invovle himself in the contest again. Diego brings Elise up to a standing position and rifles off a knee to the forehead. A shockwave courses through her body, dropping her back a step and leaving her woozy.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Richard: Somebody call my mom and tell her I love her.

And the chop of Brandon Youngblood unhinges her, spinning her around in the ring. Elise clutches her chesticles while The Pariah and Foster collide once again. Youngblood powers his way into a dominant position with a right hand and hooks Foster's arm, planting his feet and swinging the GTT entrant around toward the ropes. Diego uses his notable weight advantage and counters, sending Youngblood off into the ropes. Diego looks for a flying knee strike, but Youngblood doesn't flinch, grabbing the youngster and flipping him overhead with a gruesome powerslam. Diego's back arches up in the ring while Youngblood keeps the pace high octane, grabbing Foster and backing him into the corner.

Nick: Foster and Youngblood going for the gusto on one another in the early going.

Richard: I'd like to go for Elise's gusto. Giggity, giggity, giggity.

Youngblood goes for the mother of all knife edge chops, but Diego has the sense to duck out of the corner and land a vicious Muay Thai elbow on the forehead. Youngblood fires back with a right hand. Diego lands a knee to the midsection and leans on Youngblood, using his weight advantage along with the assistance of the corner for maximum leverage. The Pariah tries for some dirty boxing, but Diego is able to thwart his efforts with a massive headbutt. Youngblood feels another knee in his gut and endures a breath taking spinning roundhouse kick. Diego follows through with an elbow and wraps Youngblood around the waist, flinging him overhead with a belly to belly suplex.

Nick: Foster taking it to Youngblood here. Who is the advantage going to lie with in the long term?

Richard: Foster is owning Youngblood like weed owns him.

Nick: We get it, Richard, he enjoys an herbal cigarette from time to time.

Richard: But it provides so much materi-

Nick: No.

Waiting for the precise moment Diego gets to his feet, Elise executes a cartwheel/backflip combination into a roaring elbow strike that teeters Diego against the ropes. He's using them just to keep himself vertical. Elise stings his left leg with a shin kick and whips him into the opposite side ropes. Diego is able to counter and send Ares into the cables. On the comeback, Diego looks for a big boot but Elise slides underneath and grabs hold of the bottom rope, using it to elevate herself onto the top and back into the ring for a vicious spinning wheel kick.

Nick: Elise taking to the air and displaying her lucha libre background.

Richard: I think Youngblood is about to make her wear a mask if she doesn't turn around.

Elise must have an uncanny ability to read lips, because at the precise moment Richard's sentence concludes, she turns around to spot The Pariah winding up for a big time Yakuza kick. Elise does thee splits, literally, and drives her left fist casually into Youngblood's groin. The Pariah lets out a grunt while Elise reaches up and tugs him to the canvas with a small package.

Nick: ELISE GOING FOR THE COVER.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Richard: Can I run off some of my Youngblood small package jokes?

Nick: No.

Richard: Please?

Nick: No.

Youngblood pushes The Havana Harlot away and manages to salvage his King of Kings opportunity. Ares scampers to her feet and goes on the offensive, bringing Youngblood up by the shoulders and putting a knee into his forehead. Youngblood shoves away again, but Elise dropkicks him in the leg and takes him down to the canvas. She rolls to her side, bounces off the ropes and places her leg across the back of his neck. She decides to keep her offense aggressive and on the upper body, placing a boot across the head before exiting the ring and ascending the ropes. Youngblood can't see from his vantage point, but has to sense she is up to something. She is Elise Ares after all.

Nick: Elise trying to build some momentum with the high risk move right here.

Richard: From our vantage point we can see YOUNGBLOODISMOVING.

Ares wastes no time in contorting her body around and flying toward the ring like a missile. Youngblood perks up at the last possible moment, ducking underneath and moving forward, trapping her in a grinding side head lock. Elise tries to elbow Youngblood toward the ropes, but The Pariah isn't having any of it, sinking his teeth into the hold and clutching his wrist.

Nick: This is the game she didn't want to play, getting caught up in Youngblood's wrestling ability. There's no doubt he's one of the finest technical wrestlers anywhere and The Havana Harlot is finding that out the hard way.

Richard: No, she could only find out the hard way if he stuck that Pariah of his into her-

Nick: Just...No. Please. I want to keep my job.

Youngblood looks to cut the flow of blood to the brain by keeping this hold applied, and he's probably getting a bit of enjoyment out of making Elise suffer. The former tag champion tries every trick in the book to escape the hold, slithering out the back, moving forward, even going for a low blow, but she's unable to wriggle free.

It's about this time Diego Foster bulrushes into the scene and decides to take both wrestlers for a loop, lifting Youngblood into the air and landing a devastating back suplex.

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: Diego Foster knows how to make an impact on any match he's involved in.

Richard: YOUNGBLOOD STILL HAS THE HEADLOCK ON!

Indeed, Youngblood still has the headlock applied on Ares, although it lacks the viscosity from a few seconds ago. The Pariah is determined to make every move impactful, regardless of the punishment his own body endures. Foster rolls over and goes for the pinfall, using the pressure of Elise's head as a way to keep Youngblood's shoulder down.

Nick: Could be it right here, Foster going for the victory.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

No cigar. Youngblood puts his foot on the rope and the match continues. Foster switches to a different position, straddling Youngblood and pounding him with a forearm to the head. Youngblood is still counting sheep, so he's not able to respond. Foster increases the pressure on the next blow and even more so on the third shot. A trickle of blood pours down the nose of The Pariah.

Nick: Youngblood has been busted open ladies and gents.

Richard: Now we are getting into the real drama of fX. How long can Youngblood stay upright before he passes out?

Foster goes for a fourth elbow, but receives a wheel kick from the still horizontal Havana Harlot. He's staggered, giving Elise enough time to pry herself from the arm of Youngblood and move forward with her offense. Foster grumbles his way to a standing position and is sent reeling after a kick finds the top of his head. Elise rushes ahead, placing her arms on Diego's shoulders and pushing up, legs wrapping around the neck and flipping Diego over with a hurricanrana. Elise rolls backwards and has free reign to unload with a sick roundhouse kick across the jaw. Foster flops against the mat while Elise turns her body around, grabs the ropes, hoists herself onto the second rope and falls backwards to land an elbow. Cover.

Richard: Elise showing why she is the most entertaining wrestler in the world.

Nick: She could have the pinfall right here.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEE-

Foster powers out of the hard hitting combination, much to the chagrin of Ares, who gives Bernie Roberts a dirty look (not the one he wants) before pursuing the action again. A right hand finds the head of Foster, providing enough distraction for Ares to wrap her arm around his neck and fall backwards with a Russian leg sweep.

Nick: Elise needs to keep the offense flowing here.

Re-enter Brandon Youngblood from the blindside, locking both of Ares' arms behind her back and launching her with a full nelson suplex. Youngblood's eyes scan back and forth, his mind pondering which one of the wrestlers he should try to attack. The other will eventually involve themselves and kill his action. He grabs hold of Diego Foster, brings him three feet from the prone Havana Harlot, and drops him into her spine with a DDT.

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: You want to talk about riveting moves, that one could have put both wrestlers down.

Richard: And Youngblood does it all without saying a word.

Nick: Enough with the Norm Chad bullshit, Richard.

Youngblood rolls away from the carnage while Elise and Diego attempt to figure out where exactly they are. The pain shooting through Ares' back is aggravating and a bit numbing, while Diego massages his temple and looks for a place to bide his time and get some recuperation in. Youngblood, however, is not in the mood to give that to anybody, pulling Foster from the canvas and locking his arms up, one behind the back and the other between the legs. The Pariah lifts Foster onto his right shoulder, spins around, and slams him into the canvas. Youngblood goes for the cover.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

Foster once again powers out of the pinfall attempt. Youngblood pours the pressure on with his ground and pound, trapping the left arm of Foster with his leg and moving around, isolating the right arm and bringing Foster's head back. Youngblood unleashes an elbow across the jaw. Another. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Foster's head tilts back in an unflattering manner. Eight. Nine. The referee might have to stop this.

Nick: Brandon Youngblood is going for a knockout Gary Goodridge style.

Richard: Gary Goodridge...Is that who Jay Mohr places in that show?

Nick: Yes, Richard, Jay Mohr can drop elbows with that kind of ferocity.

Foster's only saving grace is the incoming Elise Ares, soaring through the air, with a magnificent shooting star press onto Youngblood, bringing all of her weight down on the neck of The Pariah and separating him from Foster, who is staring up at the lights. Cover.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

Youngblood throws a shoulder up and holds on. Ares stomps on his chest and turns her back, crouches down, and flips herself backwards with a moonsault. She goes for another cover.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEE-

Youngblood musters another shoulder from the canvas and keeps the battle going. Ares pushes off her right hand and gets up to a standing position, grinding a boot into the back of Youngblood's head. The Havana Harlot uses the ropes for assistance and gathers Youngblood from the canvas, driving a knee into his already bleeding forehead. Youngblood goes for a wild swing of his own, but misses, Elise coming around the side and snaking her body into the wrap around DDT. Youngblood's head spikes into the canvas. Elise mutters a few words of profanity in a foreign language and pulls Youngblood up again, running him into the ropes. Youngblood instinctively reverses the whip and goes for a lariat that would make Stan Hansen cry, but Elise ducks underneath and hits the opposite side ropes with authority. She comes back and flies into the air, Air Ares, landing the Amethystation on Youngblood and backpedaling him toward the ropes.

Nick: Elise lands a signature move and she's

It just so happens that at the exact same time, Diego Foster emerges from his stupor and lands a running bicycle kick to take Youngblood over the ropes and to the floor. Elise charges at Diego, digging her fingernails into his shoulders and looking for the backcracker. Diego slips his foot underneath the bottom rope and thwarts her plan, turning around and driving his head into her abdomen. Ares lets out an audible grunt while Foster pulls her up and wraps her in the Exploder suplex position, paying special attention to the whereabouts of Brandon Youngblood so he can't interrupt the pinfall. Elise soars across the ring while Foster scampers for the victory.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

Ares again gets the shoulder out and keeps the match going. Foster doesn't appear to mind, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her up, clotheslining her and shoving her back into the corner. Foster comes into the corner with a head of steam and connects with the roaring elbow. Ares eyes roll back in her head, which gives Foster all the incentive he needs to lock in a Muay Thai clinch and start pummeling her with knee after knee to the forehead. Elise grabs hold of the rope with her right hand, but quickly loses the grip, stumbling to her knees and leaning against Diego, hugging the knee and looking for an escape around the side. Diego impedes her with a shin kick to the cheek and drops on top of her, landing elbow after elbow on her wobbly frame.

Nick: Diego looking to put the finishing touches on this one, right now.

Elise looks to roll out of the ring, but Diego gets a hold of her by the hair and keeps her inside, striking her with brutal hammerfist after hammerfist. Bernie Roberts doesn't want to stop the fight because Elise is still intelligently defending herself, but the odds of her surviving this onslaught look pretty bleak. Diego gets a hold of her neck and takes her out to the center of the ring, away from the ropes and the possibility of a clean break. He puts another knee into her forehead, counters her looping right hand with a kick to the body, and boots her in the midsection. He locks her around the head, hoists her high and goes for the spinning Fisherman buster.

Nick: This is Diego's finisher!

Diego would be able to get the finisher off and subsequently end the contest if it weren't for Brandon Youngblood spying the situation and realizing he needed to get in the ring and put a stop to it.

Nick: Brandon Youngblood saves the match by pulling Ares Diego would be able to get the finisher off and subsequently end the contest if it weren't for Brandon Youngblood spying the situation and realizing he needed to get in the ring and put a stop to it.

Nick: Brandon Youngblood saves the match by pulling Ares off Foster.

Foster looks around with confusion, and finally meets the answer when Youngblood lifts him up onto his shoulders and swings him around into a DDT. The Pariah goes for the cover, but notices a hint of Elise Ares lingering around. She's not one hundred percent out of the contest and that concerns him. He abandons Diego, going over to Elise and grabbing her, one arm behind her back, and flipping her around in a belly to belly side slam. Elise yelps when her arm is caught in the odd predicament and Youngblood seizes the opportunity, looking for a cover on the smallest person in the match.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEE-

But Youngblood doesn't have his ticket stamped, Elise placing her foot on the ropes. The Pariah doesn't utter a word, where as he would probably have flown off the handle last time around. He turns his attention back to Diego Foster, but finds a surprise waiting for him. Diego is already back up and hammers Youngblood with a right hand.

Nick: Diego with a massive blow that staggers Youngblood.

Diego presses forward, throwing another right hand and mixing in a leg kick. Youngblood is not afraid to mix it up with anybody and counters with a European uppercut and roundhouse kick of his own. Diego eases more into his comfort zone, landing a Thai elbow and spinning back fist on The Pariah.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Youngblood responds with a blistering knife edge chop, but Diego forges ahead and seems to ignore the pain. Youngblood goes for a hammerfist chop.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Diego responds with one of his own.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Youngblood tries a kick to the ribs, but Diego blocks it and lights up Youngblood's free leg. The Pariah backs into the corner, but comes out swinging, a right and left combination connecting on the jaw of Diego. The rookie lands a quick elbow set and both fighters go back to a standing position across from one another, ready to trade.

Youngblood comes forward, swinging hard with three right hands that put Diego against the ropes. Youngblood goes for a fourth shot but Diego lands a shot on the jaw and milks the moment for all its worth, sprinting ahead and following Youngblood back into the corner with bombastic right and left hands. Youngblood is teetering, on the verge of going down, but that doesn't stop his attack first philosophy. He gives Diego a wildman's right hand. Diego chops him across the chest, lands a hard leg kick, and finishes it off with a forearm across the top of the head. Youngblood backs up until he can back up no more. Diego runs his arm over the top, using his left leg as a distraction.

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: OH MY GOD! BRANDON YOUNGBLOOD IS IN TROUBLE!

The Pariah has made his way out of the corner, although not one hundred percent voluntarily, and can barely stand. Diego peppers him with a few more shots, locks him in a Thai clinch and hammers him with two knees to the face. Youngblood uses his last burst of energy and fights valiantly to pull Diego up into a suplex, but the rookie is feeling the adrenaline surge and won't be denied. Youngblood is swung around and put on his back with another stunning right hand. His head and arms flap against the canvas.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: The crowd is behind Diego!

Diego leaps from the ground and drops all of his weight into one punch on Brandon Youngblood. The Pariah is limp.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEFOURFIFTYSPLASHFROMARES!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: Elise Ares with the BIG TIME save. Brandon Youngblood supporters had to be freaking out at that one.

Richard: Elise is using the opportunity for herself!

Diego Foster has been neutralized, just inches away from having his Jewel in the Crown ticket stamped and the moment ruined by Elise Ares.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

YOUNGBLOOD KICKS OUT.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: Where did he find the energy to do that?

Richard: It's one hundred percent heart, baby.

Ares looks over at Bernie Roberts with an expression that could write a thousand stories. She's got no idea how Youngblood kicked out of that either. His eyes are still glossed over and there's no way he's got any idea where he's at. Ares slams her fist into the canvas and looks at Diego, he's stirring and the look on his face isn't one of happiness. He charges at Ares, putting all of his energy into a massive right hand that would knock Hessian cold, but Ares ducks underneath and plants him with a stiff STO.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: Ares is now firmly in control of the contest.

Richard: She knows it too, going for the high risk maneuver.

Ares sees the golden opportunity in front of her and scales the ropes, glancing back once she gets to the top rope to ensure Foster is still in the same position he was a few seconds ago. Once her feet leave the ropes, flashbulbs engulf the building and capture a portion of the moment Elise Ares drops her finisher on Diego Foster. It is Your Feature Presentation.

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: SHE GOT IT! ELISE IS GOING TO ROUND 3!

Richard: OH YES! ALL ELISE. ALL THE TIME.

Nick: Youngblood is still flat on his back and Foster...

Richard: Will be needing the services of PRIME's medical staff.

The lights aren't on in Diego Foster's home and nobody has been home ever since he lost the pinfall attempt. Cover.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

YOUNGBLOODSAVESIT

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: Brandon Youngblood with a CRITICAL save right there, Richard.

Richard: You've got to be kidding me!

Nick: Now Elise has been SO very close to capturing the Jewel in the Crown ticket.

Richard: I'm going to go power puke if she doesn't win. Youngblood can't have much in the tank. Hit him with a Feature Presentation and let's get the hell out of this hick state.

Elise picks up on the same read Richard does, attacking Youngblood with a double ax handle and swinging him up to a standing position. She backs him into the corner, lands a forearm shiver, and shoots him across the ring. This time, because he's still trying to clear the cobwebs from getting knocked out, Ares is successful in her endeavor. She drops into a brief three point stance before charging across the ring and flying, looking to land a pair of knees to the chin of Youngblood.

Well, her knees meet Brandon Youngblood.

Nick: Uh oh.

But in the process, Youngblood reaches up with both hands and yanks her by the head while twirling her around 180 degrees. Ares drops violently toward the canvas, Youngblood exerting all his effort into executing the most devastating spinebuster PRIME has ever known.

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: Spinebuster! The Youngblood specialty! He's got it right here.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

DIEGOFOSTERWITHASMALLPACKAGECOUNTER!

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Nick: KICKOUT! YOUNGBLOOD KICKED OUT!

Richard: Ares wouldn't have either, what a wild save.

The collective heartbeats of those in attendance will need some time to return to normal after that hectic exchange. Diego Foster had another grand chance slip through his fingers because of the instincts of The Pariah. All three competitors are worn out and need to get this match over with sooner rather than later if they want to have any chance of being close to one hundred percent for King of Kings.

Nick: These three haven't gotten their offensive repertoires going until the last few moments, but when they have, it's been a great back and forth exchange.

Richard: Just have to wonder which one is going to crack first.

Youngblood and Foster are the only ones at the moment making an effort to get up and continue battling. The Pariah more than likely wants to repay the favor for Foster knocking him out earlier, and Foster wants another chance to get Youngblood in that element. The two lock eyes and rush into one another. Foster looks for his traditional fighting style, while Youngblood grabs both legs and swings Foster around, dropping him onto his back. He wipes the blood away from his good eye and dabs the patch before pounding away with elbows on Foster.

Nick: This is exactly what happened earlier in the contest. Youngblood used those elbows and almost destroyed Foster.

Richard: Any strike from Brandon Youngblood doesn't leave much to the imagination.

Foster uses his hands to block the shots, but his palms are swollen badly from all the blocking past and present. Youngblood's strikes are fierce and aren't stopping even though most of them aren't landing. He's determined to break through Foster and gain that all important advantage going into the last leg of the match. He goes for a tactic switch and headbutts Foster in the midsection, leaving his head exposed. Elbow. Elbow. Elbow. Elbow. Foster coils himself in the ropes for protection, but Youngblood doesn't haul off until Bernie Roberts dives into the scene and threatens to take away his opportunity at Jason Snow or Tyler Nelson.

Nick: Youngblood went in for the kill there, but Foster used ring presence to keep himself alive.

Richard: That was probably the only thing actually keeping him there.

Nick: Could have been, Richard.

Youngblood relents and gets up to a standing position, yanking Foster by the shoulders and pounding him with another elbow. Foster recoils into the corner. Youngblood goes for one of his vicious chops, but Diego has become akin to the feel and isn't a fan, ducking behind Youngblood and wrapping him up with a German suplex. Foster swings the hips around and goes for another, but Youngblood establishes a firm base and blocks the hold. If Foster is going to get any part of him over, there is going to be a massive amount of energy exerted. Foster can suplex most men with ease, but not those who are holding onto his legs with an arm.

Nick: Youngblood using the most effective counter to a suplex of this nature, grabbing onto Foster's legs.

Richard: He's being a coward and doesn't want to take the suplex like a man.

Nick: I really wouldn't want to take one either. I would also look at this as a chance for Youngblood to rebuild his strength for the final push.

Richard: Coward.

Foster decides to fight psychological fire with fire and uses one of his arms to wrap around Youngblood's waist while using the other to drop elbows on top of Youngblood's head. Diego pulls up, but Youngblood doesn't budge, opting to take the pain rather than give up being dumped on his head.

Elise Ares meanwhile has regained her wits and is moving toward one of the near corners.

Youngblood continues to eat the elbows of Foster, more blood pouring down his forehead. Foster is persistent, refusing to give up with the suplex because after the first one, he knows the kind of damage that can be done. Youngblood teeters back and forth, unable to reach up and block the strikes.

Nick: A battle of damned if you do and damned if you don't. Foster can knock Youngblood out if he does enough of these-

Richard: But how much of his own energy is being poured into this?

Nick: That is what Youngblood is hoping for here. He wants to explode out of this position and land a big time move that would ruin all of Foster's hopes.

Richard: I think Ares could ruin both of their hopes if they aren't careful.

Nick: Neither has noticed The Havana Harlot on the ropes. She's up there and looks to be going for the Feature Presentation yet again.

Richard: It's going to get very interesting here in the next few seconds.

Foster scoops Youngblood up, almost tripping over The Pariah to get him into a standing position. Youngblood, now without his safety net, elects for a standing switch and somehow gets behind Foster. He tries to deadlift the two hundred and sixty pounder, but Foster is clutching onto the wrists and preventing Youngblood from moving his arms around. Another standing switch occurs and Youngblood is now looking for the spinebuster. Youngblood headbutts Foster in the chest and lifts him up into the air.

It just so happens that at the same time, Elise Ares soars toward the scene from the ropes, in the middle of her Phoenix splash that should eventually transition into two knees.

The flips of Ares are prematurely ended when Diego Foster catches her in mid-air and folds her body in mid-air. The realization hits him though that he is still caught in the grasp of Brandon Youngblood and they are turning. The Pariah of PRIME is putting all of his remaining energy in the tank into lifting over three hundred and eighty pounds. He slips one arm off the back of Foster and up to his head, grasping Foster and putting him in even a tougher spot.

He's got Ares locked in the Spinning Fisherman Buster and there's no doubt she'll be going down just as hard as he does. However, there's the chance Youngblood could slip, lose his grip, or something. Perhaps he doesn't get enough impact on the move and Foster has a ready made finisher. The weight has to be excruciating on his already fatigued body. Foster can't abandon the finisher because its ready made and will put Ares down for the count. He just has to hope Brandon Youngblood can't summon enough strength and get into position fast enough for the pinfall on him before he can pin Elise.

They finish the turn, Youngblood grunting and groaning all the way into the spinebuster, tilting himself up and leaping off the ground for maximum impact.

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Ares hits the mat like a dart, head crashing into the canvas. Diego joins her a nanosecond later.

But there's no pinfall. The force of Youngblood's spinebuster separated them whereas Diego was hoping it wouldn't.

The Pariah extends his arm over Elise Ares, grazing her neck with the pinfall, forcing Diego to watch his dreams go up in smoke because he can't move any of his limbs to stop it from happening.

ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

DING! DING! DING!

Vince Howard: YOUR WINNER OF THE MATCH...AND MOVING INTO ROUND 3 OF JEWEL IN THE CROWN...BRANDONNNNNNNNNNNNN YOUNGBLOOD!

Nick: Folks, that was one hell of a way to end ReVolution 212.

Richard: The double finishing move of death.

Nick: And what about the decision for Youngblood to pin Ares? That sent multiple messages to plenty of folks in the locker room and Diego himself.

Richard: Don't screw with the guy wearing a singlet.

Nick: All three of these performers should be applauded. They gave a tremendous effort here this evening and nobody should be ashamed of their performance.

Richard: Except the two people who lost.

Nick: Would you get off with the losses? Elise Ares was able to prove that she does belong with the elite of PRIME while I'm sure now Diego Foster is going to have to field a few more contract offers from companies since he hasn't been formally signed.

Richard: We'll get on that. PRIME needs to appeal to the stoner demographic.

Nick: And Brandon Youngblood? He gets the W in spectacular fashion and joins Tyler Rayne at the Pay-Per-View

Richard: Well, partner, I suppose that about wraps it up.

Nick: It does. For Nick Stuart, that's Richard Parker, ReVolution 212 is in the books.