A lone camera focuses on Nick Stuart and Richard Parker at the announcer table. The image appears on the PRIME*View and causes the Charleston Civic Center to erupt in delight.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Sounds about right

Nick Stuart: WELCOME EVERYONE TO THE 232ND INSTALLMENT OF REVOLUTION! I'M NICK STUART-

Richard Parker: AND I'M RICHARD 'I GOT MY ASS KICKED BY A TEXAS RANGER NAMED WALKER SO NOW MY FACE LOOKS LIKE SARAH JESSICA' PARKER

Nick: And we're here live in the CH-

GOD SAID THAT A MAN SHOULD WORK WITH HIS HANDS!

Nick: Oh no.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Richard: Who else were you expecting to open the show?

Nick: Expecting and hoping are two different things, Richard.

Richard: You are right. I hoped this would happen.

All the lights shut off. Pitch black. Sporadic lighters pop up throughout the crowd, but the rage of enthusiastic PRIME fans only intensifies as Peter Frampton slowly glides his fingers over an acoustic guitar in the fashion of Chris Cornell. This man doesn't have many fans anywhere he goes.

A cascading wave of black pyrotechnics sends smoke out into the people and a pair of dark brown eyes invade the PRIME*View.

YOU TAPPED OUT! YOU TAPPED OUT! YOU TAPPED OUT! YOU TAPPED OUT!

Speaking of the devil, the gigantic eyes stop blinking and his name appears in massive black letters on every screen throughout the Arena.

[SHAKUR]

The curtain is thrown open. With a long leather trench coat covering his body, Shak Diesel steps onto the stage and cracks a mischievous smile.

Nick: You know he's going to gloat about defeating Tyler Rayne again. You just know it's coming.

Devin Shakur: CHILDREN OF PRIME, LEND ME YOUR EARS!

Richard: You guys better do it, he might actually come out with a butter knife and cut all of them off as crazy as he's been lately.

Devin Shakur: Our days of oppression are over! The days where you had to sit down and watch two hours of absolute filth highlighted by Tyler Rayne-

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Shakur: HAVE COME TO AN END!

Nick: Called it.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Shakur: His career is six feet under... AGAIN! How many times does this make now, twice, three? I've lost count truth be told.

Nick: He never tells the truth.

Out from behind the curtain, practically unnoticed, is 'The Biker' Christian Daniels walking slowly behind his brother.

Shakur: The leech of PRIME has finally given in. He may have been cut down in his glory days, but let's be honest... Did you ever think Rayne would find success in a company RUN BY ME?

Richard: ANCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Shakur: And I've heard through the grapevine that Rayne did this before he left, and Rayne did that before he left. I'll admit he got one over on me last week by signing some mid-card loser who couldn't crack the upper echelon. Hmm, sounds like a lot of the network Rayne keeps.

Shakur walks up the stairs and hops between the second and third rope. Daniels steps over the top.

Shakur: Excluding one person, who I'm going to address at the moment. Lindsay Troy.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Shakur: For weeks, and weeks, you left me hanging in the dark about who and about why. But now it all makes sense doesn't it? You have to still try and stick up for what is right in PRIME. You have to still try and stick up for the time I humiliated you back at UltraViolence 2008 and won my Universal Championship. It was supposed to be your time to get the belt back and become the only three time. THREE TIME. UNO. DOS. TRES. Universal Champion, but I stopped you. Granted, yeah, you tripped Cozen so she couldn't get back up, BUT YOU DIDN'T EITHER!

Nick: This is ancient history. What does any of it have to do with now?

Richard: It's full circle.

Shakur: You are fighting for causes which aren't causeworthy anymore, Troy. You are just trying to save pride. Pride is always the downfall. Pride is what got everybody before you knocked on their ass and sent to the retirement home early. If you want to be the next one down that road, with the entourage I've got rolling around, be my guest. Let's see how far you get now that you've revealed yourself.

Nick: Lindsay Troy is not someone who backs down from any fight, whatsoever. She'll be ready to combat Shakur.

Richard: I can already see the headline in the newspaper.

Nick: I can already see the revised version the next day after the match happens.

Before Shakur can speak, the crowd comes alive.

YOU TAPPED OUT! YOU TAPPED OUT! YOU TAPPED OUT! YOU TAPPED OUT!

The Boss lowers the microphone and stares out at the audience with a you've got to be kidding me expression.

Shakur: Really, we're on this again? Honestly, you bunch of ingrates are so hypnotized by your heroes that you'll fall before their feet if they have to step over a puddle. You would jump in front of cars for them. You will even chant SUCH A STUPID PHRASE BECAUSE EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU WOULD HAVE DONE THE SAME! I COULD HAVE BROKEN MY NECK!

YOU TAPPED OUT! YOU TAPPED OUT! YOU TAPPED OUT! YOU TAPPED OUT!

Shakur: YOU ALL TAP OUT AT LIFE EVERY SINGLE DAY!

Nick: He's gone.

Shakur: EVERY DAY WHEN YOU WAKE UP AND ONLY DREAM ABOUT BEING SOMEBODY...

The Boss eyes a fat teenage kid in the front row and points him out.

Shakur: OR IN YOUR CASE, FAT FUCK, DREAM OF DOING SOMEONE-

The Boss receives a bird from the kid and a mouthful from his parents.

Shakur: Yeah, raising him on a steady diet of cheeseburgers, pizza, soda, and freedom from rules and regulations really got him somewhere. You know where he'll be in 5 years? The same place he is now. Stuck in his room in the basement. Not only because he's a good for nothing ingrate, but also because he won't be able to fit out the door.

Richard: HA!

Shakur: You are a product of Tyler Rayne and now all of us have to carry your excess weight around on our backs. Well, just to prove my point, SECURITY! GET HIS ASS OUT OF THE BUILDING!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick: Oh come on! You can't kick that kid out of the building!

Richard: He's holding us down, Nick!

Nick: The young man bought a ticket to see the show. I'm sure he saved up for weeks and weeks and now he's being kicked out for no good reason.

Richard: He's keeping us in the past.

Even though the parents protest, and a few in the audience desire to get physical with security, three Enemigos escort the kid down the aisle and out through the Exit door to a horde of jeers directed at Shakur. The mother hurls her box of popcorn at Shakur, hitting him right in the face.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

But even that doesn't slow Shakur down.

Shakur: I've got my tongue in a box. THAT'S ANOTHER THING YOUR SON WILL NEVER ACCOMPLISH!

Nick: Oh come on! Let it go, Dev! Just focus on the task at hand.

Richard: Judging by the way the arena is shifting back and forth as that kid walks, I'd say that was the task at hand.

Nick: You are both disgusting.

Once the parents are out of Shakur's line of sight, The Boss turns back around to face the camera.

Shakur: Now, as for tonight... I've scheduled myself in a match with the man who, last week, decided to make a name for himself at my expense. He decided to be the torch bearer for Tyler Rayne... I'm talking about Big Bear.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Shakur: Yes, cheer for a low-life. In fact, why don't you just go total OMG Justin Beiber and Miley Cyrus crazy for him right now. Big Bear, I'm calling you out!

Nick: Well here we go, this should be damn interesting.

Richard: Hope he didn't bring any picnic baskets.

Nick: …

I’m a roller
I’m a rider
I’m number one motherfuckin’ survivor

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: And it doesn't take him long to come out.

To the audio pleasure of all you PRIMEates "Survial of the Sickest" by Saliva snaps over the PA, cuing the crowd to stir.  The curtain jerks back and donning some one classy ‘SEXYTIME!’ t-shirt with blue jeans, Big Bear points down the ramp at Shakur with mic in hand.

Big Bear: I was trollin’ the babes in the back when I thought I heard a little McChumpburger runnin’ his gums numb.  Was that you, Emo?

Shakur: You damn right it was me. I've got one question for you Big Bear, frankly because that's all I think you can answer without getting a brain freeze. And that question is... Why come back?

Big Bear: I’ve got a few reasons, Boss. First bein’ you’re a chump.

CHUMP! CHUMP! CHUMP! CHUMP!

Big Bear: Second, theoneandonly Mister Tyler..

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Big Bear: …Rayne, gave me a ring a ding ding and told me he had a job opening. Since I’ve been stuck in the far south, it’s been a while since I’ve had the rush of being under the bright lights. 

Big Bear shoots a flashy smile to the crowd, then Shakur, and then to the rafters.

Big Bear: Third reason would be I’ve got to follow the oath I took; An oath that stands for more than me, or that guy, or that hot girl over there; The oath that I will always live by. 

Big Bear stands at attention underneath the PRIME*View and places his fist on his chest.

Big Bear: If you bein’ a chump… you beggin’ for a thump!

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

The Boss shoots a menacing glare out at the audience.

Shakur: Really? THAT? THAT'S ALL IT TAKES? I've come up with better catchphrases for a wall after a fistful of Ambien!

Richard: Best drug in the history of drugs.

Shakur: I also didn't know the Bounty Paper Towel guy knew how to talk street. This is a fascinating demographic of about two people: You and only you. Give me one reason, Big Bear, why I shouldn't fire you right now. Rayne ain't here. He ain't stopping me from it. Tyler back there can't prevent me.

Richard: FIRE HIM!

Big Bear: Look at it, Shakur. You’d be losin’ out on your cut of the chump bustin’ demographic. Each and every PRIMEate and PRIMEtte wet their pants last week when the Big Bear came growlin’ back into the spotlight.

The fans cheer as Big Bear motions to the fans around him.

Big Bear: For example, when I came rompin’ and rollin’ through Manchester, New Hampshire last week, on live TV, and all you people knew PRIME was comin’ to town… what did ya come here to see tonight?

Big Bear points at Shakur, who rolls his eyes and turns his back.

BUST! THAT! CHUMP!
BUST! THAT! CHUMP!
BUST! THAT! CHUMP!

Big Bear grins to Shakur.

Big Bear: You’re going to take that away from people?  You’d be like… the guy who kills puppies in PRIME; loved by none, hated by all. Then, ya know… Snip snip.  You’d be out of work. No fans… no shows.

Nick: Good point.

Apparently Shakur doesn't see it that way and fires back.

Shakur: No shows? NO SHOWS? You've got to be out of your mind. You are just a placeholder for Rayne and nothing more. You are trying to carry his legacy. You are trying to be the next of a failing breed. It's a fine example to set for yourself. But even with all your bravado, you can't be Tyler Rayne. You can't continue his legacy. He's DONE!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Shakur: FINISHED!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Shakur: DEAD!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Shakur: And YOU

A stern point at Big Bear.

Shakur: Will never be Tyler Rayne. I've ended his life... twice.

Big Bear’s grin turns to a cold stare. Seriousness, as much of it as this moose can muster, spews out of the big man’s lips.

Big Bear: That’s exactly why I’m here you jackwagon.  I’ve been in the dark waters of wrestling, being paid in banana peppers and Peeps, and wrestling because I love it. Just like Rayne. Then you come along and try to take his life… TWICE….

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Big Bear: Yeah! That prick!

Fans bombard Shakur with every type of derogatory comment one could think of, even ‘SCALLYWAG.’
 
Big Bear: You take the fun out of it all, especially for the fans, when you try and kill people. Didn’t your mother stick around long enough to tell you killin’ folks is bad?

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Shakur's eyes go wide.

Richard: I think he just lit the fuse he didn't want to light.

Nick: That one might have even gone a bit below the belt in my book. In the little public information we have about Shakur-

Richard: Mama Shakur died giving birth. Feel good now, Big Bear?

The microphone hits the canvas and now Shakur is screaming every obscenity in his vocabulary at Big Bear. A few are in Spanish, a great deal in Chinese, but all with venom flying from a now raging Boss in Black. He tries to step between the ropes and go out to start a fight, but for the first time since discreetly walking out behind Shakur, Daniels pulls him back.

Richard: That might have just got him fired regardless of if he puts butts in the seats.

Big Bear brings the microphone up to his lips again.

Richard: If he goes after any other family members, I don't think even Daniels could hold him back.

Big Bear: It’s been a long time since I’ve put my boss through a table but I think it’s been a long time comin’ for you, Mr. Chump. Rayne gave me a call, and yeah, I was worried about bein’ a flop again. Then he told me you were runnin’ the show and told me what your scrawny ass was up to. That’s when I knew I didn’t have to come back and beat Killean, or Snow, or even you. The worst that can happen is I’m gonna put you in your place and give you a taste of the old school method of… what goes around, comes around.

BUST THAT CHUMP!
BUST THAT CHUMP!
BUST THAT CHUMP!

Fumbling around on the canvas for the microphone, Shakur ignores his large audience and is uttering inaudible swears while trying to gain a grasp on the mic. His hands are shaking.

Nick: This just added a tidal wave of interest to their battle later tonight.

Richard: A tidal wave of ass whooping for Big Bear.

Finally, Shakur gets the microphone in his sweaty fingers and screams.

Shakur: YOU PIECE OF SHIT! YOU WANT TO FIND OUT ABOUT WHAT GOES AROUND COMES AROUND? YOU'LL FUCKING FIND OUT WHEN I SPILL YOUR BLOOD ALL OVER THE STATE OF WEST VIRGINIA!

Big Bear snarls at Shakur.

Big Bear: Sounds fan-fuckin’-tastic, Emo Boy. I’d be glad to tear you a new one in front of Charleston’s finest.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH

Big Bear: Then you won’t be runnin’ your mouth about anymore of this high and mighty bullshit. You’re gonna get brought back down to eye level… Gamble’s eye level. I’m gonna pound your head into your ass and you’re gonna become the new shortest athlete in the world when I…

Big Bear slowly raises his arm to the sky. He snaps forward, directing the INDEX FINGER OF DUME! At Shakur. You knew it was coming.

BUST!
THAT!
CHUMP!

Big Bear: Boss, you can spout on about runnin’ me out of PRIME, you can boast about how grand and graceful you are in the ring; you can even tell the world you’ve got it all figured out.  When the dust settles and the dance is over, the only thing that I care about is gettin’ you in between those ropes tonight.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH

Big Bear: When I do these fans, and those millions watchin’ across Mother Earth, are gonna know that you’ve been mangled by the paws in an ol’ fashion Big Bear Beatdown.  Once I put you down as just another busted chump, you’ll understand that I’m not Rayne. I’m not Dawkins.  More importantly, I’m not here to keep the flame burning… I’m here to start another fire. A fire under your ass.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Richard: I think you already did that one, buddy boy. Not going to be capable of getting extinguished.

Big Bear: I’m gonna remind you that when you mess with the best, you’re gonna get a test from the man with a hairy upper lip. Never forget he who does the busting; a busting you’ve been beggin’ for.

Big Bear turns to head through the curtain.  He turns back, looking over his shoulder.

Big Bear: Chump.

Flipping the microphone down, Big Bear exits to a roar from the crowd. Shakur tries pulling himself through the ropes, only to be restrained by Daniels who constantly says "Later tonight. You'll get him then."

Nick: Oh man, if you wanted a Main Event with some intensity. Some fireworks. You just got it. Folks, don't go no where. We've got that-

Richard: We're gonna get to see someone murdered on live TV.

Nick: And Hessian Vs The First all coming your way, next!

An angry drumbeat mingles with heavy guitar riffs 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 Big Bad Boda Daddy manhandles the Dual Halo, showing that even after four years away from the ring he is still one of the best in the world.

Always under attack.
Always coming in last,
Bringing up the past.

The First displays his acrobatics during a tryout match for the company. His philosophies might be a tad awkward, but there is no doubt the man can compete.

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

The controversial Chainz stares into the camera with a sadistic glare.

So paranoid...
Watch your back!

Tony Gamble is back again just like your favorite STD. Wait, what?

Oh my, here we go...

The Prince of Delusion, Vangelus Olsig defeats Brandon Youngblood to capture the 2010 Dual Halo Crown and in the very next shot is seen holding the Universal Championship.

Another lose cannon gone bi-polar
Slipped down, couldn't get much lower.
Quicksand's got no sense of humor.
I'm still laughing like hell.

Vance Raymes blasts Elise Ares in the skull with a boot.

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 snaps off a Good Times, Painful Memories kick at the expense of Tony Gamble, costing his longtime compadre the 5 Star Championship.

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

Christian Daniels snarls to the camera and swigs from his beer. He's only wrestled four times, but try convincing a seven foot behemoth that he can't be in the introduction video. Especially one who has the ear of The Boss in Black. Not easy.

To explain,

Nitz Donnelly is the first man to enter the Dual Halo 2010. He takes the best shot of every wrestler and comes out with a Top 10 finish, solidifying his name as a PRIME superstar.

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

Tyler Rayne flashes the million dollar smirk toward the camera. It melts the hearts of every woman on the planet and a few guys too.

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

The Queen hath return to PRIME and that is good for absolutely nobody.

I'm so sick of this tombstone mentality,
If there's an afterlife,
Then it'll set you free.
But I'm not gonna part the seas
You're a self-fulfilling prophecy.
You think that cryin to me,

Matt Mills with a microphone in his hand. Yes, you better believe this gambling addict has finally worked his way into the introduction. He'll use the income from being featured in this to create a new online account at Full Tilt Poker. We believe the screen name will be isildur2.

Looking so sorry that I'm gonna believe,
You've been infected by a social disease.
Well, then take your medicine.
I created the Sound of Madness.
Wrote the book on pain.
Somehow I'm still here,

Tchu lands a Downfall on Chainz and captures the Intense Championship.

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

Patterson Loch. Not much is known about the kid, but one can expect him to make an instant impact.

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

Skylar Montgomery with a big X through his image. NO CLIP FOR HIM!

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

The boss, Devin Shakur. He conned and weaseled his way into the front office and now has his wish, to run PRIME as he sees fit. The Dark Days of PRIME have officially begun. He gets two mentions in the video because he's paying for this video to air.

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

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

Castor Von Strife with the Universal Championship high over his head.

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

PRIME...Number One by Definition.

The echoes of Big Bear’s boots bounce of the walls. His eyes burn at the thought of his grizzly paws wrapped around Shakur’s neck later. His boots tromp through the halls of the Charleston Civic Center in rhythm. It stops.

Big Bear: I’m going to need some grub before I beat this chub.

On a dime, the mustachioed man makes for the luxurious, glorious, splendiferous, fantabulous place that is the catering room. He looks ahead, squints, and then makes like a bull for the door, bowling people over in his path. He stops the second he notices some rockin’ multi-highlighted hair.

Lindsay Troy stands against the wall, in front of the open door to the catering area. Her ever-present smirk is plastered on her face as she looks at something beyond the camera's sight. When the stampede that is Big Bear comes within earshot, she tilts her head and offers him a grin.

Troy: I see Tom Selleck's moustache decided to show up tonight, but I don't know where the rest of him is.

Big Bear: This moustache is way cooler than Tom Selleck’s, LT. I know it’s been a while but your eyes haven’t gotten that bad, have they?

Big Bear shoots a coy grin her way.

Troy: Now that's just blasphemous; nobody's moustache is cooler than Tom Selleck's. And I may be a couple years older since the last time you stomped around these halls, but my eyes are just as keen as they ever were.

She whacks him playfully on the back.

Troy: Nice of Tyler to rescue you from the hinterlands of professional wrestling.

Big Bear’s smile fades and a fear passes through his mind. He shudders.

Big Bear: I dare not haunt you with the trials of my fortitude, Troy. I’m just glad to be back where I have things to take care of. Like Donald Chump, out there. When did this place go to shit and that scab take over?

Troy: Around the same time as the Haiti Earthquake. It's all related, I'm telling you.

Big Bear scratches his chin, head, and armpit. Haiti made an earthquake?

Big Bear: Well, whoever’s doin’ the quakin’ better start wakin’ and bakin’. I’m not too fond of that little fudgepacker and I’ve only worked here for twenty minutes. By the way, wanted to send my thanks for stickin’ your neck out for me last week; much obliged.

Troy: Figured it was the least I could do, since you became Tyler's final act before the (air quotes) "firing."

She shakes her head.

Troy: Shakur has no idea what he's, collectively, gotten himself into.

Big Bear’s knuckles smack against his palm. He snarls, grinding his teeth.

Big Bear: You got that right, sister. I’m lookin’ to put a good hole in that guy’s head tonight.

Big Bear eyes a three-foot party sub inside the confines of the catering cathedral. His eyes burst like spotlights. It’s covered in banana peppers. His eyes bounce from the sub to Troy. He begins to salivate beyond his own control, bouncing his gaze from the sub to Troy, to the sub, back to Troy, and so on. She leans in, observing the odd behavior’s cause, and spots the food splayed out on the table.

Big Bear: Good seein’ ya, Miss Troy!

He darts into the doorway, nearly mowing down an exiting Dan Ryan in the process, and attacks the party platter paradise, mowing down a third of the sub with two bites. Caterers scatter about and try to tame the Big Bear but each catch the same fate of stern elbows and head nudges away from his furious feast.

Dan stops next to his sister-in-law with a plate full of bread, cheese, various carved meats, and potato chips. He looks back into the catering room, then over to Troy.

Dan Ryan: I thought Tom Selleck traded in his Jesse Stone gear for cop clothes. Why's he hear eating our food?

Lindsay Troy: If that was Tom Selleck, I'd say they don't feed them enough over at CBS.

Dan Ryan: Huh. (Holds up food) Well, let's go. I've got paninis to make.

Troy snatches a chip off Dan's plate before he can pull the pile away. They walk off down the hall, leaving the camera to pick up the ravenous gnawing of Big Bear's teeth into various unsuspecting sandwiches.

Matt Mills doesn't know what to expect.

He's heard all the rumours he could possibly hear; the man's a mean drunk, he beat a fellow wrestler half to death one time right in the center of the ring, the man ain't worth a damn. But Mills has decided to take the rumours with a pinch of salt.

Mills [mumbling]: Hell, he can't be any worse than some of the current roster...

Cameraman (he can do whatever a camera can): What?

Mills shakes his head.

Mills: Nothing.

He's stood in the corridor of the Charleston Civic Center, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a rather distinctive look of boredom spread right across his face. Mills could tell the cameraman wasn't exactly having the best of times either, with a large camera hoisted upon his shoulder. Mills insisted he left the camera on the whole time, just so he wouldn't miss a second of the potential interview. He's heard the target isn't much for talking like most in the profession and whatever actual usable material they'll get will most likely be a short and sweet. But so far the wait was killing them both.

Waiting is always the worst part of interviews. That and the standard beatings.

Cameraman: I'm sick of this waiting, man. This guy even gonna show?

Mills: Rumours all this week he's coming in to see Le Grand Fromage this week and –

Cameraman: Le Grand what? What the hell are you talking about? Do I look French to you?

Mills sighed.

Mills: If you're asking whether you look like a dickbag or not, the answer is yes.

Camerman: Ain't no call for that, man!

Mills: Sorry I...wait. McKail? Jacob McKail?

The cameraman reacts quickly, redirecting the camera towards the man walking along the corridor, the man Mills is addressing. We are confronted by a short-haired man, with tightly trimmer beard and moustache. He's wearing a green polo shirt and dark blue jeans...not a bourbon stain in sight. Bottom line, this isn't how the man used to look back when he used to rock out GCW, SCCW and JUST and certainly not the type of man Mills was expecting to see.

Mills: Is that you?

McKail regards Mills and the camera carefully, but does not stop walking.

McKail: Yeah? What of it?

Mills: You've changed...

McKail: Not all that much.

Mills shakes himself out of his self-imposed shock and takes chase of the former SCCW Universal Champion, the camera following him like a bad smell.

Mills: I can see you haven't warmed up to interviews all that much...

McKail glared at him.

McKail: No shit.

Mills nodded, deciding to stick with his initial short but sweet plan.

Mills: So rumours have been circulating all week that you've signed up with PRIME...any truth to that?

McKail: Well I'm here, ain't I?

Mills: I guess so...but the question all the PRIME viewers want to know the answer to is: have you signed a contract yet? Is it official?

McKail shakes his head.

McKail: Yeah, pretty much.

Mills develops a smile.

Mills: That's great news!

McKail glares at him and shakes his head, but Mills in perturbed and his smile widens.

Mills: So I guess now that begs the question: where have you been for the last year?

McKail grunts angrily.

McKail: That ain't a question I'm gonna answer.

With that Mills jumps into McKail's path.

Mills: But--

But unfortunately McKail doesn't bother to break his stride, barging Mills aside, sending him sprawling into the cameraman and both fall to the floor in a heap.

McKail: That wasn't the best of ideas, boy.

Cameraman: No shit...

Mills: Ugh

McKail walks out of sight.

Backstage in the Charleston Civic Center, Chris Sloboda, along with his brother David, is sitting on a bench in their dressing room. The Big Bad Boda Daddy is sitting in one corner, David is facing him in the opposite corner.

His property, the 5-Star Title is being paraded around by Nitz Donnelly, something not sitting well with the brothers at all.

David: How did we let ourselves fall for his tricks?

The 5-Star Champion, minus said title, frowns and furrows his brow.

Boda: You think I "LET" this happen?

He pauses, not exactly clear of what else to say.

Boda: Question is, what are we gonna do about it?

David: I've had security trying to track this guy down and he's more slippery than an eel. He's fast to boot as we found out last week.

Boda: So they've come up empty?

His brother nods slowly as he sighs.

Boda: Then I'll have to find him and leave him in a puddle of his own entrails.

Voice: Now that sounds like a threat.

As soon as the voice is heard, the crowd in their seats pop, confirming this is being seen worldwide right now. The brothers jump up and make their way over to the TV in the other side of the dressing room. Sure enough, the 5-Star thief is on screen. He's smiling, the shimmer of his pearly whites almost a match for the gold draped across his shoulder.

Nitz: Awwwwww, did the Big Bad Boda Baby lose his rattle? Did he make boom boom in his diaper?

He makes odd baby like noises into the camera, wiggling his finger.

Nitz: That's my way of asking if you shit your pants last week when I swiped your title and foiled your little plan to jump me. You fuckin' tool. You really think I'd fall for the ol' "Hold the title, see how it looks in your hands" routine that you tried? Damn kiddo you must really not think that much of me. I mean, I have a reputation with the fans to uphold here... if I was that dumb I wouldn't even be in contention for this title, nevermind swiping it right out from under your ski-sloped fat nose.

Boda: …

Nitz: Ahhhhhh speechless are you? Well fear not douchebag! See this door behind me here?

The Ego steps aside and waves his hand to show the name of Lisa Tyler.

Nitz: Yes, she is once again our fearless leader. Well, fearless until she sees what I'm packin' in these cargo pants tonight. But I'm heading right through this door in a couple minutes to serenade the boss lady with my stories of success in removing Elise Ares from PRIME altogether and my soon to be best selling book, "How I Won 5-Stars from a 2-Star Chump". So come see me and get your title. I couldn't make it any easier for you jackass.

The TV changes from the Donnelly feed back to the Sloboda Brothers dressing room. The current 5-Star Champion is fuming, clearly bothered by the smart remarks spewed forth by his ReVolution 234 challenger. The Big Man kicks the television off its stand, sending it crashing into the lockers. David tries to step in and calm Chris down. Chris stomps off without a word towards the door, whipping it open and forcing the doorknob to slam against the concrete wall. David shakes his head, forced to follow in his brother's footsteps, knowing that something bad is about to happen.

Richard: Country roads, take me home… to the place I belong… West Virginia, mountain mommas, take me home… country roads…

Nick: Well… that was beautiful Richard, really it was.

Richard: I thank you Nicholas, I’ve been taking some singing lessons with Randy Jackson from American Idol and I think it’s really paying off.

Nick: Randy Jackson? …From American Idol? …Really?

Richard: I dunno if it’s actually Randy Jackson, but the guy is pretty big and pretty black, so I’m guessing the odds are good.

Nick: Oh mercy.

Richard: What? Get off your high-horse man, I’ve said way worse than that over the past seven years!

Nick: I guess so, but still buddy. Not cool… not cool at all.

Richard: Argh! Speaking of ‘not cool’!

The upbeat hook of "Stand Up" by The Prodigy echoes out over the speaker system in the Charleston Civic Center and is met with a wave of apathy from the long-suffering PRIMEates. Without anything close to pomp or anything remotely resembling ceremony, Patterson Loch strolls out awkwardly from under the PRIME*View with a beaming smile on his face and beautiful brown trunks on his crotch.

Richard: Good God, would you just take a look at this guy? It’s like I forget just how much of a dork he is from one show to the next and then BLAM here he is to remind me!

Nick: Patterson didn’t have such a good week on ReVolution Two-Thirty-One back in New Hampshire, let’s just say that folks there didn’t take too kindly to his complaints about Nitz Donnelly’s conduct in the Scotsman’s debut match.

Richard: Oh Hoyt, now I remember… This is the douchebag who got so upset by a crowd reaction that he dropped the microphone and walked backstage with his tail between his legs! …Wait a second… if that happened, then why the hell is he back out here?!

Parker stands up from his chair and angrily shakes a fist towards Loch, motioning for him to turn around and head back to where he came from, as Nick jumps up beside his broadcast partner and drags him back down by his shoulders. Thankfully for the overly-sensitive newcomer, he doesn’t appear to see it between his stilted waves to the fans and his obvious enthusiasm at being out there in front of so many people.

Nick: Will you give the guy a break?! He’s just a misguided young fellow and he isn’t doing anybody any harm… at least listen to wha- …don’t you DARE fall asleep on me again! You’re getting paid to announce this damn show, so you’ll announce it!

Richard: Humph, alright… but don’t expect me to enjoy it… and DO expect a lot of sarcasm!

Nick: I wouldn’t have it any other way.

He really wouldn’t, Nick Stuart loves the bones of his colorful co-commentator really. That magic relationship aside, the less-than-magical relationship shared between Patterson Loch and the PRIME fans is about to take another turn for the worse, as the Chicago resident has received his microphone from Vince Howard and "Stand Up" has slowly drifted away to silence.

Patterson: Ladies and gentleman, I am Patterson Loch and it’s FANTASTIC to be here in beautiful Charleston, West Virginia!

Loch gives off a huge grin at the cheap pop.

Richard: Mick Foley, eat your heart out.

Nick: That’s a solid start; fans are on side, keep it up Pat!

Patterson: I hope all of you fine people are having a fantastic Halloween and that you’re gonna enjoy the show tonight!

Another picture-perfect smile from the man who apparently wears brown trunks everywhere he goes.

Richard: BORING! BORING! BORING!

Nick: C’mon, c’mon.

Patterson: Last week, in Manchester, New Hampshire, I came out with an idea… an idea that I wasn’t able to turn into a reality due to the immaturity of the audience.

Richard: Oh, oh… he’s losing ‘em! This guy is so bad it’s untrue!

Patterson: …but I know that the people of West Virginia are a different breed… a respectful breed… a law-loving breed!

Richard: He’s obviously never been to Charleston before…

Loch takes a look around the packed arena and basks in the glorious, confused silence for a few seconds, before eventually getting somewhere near to his point:

Patterson: And so, putting all of that big ol’ Nitz Donnelly (*pop*) misunderstanding behind me, I would like to issue an open challenge to any guy in the back there who thinks that they can beat me FAIRLY AND SQUARELY inside of this ring.

Nick: Well he got there this week, so he’s making progress! You can tell the guy is nervous and he just wants a fair chance to impress the brass – I personally don’t think that’s too much to ask!

Richard: ‘FAIRLY AND SQUARELY’ – Hoytdammit, give me a break! Anything BUT fair and square, man, give me a first blood match, a cage match, a good old street fight… ANYTHING!

Patterson: …by that I mean NO holding of the tights during pinfall situations… NO complaining to the match official… NO illegal or unsporting behavior of ANY KIND!

Loch raises his voice to a shout to emphasize the point and appears to wait for a positive reaction from the crowd, which never arrives…

Richard: As inbred as these ‘fine’ folks look, I’m pleased to say they seem about as enamored with the idea of a ‘fair’ match as I am… I suppose you’re salivating over the prospect?

Nick: Well I… I have to say… probably wouldn’t hurt to have some good old-fashioned wrestling on ReVolution. I’m game to see what this kid can do, given a fair chance.

Patterson Loch appears to be growing frustrated in the ring as a mild ‘BORING’ chant begins building up around the venue, and pulls the microphone back to his mouth:

Patterson: Come on! Big or small, fat or thin, black or white… any of you guys in the back who think you can beat me fair and square, let’s be having you!

Getting increasingly riled; Loch marches purposefully around the canvas like a caged animal, as the fans offer little or no reaction to his request…

…that is, until "Trampled Underfoot" by Led Zeppelin hits and red, gold and purple pyrotechnics shoot off from the stage…

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: OH MY!

Richard: Ha! Look at that idiot’s face!

Amidst the amazing pop, in the middle of it all; stands Patterson Loch – with his jaw almost scraping the mat. He stands stoically still, not moving a muscle, just looking up the ramp in total shock as a solo Lindsay Troy strolls out from underneath the PRIME*View with the Intense Title strapped firmly around her waist.

Nick: Our Intense Champion is here! The woman who defeated Matt Ward at Colossus VII in one of the greatest matches in the history of our company… and she appears to be answering Patterson Loch’s open challenge!

Richard: Now Nick, you know as well as anybody that Troy is about as high on my list of favorite things as anal seepage, but THIS, this right here… it’s golden! Just look at this dork!

Troy reaches the tip of the stage and smiles widely, taking in the controlled chaos with a smooth glide of her head from left to right. She pats confidently on her title belt and then points up to Patterson Loch with a big ‘thumbs up’, which seems to act as a shock to the man from Berwick, who begins to frantically plead with Max Johnson – who has literally just arrived into the ring while everyone’s attention has been placed elsewhere.

Nick: I’m not sure if Patterson Loch was expecting "The Queen of the Ring" out here and he appears to be all shook up right now!

Richard: He asked for a clean, fair match, right? Well what the hell is he complaining about? Troy is about as goody-goody as they come and she hasn’t even brought that goon Ryan out with her!

Nick: Good spot, Rich, Lindsay Troy is out here all alone and she has these PRIMEates going absolutely insane!

Richard: I mean, if I had the choice between snacking on a panini or watching Locke get stomped on, I'd probably choose the sandwich.

The fans are literally jumping, because just like Patterson Loch they didn’t expect someone of this stature to answer his request, and they can scarcely believe that the two-time Universal Champion is gracing them with her presence. As Troy reaches the middle of her journey to the ring, the shot switches back to inside of the ring where Loch has his head in his hands, totally distraught about something as the match official tries to comfort him with a pat to his back.

Richard: Jeez, is there a single city in this damn country that doesn’t wet its collective panties at the presence of this broad?

Nick: Not inside a PRIME arena, there’s not! Lindsay Troy is royalty in this business and Patterson Loch is literally the only person inside of this place that is unhappy to see her! I have to say I’m disappointed in Loch; he didn’t come across as the sort to be a coward…

Richard: Whoa! Don’t be saying stuff like that… you know how drawn I am to men you give that description to!

Parker’s coward fetish aside, Lindsay has now reached the ringside area is standing at the foot of the ramp looking up to Patterson Loch with a huge, beaming smile. Loch is still frantic and Troy appears to be amused at his apparent distress, but she obviously doesn’t sense a threat as she majestically hops up onto the apron, before casually stepping through the ropes and making a beeline for the nearest turnbuckle…

RAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: Max Johnson is still in there trying to calm Patterson Loch down, but it looks as though the newcomer hasn’t finished talking yet…

As Troy turns back from the turnbuckle to hop down into the ring, Loch pulls his microphone back up to his lips and shouts up to the sound engineers:

Patterson: Cut the music… cut the music… wait a second here, whoa, whoa, whoa…

BOOOOO!

Not impressed at the interruption of their heroine’s entrance, the fans turn on Loch for the first time since his arrival into the ring, as the Scotsman motions for them to settle down as he addresses the coy-looking "Queen of the Ring".

Patterson: Now I’m sorry here… but I’m not sure if you were listening properly back there… I asked if there were any men backstage who were willing to give me a fair match…

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Richard: Oh! I like it, I like it…

Nick: You are so damn fickle.

Lindsay observes Loch with a cocked head, but ultimately undeterred as she hands her title belt off to Vince Howard and starts to shake out her limbs a little bit.

Patterson: Wait a minute, wait a minute… that’s by no means a slur on your ability! I know how good you are! But I just… I mean… I don’t think I can fight a woman! It just wouldn’t be right!

Richard: …And… he’s lost me!

Nick: Figures… well I guess I can sorta see his point, but Lindsay Troy has proven more than any woman before her that she can go with anybody.

TROY! TROY! TROY!

Now her face turns to simple amusement. Loch looks increasingly flustered, realizing that things may already be past the point of no return…

Patterson: It’s not you, Miss Troy… it’s me… I’m not Matt Ward (CROWD: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!)… I couldn’t hit a woman, I just cou-

Troy; not offended, not upset… just amused turns to face the referee and nods towards him with a "ring it" signal...

DING DING

…as Loch desperately tries to avoid the confrontation.

Patterson: -I really wouldn’t feel right Miss Troy, and I’m sorry to have wasted your ti-

Lindsay Troy feigns a head kick. Loch stumbles backwards, looking to evade. The Queen grabs his arm, pulls him into a heavy boot to his midsection, and locks him in tight.

FINAL JUDGMENT

Nick: OH MAN!

Richard: HA!

Cover.

ONE…

TWO…

THREE!

DING DING DING

RAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick: And that’s all she wrote!

Richard: More like ‘Murder She Wrote’!

Winner: Lindsay Troy

Stunned and defeated, Patterson Loch is left motionless on the canvas as "Trampled Underfoot" starts up again and Max Johnson raises the hand of the "Queen of the Ring" in victory. Upon releasing the grip, she looks down at Loch with a smirk. Max Johnson collects the Intense Title from Vince Howard and hands it back to Troy. She takes it from him and says, "Tell him he'll learn eventually that an ass kicking knows no gender."

Nick: Well folks, I’m not sure what I can really say about that… Patterson Loch came out here looking for a fair fight… and, well, Lindsay Troy answered the call and gave him exactly that!

Richard: He got beat by a girl… in about 5 seconds… oh my God!

Richard Parker bursts out into laughter alongside the silent Nick Stuart as Troy exits the ring and throws an arm into the air in victory. Patterson Loch, meanwhile, is beginning to come-to with the aid of Max Johnson and he looks completely shocked and bewildered at everything.

Nick: I really feel sorry for Patterson Loch, I really, really do. The guy has suffered a horrific start to his PRIME career and he just can’t do right for doing wrong!

Richard: ‘Oh I couldn’t hit a girl, it wouldn’t be right’ – gimme a friggin’ break, man. I didn’t think this clown could go any lower on my totem pole of respect, but he’s just put himself underneath the damn thing with that showing.

Nick: A shocking start to ReVolution Two-Thirty-Two and there’s so much more to come.

A crestfallen Patterson Loch trudging through the backstage area amidst the sniggers and scoffs of his peers and multiple backstage workers. Ignoring the mockery, Loch’s head is hung low and his eyes are fixed firmly on the ground below him, but he does appear to be heading somewhere.

Nick: Patterson Loch just suffered a humiliating five-second loss to the "Queen of the Ring" Lindsay Troy after issuing an open challenge for a ‘fair match’ to his PRIME colleagues.

Richard: I have seen some hilarious things in my illustrious reign as number one announcer in all of professional wrestling – I’ve lived through the golden eras of Ian English and Hoyt Williams – I’ve seen a grown man with a penguin for a best friend. I saw Tony Zatarok get abducted by aliens, but there was something about a man losing to a woman in record time that tickled me Nick, and I don’t really know why.

Nick: It really must have, that was a huge sentence. I’m not sure what the deal is back here folks, but Patterson Loch is headed somewhere and he looks like someone TP’ed his house!

Richard: Did you just try and make a cool Halloween prank reference? You did, didn’t you? Give it up Granddad; none of these kids are buying what you’re selling.

Reaching a quieter section of the backstage area, Loch appears to relax a little more away from the cruel jests and taunts of y’know – other people – as he turns a corner with the cameraman in hot pursuit.

Nick: Oh no. He's not going there is he?

Richard: Is this guy for real? If he knocks on Devin Shakur’s door he’s gonna feel a whole lot worse a whole lot quicker than he just did out here in this ring.

Nick: Especially after how angry Shakur was when we just saw him a minute ago. He would murder Patterson Loch.

Stopping outside of his destination, Patterson takes a deep breath… and then another one… before nervously checking at the tape on his wrists and rubbing his face down with his hands to try and improve his appearance, until he finally summons the courage to raise his right hand into a knocking position.

"Fuck ya doin’, son?"

Richard: Oh shit in a basket.

You can stick your horror movies because this is the scariest sight you’re gonna see on Halloween, and like Patterson Loch just did, you’re gonna about jump out of your skin. As the camera pans with Loch’s field of vision, Christian Daniels emerges into shot – all seven-feet and three-hundred pounds of him – cracking his knuckles through black leather cut-off gloves and staring down at Loch like a grizzly bear looks at tuna.

Patterson: Uhhh… I was… uhhh… just planning on asking Mr. Shakur for a match… next week…

Daniels: He ain’t in.

"The Biker" cracks his knuckles again and takes a couple of steps forwards, causing Loch to back-up so much that he is almost pinned against the door to Shakur’s office.

Nick: This is like watching a Rottweiler and a Chihuahua meeting for the first time.

Richard: If Daniels starts trying to hu- I'm gonna stop myself now.

Nick: Smart.

Patterson: Oh… well… I guess it can wait… there was no rush on it…

Daniels: What sorta match ya wantin’?

Loch gulps, struggling to compose himself in the presence of the behemoth.

Patterson: …a guy… in, ummm, just a one-on-one… someone who will fight fair…

Daniels nods and offers a smile in a sort of crude attempt at placating the small Scotsman, and behind his cold eyes you can almost see the cogs turning. Naturally, the forced smile does nothing to ease the tension as Loch squirms more and more.

Nick: I don’t like where this is headed… not one bit…

Richard: I – on the other hand – am LOVING it!

Daniels: Guess ya done found yer huckleberry den.

Loch again snaps back with the force of "The Biker’s" voice.

Patterson: Y… you are?

Richard: I know the guy is new, and quite possibly the biggest idiot ever to be hired, but come on! He can’t possibly go for this.

Nick: Do you think he even has a choice?

Daniels: Always happy'ta oblige'a fair fight.

Knowing, like Nick, that this match is happening no matter what he says, all Patterson Loch can offer in response is a meek nod of the head and another huge gulp of the Adams apple, before somehow summoning the courage to extend his hand for a shake…

Richard: TEAR IT OFF!

…Daniels’ whole head drops to observe the gesture and another wry smile slowly spreads across his lips, before his huge paw engulfs Loch’s fist with a powerful shake. Still quaking in his boots, relief floods over Loch as the big man releases the hold and nods for the Scotsman to exit scene-right, which he quickly does, scuttling off like a scolded child.

Nick: A rare in-ring appearance from Christian Daniels next week against Patterson Loch.

Richard: And I guess that genius runs in the family! Daniels has just sold your little buddy Loch down the river and he’s gonna DESTROY him next week!

Nick: Yeah, I'm not like this one bit.

Richard: So Donnelly cheats him in week one, the fans make him cry in week two, Lindsay Troy beats him in five seconds in week three and next week he goes one-on-one with "The Biker"… it’s beautiful!

Nick is stone silent, realizing what lies in wait for Patterson Loch next week, as the closing shot is one of Christian Daniels, who is standing to observe the exit of Patterson Loch with an enormous, sadistic smile on his grizzled chops. He again raises his hands in front of his chest and cracks his knuckles ominously, before switching his view in an instant and shooting a death stare towards the camera, which quickly alters its focus and fades to black.

While often regarded as The Coolest Cat in PRIME, Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas doesn't have a job one would qualify as easy. When tempers flare, he's got one of the worst jobs in the company, but it comes with some respect. In a sense, he's achieved carte blanche status because, as has been said many times on and off air, "Nobody fucks with Dam." He's not afraid to drop someone if they strike first, and nobody usually decides to strike Dam twice.

Although, looking at the mass of humanity storming down the hall, and the rage contained of the faces of said two individuals, Dam might have to knuckle up.

Dam: What'cha want, bosses?

Boda: Listen.... Dam....I respect you and all you do....but you're standing between me and the little piece of shit that stole MY 5 Star Title last week. Right now, he's inside Lisa Tyler's office,hiding like the little bitch he is. So, I ask you, dawg..... please let me handle my business.

Dam: I got no problems with that champ.... but he.... he stays out here.

Dam points to David. Big brother nods in approval

With approval from Dam, Boda steps beside him and swings open the door to BLT's office. She's a little startled by the 5*Star Champion's presence, but not entirely surprised. She figured at some point he would come barging in.

Lisa Tyler: This better be quick. I've got work upon work to do, and you being here isn't helping.

The champ doesn't immediately look at Lisa Tyler, but more pass her, and scans her office.

Boda: Where is he?

The Big Bad Boda Daddy steps behind Lisa's desk, and looks under it.

Boda: Don't pretend you don't know why I am here. You've been helping that half a man Donnelly ever since you tricked Shakur into letting you take over PRIME. You convinced him to steal MY TITLE.... and I want it back.... NOW.

Tyler rises from her seated position and folds her arms across her chest.

Lisa Tyler: Step away from my desk, Chris or I'll throw you out of this building.

Reluctantly, Boda obliges and moves around to the front of the desk.

Lisa Tyler: I'm going to lay this out once and only once, so pay attention. I have not seen Nitz Donnelly all night. He is not in this building, and he is DEFINITELY not under my desk.

Boda: Well....Lisa....maybe he's here, maybe he's not... but you sure do know where I can find him. He's obviously your 'Do' boy and you're on his side, protecting him. So, where is he?

The scowl on Tyler's face at the moment would turn most men into stone.

Lisa Tyler: My "Do" boy? You better hope you aren't implying what I think you are, Chris, or you'll have far more problems to worry about than Nitz. You need to remember exactly who you are talking to. I don't know what kind of perks Shakur gave you, but I'm an authority figure. A much higher authority figure than you. And to be honest, I don't need to have "Do" boys for anything. I can take care of all business myself.

Boda goes to interject, but Tyler holds up a finger.

Lisa Tyler: And no, I DON'T know where Nitz is, and I don't really care. Perhaps if you thought with your head a bit more, you might be able to put two and two together to deduce where exactly Nitz is.

"Well, you are half right dear, and half not."

An infuriated Boda spins around to view Lisa Tyler's television monitor, which in fact has Nitz Donnelly mugging for it. He's also seen by the crowd as evident by...

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Boda is not a happy camper.

Nitz: See now I'd have had that very look on my face last week had I fallen for your little stunt Chrissy. But too bad for you cause you just fell for my little trick. Tell me in retrospect you didn't see that one coming? You were so blinded with rage and I'm sorry to say that rational thought just isn't your strong suit.

Boda runs his fingers through his hair, the look on his face would haunt little children for years.

Boda: I'm not playing here, Donnelly. You think you're clever. You think you outsmarted me. Yes, yes I let you get away with my title. That's my bad. But you playing these little games tonight.... that's just poking a sleeping bear with a sharp stick.... I hope you're ready for when the bear wakes up.

Lisa Tyler: And for the sake of those who aren't overgrown children, Nitz, I sincerely hope you are somewhere else this evening. You are banned from this office.

Nitz: Lisa baby, deny it all you want. You WISH I was in that office when I said I would be there. You'd be begging for a key to my hotel suite and you'd wish you could perfect moving objects with your mind cause my belt would be flying across the room. See Boda, she'll deny it but this little lipstick mark on my cheek says otherwise. I haven't wiped it away since I saw her earlier this evening.

Tyler growls and folds her arms again.

Lisa Tyler: To be honest, Nitz, if you were on fire, I wouldn't smother the flames out to save your life right now.

Nitz: But it doesn't matter if Lisa is on my side or not. No, what matters to you right now Chris is where I am. I could be in Hawaii...

Nitz snaps his fingers and the rather drab background transforms into a beach scene. Green screen bitches.

Nitz: I could be up seeing Santa at the fuckin' North Pole.

The Halo's Hero snaps again and scene switches to the Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer animated movie.

Nitz: I could even be hanging out with the Jackass 3D crew.

After one final snap, the stunt in Jackass is shown where Knoxville get's run down by a bull and The Ego cringes.

Nitz: Point is, I'm no where near where you are. But at 233, rest assured I'll be in the building at the same time as you and hey, maybe you can think for a change and come get your title back instead of following stupid little clues a 5 year old wouldn't have fallen for. 'Til then...

He points to the green screen and the movie "Orgazmo" comes up to the part where the old lady tells off the Mormons at her door, a direct message to Boda and his absent brother.

"You two boys... can just fuck right off!"

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Boda spins back around and gets in Lisa's face again.

Boda: Are you serious? Lisa.... you claim to not be a part of this.... well then dammit, do something about it. I'm a fucking legend in this industry and you're going to let this happen to me? Are you going to sit idly by, while the 5 Star title is being pranced around by someone who isn't even worthy of holding it? That is MY belt, I won it, I've defended it, I AM THE EPITOME OF FIVE STAR.... I demand that you make him give me my title back.... or so help me.... you're not going to like what is going to happen to him next week.

Lisa Tyler: For the record, Chris, I don't condone the title being stolen. You have to win the Championship and you did that. However, I'm also not an advocate of the destruction of PRIME property when someone goes into a blinding rage. I seem to remember someone who did that to old PRIME management once or twice when things didn't go their way...

Boda: Listen to me..... Shakur treated me with the respect I deserve. And dammit... he'd never.... NEVER.... of let this shit happen. I'm letting you know right now....I either get that title placed in my hands next week.... or come ReV 234... Well... you wont like what happens at 234.

The champ turns and walks out of Tyler's office. He walks pass his brother and Dam as we are taken back to the ringside area.

With Tyler Rayne out of the picture, at least on screen, Matt Mills feels somewhat like a loner. Sure, he's got acquaintances like Lindsay Troy and Nitz Donnelly who could stop by for a minute or two, but he's lost that bosom buddy who he felt like a friend with. Angie Brooks being back on the roster is a nice touch, but Tyler Rayne is Tyler Rayne and there can't be another Tyler Rayne.

PRIME's Golden Interviewer strolls down the hall with a Snickers bar in hand and a soda tucked in his left jean pocket. He's off duty for most of the night, and is more so here to support Angie in her moments leading up to her debriefing with Lisa Tyler, slated to happen later in the program.

Instead of being able to whistle a tune and get into the employee's lounge, Mills comes face to chest with a seven foot tall mammoth block of stereotypical rebel in Christian Daniels.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Daniels: Look'a what'de cat drug'n.

Mills holds his hands up in surrender. He doesn't want to go down this road again, not after last week.

Mills: Look, big man, I don't know nothing about nothing so just let me on through and I'll stay out of your way.

The Biker shakes his head.

Daniels: Nah, see ya done lied once bout Big Bear'n ain't sittin well wit'tha boss, so nobody gon believe ya no more.

Mills: What does that mean?

Daniels: S'per order'a Shakur, ya suspended fer 233.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Daniels: No pay neither.

The incredulous look on Mills' face tells the entire story. He's not really the gambling addict everybody makes him out to be, but the man doesn't make six figures per like most of the boys in the back. One paycheck to him is significant.

Mills: That's not fair!

Daniels: Lyin ain't neither. So here's what'cha gon do.

A duffel bag is slid across the floor toward Mills.

Daniels: Ya gon git ya shit out'cha locker n scram. I see ya snoopin round 233, s'gon be yer ass.

Mills: I'm taking this up with Lisa.

Daniels: Not gon matter. Dev's word's final.

It is now painfully obvious why Shakur asked Daniels to deliver this message. Even if Mills wanted to try something, to use physical intimidation for the first time on someone, he certainly wouldn't be able to against Daniels. Especially not with The Biker dropping his hand into his coat pocket and pulling out a chain.

Daniels: Get on now. Move! I gotta say it twice?

Mills: … No.

Humiliated, Mills crouches down, eyes stuck on Daniels, and paws around a quick second before finding his duffel bag and backpedaling toward his locker room. He swings around and comes face to face with a grinning Devin Shakur.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Pointing a finger directly in his face and maniacally laughing.

Devin Shakur: Just be lucky... that God had mercy on your soul this time, Mills.

Mills: Get your finger out of my face.

The interviewer swats his finger away, which draws attention from everybody standing around.

Shakur: Don't be a hero, Mills. I will put you down.

Mills: You might, but Rayne's gonna put you down permanently.

Shakur: Always tried, never has. A theme around here.

Mills: Always a first time for everything.

Shakur: Not in my house.

A hard shove from Shakur sends Mills stumbling over a workbench. The Boss leans in, sneers, and slams the door.

(FADEIN: A drab dressing room. We see The First sitting on a steel folding chair, face painted white with the Eye of Horus symbol painted around both his eyes. He's wearing a black wife beater and black gi pants.)

FIRST: Why am I fighting Hessian? Because he's the guy they put in front of me. I don't fight him out of some loyalty to Castor, or some defiance to Shakur. I'm just another wrestler looking to make my mark, and you do that by fighting.

Hessian...You have an odd name, the name of a group of men who fought on behalf of Britain to deny America it's freedom...What does that name mean to you? Who are you Hessian? A thug who does what his masters ask of him? A mercenary out for a dollar? What is the goal for you Hessian? That big belt around Castor's waist right now?

You interest me in that I do not know your mind, but I do know that I have to fight you, and that Hessian, may be where I learn something about you. What kind of a person you are, a killer? A warrior? A monster? None of the above, all of the above, who's to say.

But what I do know is no matter how scary you make yourself look, how menacing you may appear, you're just a man, you're just mortal like this body is, like anyone else on this earth is

And that means you can be beaten...And I'll do my damnest to see to it that you are.

The Murder Show came out with guns blazing, cornering First within a matter of seconds and ignoring whatever pain was brought on by his leg kicks. Hessian put both hands around First's throat and squeezed him for the full five seconds. When Elvis Nixon went in to break up the choke, Hessian turned and growled at him, taking the ref aback. He turned back around and was punted in the mouth by First. It did little to materialize offense for The Painted Up Freak as Hessian flipped him off the second rope to the opposite side of the ring.

Nick: Like he wasn't even there. This feels like a short, short match.

Richard: This is Hessian being Hessian.

Spewing blood from his mouth made Hessian that much more frightening to those watching in the audience. He bulldozed across the ring and caved First into the corner like a pancake, before hoisting him onto his shoulders and planting him with a Death Valley Driver. The big man swung around, got up, backpedaled to the near side and landed a giant elbow on First's chest. Somehow, the upstart kicked out before three.

Richard: Should have stayed down, kid.

Nick: I'm somewhat inclined to agree, but then he'd probably take more heat than anything from the fans.

The Murder Show didn't seem to mind, palming First from a horizontal position with one hand. Much to the surprise of Hess and the audience, First had a trick up his sleeve. A rainbow color of mist flew into the eyes of Hessian, who dropped his opponent and left an opening. First kicked at the leg again, stomped on the foot, and ran opposite side ropes. He hit the second rope and backflipped onto Hessian, who fell down head first in a DDT. First went for a quick cover, but only got two.

Nick: First almost stole that one!

Richard: Yeah, he cheated. Elvis Nixon was LOOKING at it too! What gives with that?

Nick: Well, you know... PRIME doesn't drug test the referees.

Richard: Better hope nobody from standards is watching.

First knew he had to seize opportunity while Hessian was on his back. A double stomp got the offense rolling, while a moonsault provided another pin attempt. When Hessian pressed First off before three, First was already set up for a dropkick to the side of his head. Hessian rolled to his back, causing First to hit the ropes, somersault forward, and land a Rolling Thunder across the back. First then hopped through the ropes and jumped up top, arching himself back into a shooting star press. Hessian rolled over onto his back but First failed to get three again.

Nick: He's got a fighting chance.

Richard: And what if Hessian gets up?

Nick: First can hang, Rich, he's not a slouch.

Richard: Hessian will turn him into one if he lands the Hellevator.

First put six boots into Hessian's back and rolled him over to the nearest corner. After running far side, he came back and flipped into Hessian. The momentum made Hessian go underneath the bottom rope in frustration. First kept the attack on, springboarding up and dropping both feet onto the top of Hessian's head. The Murder Show stumbled about. First got a running start and then shoved his opposition into the ring post head first. A grunt of strength later and Hessian was back in the ring. First scooted up the ropes, looking to put it away before Hessian regained his wits.

Nick: Cut the Thread. If First lands this, we've got a winner.

Richard: Should Hessian not get pictures of Strife's antics in his head when Nixon is counting two.

First went for the flip, but Hessian showed his elusiveness in escaping at the last second. The Monster rolled to his feet, but First beat him to the punch, and the offense with a Shining Wizard. Hessian backpedaled into the corner. First ran off far side and handsprung into a back elbow. But, he found a giant snag when Hessian pulled him from mid-air and slung him into the air for a Hellevator. Game. Set. Nixon seemed a tad reluctant to count the three, lingering for a second before Hessian growled at him.

Winner: Hessian

(CUEUP: "Moonage Daydream" by David Bowie)

(Through the curtains steps Castor Strife, leather jacket and tights, Universal Title around his waist, holding a microphone)

NICK: What’s he doing out here? Shows up after Hessian finished a grueling match with The First. He’s brave, this one.

RICHARD: He’s smart, is what he is.

CASTOR: Hello Hessian, it’s me Castor. Inspired victory, beating my friend like that. But if you think it strikes fear in me, well…I know you better than that. And if any of you people think this man will end my reign, then you don’t know him well enough. You see, I’ve recently completed a documentary chronicling the rise and fall of our dear friend Hessian. Except it’s more fall than rise. One could say it’s nothing BUT falls and failures. That’s all you are, Hessian- a seven foot failure. (BOOS) Hey, don’t take my word for it. Just direct your attention to the big screen, and watch this shortened version of my latest work!

(FADEIN: Black screen, white letters- "Life of Von Kelsig: The Hessian Childhood Tour." Violin screeching preempts the next credit. "A film by Castor V. Strife")

NICK: Is there anyone in the back who can mute his mic? Do we really have to see this?

RICHARD: Shhh! I’m trying to watch the movie.

(CUTTO: ‘Hollow Hills’ by Bauhaus intro us to the scene of a tattered urban landscape in Detroit, Michigan. The camera has that low budget, "Blair Witch" feel to it. Cars whiz by on a highway in the background; behind that, buildings emanating smoke)

CASTOR: (V/O) Behold! A city in the throes of disintegration, slowly disappearing into the night like the bellowing siren of a…muffler. (clears throat)

(CUTTO: Camera’s shaking as the person holding it follows Castor up the pebbled driveway of a crumbling lower-middle class home. The grass on the lawn is brown and dying, and there is a rusted car held up on bricks occupying a patch next to the leaning mailbox. The driveway also features a couple of cars, one assumed to be working, and Castor navigates his way around them and empty animal cages, hand-crushed beer cans, to the wooden porch at the front door. Before he gets there, it opens and a bearded man in boxer shorts and a white t-shirt approaches him with a shotgun)

MAN: Now I told you three times, I ain’t votin’ for none of you faggots. Now get th’FUCK off my property!

CASTOR: (hands up) No need for firearms, sir. I’m a film maker; name’s Castor Strife. (reaches into pocket and pulls out a card which the old man grabs to read) See?

MAN: Yeah? Well what’s your business here? Makin’ a film or something? Not gonna sell you my property if that’s what your askin’.

CASTOR: We are making a film, actually, and was wondering if we could ask you about your son, Angelus.

MAN: (lets out a hearty laugh) ANGELUS? You mean Isaac? That Jew bastard still tellin’ people my gambling habit got our estate burned down or some shit?

CASTOR: Not to my knowledge, no. But he is the number one contender to my world title, and we’re doing an expose on his beginnings. Mind if we come in?

(Old man sniffs hard, spits, looks away then back at Castor)

MAN: Yeah, sure. What the fuck; why not? (extends hand to Castor as he walks up) JACK.

CASTOR: Castor Strife, pleasure to meet your acquaintance.

(CUTTO: Inside, Castor sits on a couch across from Jack, both holding bottles of Milwaukee’s Best which they cling together in salute)

CASTOR: (puts his beer down) Alright Jack, tell us about your son, Hessian. What was he like as a child?

JACK: (continues to chug until half the beer is gone. He pulls the bottle away from his mouth and looks at the label as if to say, "Ahhh, that’s right.") Whatcha want me to say? The little fucker ran away when he was only wee high. Only thing that comes to mind was when he scuffed up them fifteen-dollar shoes I bought him. I’m STILL pissed about that!

CASTOR: And where were those shoes purchased? Payless?

JACK: Naw, Caldor. Dumb shit musta thought money grews on, grows on, fuckin…(takes a swig)…grows on trees or somethin’.

CASTOR: Are you drunk, sir?

JACK: (smiles) Affirmative. You wanna see ‘em?

CASTOR: See what?

JACK: The shoes! I still got ‘em! Locked away in a shoebox somewhere, I know they’re here!

CASTOR: Really? Yes, that would be great.

(CUTTO: Jack leading Castor up the stairs to Hessian’s bedroom)

CASTOR: (V/O) And thus, Jack aka Hessian Sr. would begin us on our journey through his son’s childhood.

(CUTTO: Jack opening a shoebox to reveal a pair of size 14 fiesta-colored LA Gear basketball pumps)



JACK: Look at ‘em. That’s money down the drain, my friend. Fifteen-dollars just so he could fuck them up.

CASTOR: They actually don’t look so bad, Jack. Almost look brand new, in fact.

JACK: No no, but ya gotta see the other side. (picks up one shoe, flips it around to reveal a giant black mark)

CASTOR: Oh my, that’s ugly!

JACK: Isn’t it? A disgrace is what it is. Kid ran away after I scolded him for it. (sniffs the inside of the shoe) You smell that?

CASTOR: I’d rather not.

JACK: It’s the smell of failure. You could smell it in his shoes when he was a young man, and I bet you could smell it on him now.

CASTOR: Hessian has had many failures, yes. Over and over he’s failed to capture my title.

JACK: I bet. Look at his wall, man. Muscley green faggots everywhere.

(Camera turns to find posters of the Incredible Hulk on Hessian’s bedroom wall)

JACK: His mother died not too long ago. Boy came back here flauntin’ his money like some sort of bigshot. Where’s all your money now, huh boy? Why don’t you come over here, gives some to your daddy? Naw, fuck it boy, you can KEEP IT!

CASTOR: And would you say Hessian was responsible for his mother’s death?

JACK: Hmm, lemme think on that for a second. Hmm. I’d say…yes, definitely. I mean, look at it from my perspective. She was alive for years after he left. He comes back, BOOM she’s dead. What the fuck else you call that?

CASTOR: I, I…

JACK: "I-I-I-I-" Why ya studderin’, boy?

CASTOR: No, you’re right. Hessian clearly killed his mom.

JACK: He killed his mom, man! Ain’t no other way of sayin’ it. (sighs; awkward moment of silence passes. Jack takes a big swig of what’s gotta be his 15th beer today) Alright, let’s go play with these shoes in the road.

(CUTTO: A fiesta-colored LA Gear shoe being thrown violently down the street)

JACK: GO ON YOU SON OF A BITCH! COME BACK HERE AND TAKE YOUR SHOES! I DON’T WANT ‘EM NO MORE!

CASTOR: (V/O) Maybe it was the 15 beers, or the memory of his son’s failures, but something about those shoes brought out the dark side of Hessian Sr.

(Jack runs after the shoe, picks it up, throws it further down the road)

JACK: COME ON OUT HERE MURDERSHOW…WITH YER BIG MONEY! COME BUY ME SOME SHOES, SON! BUY ME EXPENSIVE FIFTEEN-DOLLAR SHOES, I WANNA SCUFF ‘EM UP! HERE…

(Jack stands over the shoe, drops his trousers to reveal a pasty white ass, and just before he goes to urinate in it the scene changes)

(CUTTO: Castor sitting in an elementary school classroom across from a female teacher, surrounded by finger-paintings and other childlike things)

CASTOR: (V/O) Later on, I caught up with Anita Dorgan, Hessian’s first grade teacher. She further illustrated his history of abject failure.

MRS. DORGAN: Oh yes, I remember Isaac. His crayon drawings were…not very good.

CASTOR: May we see them?

MRS. DORGAN: You certainly can. (pulls out a crayon drawing of what looks to be Batman partying over a bloody Joker’s body)

CASTOR: Hmm. Very uninspired. Did he have ADD?

MRS. DORGAN: Yes.

(CUTTO: Castor walking down a city sidewalk with a trashy redheaded looking female)

CASTOR: (V/O) Of course, those comments were not half as enlightening as what Jane Meyers had to say. Jane was Hessian’s first love, and the girl who took his virginity.

CASTOR: On a one to ten scale, how would you say Hessian performed in bed?

MEYERS: Not too well I guess. Probably a two or a three. His penis was big, but it looked weird. All crooked and whatnot.

CASTOR: Any resemblance to his beard?

MEYERS: Are you kidding? His balls looked like Gandalf and the lead singer of Foghat had a son. Can’t say the crappy love making was entirely his fault. The first time was…messy.

CASTOR: Messy? Messy how?

MEYERS: Well…I was on my period, and didn’t tell him.

CASTOR: Is that why they call him the Murdershow?

MEYERS: Ugh. It was like a crime scene in my bedroom. He also had a thing about putting drumsticks up my ass.

CASTOR: KFC? Popeye’s?

MEYERS: No, not chicken. Like, from his drumset.

(CUTTO: STATIC)

(FADEIN: Back to live feed. Castor’s on the entrance ramp)

(BOOS)

CASTOR: I’m sorry, but if you’d like to see more you’ll have to purchase the DVD. Still, that short clip was enough to illustrate Hessian’s gargantuan life failures. Having seen that, is there a man, woman, child, or retarded person in this audience who really believes this man take the Universal Title from me?

NICK: Hessian’s fuming! He’s stepped through the ropes now, pointing at the champion, enraged!

RICHARD: What’s he crying about? The truth hurts, doesn’t it!

NICK: Castor Strife is peddling anything but the truth. This man is the King of Lies and Fabrication!

RICHARD: Show some respect! That’s the Universal Champ you’re talking about!

NICK: Yeah, and the champ just took off through the curtains like a coward! We’ve got to take a break, but we’ll be back with more. And boy, there’s gonna be hell to pay when Hessian finds Castor!

(Cut to commercial)

Sitting behind her desk, Lisa Tyler is doing what a lot of leaders in a similar position as her always seem to do: paperwork and lots of it.

Lisa Tyler [muttering]: Goddamn paperwork...thought we were living in the damned digital age...

Dam: You say somethin’, Boss Lady?

But BLT doesn’t answer him. Instead, she continues to sign her name on the many dotted lines that rest on her desk in front of her. That is, until there’s a knock at the door. Dam reacts quickly, reaching over to the handle, turning it and making sure he crams his sizable girth (keep it clean, girls) within the door frame once the it's open.

It’s not long before he turns to BLT.

Dam: Jacob McKail to see you.

BLT nods, grimly, and Dam shifts himself from the door way and gestures for PRIME’s latest acquisition to enter. He cast a sideways glance at Dam, before fixing his eyes firmly upon BLT.

McKail: I don’t like what you’re doing with the decor.

McKail shoots Dam a grin, receiving only an angry glare in reciprocation. Tyler ignores the comment, preferring to get right down to business.

Lisa Tyler: Take a seat, Jacob.

McKail eyes the blue leather seat and lowers into it, instantly feeling himself melt into the unfeasibly comfortable cushioning.

Lisa Tyler: First of all, welcome to PRIME.

McKail: Yeah, thanks.

Lisa Tyler: But I figure you know why I really wanted to see you.

McKail: I do?

Lisa Tyler allows a thin smile, but it didn’t stay there for long.

Lisa Tyler: You’ve had quite the colorful career in this industry, Jacob. You’ve proven yourself to be quite the accomplished wrestler. Why else would we hire you?

McKail: But?

Lisa Tyler: But there's that pesky matter of you being blacklisted from the industry for the better part of a year.

McKail: 7 months.

The Boss Lady narrows her eyes.

Lisa Tyler: Don't contradict me. The point I'm trying to get through that head of yours is that we’re taking a chance on you. We not about to afford you repeating what you did to –

BLT thumbs through the notes on her desk a while.

Lisa Tyler: -- 'The Lightning Kid' in Salt Lake City on any of our shows...understand?

McKail: Yeah.

Lisa Tyler: You’d better deliver for us, Jacob. Do not screw this up.

McKail nods.

McKail: That all?

But before BLT can answer, he’s already hoisted himself up from the chair.

Lisa Tyler: And another thing, you’d better leave the booze far behind and stay sober. You got this contract because the state clinic you got hauled to granted you a clean bill of health. You piss that down the toilet and the tattered remains of your once-notable career goes with it. Understand me?

McKail nods.

McKail: I reckon.

Lisa Tyler: Good. Now scram, I've got work to do.

McKail rolls his eyes and heads for the door, shooting another grin at Dam along the way. Dam shuts the door behind Jacob and turns to Lisa.

Dam: I ain't likin' him much, Boss Lady.

Lisa smirks and leans back in her chair.

Lisa Tyler: Don't worry, Dam. He gets out of line and you can use him as a human javelin to toss out of the arena.

Christian Daniels was brought in at ReVolution 185 for the sole purpose of being a bodyguard to his adopted brother. During that time span, he's been through hell and back with Tyler Rayne and associates, sat in on a plethora of political meetings where his brother has been able to manipulate the Board of Directors time and time again. He's seen The Boss in Black at his best for over two plus years, ever since coming back in 2009. He was an unstoppable wrecking machine, who even when he had his back against the wall, was able to come up with a conniving plan.

But, as a man who usually keeps to himself, he's never seen his brother in this state of panic. In such a state of disarray. The Biker knows his brother better than anybody and he's well aware of the fact that time at the mountaintop is closing. People are coming right and left for Shakur's head. And when Matt Mills was able to stare Shakur down earlier in the show, Daniels saw something in the interviewer's eyes he hadn't ever seen.

Confidence.

Mills knew more than he was telling, and it might take some personal tampering to get any real information out of him. Daniels knew he would be called upon to do the task. Now, he's got his own problems with Patterson Loch looking to make a name for himself.

"Doooooooooo youuuuuuuuuuuuuuu knowwwwwwwwwwww the wayyyyyyyyyyyyyy to Sannnnnnnnnnn Joseeeeeeeeeee?"

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

A camera switch from Daniels standing guard at the door over to a jubilant Tony Gamble strolling down the hallway, snapping his fingers and belting out his best tune. PRIME's resident Billboard Hit Balla twirls around and takes a step back upon seeing Daniels.

Tony Gamble: Nice costume, let me guess what you are.

The Biker sighs. He's beginning to really see what happens when someone goes on the decline.

Christian Daniels: What'cha want, Gambs, I ain't got time'fer ya shit.

Gamble: Now that's just rude. Didn't your mamma ever teach you any manners, or was she too busy behind the alley of the tattoo parlor charging your ilk twenty bucks a pop to rev their engines up and down her Route 666?

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Daniels cracks a half grin and shakes his head.

Christian Daniels: Cute, Gambs, cute. Think ya gon bait me like'a fish wit dat gem?

Tony Gamble: Certainly was possible. Dev in there?

Christian Daniels: Not gonna see ya.

Tony Gamble: I only wanna talk.

Christian Daniels: He 'ont wanna talk'ta ya.

Tony Gamble: I've got some Ambien and Vicoden. I know kid has been under a lot of stress lately.

Christian Daniels: He get'at on his own. I'll deliver'a message'f ya won't.

Tony Gamble: Just tell him I'm ready and willing to come back to work whenever he is willing to have me.

Christian Daniels: Sure, now scram.

Tony Gamble: You never let me guess what you were dressed up as.

Christian Daniels: I ain't dress up's nobody, but I'ma tell ya what'cha gon be'n bout five seconds ya don't fuck off.

Tony Gamble: What would that be?

Christian Daniels: My new belt.

Daniels reaches into his pocket and shows Gamble his signature inch thick steel chain.

Christian Daniels: 'N how much ya won reckon Hess ain't far down'tha hall?

Gamble raises his arms up as if he were being arrested.

Gamble: Easy, slugger, I'll leave. Just remember to give Dev my message.

Gamble widens his smirk and backs farther down the hall before eventually fading out of sight. Daniels slips his chain back into an inner jacket pocket before spinning around on his right foot and entering The Boss' office.

An insanely focused Boss in Black is hitting a punching bag with punch after punch. He doesn't bother brushing up on his kicks, because he knows how lethal those are, and last week's destruction of Tyler Rayne made that evident enough. A picture of Big Bear is on the punching bag, mangled into a square of wrinkled lines and distorted mischeivous grin.

Devin Shakur: Who. Were. You. Talking. To?

Christian Daniels: Gamble. Said -

Moving away from the bag, Shakur gets about three inches away from his brother.

Devin Shakur: You were talking to Gamble?

Christian Daniels: Yeah, he -

Devin Shakur: Just now?

Christian Daniels: Yep.

Devin Shakur: Why didn't you tell me?

Christian Daniels: Figure ya ain't won be bothered by a lil pipsqueak.

Devin Shakur: You gotta THINK man. THINK!

Sidestepping Daniels, Shakur swings open the door and storms down the hall, eyes frantically scanning back and forth, trying to deduce which way Gamble could have gone. Taking a lucky guess, he makes a mad dash down the south side. He shoves an employee out of the way and rounds a corner to the left, closer to catering and the general locker room for superstars.

A pair of small hands grasp him around the shirt and hoist him into the air. The strength is surprising for such a small figure.

Devin Shakur: … You. HOW DARE YOU SHOW YOUR FACE AROUND HERE!

But the smile is always big.

Tony Gamble: If you thought Colossus was the last you would see of me... Think again. I didn't want to become an accessory for Easy Rider over there, but since I've got you all alone... I'm going to make sure Troy, Rayne, Big Bear, and everybody else gets what they have been begging for ever since you took office... Your demise. We're gonna get rid of you Shakur... We're gonna get rid of you.

The Grin drops an irate Shakur. He is clearly not intimidated by The Boss and gives him a playful pat on the cheek.

Tony Gamble: Stay sharp Dev, you never know who might be lurking around the next corner.

Shakur's eyes grow big and his eyebrows raise. Gamble walks down the corridor, but Shakur yanks him back by the wrist and gets nose to nose with The Grin.

Shakur: What do you know?

Gamble smirks widens even further.

Gamble: Count your days. That's how much I know.

Gamble breaks the grip and continues his walk down the hall toward catering.

Shakur spins around and absentmindedly kicks forward, his foot slamming into the wall. The pain doesn't register with him, as he's too busy violently tugging at his hair before releasing an animalistic roar.

Shakur: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! I'M GONNA FUCKING BURN THIS PLACE TO THE GROUND! AND I'M TAKING EVERY ONE OF YOU PIECES OF SHIT WITH ME!

Angelica Brooks had spent all evening catching up with all of her former acquaintances, mostly stagehands. She was able to mingle with a few wrestlers like Big Bear, Nitz Donnelly, and Lindsay Troy, but Brooks always felt a more intimate connection with those who were on her level. She would never be one of those who put their body on the line in the ring week in and week out. Her respect level for the talent in PRIME was second to none, and she never wanted to experience anything like ReVolution 170 ever again.

After hearing of her hire, she booked a plane ticket and had a lunch with Matt Mills before arriving at the arena long before anybody else. Mills and her hung around the ring and scouted the building. It truly felt good for her to be back in the fold, even if she had no idea what she was getting herself into.

She was about to find out. Lisa Tyler summoned her to the office only seconds ago. Even though she was eager to get in and learn the lay of the land, Mills warned her at lunch she wouldn't be in a good mood with McKail returning.

Brooks knocks on Tyler's door and is stunned to see another of her fellow employees still hanging around, Dametreyus Fuqueiawytas.

Brooks: Dam!

The burly security guard flashes a grin at a woman he hasn't seen in over two years.

Dam: Angie, how's it goin, boss?

Brooks: It's going great, Dam. How have you been? You look great.

Dam: I try, boss. Been a long time, gon be good to have ya back. Lisa expectin ya.

Brooks wraps her arms around Dam's neck for a hug, and the head of security crouches down to oblige and respond with one of his own, albeit with as little force as possible.

After breaking their embrace, Dam shuts the door and goes back to standing guard. Sitting behind the desk is Lisa Tyler. These two met briefly last week, but now Brooks gets to see all the perks one of her former interview colleagues gets to experience.

Brooks: Wow, this is incredible, Lisa. You've done quite well for yourself.

A stoic Lisa Tyler smiles, wishing times had been simpler in acquiring this position.

Tyler: It hasn't been as peaches and cream as you think, Angelica. Please, have a seat. I'll make this quick as I've got a few more appointments before heading out.

Brooks definitely notices a change in Tyler's tone, one she's a bit skeptical of. She plops down into the seat and prepares for her debriefing.

Tyler: First, I'll get the pleasantries out of the way. We are very happy to have you back in the PRIME family, and with our future talent additions we're going to need a second interviewer around. I would like to thank you for taking us up on the offer.

Brooks: I figured it was time I got myself back in the thick of things. I've been away for too long.

Tyler wishes she could say the same thing.

Tyler: How much did Mills tell you when you had your lunch earlier?

Brooks: Wasn't much business, much more of a what's been happening lunch, ya know?

Tyler: Well, I'll bring you up to speed. We've got some new faces around here, and some you should probably avoid at all cost outside of interviewing.

Brooks: … Sloan?

A quick smile comes across Tyler's face, but when thinking about how Hessian handled the affair, the smile quickly disappears.

Tyler: For the time being, he's no longer with the company, which brings me to the first person you need to stay away from, Hessian. He's not hard to recognize: 7'2, 355, huge beard. If you see him, try to go in the other direction. I don't need anymore chaos involving that maniac.

Brooks: Big guy, beard, stay away, got it. Who else?

Tyler: Matt Ward.

A shocked expression comes over Brooks.

Brooks: Tchu?

Tyler: We're not calling him that anymore.

Brooks: But... He's been all for PRIME ever since I can remember.

Tyler: As I said, things have changed. He's now on the wrong side of the tracks. I don't think he's coming back either, sad to say.

Brooks: That's a shame. I know he's a good guy at heart.

Tyler: Perhaps. Another one you want to stay away from is our Universal Champion, Castor Strife. He'll have a reporter by his side at all times.

Brooks: And why should I stay away from him?

Tyler: Let's just say... His reputation is rather shady. You don't want to associate with someone of his kind.

Brooks: Fair enough.

Tyler: And... My boss, Devin Shakur.

Former and future interviewer share evil glares when Shakur's name is mentioned. Brooks visited Rayne frequently in the hospital when he was recovering from death.

Brooks: I encountered him briefly last week, but he seemed friendly. I'm definitely not looking to make his acquaintance though.

Tyler: He's also got a bodyguard, Daniels, biker type, about as tall as Hessian. That trio run in a pack. If you see any of them, just get away. They have loose associations with Strife as well, so just avoid that whole pack and you'll be good to go.

Brooks: I'll definitely remember that. Anything else I need to know?

Tyler: I'll slowly work you back into the fold. Give you the lighter interviews, and have you and Mills work in rotation after you find your groove again.

Brooks: Gotcha. Thanks again, Lisa, you don't know how much it means to be a part of the PRIME family again.

The redheads stand up and share a firm handshake. Brooks spins on her left foot and walks away, giving Dam a pat on the shoulder as she walks out into the corridor. Dam shuts the door behind again and looks over at BLT.

Tyler: Watch her. With Shakur as crazy as he is, I don't think he'll leave her alone.

Dam: Gotcha boss.

Tyler: Might want to give Mills a bit of protection as well, put a man with him. I don't like the way Shakur and he are interacting lately either. That could get heated.

Dam: On it, boss.

The Coolest Cat in PRIME steps from his post position and walks outside over toward the security guard lounge, ready to give orders to some of his Enemigos.

"LINDSAY TROY! LINDSAY TROY! COME OUT, COME OUT, WHEREVER YOU ARE!"

Screaming mad words from an irate Boss in Black, who is not in a good mood after encountering The Grin only a few moments ago.

"I KNOW YOU ARE IN HERE SOMEWHERE BITCH, NOW COME ON OUT!"

A flipped over trashcan, a table sliding down the hall due to a thunderous kick from Shakur, documents flying about as if the main corridor just turned into a winter wonderland. An employee tries to step between Shakur and entering the wrestler's locker rooms, but he is shoved aside like a gnat.

Shakur: No time for shrimp. I've got bigger fish to fry. LINDSAY TROY GET OUT HERE RIGHT NOW!

Pounding any door he can find, Shakur continues down the hall. Perhaps this is another elusive trick to lure Shakur into a specific location so he can get a nut shot or slap in the face. Hoyt knows Troy has been all about public humiliation when it comes to The Boss in Black lately.

The only people who appear when Shakur slams on their doors are janitors, Enemigos, and half-dressed wrestlers.

Shakur: YOU WANNA PLAY THIS GAME? YOU WANNA PLAY GAMES TROY? WELL DEV'S BACK AND HE'S GOT A NEW GAME! IT'S CALLED BITCH HUNT! SOMEBODY FETCH ME MY ORANGE GUN AND NINTENDO CONSOLE!

Stopping dead in the middle of the hallway, one could expect Shakur actually thought someone would hand him an orange gun.

Shakur: Where is it? I can't play Bitch Hunt without my gun.

Another employee with a name tag Andrew walks down the hall and is slammed against the wall.

Shakur: Where's my gun?

Andrew: I... Wha... What gun?

Shakur: THE GUN! I NEED A GUN TO PLAY BITCH HUNT! PAY ATTENTION!

At this point, Andrew wishes a prop guy would be walking down the hall so Shakur's attention could be focused elsewhere. He was just off to get a cup of coffee for Lisa Tyler.

Andrew: What... Is bitch hunt?

Shakur: Get the hell outta here.

With a quick spin of the hips, Shakur throws Andrew through a janitor's door and slams it shut behind him. He continues on his quest to find Lindsay Troy.

Shakur: ALRIGHT, TROY! I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS! YOU'VE GOT FIVE SECONDS BEFORE I MAKE YOU DEFEND THE INTENSE CHAMPIONSHIP ON 233!

Nick (OSV): Uh oh. I have a feeling he's picking one of two people for that task.

Richard (OSV): And they aren't hard to track down either. Another ass-whoopin for The Queen.

Shakur: Four! Three! Two! One!

A head check up and down the corridor.

Shakur: Alright. Jacob McKail, you will be having a FANTASTIC debut match as you will square off against Lindsay Troy for the Intense Championship on ReVolution 233!

Nick (OSV): Whoa! That's... That's huge!

Richard (OSV): McKail getting a HUGE opportunity in his debut. Wonder if he's going to celebrate by throwing back a few cold ones.

Nick (OSV): Would be like you to make that joke.

Richard (OSV): So long as the checks keep coming in.

The Boss continues to knock on doors and eventually finds himself back in the main corridor within earshot of everybody, probably because his voice is projecting about 300 feet.

Shakur: LINDSAY TROY! YOU HAVE TEN SECONDS TO SHOW YOURSELF RIGHT NOW AND SETTLE THIS LIKE ADULTS! OR AT REVOLUTION 234, I'LL SETTLE IT FOR YOU IN THE SQUARED CIRCLE!

Nick (OSV): He's proposing a match between them!

Richard (OSV): Might be the best kind of proposal you can get out of her. BOOM! BOOM!

Nick (OSV): That doesn't even make sense.

Richard (OSV): You don't make sense.

Shakur: Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven!

SIX! FIVE! FOUR!

Shakur: STOP! STOP! STOP!

Shakur stares into the camera.

Shakur: Who the fuck asked you to count along? This ain't Sesame Street. SHUT UP!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Shakur: Can't even spell right, boo only has two o's. NOW AS I WAS SAYING... SIX! FIVE! FOUR!

Another head check all around.

Shakur: THREE! TWO! ONE... ANCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

And everybody goes about their daily lives as if nothing happened.

Shakur: At ReVolution 234, I will go one on one with Lindsay Troy for her unprofessional behavior conducted here on this broadcast. See ya soon, Queen, one way or the other. Because if you don't show up for this, I'll ship you off to Global so you can be their museum curator.

Realizing his position, Shakur turns around and heads toward the ring. He's up next in a battle against Big Bear.

Nick: And our Main Event is up next!

(FADEIN: Backstage, it’s the after-party for Castor’s latest documentary, "Life of Von Kelsig." Various Castor hangers on and groupies are in his locker room, eating, drinking, conversing. Castor is making the rounds, shaking hands and greeting them. He stops by a lesbian couple and begins chatting)

CASTOR: Sharron! Ruby! I’m flattered you could make it, what with your busy schedule and all.

RUBY: Don’t be silly. You know we wouldn’t have missed this one, Castor! I must say, the cinematography was brilliant. It was gritty, yet profound. The balance you struck was…quintessential.

SHARRON: Mmm, yes. Very quintessential.

CASTOR: Well I couldn’t be happier you enjoyed it. Excuse me; I’ve got to fetch another bottle of Alfred Gratien!

(Castor shuffles off to another room. Suddenly, the door is KICKED OPEN and HESSIAN rushes the party)

HESSIAN: WHERE THE FUCK IS HE?!

(Guests begin to scream, and Hessian turns to the first one he sees. It’s a young intern, maybe 22 years old. Hessian grabs his arm and flings him into the wall, knocking him unconscious)

RUBY: HELP US! CASTOR!

HESSIAN: COME HERE!

(Hessian throws a big right at Ruby’s face; begins smashing her face into the floor. He turns and grabs another guest before they can leave and chokeslams them. Relentlessly, he pummels on the man’s face until a big wound is opened up. One of the other guests is slowly getting up, but Hessian swiftly kicks them in the gut)

HESSIAN: You wanna fuck with me, Castor? Huh? Now I’m fucking with you…

(Takes a bottle of champagne out of an ice bucket, chucks it at the wall where it breaks into a hundred pieces. He picks one of the shards up, walks over to Castor’s intern, and carves a line into his head)

HESSIAN: Tell your boss…(carving) this is his scar. This is his wound. (cuts another line) You’re wearing it for him. Understand? And when I get to him, this ain’t gonna seem so bad.

(Hessian gets up and marches out of the room. The camera moves to the door Castor left through, opens it up to reveal an empty bathroom/shower area. Camera turns to the shower curtains, opens them to find Castor sitting with his hands over his head. Castor looks up, spooked, eyes wide open)

(FADEOUT)

Big Bear Vs Devin Shakur

Big Bear barely made it halfway down the aisle before a steaming mad Devin Shakur ran out from behind the curtain and jumped on his back, clawing at his eyes and trying to choke him out. Apparently, the off handed remark about Shakur's mother was still fresh in his mind. Such venom hadn't been seen from The Man in Black since his shirt was first removed by Rayne at 190. Big Bear tried pushing forward to the ring and make the moves Shakur was doing illegal, but The Boss sank his legs around the body and brought Big Bear down. Elbow after elbow found the back of the head, while Bernie Roberts couldn't do anything to stop it.

Nick: On moral grounds this should be stopped. Hitting the back of the head like that is breaking a code of ethics in the new age of the wrestling business.

Richard: And Big Bear broke an age old code of ethics by talking about Shakur's mama. He deserves this.

Punishment continued to rain down until Shakur felt it was time to take Big Bear and reacquaint him with various parts of the ring. A violent Irish whip into the ring steps flipped the big man onto his back. Shakur stalked around, left hand clutching a part of his poodle haircut, the right hand being wrung out. When The Boss found Big Bear, he stomped directly on his liver. Big Bear rose out of instinct and then crumpled to his knees. Shakur walked up to Big Bear and stood in front of him, flipped him the double bird, and then unleashed a blithering kick to the chest.

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Big Bear flopped to the ringside mats.

Nick: And folks, if they are giving Shakur the respect of that rather than a boo, you know it was a lethal kick. For all the hatred he receives, nobody can deny he's got the hardest strikes in the business.

Richard: That kick was like a more painful Brazilian wax for Big Bear. He won't have any hair left soon.

The Boss in Black picked Big Bear up and threw him onto the announce table. He climbed on top and wrapped an arm around the throat, arm shaking from putting so much energy into the choke. Big Bear's legs kicked while Roberts encouraged Shakur to let go, but The Boss gave him a … friendly reminder the match hadn't started yet. After about fifteen seconds, Shakur released him and then slammed Big Bear face first into the post before shoving him under the bottom rope and officially starting the match.

Nick: At the rate of violence -

Richard: Shakur's not keeping this one going long.

Nick: He might to prove a point.

Richard: I think the bruises on Big Bear tomorrow will be enough in that regard.

With half of his desired arsenal now wiped away, Shakur stomped on Big Bear's sternum and then yanked him up. A wrap around of the waist led to a nasty German suplex. Shakur apparently did want to end it early, but Big Bear found the perseverance to kick out. Shakur glared over at Roberts and demanded he count faster. Roberts again held up two fingers, but Shakur didn't buy any explanation and went over to argue with him more explicitly. This ended up being a critical mistake, as it gave time for Big Bear to recover and go on the attack, spinning Shakur around and slugging him with big right hands. The crowd got more into each punch as it landed on Shakur's jaw. Big Bear went for the Irish whip and landed a spinebuster that got the crowd pumped. Big Bear kept the enthusiasm going by bringing Shakur up and landing it a second time.

Richard: Even morons have their day in the sun once in a while.

Nick: The rust and Shakur's rage might have worn off.

Richard: An emo's rage never wears off.

Once Big Bear's momentum started, it wasn't stopping. He pulled Shakur up and gave him a startling knife edge chop, before dropping him down in a DDT. Shakur looked to keep his motivation going, but a sidekick from Big Bear knocked him onto the ropes. Going old school, Big Bear kicked at the turnbuckle until Shakur ended up being vaulted onto the top rope and straddling. Big Bear ran far side and was able to land a big time standing side kick. Shakur fell onto the apron.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Richard: This isn't good. COME ON SHAKUR! DON'T LET ME DOWN! I GOT MONEY ON THIS!

Nick: Are you going to be filling the Mills role now?

Richard: Probably, only difference is I know how to hustle.

Nick: I've heard of a few times overseas when you got into some glory hole situations, you hustled to get your trousers off and got your dick mouse trapped.

Richard: WHOA. WHOA. WHOA. WHOA. WHOA. WHOA... Who the FUCK told yo...

Big Bear took Shakur by the arm and pulled him into the ring, up to his feet, and then back down with a Russian leg sweep. Big Bear went for the cover, but Shakur pulled a shoulder out before three. The returning superstar didn't seem to mind pulling Shakur up and whipping him into the ropes one more time. He called for the Chump Buster, but Shakur ducked underneath, spun Big Bear around, went for the Good Times Painful Memories, but missed it and got T-Bone suplexed. Big Bear scrambled for a cover, but Shakur kicked out again.

Nick: This one is breaking down to who lands the big move now.

Richard: I like Shakur's chances in this one.

Big Bear grew a little frustrated and gave Roberts a quizzical look before going back to business at hand. He pushed Shakur back into the ropes and mounted the middle, extending his fist high into the air. He pointed down at Shakur and then started to throw the punches. The crowd counted along.


ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

Shakur stumbled out into the middle of the ring. Big Bear ran off right side and went for the Chump Buster a second time. He caught a bit of it on Shakur's ear, but The Boss ducked and unleashed a furious superkick on Big Bear. Both men hit the canvas at the same time. Roberts had to administer the count.

Nick: Shakur comes back with one of those kicks.

Richard: Just like I said at this point in a match.

Nick: We're going to have to see who gets up first now.

Richard: The classic adage in wrestling storytelling.

Big Bear was able to get to his feet first, but Shakur landed the first punch. Big Bear came back with one of his own. Shakur. Big Bear. Shakur. Big Bear. Shakur. Shakur. The Boss moved forward, landing a high kick, and shoving Big Bear back. He locked his arms around the neck and landed three straight knees to the forehead. Big Bear was wobbly. The Boss went to land the Good Times Painful Memories kick, but Big Bear ducked and caught Shakur in the nuts with his head. The Boss toppled forward, while Big Bear went on instinct and landed a Chump Buster for the victory.

Winner: Big Bear