ReVival 26

VOLUME 3

DUN DUN DUN

The sudden beating of drums queues the lights at Paycom Arena in Oklahoma City.

DUN DUN DUN

And then, the familiar opening guitar from Rainbow’s “Since You Been Gone.” Except it’s an epic, orchestrated version. One you might find in the upcoming Guardians of the Galaxy 3 trailer. See it May 5th!

DUN DUN DUN

White flashbulbs match the drumbeats. Images hit the PRIME*View, various shots of past venues and shows compiled together. Most notably; Great American Nightmare, Colossus, and ReVival 22.

“I get the same old dreams, same time every night.

fall to the ground, and I wake up.”

As the lyrics reach the speakers, the familiar mustachioed hero of the ReVival, Hayes Hanlon, finds himself squared up with the Goat Bastard, Rezin, at Great American Nightmare ‘22, the screen showcasing various spots from the Five Star Title match.

“So I get out of bed, put on my shoes and in my head,

thoughts fly baaack, to the breakup.”

Most especially, the moment when Rezin hit the Event Horizon with Into the Void, and the three-count that followed.

“Since you been gone…”

The scenes flood in faster as the music’s pace quickens. Starting with Home Run Hayes catching Cancer Jiles with the Flash Point at ReVival 11.

“Since you been gone…”

Ultraviolence. Ivan Stanislav draped over Hanlon’s back while Hammerin’ Hayes forces himself to climb to the second rope, just before dropping the Russian Bear to the mat with the Super Massive.

“I’m out of my head, can’t take it.”

ReVival 16. Hayes and Jared Sykes, center ring and dropping to their knees after trading what seemed like dozens of overhead chops, falling against each other with red, beaten chests.

“Could I be wrong?”

ReVival 18, and clocking Ned Reform in the mouth with the Walk-Off before taking a lap around the ring with a fist pump ala Kirk Gibson.

“But since you been gone.”

Colossus ‘22. Delivering the Super Massive to Cancer Jiles, then quickly shifting to the Event Horizon being held up with the help of Nova and Brandon Youngblood, Universal Title tight in his grip.

“You cast your spell so break it.”

The lyrics give way to a beautiful symphony, bringing us to ReVival 22, and the chaos of the main event match. The battle between Hayes and Rezin. The interference of Ivan Stanislav and Alexei Ruslan.

And of course, Rezin’s Into the Void that stripped Hayes of gold for the second time.

“Ever since, 

you been goooooooone!”

The music ends abruptly. The PRIME*View blips to black, along with all the lights. Leaving silence in Oklahoma.

Until the distorted guitar and the sirens of “Daggers” hit the speakers. 

“WHEN MY BACK’S TO THE WAAALLLL!!!”

NOW FUCKING SING IT WITH ME.

I!!

WILL!!

CON!!

QUER!!

Everything explodes back to life. Quaking and shuddering white flashes throughout the arena. Thundering guitar riffs assaulting the eardrums. The PRIME*View flashing the hellacious event that was the Hell in a Cell. Hayes swinging a chair into a chair wrapped around Ivan’s neck. Hayes being thrown through the steel cage and left in a heap on the announce desk. Rezin clocking the Russian Bear with a Cloven Hoof kick. Ivan throwing Rezin through the top of the cage and onto the mat. 

Home Run Hayes, crawling with everything he has left, to throw an arm over the Escape Artist’s chest.

And speaking of which. 

Arriving on the ramp, is the Champ. Pressing the belt off his shoulder in one hand high over his head against the wall of white light. Eyes closed, held tilted to the sky. Breathing in the nuclear bomb of energy released by the Oklahoma crowd.

The Champ. 

“I SEE THE MOUNTAIN AHEAD! I FEEL THE THUNDER ROAR!

I HEAR THE FURY WITHIN, AND LOUDER THAN BEFORE!

FEEDING THE VOICE IN MY HEAD, AND NOW IT’S FIGHTING BACK!”

I CAN’T GO THROUGH THIS AGAIN, NO I’M NOT TURNING BACK! THIS! TIIIIME!!

Two time.

IT’S EYE FOR AN EEEEYYYYYEEEE!!”

Hanlon’s dark eyes shoot open, and he beats his chest as he walks to one side of the ramp, dragging a thumb across his neck for the fans on the right.

“DRAW! THE! DAGGER!!

CUT OUT THE PAIN, TO FIND THE POW-ER!

With a pep in his step, he bounds to the other side, pulling that thumb across again for the fans on the left.

DRAW! THE! DAGGER!!

CUT OUT THE PAIN!!”

The Comeback Kid returns to the center, and with four thumps against his chest, he roars out the finish to the chorus, along with 18,000 PRIMEates.

I SAID SING IT WITH ME.

I!!

WILL!!

CON!!

QUER!!

He adjusts the Universal Title on his shoulder, and closes his eyes one more time, tilting his head back to breathe it all in. The lights. The noise. The rabid fans of Oklahoma.

The Gold.

The music breaks down, but there’s no march to the ring. The Event Horizon stays at the top. Eventually the light show relaxes, and the music fades. Leaving just the roar of the arena. 

He breathes that in the most. 

Finally, the eyes shoot open, and the grin behind the ‘stache grows. Home Run Hayes retrieves a microphone and brings it to his lips.

But Oklahoma doesn’t let him reach the first word.

RUUUAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

He laughs, and shakes his head before hoisting that big, gleaming belt off his shoulder one more time.

RUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Allowing time for the crowd to settle, he makes another attempt to speak.

Hayes Hanlon: You know, I really don’t have a lot to say right now. In fact, I feel pretty lucky to be standing after Culture Shock.

Another rise from the arena, harkening back to the absolute destruction and chaos that was the Hell in a Cell for the Universal Title.

Hayes Hanlon: So, I’ll just say this…

The Event Horizon pauses, and the crowd settles further, waiting for his words. After a moment, another sly grin creeps across his face.

Hayes Hanlon: It’s been a HELL of a year.

He turns drawing his arm to the PRIME*View, where an image of the Five Star Title slams to the bottom of the screen. Followed by the Universal Title to the upper left. And again, in the upper right.

Hayes Hanlon: LET’S HAVE ANOTHER ONE!!

RRRUUUUUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We Came as Romans return to the speakers to match the crowd’s thunder. The Universal Champion throws that belt in the air one more time, thumping his chest with the free hand, and backs away, returning to the Argyle position. The three gleaming belts remain on the PRIME*View among the heavy music and the noise, which continues to hammer the crowd.

And now?

Let’s turn the page. 

THE ROAD TO TURMOIL STARTS NOW!!!

KENNY FREEMAN vs. TRISTAN-CRISPIN GLADHAPPY vs. TERRY WOODS

From the cold open, we go to the arena, and pan around it for some lovely signs!

BRING BACK THE TAG TEAM TITLES
THREE ICE CUBES WITH MY RED WINE PLEASE
WAS EXCITED ABOUT THE MYSTERY ENTRANTS, THEN JILES CAME OUT
SAVE US
WHAT DO YOU MEAN MIKE MCGEE LOST?
MR. LIKE TWO METERS FROM THE FINISH LINE
1….
PRAY FOR TCHU’S KNEES
JULIAN BATHORY’S SHIFT AT KFC WILL NEVER END
ELEVEN HERBS AND SPICES AND EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM HAS BEEN SMOKED BY REZIN
#YEETFELIXMULLEN
FUCK A PIVOT TABLE
SAVE US
2….
BIG LEAGUE TCHU
THERE’S A SIGN IN M YHEART
PRIME GOT BEST VS. FARTHINGTON BEFORE HOW DID
WE HERE TO WATCH TRUE H.O.W. CHAMPION. IVAN STANISLAV. AMERICANSES LOVE HIM MUCH YES!
THIS TSIGN IS FOR TSONDA BECAUSE HE’S TSIMPLY TSPECTACULAR
ANGY PAXTY
SAVE US
KICKOUT!
RETIRE THE STREETS SWEEPER
CALL OF TCHULHU
I TRIED EXTORTING MONEY FROM LT AND MELVIN AND REALIZED THAT WOULD MEAN TALKING TO MELVIN AND WHO WANTS TO DO THAT HONESTLY
TECHNICALLY IT’S ONLY FLAMBERGE IF IT’S FROM THE ASSHOLE REGION OF FRANCE – WHAT YOU HAVE IS JUST SPARKING DOUCHEBAG
I’M JUST RIDING AROUND IN MY TRUCK DOING TRUCK THINGS
TRUCK GO VROOM
WE’VE BEEN TRAPPED IN THE SIGNS CHANNEL FOR THE LAST NINE DAYS, AND WE’RE TERRIFIED THAT WHEN IT GETS ARCHIVED WE’LL ALL PERISH
SIN IS STORED IN THE PENIS
SAVE US
NEXT PART IS UP

Nick Stuart: Welcome to Oklahoma City! Welcome… to ReVival 26! Welcome… to PRIME! What a show we have for you tonight, Richard!

Richard Parker: We’re in a post-Lord-Cecilworth-Farthington-joining-PRIME world, Nick! I’m so excited! I brought my Cecilworth fanclub mug and everything!

Nick Stuart: Well, anyway…

Richard Parker: And that isn’t the only Lord Farthington merch I brought! Wait until you see the Farthington codpi—

Nick Stuart: ANYWAY! Let’s get this show on the road!

The first man to enter the fray comes out to the sounds of Clint Mansell’s “Lux Aeterna”. Fans aren’t quite sure what to make of the massive individual bursting through the curtains and heading for the ring, but the letters “MDK” appearing on the PRIMEview gives a good impression of what’s to come.

Vince Howard: Ladies and gentlemen, this is your opening contest and it is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, making his PRIME debut! From Cleveland, Ohio… weighing in at two hundred and sixty pounds! TERRRRRRYYYYYY WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODS!!!

Woods pays no heed to how the fans react to him. He instead gets to the ring and prepares himself in a corner, testing the ropes as he does so.

Nick Stuart: Terry Woods is a veteran of the sport, Richard. It’ll be interesting how he handles his first match in PRIME.

Richard Parker: I hope he joins the Kenny Freeman Yeeting Olympics.

Next up, 98 Degrees presents “Because Of You”, and that boy band-flavored bop brings out the one and only Nuzzle Lord to the scorn of the crowd. Tristan-Crispin Gladhappy holds out his hands on his way out to the ring, inviting anyone to come embrace him in a warm and loving nuzzle. No one takes the bait.

Vince Howard: His opponents! First, from Sacramento, California… weighing in at two-hundred and nineteen pounds… he represents the Love Convoy! TRISTAN! CRISPIN! GLAAAAAAAADHAPPPPPYYYYYYYY!!!!!

TCG saunters to the ring, and rolls underneath the bottom rope. He raises his arms into the air as though he’s trying to hug it, and doesn’t seem to mind that much that he’s receiving more boos than a ghost convention.

Richard Parker: DJ Tristy Crispy in the hizz-ouse!

Nick Stuart: …What?

Richard Parker: My sources tell me that he does bar mitzvahs and raves on the side.

Nick Stuart: I’ll be sure to avoid those. With prejudice.

Finally, “Let Me Entertain You” by Robbie Williams hits, and Kenny Freeman jogs out from behind the curtains to a mixed, but relatively positive reaction. Kenny Freeman is a frustrated man. A frustrated Freeman, if you will. Battered, bruised, maybe defined recently as perfectly aerodynamic by the Russian Space Program. But tonight, K-Free’s here to prove he belongs here.

Vince Howard: Finally… from Los Angeles, California! Weighing in at one hundred and sixty pounds… KENNNNNNNNYYYYYY FREEEEEEEEEMAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNN!!!

Kenny slides into the ring, raises his arms in the air…

…and immediately dies.

DING DING 

Okay, he doesn’t die, but Terry Woods has no more patience and immediately clubs K-Free in the back of the head with a running elbow. Kenny reacts as though he’d been hit from behind by a truck, and almost flies out of the ring entirely. He slides under the bottom ropes and the only thing keeping him from landing all the way out onto the floor right away is that his feet catch on the ropes.

Ouch.

Nick Stuart: A sneak attack on Kenny Freeman by Terry Woods!

Richard Parker: Okay, I already like this guy.

Woods stands over Freeman. And when I say that, I mean that he’s actually standing on his chest and referee Ashley Barlow needs to administer the five count to get him to stop that, because it’s really rude to stand on a man’s chest. All the while, TCG stands there and watches all of this happen, and he doesn’t do anything whatsoever to help Kenny.

The massive Woods turns to cast a glare at TCG as he steps off of Freeman’s chest, as the Nuzzle Lord seems to be getting too close to him. TCG offers a friendly hug. Woods… seems to accept this. Well, his body says “sure”. His scowl says “fuck you”.

Nick Stuart: I don’t think I’d want to accept what Gladhappy’s offering if I were Terry Woods.

Woods steps away from Freeman, and beckons Gladhappy over while holding his arms out. Fans buzz with anticipation as TCG accepts that Woods is open to a nuzzling. He walks in and…

…he dies, too.

Nick Stuart: WHAT a right hand from Woods! He could’ve knocked a tooth loose on Gladhappy!

Richard Parker: Oh no! Without his winning smile, he’ll be way less cool when DJ Tristy Crispy DJs for my birthday party!

Nick Stuart: You can’t afford him, Richard.

Richard Parker: What?

Woods picks up TCG by his ear, twisting it as though he’s a teacher trying to lecture an unruly student. Gladhappy is bow-legged as Woods drags him around the ring, clearly taking pleasure in making him squirm like this. 

Nick Stuart: Woods has Gladhappy by the ear!

Richard Parker Oh no, he needs that!

Gladhappy is a lover and not a fighter, but even he has a survival instinct. He throws his body into elbows against Woods’ side, which he mostly shrugs off as he transitions into a side headlock. Woods grinds that side headlock for all he’s worth, and the size difference makes it a tough prospect for TCG to get out of it easily. 

But Kenny Freeman is an unknown variable looking to prove that he has what it takes to win in PRIME, and he’s here slugging away at Woods with everything he has despite giving up a hundred pounds and more than a half of a foot in height.  Woods barely even budges as Freeman slugs away at him, until he drops TCG to the ground and stands there daring Freeman to keep hitting him.

This proves to be a mistake.

Nick Stuart: A chop block from Gladhappy takes Woods down!

Richard Parker: Oof!

Terry Woods is much bigger than the other two men in the match, but he remains an aging veteran, and nearly every aging veteran curses the existence of knees. TCG immediately springs to action, pounding away on Woods. After a short moment, Freeman joins in putting the boots to Woods.

Nick Stuart: Smart play by Freeman and Gladhappy to take the bigger man out of the equation!

The pair manage to kick and stomp Woods until he’s forced into a retreat on the outside. TCG celebrates his victory and goes to nuzzle his newfound partner in crime.

Freeman dropkicks him in the face.

Richard Parker: Well, that didn’t last.

This sends TCG to the floor to join Woods. Freeman doesn’t hesitate to run into the ropes and come back with a suicide dive! The sheer momentum of it, though somewhat counterbalanced by Freeman’s small size, allows him to knock TCG into Woods, bowling both of them over. Freeman grabs TCG and rolls him back into the ring. He immediately grabs Gladhappy in a waistlock, and it’s not the type of nuzzle that the Nuzzle Lord desires. Because this nuzzle ends in a German suplex!

With TCG down in the center of the ring, K-Free knows what to do next. He runs into the ropes, and comes back with… the Charleston. Then he drops the leg on TCG.

Nick Stuart: Follow the Freeman by K-Free! Could this be it?

Freeman goes for the cover.

ONE!

TWO!

NOPE.

It’s an unusual way to break up a pinfall, but Terry Woods grabs Kenny Freeman by the waist and bodily rips him off of his pin attempt.

Richard Parker: Terry Woods just hoisted that man up like he’s a small child!

Freeman tries to elbow his way out, but Woods doesn’t give an iota of a fuck. He sets himself and throws Freeman down with a German suplex!

Or, he tries to. Freeman is agile enough to land on his feet. Woods turns to catch a flying headscissors from Freeman, the momentum enough to send him spiraling to the mat. Freeman’s feeling good, and he puts himself in the corner to charge at Woods.

Have you ever, like… run straight into a brick wall with no survival instinct telling you that this might be a bad idea? Because that’s more or less what Kenny Freeman does here. He charges on Terry Woods and gets lariated so hard that it’s like his body doesn’t quite register the idea. His legs are still in motion for his charge even while the rest of his body is being hurled to the ground mercilessly by the power of a single man’s arm.

Nick Stuart: WHAT A LARIAT!

Richard Parker: That’s the kind of lariat that should’ve somehow cut a man in half at the waist. Grisly, I know, but man, he’s really living up to that whole MDK thing, isn’t he?

Woods doesn’t hesitate. He hoists Kenny Freeman up to his shoulders, and parades him around the ring before driving him to the canvas with the old-fashioned Death Valley Driver!

Nick Stuart: That move is called the Blood Clot, and it just flattened Kenny Freeman!

Richard Parker: Thanks for coming, K-Free!

Woods sits up thinking that it was all a matter of wrapping up Freeman for his Rings of Saturn submission and picking up the easy victory. 

He just forgets that this isn’t a one-on-one match.

SMACK!

Woods gets knocked down by a hard knee from Gladhappy, and is knocked down from the blow.

Nick Stuart: A knee from TCG to Woods’ face puts him down!

Richard Parker: Need to keep your head on a swivel around here, Nick!

TCG doesn’t hesitate to immediately pounce on Kenny, covering him for a pin as though he’s hugging him.

ONE!

TWO!

Woods tries to get up to stop it…

THREE!

…But he’s just half a second too slow.

DING DING DING

BOOOOOOOO!!!

Vince Howard: The winner of this match… TRISTAN! CRISPIN! GLAAAAAADHAAAAAPPYYYYYY!!!

Gladhappy immediately vacates the ring, holding his jaw as referee Ashley Barlow leaves the ring to raise the Nuzzle Lord’s arm in victory. In the ring, Terry Woods is irate, kicking at the bottom ropes in frustration.

Nick Stuart: Gladhappy’s just stolen this one, Richard!

Richard Parker: Just like that! I bet Vickie is going to be very pleased!

Nick Stuart: Will she?

Richard Parker: Maybe a little bit.

The camera lingers on Gladhappy as he’s backing his way up the ramp, jumping for joy at picking up the victory. 

A LOT HAS CHANGED (POOR MONICA)

The camera cuts from the aftermath of our opening triple threat to the parking area, where a general thrum of activity tells the tale of ReVival 26 being off to the races. Various NPC’s in crisp PRIME polos zipping around. Our camera finds one particular polo wearer whose conventionally attractive and symmetrical face tells us she is about to get promoted from the faceless squad to center stage. Her first act on the big screen is to speak into a cellphone.

“Yes, I understand. I’ve gotta go. It looks like he’s here.”

Who’s here?

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

The stage direction is [Camera pans right onto PRIMEate] but the stage direction neglects to mention that there’s some famously styled black hair, the face that needs no filter and no filler, and an effortless athleisure fit. And it doesn’t mention the monster pop for the Hall Of Famer, but that’s there too.

It’s the full Chandler Tsonda experience. 

The polo-sporting young woman walks up to Tsonda, offering a handshake.

Soon To Be Named Woman: Chandler, my name is Monica. I’m a production assistant and wanted to welcome you back to PRIME!

The Model Citizen accepts the handshake, and looks around.

Chandler Tsonda: Hi.

Monica: Everything alright?

Chandler Tsonda: You know that thing when you go back to your elementary school and everything seems smaller? That confrontation with how the scale of life has changed since you were a little kid? Sort of a reckoning with our eye’s blink of time on this spinning rock in the middle of an uncaring cosmos?

The production assistant looks back at the former Universal Champion, her eyes wide like high beams.

Chandler Tsonda: I meant, uhh, it feels good as HELL to be back in PRIME.

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Monica: Right, yes. Of course! Care for a quick tour?

Chandler Tsonda: Take me away.

The camera pulls back as the pair begins what can only be described as a classic walk-and-talk. Monica leads, pointing to various pieces of the arena setup as they move through the Paycom Arena.

Monica: I know a lot has probably since changed so it’s my pleasure to get you reacquainted with some things. Over here [points left] is our central hub, where you can find a directory of where all the locker rooms and amenities will be for the night.

Chandler Tsonda: Smart.

Monica: Over here [points right] is where logistics and gear live. If you’re short a knee pad—

Chandler Tsonda: Old, so yes.

Monica: —or you need to understand the ring layout for the night, that’s your go-to. And over here if you follow me [points ahead] is the primary medical station. Everything from getting taped and stretched and beyond. It’s all here.

Chandler Tsonda: Very old, very yes.

She stops walking. The camera stops moving. Tsonda looks around.

Chandler Tsonda: Something I said?

She pulls at the neck of her polo, a look of discomfort on her face.

Monica: It’s just…

Chandler Tsonda: They told you I used to be kind of a dick and you were expecting much worse.

Monica: They told me you used to be kind of a dick and I was expecting much worse.

Chandler Tsonda: Not to worry, Monica. See, I even remembered your name despite the incredible, and I do mean absolutely cavernous, difference in positional power between you and me! Not all heroes, capes, you know the deal.

Monica: You’re kind of…

Chandler Tsonda: Right. Yes. Doing it right now. Acknowledged.

Monica: Can I show you the rest of the backstage area?

Chandler Tsonda: I got it from here. I am however, desperate, to know where Tony Gamble’s locker room is. I’m planning on doing a whole bit where I pretend to not remember who he is.

Monica: [mutters to herself] Whatever makes the talent happy, Monica.

Chandler Tsonda: Say, thanks for the warm welcome, Monica. Make sure to tell Lindsay Troy I’m playing nice with others. I think I might have a bonus in my contract for consecutive weeks without doing something that incurs a fine, and I want to get the clock started on that bad boy.

Monica gives a polite smile and a wave, and thus her fifteen minutes of fame is ended. She walks, with a purpose, away from the wide open common area that Tsonda now finds himself in. The camera stays with the former A-List member, though, since, you know, the wrestlers are kind of the show.

Something catches Tsonda’s eye off camera.

Chandler Tsonda: Well, fancy that. Two old gun slingers walk into a bar…

The camera swings to the area that caught Tsonda’s eye. It has to pan up, and pan wide, to capture the size and musculature of…

A Big Mean Bastard Man: Speaking of clocks…looks like they’ve been kicking your ass, Tsonda.

…The Ace of the ReVival himself. Brandon Youngblood. The crowd lets out another roar at seeing one of the company’s final bosses, and at seeing a reunion years in the making. The two men exchange a moment of intense silent eye contact. And the crowd knows exactly what to do with this, their voices sing-songing in call-and-response chants. Impossible to tell which is louder.

YOUNG-BLOOD! 

TSON-DA!

YOUNG-BLOOD!

TSON-DA!

The Model Citizen is the first to break. He adjusts and folds his arms, nodding at the sweet sound of the PRIME choir.

Chandler Tsonda: Old ain’t nothin’ but a number. 

Brandon Youngblood: We keep telling ourselves that. Maybe one of these times, it’ll stick. 

Chandler Tsonda: So you’re kind of…

He doesn’t finish the sentence, and cocks his head to look around the backstage area.

Brandon Youngblood: The guy with the biggest target on his back? The guy the fresh faces look to be their big stepping stone before ‘slipping’ on top of their head? The guy Hall Of Famers think is their golden ticket back to the main? Naw. I’m just a guy. Untied Wrestler of the Year guy.

Chandler Tsonda: So you say.

The Tower of Babel offers a chuckle.

Brandon Youngblood: Nah…just yanking your shit. Never really got a chance back in the day…would’ve liked to. Would’ve liked to do a few things. Got folks talking about chasing you down on the All-Time wins deal. Going to be tough…especially with you adding to that since ‘12. Got a helluva a streak going.

The Sultan of Style grins at a high wattage. He seems genuinely entertained by the frosty, if familiar, greeting from the 2022 Wrestler of the Year.

Chandler Tsonda: A pristine undefeated record, in fact. Not a loss on my name.

The smirk of the Diamond and his tone swiftly shift to trademark intensity.

Brandon Youngblood: Owe you one. Jewel in the Crown ‘07? Superkicking me at Culture Shock? 

Chandler Tsonda: I superkick a lotta guys. Be more specific.

Brandon Youngblood: Oh…you remember me. Because I do you. Long memory. You’re the only person who ever managed to knock me out of a tournament in PRIME. Revolution or ReVival. 

The Towel of Babel taps his chest.

Brandon Youngblood: Matt Ward used Sam Elliott to call me out. You took the direct approach. Never would’ve guessed that. All the same…I ain’t the Welcome Mat.

Tsonda puts up both hands in a shrug that is commonly translated to “I mean no harm.”

Chandler Tsonda: Not looking for a fight…not today at least. Just getting run of the place. You know, casing the joint to see how to end up with the biggest piece of gold.

The simplicity in The Model Citizen’s sentiment catches something in Youngblood. The casualness. There is an effervescent charisma oozing from the man’s pores. And if anyone has earned the right to feel their way about the Universal Championship, it would be Tsonda. Having the second longest reign with the Universal carried weight. Even still, the not-so-affectionately named Suplex Daddy is clear through the vibe check.

Brandon Youngblood: Look…’the joint’..there ain’t no casing. Lot’s changed since the old days. It’s what you fight for and what you put in. Sweat equity. No easy outs. Peter Vetra isn’t walking through that door. You have to give all to become special in ReVival PRIME. To stay special? If that’s why you decided to come back, then welcome…and I can’t wait to face up against one of the absolute best.

Chandler Tsonda: C’mon. Loyalty to this place? Loyalty’s for rubes and dipshits.

The 2009 Jewel in the Crown gives the 2007 Jewel in the Crown a sharp look.

Chandler Tsonda: …but I guess I see your point. If I was gonna, ya know, give a shit or whatever, I’d feel a type of way about keeping this place from going to the birds.

Brandon Youngblood: Shit’s always brewing on the horizon. Authoritarian Communism. Televangelists…both Abrahamic and Yogi. Eggs. Glue. A Best with a Universal Title shot. The fucking Hallmark Channel. Seems funny. It ain’t. So…might ask you to prove it.

Chandler Tsonda: I might say yes. But who knows? Mercurial as all get out, that’s what they say about me.

Brandon Youngblood: I’m serious.

Chandler Tsonda: Well then, PRIME’s lucky to have a knight in shining armor.

Brandon Youngblood: You don’t mean—

The Model Citizen laughs and shakes his head. 

Chandler Tsonda: Moi? Pfft. That’s all you, Galahad. More of a classic Prestige TV Era anti-hero myself. 

Is that a roll of the eyes in BY? Hard to tell.

Brandon Youngblood: Sure thing.

The Anger Golem flips a hand back towards Tsonda and keeps on walking the direction he was headed when we first saw him.

Chandler Tsonda: I’m talking like Raylan Givens or one of the spies from The Americans. Real complex type of—

Brandon Youngblood: Be seeing you around, Tsonda.

The Model Citizen, never one to be beaten to the last word, calls after Youngblood as he walks away.

Chandler Tsonda: Very complicated character, just layer upon layer of intricate relationships and motivations! I have seen a great deal of television and the accompanying recaps at Vulture!

And with the exit of PRIME’s keeper, Chandler Tsonda feels like he’s back. But he’s left to figure out just where the hell catering is all on his lonesome.

HE’LL HUFF, AND PUFF, AND KNOCK YOUR DOOR IN

ReVival cuts away from the Tsuperstar to the office of the President and CEO, Lindsay Troy. The PRIMEates in the Paycom Arena cheer at the sight of the Queen seated behind a desk and typing away on a small bluetooth keyboard for her tablet while voices chatter away on a nearby walkie talkie.

It’s rare that she gets a moment’s peace on a show night. Would be a shame if something were to ruin that, hm?

CRASH!!!

A cacophony of sound erupts from the doorway of the office as the large, steel door buckles and explodes inward. The hinges twist and burst from the doorframe, flying this way and that as they ping loudly against the brick walls of the backstage room. The door swings from near the top and whips downward and erupts into a metallic clang as it hits the tile floor. The doorway itself is completely filled with the hulking form of Ivan Stanislav. The Russian Bear bends down to duck through the doorway and turns to the side as his combat boots stomp over the fallen door and he enters. His face is a mask of Russian rage. 

Ivan Stanislav: LINDSAY TROY!

His angular, bass voice booms through the room and echoes down the hallway behind him. 

Ivan Stanislav: I thought I would find the rat in her nest!

Stanislav rises to his full height and storms toward Troy, the closeness of the room serving to only amplify his size. He slams both of his enormous hands on the sides of the desk separating himself from the Lady of the Hour 

Lindsay Troy: (frowning) Most people in civilized society knock before entering a room, especially when the door is shut.

She looks around Ivan to the mangled door.

Lindsay Troy: You’ll be paying for that.

Ivan leans forward and growls angrily. Then, without another moment’s hesitation, he effortlessly lifts the desk and tosses it haphazardly to the side. It crashes against the brick wall and falls in a heap of splintered wood and smashed electronics, leaving nothing between himself and Troy. The Queen shoots to her feet, no longer willing to hold her temper at bay.

Lindsay Troy: You’ll be paying for all that too, you colossal diaperbaby. What, did Alexei forget to put you down for your nap today? What the hell is wrong with you?

Ivan Stanislav: You think you are so smart, Lindsay Troy, eh? Your fear of my success knows positively no bounds! 

He points into his huge palm. 

Ivan Stanislav: I beat Cancer Jiles for a chance at one on one match against Universal Champion! Hanlon loses and does absolutely nothing to deserve a new shot, and you just GIVE it to him? Then, you pit those two idiots together in a match with me. ME?! The Russian Bear?!

He shakes his head angrily. 

Ivan Stanislav: I knew you were a snake, Lindsay Troy, but never would I have fathomed that you would sabotage the hard work of one of your finest roster members in such a way! Are you proud of yourself? Are you proud to have a champion who did NOTHING to win that belt, but rather leech off MY hard work? A champion who simply had it all GIVEN to him by you? You cannot deny I destroyed those two in the ring. I did it. ME! And then Hanlon just rolls his dead ass over and flops his arm upon a comatose Rezin?! Does Universal Title mean so little to you?

The Lady of the Hour had been silent throughout Ivan’s tirade. As soon as he finished, though, an amused laugh escapes from behind her ruby red lips.

Lindsay Troy: Are you for real right now, Ivan? Did you somehow hit your head when you did your big Oopsie Daisy off the cage at Culture Shock and forget that you and Alexei interfered in the Universal Title singles match between Hayes and Rezin on ReVival 22? You both single-handedly changed the dynamic of that match, so if you think I was going to let that be the end of things between the two of them, then you don’t know me very well. You do not dictate things to me. I do not care how tall you are. I do not care how much you weigh. I do not care how proud you are of your country, and I sure as hell do not care that you were the PCW World Champ 20whatever years ago. This is 2023. You are in PRIME. You and Alexei work for me. And if you have a problem with that, you’re free to go back and freeze to death in Russia or whatever it was you were doing before I made you relevant again.

Ivan roars and points an accusatory finger in Troy’s face. 

Ivan Stanislav: That match should have ended in disqualification! If you had any respect for any of the rules set forth, Troy! Do you not EVER think for one moment that you somehow have made Ivan Stanislav and Alexei Ruslan relevant, you delusional, self-indulgent woman! Let us not forget that I deserved the LAST entry into the Battle Royal, per the stipulations of the Title match. Your actions cheapen the highest title in this entire company! You knew if you had me enter in last I would annihilate everyone else. Your cowardice knows no bounds! If you had any sort of a spine you would render last battle royal defunct and start it over!

His rage nearly boils over as he leans forward, his face inches from Troy’s. Both hands clench so tightly they look like albino hams. 

Ivan Stanislav: Hide behind your jokes and your jibes. Hide behind your nonchalant attitude. You know as well as I do, Lindsay Troy, that if you are half as smart as you claim to be, you would understand that taking me lightly is considerable mistake. Minimize the threat if you wish, that does not mean the threat is not there. 

He points an accusatory finger down at her as Ivan stands tall. 

Ivan Stanislav: You had better give me title shot, eventually, or I will make it happen on my own. But in the meantime? Let your little toy Tyler Best have his fun. You must be so torn, being his teacher, and yet clearly having so much deference for Hayes Hanlon. 

Ivan inhales slowly, spreads his wide arms, and his grimace morphs into a twisted grin as something seems to dawn on him. The hairs of his beard crinkle. 

Ivan Stanislav: But for now, I need not worry about the Title. And I think it is time for you to start worrying about PWA-02. After all, Russia does not want to be let down. And last thing any of us want is for The Scarlet Sickle to lose to a miscreant like Solex. As much as I am sure you would rather have Christopher America choose a stipulation for my eventual match with him, I know your pride is too strong to allow that to happen. 

Lindsay Troy: You don’t need to worry about Solex. I’ve beaten him once and I’ll do it again. But I won’t be doing it for you or for Russia. I’ll be doing it for PRIME.

Ivan sighs. His roaring has stopped, his looming is constant.

Ivan Stanislav: I come to realization, now. Without title to distract me? I am free to do what is needed elsewhere. Yes. I am free to do what I want.

He leans in close to Troy once more. 

Ivan Stanislav: Where I want. 

Even closer.

Ivan Stanislav: And to who I want, Lady Troy. I think it is time to start having some fun!

Ivan turns and stomps on the metal door underfoot. 

Ivan Stanislav: Yes, I pay for a weak American door. No problem. See you, Lady Sickle…

And with that, he is gone. 

PUTTING THE JOURNEY IN HALLMARK JOURNEY

The scene switches from the shattered remains of Lindsay Troy’s office door to another area backstage where Vickie Hall has commandeered a television camera and is WAY too close to the lens.

Nick Stuart: You know, for someone who apparently has revealed she has a rich family history in the sport of wrestling, you’d think she knows where to position herself into an appropriate view.

Richard Parker: SSSSHHHH!! I have to hear this, it’s always good. I might not enjoy Hallmark movies but Vickie has a way with words.

Nick Stuart: I’m sure she does.

Vickie shuffles around, she’s clearly on her tippy toes. She sports her usual PRETTY PINK© ensemble while her man, Jonathan-Christopher Hall is in his wrestling gear behind her.

Vickie Hall: HELLO WORLD! It is I, the best wrestling manager on the PLANET and tonight Jonathan-Christopher shows PRIME the most importantest thing he’s ever shown before!

She pauses. She looks behind him. Her man does not look confident…

But she does.

Vickie Hall: Progress.

She pauses to let that soak in.

Vickie Hall: You see, we’ve realized something today. You have to put the journey in the Hallmark Journey and from now on, the LOVE CONVOY is all about progress.

Vickie nods. She likes what she’s saying. She’s easily buying into it.

Vickie Hall: Because no movie goes without its struggle. The LOVE CONVOY has had many struggles as of late. No one won jackshit at the battle royal-

For a brief second there it looks like Vickie might snap, because her right eyebrow twitches ever-so-slightly upon saying no one won… but then she seems to get herself under control.

Vickie Hall: We are starting brand new! Tonight, video game dummy Eddie Cross will go back to his momma’s basement, a typical cliche and Rocky de Leon…

Hall lowers her face. The lighting above casts dark shadows on her eyes.

Vickie Hall: Will pay for what he did to Tristan-Crispin.

Vickie’s demeanor lightens up as she lifts her head and giggles with glee. She spins back around to Jonathan-Christopher.

Vickie Hall: But who am I to hold a grudge because it’s a fresh start, right my lovely?

She races over to him and wraps her arms around him. Jonathan-Christopher seems stunned at first but then you can tell he really, really needs it. He embraces Vickie like he’s never touched her before in his life.

Pretty Pink© doesn’t let go but she still cocks her head around to the camera.

Vickie Hall: After we get this new journey off and running…

A very brief, evil-like glance follows.

Vickie Hall: You’ll see.

She starts to lead Jonathan-Christopher to ringside. The two of them are off camera but Vickie is cackling.

Vickie Hall: You’ll all see.

EDDIE CROSS vs. JONATHAN-CHRISTOPHER HALL vs. ROCKY DE LEON

We then cut from Vickie Hall to ringside… where we are moments away from seeing Vickie Hall again.

Nick Stuart: The triple threat action continues into our next match this evening, ladies and gentlemen. Here shortly, we will witness the trio of Rocky De Leon, Eddie Cross, and Jonathan-Christopher Hall of LOVE CONVOY battle for a chance at a step up in the competitive ladder.

Richard Parker: Practically everyone in the PRIME locker room is looking to bounce back after the Culture Shock battle royal, Nick. I doubt these three are any different. But there’s a lot of youth and inexperience going into that ring, and that usually makes for some interesting learning curves.

Nick Stuart: I’m inclined to agree, partner. Let’s head down to the ring now, where our man Vince is ready for the introductions.

“Me and Julio Down by The Schoolyard” by Streetlight Manifesto comes in over the PA. Rocky De Leon appears on the stage beneath an array of lights, looking confident and eager for action. As the trumpets play, he marches to the ring. Stu Weiler follows after him with his laptop in hand.

Vince Howard: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a triple threat match schedule for one fall! Introducing first, accompanied to the ring by Stu Weiler… he hails from Laredo, Texas, and weighs in at two-hundred and fifteen pounds… THE EFF-DEE-PEE… ROCKY DE LEEEOOONNN!!

Rocky comes down the ramp to the ring hyping up the crowd with every step. Shortly after hopping into the ring, he springs to the top turnbuckle and spreads his wings with a mighty SKREEEEE! Stu Weiler takes his post at his corner and sets up his laptop.

The wailing Aerosmith ballad “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing” replaces the music, and the GROAN from the capacity crowd is practically booming as Vickie and Jonathan-Christopher Hall come out on the stage, lit up by a heart-shaped spotlight.

Vince Howard: Now approaching the ring, accompanied by his Amazing Life Partner, Vickie Hall… hailing from Folsom, Louisiana, and weighing in at two-hundred and twenty pounds… representing the LOVE CONVOY… the VOW of VIRTUE… JONATHAN-CHRISTOPHER HAAALLLLLL!!

Hand-in-hand, absolutely incapable of looking away from each other, the Amazing Life Partners stroll down the aisle toward the ring. They completely ignore the jeering crowd beyond the barricades. There is nothing else in the world except for the two of them. She pecks him on the lips with a final kiss for luck just before the Timid Tiger steps through the ropes to enter the ring.

Green Screen.

Match Start in 10…9…8…7…6…5…4…

3…

2…

1…

– Eliminate Other Players –

ISIS (ADHD) by Joyner Lucas (feat Logic) begins, and the arena lights focus on the entry. As Joyner Lucas rhymes Eddie “n1ghtcraw1er” Cross steps out of the back. He adjusts his custom gaming glasses before walking down the ramp focused on the ring. He pauses at the ring steps, taking off his backpack, unzipping the main compartment, and placing it in the corner of the ring. He waits for the transition between verses before psyching himself up. Vince Howard is waiting.

Vince Howard: And finally, accompanied to the ring by Dave Gibson… hailing from from Charlotte, North Carolina by way of Orlando, Florida, and weighing in at two-hundred and twenty-five pounds… EDDIE “N1GHTCRAW1ER” CROOOSSSSSS!!

Eddie folds his glasses and puts them in the corner by his backpack, where Dave Gibson has posted up. He then runs up the ring steps, wipes his feet on the apron, and enters the ring.

DING DING

Off the bell, the three come out of their corners and tensely look among each other. Jonathan-Christopher Hall to Rocky De Leon. Rocky to Eddie Cross. Eddie to Hall. Hall to Rocky. Rocky to Hall. Hall back to Eddie. Eddie, still on Hall. Rocky, still on Hall.

Jonathan-Christopher deflates when he realizes what’s happening, and can only cover up as the other pounce on him from either side, barraging him with stereo flurries of kicks and chops. The fans approvingly cheer!

Nick Stuart: Eddie and Rocky quickly find themselves on the same page in the opening seconds of this match, taking it to the co-founder of the much-reviled LOVE CONVOY!

Richard Parker: Well obviously, having the power of LOVE on his side makes him the greatest threat in the ring right now. I’m sure Dave and Stu told them as much.

JCH ping-pongs uncontrollably between either man before a standing dropkick from Rocky sends him into the far corner. Eddie steps in to push him out before setting himself and dropping the Timid Tiger with a Flying Knee Strike!

Nick Stuart: Trigger Warning by Eddie Cross, and he makes the pin!

ONE…

Two–No! Broken up by Rocky De Leon, who tags Cross on the back of the head with an elbow drop!

At ringside, Dave Gibson groans in dismay, while Stu Weiler commends the FDP’s quick thinking. For her own part, Vickie offers “encouragement” to her ALP by incessantly shrieking in distress. Rocky leaves Cross to recover as he quickly steps out to the apron. Gibson calls for EC to look sharp, and the N1GHTCRAW1ER looks up in time to see Rocky springboarding off the top rope and flying back into the ring!

Nick Stuart: The FDP with the PTERICANRANA–NO! Eddie stuffs him at the last second right into a standing powerbomb, and folds him up to cover!

ONE!

TWO!

Rocky kicks out! 

But Cross keeps ahold of the legs, and wraps Rocky De Leon into a Cloverleaf! 

Nick Stuart: He’s got the Fool’s Gallows locked into place!

Richard Parker: Pretty gutsy, going for a submission attempt in a triple threat match.

Nick Stuart: Chalk it up to inexperience, unless Cross has something in mind here!

Cross torques the cloverleaf at a low position, putting more pressure on the legs than the back. Rocky’s face doesn’t need to be seen to know he’s in complete torture. His hands thrash across his mask-covered head as he fights through the pain. Outside the ring, Stu beckons him to make a go at the ropes, but counteracting this, Gibson urges his own student to lock him down!

Through the struggle, nobody takes note of the Timid Tiger willing himself back to his feet.

Nick Stuart: Wait, Jonathan-Christopher Hall is back up! 

Richard Parker: And Cross is standing there like he’s AFK! 

Nick Stuart: Hall with ROLLING DDT to put Cross to the mat and break the hold! I’m sure Rocky is thankful for that!

Richard Parker: I wouldn’t be so sure…

With Cross dealt with, the eyes of JCH find Rocky left recovering on the canvas. His ordinarily handsome expression suddenly turns cold and murderous, remembering the humiliation this dino-loving doofus brought to the LOVE CONVOY. At once, he grabs Rocky by the already aching legs and punishes him further by savage kicks to his inner knee!

Still brimming with rage, Jonathan-Christopher yanks the FDP up and briefly sets him into a fireman’s carry standing to his full height before throwing Rocky down across the knee with a gutbuster, earning a delighted cheer from Vickie at ringside. The only cheering for the LOVE CONVOY co-founder in the entire arena, mind you. But to him, the only one that matters. Her joy is his joy, as he smiles back at his ALP and blows her a kiss. 

Nick Stuart: (audibly gagging over the air) I… can’t believe these two…

Richard Parker: Do you feel the LOVE, Nick?

Nick Stuart: What I feel is, Rich, is deep-seated antipathy. But back to the action, Jonathan-Christopher Hall is going for the pin!

ONE!

TWO!

Rocky kicks out!

Outside the ring, Stu Weiler gives Rocky words of encouragement to keep him in the fight. Vickie is shrilly ordering her ALP to stay on him. Meanwhile, Dave Gibson is quietly coaching Cross, in the process of pushing himself back off the mat.

Nick Stuart: This is turning out to be a triple threat challenge both in and OUT of the ring!

Richard Parker: P’ah… helicopter managers. I remember the days when they would just let the younglings go in there and figure it out on their own!

Nick Stuart: I’m sorry, were you just yelling a cloud just now? JCH pulls the FDP back to his feet, but here comes the EC back into the action! RUSSIAN LEGSWEEP brings Jonathan-Christopher Hall to the mat! He floats over for the cover!

ONE!

TWO!

NO! Vickie Hall can breathe a sigh of relief knowing that her Amazing Life Partner is still in this, for now!

N1GHTCRAW1ER rises up and looks to Rocky De Leon, weakly trying to pull himself up in the corner. Coaching from the outside, Gibson urges him to keep on JCH, which he does, by pulling him back off the mat by the arm and wrapping it around his head to set him up for the RNG cutter! But before he can drop, Hall instinctively throws a leg back into his undercarriage!

Nick Stuart: LOW BLOW!

Richard Parker: The Leo Fong low-budget martial arts classic? WHERE?!

Nick Stuart: Don’t tell me you didn’t see that, Rich!

Dave Gibson certainly saw it, as he vehemently points out to official Jimmy Turnbull. Jimmy looks to Hall, looks to Cross crumpled on the canvas, and looks back to Hall, who is doing his absolute best in this moment to look completely innocent. Turnbull is skeptical, until something past Jonathan-Christopher catches his attention. Following his gaze, JCH slowly turns…

…and finds Rocky De Leon perched on the top rope behind him!

Nick Stuart: What do you call THAT?!

Rocky De Leon: THE FLYY-IIING COOON-SEEEENT!

Rocky comes crashing down upon JCH with an astounding high-angle backflip press right into the north-south position, earning him a loud pop from the crowd! Quickly, he transitions into a cross-legged Boston crab from his new position. Hall howls in pain, reaching for ropes that are several feet away. Just beyond them, he sees the face of his beloved Vickie, and the tears of anguish welling up in her eyes. He’s about to lose it. Which means he’s about to lose her.

And he can’t let that happen!

JCH stuffs his knuckles between his teeth and bites down. A trail of blood oozes down his hand, but better to have it bleed than to tap. Then, out of the blue, salvation comes in the form of a running chop block from the N1GHTCRAW1LER.

Nick Stuart: BROKEN UP by Eddie Cross, who clipped the FDP’s knee out from under him! It looked as though he almost had Jonathan-Christopher Hall on the verge of tapping out before he was interrupted!

Richard Parker: Kids these days… always trying to get tap outs in triple threats! When are they ever gonna learn, Nick?

Rocky rolls and quickly regains his footing as EC advances on him. Cross attempts to finish him off with a spinning back elbow, but the FDP ducks and throws himself into the ropes for some speed.

On the return, he hops once.

Rocky De Leon: BUN–

Hops twice.

Rocky De Leon: –NY–

Hops a third time, extending his leg into a kick.

Rocky De Leon: –HO–OWW!!

Rocky coils up in agony on the third bounce and inexplicably leaps right into Eddie’s arms. Cross is stunned, though perhaps not in the way the FDP intended, but he doesn’t look the gift horse in the mouth as he drops him into a devastating spinebuster!

Richard Parker: The hell was he going for there? And why did it remind me of my Team Fortress Classic days?

Nick Stuart: I’m not sure, but it appears that the third bounce proved to be too much for Rocky De Leon’s worked over legs, and it foiled whatever he was attempting to do there!

Richard Parker: I was the top sniper for my clan, you know?

Nick Stuart: Trust me, I believe you. But hold the phone now… Vickie Hall up to the apron, trying to distract Jimmy Turnbull! She must be in pure desperation mode at this point!

Jimmy senses a commotion, but before the official can spot her, she’s suddenly GONE! 

Richard Parker: Hey! Is Old Man Dave getting handsy over there or what?

Nick Stuart: No, partner! He’s keeping this contest even, is what he’s doing!

The ever-vigilant Gibson has Vickie by the wrist, having just yanked her back down to the floor, to much approval from the PRIMATEs. Vickie, appropriately offended by this turn of events, lets loose an ear-piercing squeal.

Vickie Hall: BAAAAAYYY-BEEEEEEE!!!

Hearing her cry of distress, JCH perks up and scrambles back to his feet. His eyes find Vickie, his one true love, being physically ACCOSTED by another man! Again, the expression on his face tenses into pure, murderous fury. This transgression will NOT stand!

Cross, going for the only opponent left standing in the ring, attempts to grab JCH from behind. But in a flash, the Timid Tiger ducks through his arms and fluidly transitions into a hammer throw, chucking N1GHTCRAW1ER over the ropes!

Nick Stuart: Eddie Cross to the outside! How did Jonathan-Christopher see him coming?!

Richard Parker: HA! That’s what you get when you try to come between a man and his LOVE!

Seeing his student hit the floor, Gibson’s attention immediately switches from Vickie to getting Eddie up and back into the ring. On the other side, Stu Weiler is frantically slapping the mat to stir the FBD back into action. Rocky begins to push himself up, until the JCH pounces upon him, hooks his arms from behind, and twists.

Nick Stuart: STAND BY ME!! Jonathan-Christopher Hall hooks the leg!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!!

DING DING DING

The PRIMEATEs groan in disapproval. Steven Tyler’s impassioned wail comes in over the PA. JCH rises off of Rocky’s chest, astonished that he actually pulled it off, and is almost immediately tackled off his feet by Vickie after she scrambles into the ring and wraps him into her loving embrace.

Vince Howard: The winner of the match, by pinfall… JONATHAN… CHRISTOPHER… HAAAAAALLLLLLLLL!!

Nick Stuart: It looks as though it’s a glorious night for the Halls, and by extension LOVE CONVOY, as Jonathan-Christopher picks up the W, and also avenges his cousin the Nuzzle Lord with a pin over Rocky De Leon!

Richard Patrick: LOVE conquers all, yet again! More importantly, though, J-C is now OUT of the doghouse!

Nick Stuart: In any essence, Eddie Cross and Rocky De Leon had bright spots in this contest, and took direction well from their respective mentors. Clearly, though, there’s still work to be done with these young up-and-coming talents.

Cross and Gibson are beside themselves with frustration, with Dave again bringing up to the official the earlier low blow. Stu Weiler folds up his laptop and shakes his head with disapproval as the beaten Rocky crawls out of the ring to join him.

In the ring, Jonathan-Christopher Hall pumps an arm in triumph, Vickie’s arms wrapped endearingly around his neck. Tonight, their Hallmark Journey takes a brave step forward. 

We then cut to our first commercial break of the evening.

COMMERCIAL: 24 HOUR RULE

WHAT’S IN A NAME? THERE’S AN “N”, DEFINITELY AN “A”….

We return backstage after that rude commercial. The Paycom Arena. Home of the Oklahoma City Thunder. The site where the newly crowned ALIAS Champion decides the name and stipulation of the championship. Matt Mills knows this. The opportunity to interview Mortimer Knightingale after defeating Kohime Mori in the tournament finals and then getting eliminated by Abe Lipschitz the following night. There is a lot to cover. Mortimer Knightingale stands….looms over Matt Mills. The ALIAS Championship over his shoulder, the PRIME wrestler has dressed for the occasion in what can only be described as a flashy yet tacky gold pinstripe double breasted suit, a black dress shirt with the top button undone, and gold, yes, gold loafers with black outlines of paisleys.

Matt Mills: I am standing here with the new ALIAS Champion, Mortimer Knightingale. First of all, congratulations Mortimer.

Mortimer Knightingale: Thank you but, uh, I ain’t Mortimer Knightingale anymore.

Matt Mills: You aren’t?

Mortimer Knightingale: Mortimer Knightingale was a pseudo-name forced upon me by Tony Gamble. Now that I’m the new ALIAS Champion, I think it’s time I choose a name for myself.

Matt Mills: What, then, should we call you?

Not Mortimer Knightingale: Interesting question. I had the same one not two days ago as I was lookin’ at how the championship looked around my waist. Let’s just say I was feelin’ like a million bucks, so much so, that I says to myself ‘“Million Dollar Morty”, this whole Knightingale thing, it ain’t you.”. So I began Vaseline-in’ between several new name-de-plums, or, stage names, as they say in the business of show. I was thinkin’ maybe Morty Monte Carlo, but the whole relationship with gamblin’, it didn’t feel right. So then, I was thinkin’ Morty Manhattan. Has a nice ring to it, don’t it?

Matt Mills: So, it’s Morty Manhattan?

Morty Manhattan: No.

Matt Mills: No?

Not Morty Manhattan Either: No. There is an associate of my uncle’s that may or may not have adopted a similarly regional nickname and considerin’ newfound success, I would much rather not have my uncle, nor his friends or associates up to and includin’ my cousin, up my ass. So, instead, I have decided upon a name inspired by the most successful man that I know. You may call me, C. Mortgomery Byrnes!!!! There is a slightly different spellin’ as to avoid certain trademarked legalities that may be incurred by me from certain lawyers.

Matt Mills: C. Mortgomery Byrnes?

C. Mortgomery Byrnes: Yeah.

Matt Mills: You’re sure about the name?

C. Mortgomery Byrnes: Yeah.

Matt Mills: What’s the “C” stand for?

C. Mortgomery Byrnes: “Champ”, what else?

Matt Mills: Excellent. You defeated Kohime Mori at “Culture Shock” and some people state that you were able to defeat her only with the help of Tony Gamble. What are your thoughts on those claims and on Kohime Mori?

C. Montgomery Byrnes: I have no recollection of the event of which you are referencin’. To the people who are makin’ these accusations, they’re can go fuck their mothers. Kohime, on the other hand, I do still hold with great regard and admiration. There will always be a place in my heart for her. I wish her nothin’ but the best. However, as sweet and kind and cute and the beacon of positivity as she is, she’s also an immature little brat who decided to get all emotional and batshit crazy not only durin’ our match but also the battle royal. And you saw, I did everythin’ I could for her and she still acted like a fuckin’ baby about the whole thing.

Matt Mills: You punched her in the face. Twice.

C. Mortgomery Byrnes: “A” – That was weeks ago. And second, I did it to protect her. She needs to get over it.

Matt Mills: Get..? Will there be a rematch with Kohime Mori?

C. Mortgomery Byrnes: That particular topic will be addressed shortly. I would first like to announce the new name of the ALIAS Championship. At first, I after that Dickweed Gremlin shit, I was gonna call it the “Fuck The Fans” Championship but they’d probably get off of on that. Nah, instead, and in the effort of goodwill and respect, I have decided to call it “The Gamble Championship” after Tony Gamble, of course.

Matt Mills: I would think that after the battle royal—

C. Mortgomery Byrnes: A misunderstandin’. It’s all been hashed out like a latke. Look, I ain’t gonna say I “adore” Tony Gamble, okay? He’s too much of a prick for that. What I will say is I respect the man. And under his tutorage, I won my first PRIME Championship. The Gamble Adoration Syndicate believed in me when the fans treated me like shit and that’s that.

Matt Mills: Abe Lipschitz earned an ALIAS Title—-

C. Mortgomery Byrnes: That Lickshits piece of shit!

Matt Mills: Okay. So, Abe Lipschitz earned a right at the ALIAS Championship by eliminating you from the battle royal, but before that, we have learned that in a few weeks you will defend the ALIAS….or rather, The Gamble Championship against Eddie Cross.

C. Mortgomery Byrnes: The guy who sang “Arthur’s Theme”? Ain’t he like a hundred?

Matt Mills: Uh, no. That’s someone else. Your two competitors and everyone for that matter is wondering, what is the stipulation for the Gamble Championship?

C. Mortgomery Byrnes: I fuckin’ hate gamblin’ but any time you step in the ring, there’s odds. Someone wins, someone loses. If I’m puttin’ my championship on the line, the championship it took me a year to obtain, there’s gonna stakes. Think of it as….One and Done. As you may have surmised, the meanin’ of it is, as such, as self-explanatory as it can be. If you win, you can do whatever the fuck you want with this championship. Ah salut! You deserve it. BUT…If, or when, you fail in your opportunity, i.e., for the likes of Eddie Cross and Abe Lickshits, that’s it. You don’t get another shot, EVER, as long as I’m the champ. Oh! There’s one more caviar to this scenario. This stipulation has been retroactivated to the tournament.

Matt Mills: That would mean….

C. Mortgomery Byrnes: That’s right. That Darin Douchebaggery asshole, Kenny Fuckpants, Ned Reform, and Kohime Mori….they blew their shot. So, you asked earlier if Kohime Mori deserves a shot? It don’t matter. She ain’t gettin’ one. None of’em. Not as long as I’m champ. And that’s that.

The new ALIAS, now Gamble Champion, C. Mortgomery Byrnes taps the gold belt over his shoulder before exiting stage right. Matt Mills, a sense of satisfaction on his face, scoring the new name of the ALIAS Championship, the stipulation, and, to a lesser extent, the unveiling of C. Mortgomery Byrnes, which, to Matt Mills, just appears to be Mortimer Kjedelig/Knightingale in a gaudy suit.

TRUE ADORATION

We cut from the Alias Champion to Tony Gamble, whose smile is as wide as Texas, as he lifts his arms and starts to clap slowly for a few seconds.

Tony Gamble: Pure gold, my friends, and I’m not just talking about the track suit.

Domingo Cruz: What kind of name is C. Mortgomery Byrnes?

Tony Gamble: The name of a champion, Dom. The Gamble Champion.

He turns to look back at Domingo and Frank, both men smiling. 

Tony Gamble: Becoming champions is what the two of you have in your future too, and that starts in BANG!.

Frank Pastore: I still don’t know if that’s the right move. Dom and I were talking, and we don’t think it’s a good idea for us to be so far away.

Tony waves his hand.

Tony Gamble: Nonsense. I can take care of myself, and with the way the tag team division crumbled here in PRIME… You two deserve to be able to showcase your skills and represent the Gamble Adoration Syndicate in the ring – the way I trained you to do.

Domingo Cruz: Sucks how everybody tucked their tails and scampered off after they couldn’t beat Sykes and Calvin.

Frank Pastore: Is that where… shit, what do we call him now?

Tony Gamble: We can call him Morty. Unless you want to call him C, since it’s simple. 

Frank stands up, tapping Cruz on the shoulder as he walks behind him.

Tony Gamble: Where are you two going?

Frank Pastore: The PRIMEporium. Need to make sure Anna’s keeping things on the up and up. Sales have been dropping a bit, and we all know she’s not your biggest fan.

Tony Gamble: Who is, am I right?

Domingo Cruz: We’ll be back before your match, gotta make sure Zion’s bang bus doesn’t get involved.

Domingo gives Tony a fist bump as he walks past him.

Tony Gamble: Alright, I’ll see you two in a bit.

That wide grin returns.

Tony Gamble: The Gamble Championship. 

OPPONENT SELECTION GALA

We then cut to the parking garage of the Paycom Arena, the camera pans around to Nova approaching the Former Chairman of PRIME, Sonny Silver, who is standing next to a portion of the travel lane labeled “Lyft Pick-Up,” dressed in a jet-black suit with a blood-red button-up shirt.  

Nova is clad in his wrestling gear, lightning bolt tights, pads, and boots. He doesn’t have a scheduled match on the card. 

Nova: (Lighting a cigarette) Hey. 

Sonny Silver: Hey. 

The Risen Star scratches the back of his scalp awkwardly and takes another drag. 

Nova: I, um… 

 Sonny Silver: You don’t… 

Nova: …just wanted to thank you, man, for…for everything. 

Sonny gazes back towards the entrance/exit lane of the garage, as if to look for anything to disturb the conversation. 

Nova: I couldn’t have done this, stayed in this, without you. 

Silver turns back to his friend with a grin that bears none of his signature mischief. 

Sonny Silver: Brother… 

 Silver places a hand on Nova’s shoulder. 

Sonny Silver: …you’re still that guy. You may not see it, but you are. So get after it. 

The sound of a raucous SUV rolling up distracts them both. Two women hang their heads outside of back passenger windows, beckoning to Silver to join them. He gives them a wink before turning back to Nova. 

Sonny Silver: If shit goes off the rails, you know how to get ahold of me, right?  

Nova: (Taking a drag) Yeah. 

Sonny Silver: And you’re good? 

Nova takes a last drag, stomps it on the ground, and gives his friend a nod. 

Nova: I’m good. Everything’s gonna be okay. 

Silver pauses, gives him a nod, then walks over and climbs into the SUV as the women cheer him on. The vehicle pulls away and Nova can’t help but smile. 

As he turns to walk inside, he looks up at monitors that hang over the outside back entrance. Inside the arena, the crew goes to work. 

Nick Stuart: Up next, Hoyt Williams. 

Richard Parker: With a very special PRIME production!! 

Nick Stuart: “Special” being the key word… 

Richard Parker: When your car needs a miracle don’t be caught faithless, have a guardian angel looking out for you with, CAR SHIELD.  Call for a quote today and save 20% off the purchase of a new policy with the promo code “HoytSaves”!!  Roll your chariot to the heavens with peace of mind, don’t get caught broken down on the side of purgatory road.   

Nova stops in front of the back entrance just long enough to look up at the monitors, grin, and shake his head. Hoyt gonna Hoyt, almost no one knows that better than Nova. 

He pushes open the doors and begins walking through the back hallway, the camera shifting to a rearview where Nova’s back is center stage and it captures his surroundings. Nova looks up at monitors that hang as he makes his way through the hallway. 

The lights go dark as the crowd cheers, a single spotlight shines down on four timpani drums on a cleared off staging area near the back of the seating.  A large man in a creepy mask recognized as Hoyt’s henchman, Brother Hypocrisy, sits down on the little seat as he pulls out drum sticks and begins playing a drum roll.  Behind him in a suit and a producer’s headset is Brother Privilege who sends a cue to the ringside area where Joe Burro sits with a microphone in the announcer’s pit.  

Nova stops and stares up at the TV screen in front of him. 

Richard Parker: The great Brother Hypocrisy is not only a world-beater but an accomplished Timpani and steel drum musician!!   Hoyt’s IMPERIUM is the tops!  

Announcer (Joe Burro):  LIVE FROM Oklahoma City, sixth to last in Education, it’s PRIME PRESENTS THE HOYT WILLIAMS Opponent SELECTION meeting 2023 Godly Gala of the Heavens!!   

Piped in crowd cheers, overpowering the actual crowd sound fills the arena.  

Announcer (Joe Burro):  Now your host and savior, Current God’s champion, former Universal Champion, Former 5 Star champion, the 8th entrant in the PRIME HALL OF FAME, and ONE HELL OF A MAN!!!  It’s Hoyt Williams!!!   

Nova’s smile fades. 

On-screen, game show music plays loudly as about thirty spotlights flash across the crowd. From the ceiling Hoyt Williams wearing a puffy baby blue tuxedo and large angel wings slowly lowers down to the ring. We go to ringside. 

Nick Stuart: If he works on his in-ring work as much as he did on his “performances” this guy would be unstoppable.   

The ring is covered in a golden carpet with a large randomizer raffle drum in the center of it.  Two very pretty girls stand by the golden randomizer filled with balls with wrestlers’ names on them.   

Nick Stuart: What is this, bingo night?  

Hoyt touches down and removes the wings and unclips the lowering wires as the gear raises out of camera view. He smiles a big smile and kisses the girls on the side of their cheeks.  He waves to the crowd which is cheering loudly (piped in) over the gameshow music.  The Pontiff of PRIME does a few jumping jacks for Jesus before grabbing the mic.  

Hoyt Williams: Tonight, WE find out WHO my opponent will be at Tropical Turmoil!!  It will be my HISTORICAL Pay-Per-View return outside of a gimmicky battle royal. You sinners tonight will bear witness to MY singles in RING RETURN!!!   TONIGHT!!!!  AMEN!!  

The crowd jeers loudly as Hoyt loses his game show host smile. 

Backstage, Nova takes a step forward towards the locker room area before changing direction, heading straight towards the Argyle Position. 

Hoyt Williams:  I don’t have to even wrestle tonight if you people don’t want me to. I will take my crucifix and go home! I mean allowing the sinners of America to see me wrestle on free television is damn near criminal!   But, being a man of the people I’m doing my friends at the ACE network a favor by allowing the “savior of ratings” to perform miracles here tonight.   Now lets get down to crucifix nails and find out WHO I will be facing, but first a sermon. 

Nick Stuart: Ugh.  

Hoyt Williams: The book of Job. You see Job was a man who everyone loved. A man of wealth and happiness. A man with wonderful children. A real 1950’s television type family. You know the opposite of Rezin.  One day the devil told God he could take Job’s faith.  God being a fair and just man of the people agreed and let the devil kill Job’s family and take away all his wealth.  In the end Job still praised God!  Job was the world’s first Jobber. That’s where that wrestling term Jobber comes from the bible.  A lot of people don’t know that.  

Nick Stuart: Please.  

Richard Parker: You learn something every show.  

Hoyt Williams: Tonight I find my Job who I will torment, abuse, and then beat at Tropical Turmoil.   Now given the fact I already beat the devil I can’t ask him to pick a Jobber, so I’m using the divine righteous randomizer.  Each ball is crafted with a roster members name except for Brandon Youngblood WHOM I WILL NEVER FACE AGAIN!  

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! 

Hoyt laughs while holding up a ball he pulled from his pocket and dropping it.  The ball bounces almost in slow motion and rolls until it falls out of the ring.  

Hoyt Williams: We have a red ball in there for Ivan. A plain boring ball for Nate Coleman. A balding ball with little strips of hair for Nova. A bald ball for Rezin. A ball with a Lucha mask for that loser guy.  A dented-up ball for Wade Elliot.  No balls for the ladies, sorry Troy. A gray ball for Matt Ward. A ball that just says “annoying” for Abe offensive last name. We forgot a ball for Chandler Tsonda, since he’s better left forgotten.  I can go on, but most people aren’t worth my time.  We got specialized balls for all the members of the roster.   Now ladies; and I can call them Ladies since we couldn’t find any here in Oklahoma, we imported some Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders.  

The crowd lets the savior know their dissatisfaction.   

Hoyt Williams: Oh, real nice! Boo women. Ladies ignore these radicalized unrighteous roughnecks and jiggle my balls!  

The girls start spinning the balls around in the randomizer. Hoyt has a big smile upon his face as the spinning stops and one of the girls opens the little hatch.   The savior reaches in a grabs the red ball before dropping it for another one.  It looks like a plain boring ball and just as he’s about to pull it out… 

“Mother Earth is pregnant for the third time…for y’all have knocked her up.” 

The crowd erupts as Nova steps out onto the stage, microphone in hand, waving off Hoyt’s presentation and the remainder of his entrance music. 

Nova: (Raising the mic) Enough. 

Hoyt’s head whips around at the disruption. 

Nova: Hoyt, I love you, we came up together. 

The crowd pops again for the two elder statesmen of PRIME. 

Nova: BUT…(raising a gloved hand)…I’ve had enough of this shit. Really.  

Hoyt slowly removes his hand from the randomizer and looks out at Nova.  The savior has a panicked look in his eye as he realizes his security team Brother Hypocrisy and Brother Privilege are on the other end of the arena.   

Hoyt Williams: Pardon you, the smoking section is out back.  This is my time and you are, to use your nomenclature, “bogarting” my minutes. Now do us all a favor and skedaddle while I save the ratings.  

The Risen Star shakes his head. 

Nova: I don’t think so.  

Hoyt Williams: Don’t you take a step closer, or I’ll have you fined!!!  I’m calling Lindsey Troy and my friends at the ACE network, and I will be filing a grievance on this encroachment of my time.  I didn’t pull your ball. I didn’t choo- 

Nova waves an arm, cutting God’s Champion off. 

Nova: You didn’t choose shit. I’m sick of this. I’m over this cult shit. I know it’s been your bag since I walked in the door, but MESSIAH and this shit, I just can’t anymore…so save it.  

He takes a step down the ramp as the crowd pops. 

Nova: Or…I can save it for you. 

Williams offers a wild grin. 

Hoyt Williams: Hey sinner I’m in a tuxedo and I know it’s colorful but I’m not your jive dealer I’m your savior.   

Nova takes another step mockingly forward as the crowd starts a “Holy Shit” chant.  

Hoyt Williams: You see your profanity now has them using profanity.   Fate is going to pick my next opponent, not your free will!!!   Although I still owe you for taking my 5-Star Title in 2005. GODS never forget.  Now back out of here bub, before I use a miracle on you and grant you Crohn’s Disease.   

Nova: (Shaking his head) I’m not listening to any more of this and I’m not letting you subject anyone else to it, either. 

Hoyt Williams: I’m warning you I have a match later tonight and can’t risk getting hurt.  You stay out of this ring, ya hear?  

Nova enters the ring as Hoyt grabs the two cheerleaders by the back of the neck and positions them in front of him acting as a shield.   

Nova: (Cracking his knuckles) Why don’t we catch up and talk about the good ole days?  

Hoyt Williams: The world is sick of nostalgia and reboots, this isn’t a Disney property.  GET OUT OF HERE SINNER!!  AWAY WITH YOU.  

Nova is not backing down and is getting near the Savior.  Hoyt pushes one of the girls hard towards Nova as he drops down to the mat and rolls out of the other side of the ring.   

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! 

Nick Stuart: Some savior using a cheerleader as a shield.  

Richard Parker: She tripped!!   

Nova catches the young lady and gently releases her unharmed as she and the other girl scurry away.   

Hoyt Williams: I don’t think so.  Not today pal, I can’t risk an injury! These people paid to see me wrestle. You ruined my segment!!!!    

Hoyt gets on his golden segway.  Nova goes over to the randomizer and pulls out a red golf ball. He has a hard time reading it, so he pulls a pair of spectacles out from inside his right elbow pad and squints down at the text on the ball. 

Nova: “Ivan Stanislav”…hey, you sure this wasn’t the one God wanted you to pick? 

Nova chucks the ball towards Hoyt as Williams attempts to flee on his scooter. It whizzes past Hoyt’s ear and makes a loud CLANG sound as it hits the guardrail.  

A disheveled Hoyt throws his mic at Nova and continues segwaying away.  Nova grabs another ball that’s painted with a green-and-black mask. 

Nova: Rocky De Leon? Any takers? 

He flings that ball at Hoyt, this time nailing him in the back of the head. The crowd pops loud. Nova smiles.  Hoyt rubs the back of his head as he speeds away.   

Nick Stuart: Where is your savior going to now, Parker?   

Richard Parker: He’s protecting the integrity of his match with Anna Daniels later tonight. The man is in a tux and is not prepared for a confrontation.  He may be concussed from that ball shot. 

Nick Stuart: You mean he doesn’t have his stooges around to protect him.  Another religious type caught with his pants down.  

Richard Parker: Blasphemy!  

Nova reaches into the randomizer and pulls out a ball with stars painted against a dark sky. He smirks as he looks down at the horseshoe of gray-blonde hair glued around the ball’s rim, and closes a gloved fist around it. 

Nova: I think I’ll hang onto this one. 

The crowd continues to rollick as Hoyt escapes to the back and Nova stands alone in the ring. 

JACOB MEPHISTO vs. CANCER JILES

Nova then makes his way up the ramp and as he does, Mephisto walks past him in silence.

Nick Stuart: Well, apparently our producers didn’t think to catch Jacob Mephisto’s entrance here. Odd.

Richard Parker: Well, Nick, the cameras had to be on Hoyt Williams and Nova. You know how important Hoyt is to the very fabric of PRIME itself.

Nick Stuart: I’m not arguing with you over this, Rich.

Vince Howard: Our next match is scheduled for one fall. Currently in the ring, JACOB MEPHISTO!!

The crowd tepidly boos the All-Father, making his return to PRIME after some time away.

A cool chill moves through the air. The bright lights slowly draw to a dim. An almost sold out audience rises to their feet. Then, an all too familiar guitar riff screams its way into eggsistance.

Richard Parker: Maybe we’ll get lucky and it will be Bobby Dean.

Nick Stuart: I don’t think anyone is that lucky.

I’m the one your mama warned you about

When you see me, I will leave you no doubt

I’m the coolest man that ever walked this earth

I’ve been the coolest since the day of my birth

BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!

BOOM-BOOM!

BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!

BOOM!

Richard Parker: That’s a lot of pyro for our third match of the night. 

I AM THE COOL!

BOOOOOOOO!!! 

The Maestro of COOL bursts through the curtain as if he’s late for an egg tossing competition. He’s got a big ole bandage covering his one eyebrow, and his big ole T-Shades covering the bandage.

Nick Stuart: This is the first time Cancer Jiles has been on ReVival since he lost to Ivan Stanislav for a chance to recapture the Universal Championship at ReVival 21. 

Richard Parker: It was a good run.

Nick Stuart: More recently, Jiles returned at Culture Shock and had a nice little run in the Battle Royal placing within the Top 10.

Richard Parker: I don’t care how long he was in there for. Losers gonna lose, Nick. He didn’t even have one elimination! Even Abe Lipschitz had an elimination!

Instead of stopping and posing for the enjoyment of his raucous detractors, or insulting the young fan wearing a MESSIAH hat sitting along the entrance ramp, or glaring in Richard Parker’s general direction, The COOLYMPIAN has something else in mind. 

Nick Stuart: Who’s he looking for?

Not who, but what.

Jiles hunts down the closest camera he can find, gets within a few inches from it, REMOVES HIS T-SHADES, and begins shouting for only one person to hear.

Cancer Jiles: I HOPE YOU’RE PAYING ATTENTION, MOM! WHAT HAPPENS NEXT IS GOING TO KEEP ON HAPPENING UNTIL YOU PUT ME BACK WHERE I BELONG!

After threatening Lindsay Troy a few more times about his place on the card, a disgusted Jiles spins on a heel, angrily makes his way ringside, and hastily slides under the bottom rope. He exchanges a few choice words with the referee about what to expect, and then waves BYE BYE to his opponent.

Vince Howard: And his opponent, weighing in at 118 cartons of large eggs, hailing from the Mount Coolympus neighborhood of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, he is COOL. CANCER. JIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILES!

Richard Parker: I heard Mount Coolympus was next to the Kensington neighborhood in Philly. Real bad part of town.

Nick Stuart: Who told you that?

Richard Parker: The Anglo Luchador.

Nick Stuart: I thought you hated him.

Richard Parker: I do. I just hate Cancer Jiles more.

Elvis Nixon calls for the bell.

DING DING

Mephisto charges for Jiles, wanting to make an impact, but the former Universal Champion has him scouted.

Nick Stuart: COOLYMPIAN YOLJK!

Richard Parker: This early? Does he have a dinner appointment with T. Boone Pickens that we don’t know about?

Nick Stuart: Rich, he died in 2019.

Richard Parker: Oh no, and I forgot to send his family a card!

Mephisto fumbles around the ring holding his face while Jiles points and laughs. The All-Father wipes the salty yolk from his eyes and spots Jiles, looking to take his head off with a big lariat. Once again, the lagomorph-quick eGG Meister ducks, turns around, and chops Mephisto down to size with a picture perfect chop block, bringing the Patriarch down to one knee.

Nick Stuart: Mephisto is not prepared at all, it seems!

Richard Parker: What the hell was he doing out in the desert all this time? You’d think after being away this long, he’d come out sharp and ready to, uh, y’know, beat this egg. For his old pal, Richie?

Nick Stuart: Are you saying you’re his friend?

Richard Parker: In a way that the enemy of my enemy is my friend?

Before Mephisto can get up, Jiles traipses over with a spring in his step without a single hair on his head bobbing and plants the All-Father with a DDT. He kips up, doing a little dance in the process.

Nick Stuart: Cancer Jiles is just playing with his food now.

Richard Parker: Normally, if someone is referring to someone in a Jacob Mephisto match as food, it’s Mephisto literally doing so to his opponent.

Jiles rakes his fingers across the exposed back of Mephisto, causing him to jolt over exposing his belly. The Closer wastes no time, stomps on it a few times, and then lifts the massive hulking Patriarch to his feet.

Cancer Jiles: BYE-BYE, YOU CRUMB!

Terminal Cancer.

ONE.

TWO.

THREE.

DING DING DING

Vince Howard: Your winner, Cancer JIIIIIIIIIIIIIILES!

Boos rain down on the arena as Cancer pops up, running his fingers through the side of his hair before bailing on the ring as quick as he could get into it.

Richard Parker: Well, it’s going to be hard for Jacob Mephisto to come back after this humiliating defeat.

Nick Stuart: Rich, something tells me Jake isn’t going to be back anymore. Anyway, we have to take this commercial break, but I’m told afterwards, we’re going to get Cecilworth Farthington in this very ring.

Richard Parker: Ooh, I can’t wait! The barbecue I went to at his house was just exquisite!

COMMERCIAL: COMICON

Cancer Jiles exits the ring as ReVival goes to a commercial break.

The LCD screen begins to play a montage of famous scenes from comic book movies, among them including…

-Heath Ledger’s Joker approaching Maggie Gyllenhaal’s Rachel in the penthouse scene during The Dark Knight.

-A brief part of the introduction to the 1978 Superman movie.

-Mark Ruffalo’s Hulk fighting Chris Hemsworth’s Thor in Thor: Ragnarok, recreating a famous comic book scene.

-Robert Downey Jr’s Tony Stark performing his weapon demonstration before officially becoming Iron Man in the first movie.

-Tobey Maguire’s Peter Parker stopping the train in Spider-Man 2.

-Ben Affleck’s Batman facing off against Henry Cavill’s Superman in Batman V. Superman: Dawn of Justice.

-The Avengers teaming up for the first time together in a wide pan shot from the first Avengers film.

-Christian Bale’s Batman fighting Tom Hardy’s Bane, right before Bane hoists The Dark Knight up and breaks his back.

-Maguire’s Spider-Man and Kirsten Dunst’s Mary Jane Watson making out as Spider-Man hangs upside-down in a New York alleyway.

-A bunch of shots from Tom Hiddleston’s Loki.

-And finally, Josh Brolin’s Thanos with the Infinity Gauntlet glove on his hand, snapping his fingers.

The screen goes black on the finger snap while ominous battle music plays in the background.

A voice over surfaces.

Voice Over: Through the test of time, every superhero has a villain and every villain has a superhero there to stop them.

Logos of various superheroes fly across the screen from the ones everyone knows like Batman, Superman and The Flash, to more obscure logos like Icicle, Jackson Hyde and Amalgam.

Voice Over: At their best, superheroes inspire us, the average citizen. They provide examples of coping with adversity, finding a connection to loss and managing trauma. Superheroes discover their strengths and use their abilities for good, which could otherwise be a detriment.

The voice cuts, the superhero images go away.

Except for one.

A new one.

A C logo.

And then the C morphs into a sentence.

COMICON is COMING to PRIME

The video fades.

Cancer Jiles is standing on the rampway, with a look suggesting he’s going to vomit all over the place before exiting behind the curtain.

LINE UNFINISHED

We return from commercial. It has already been a very exciting night of action and instead of continuing with that, we instead find ourselves in the backstage area. This backstage area is slightly undefined, a black curtain has been draped in the background and in front of it sits a large, red throne with gold trimmings. What sort of man would be deserving of such seating? Well, the man who came 2nd in the Culture Shock Battle Royal, of course!

Sitting upon his throne, Lord Cecilworth Farthington is attired in a plain black hoodie and his black “LCF” tights, clearly ready for main event action in the evening. Standing directly behind the self-proclaimed Financier of the Glue Factory is the tall, mute, beautiful, strong and loyal Hank. To Lord Farthington’s left stands Dirk Dickwood, to Lord Farthington’s right stands Gary Tongueman.

That’s right, friends, we find ourselves in the company of Glue Point Oh.

The small smirk creeps upon Lord Farthington’s face as he begins to speak.

Cecilworth Farthington: Hello PRIME. Our introduction the other week was very sudden. Something of a surprise you could say. Rude and abrupt is certainly what I’m sure some think. So, I asked for a little bit of time to formally introduce myself ahead of tonight’s WONDERFUL main event. 

Farthington makes a small chuckle and snorts to himself. Don’t read too much into that. It’s definitely not anything.

Cecilworth Farthington: For those of you unaware, because, let’s be honest, most of this place is riddled with ignorant egotists, my name is Cecilworth Farthington and I am… or… I suppose was… the Finish Line of professional wrestling.

Cecilworth himself seems a little perturbed to be describing himself in the past tense.

Cecilworth Farthington: I don’t know if I can truly make that claim right now. I was close to reclaiming that name, but the boy, he beat me. He bettered me. He crossed the finish line. No one is supposed to do that. People are supposed to fall short. Two metres or so is my preference, makes it feel like they got ever so close before their heart was ripped out. That used to bring me such joy. 

A wistful Cecilworth looks up to the ceiling and smiles. 

Cecilworth Farthington: One day I hope to earn that title once more, perhaps after Nate Colton, or whoever manages to get their grubby little paws upon the 5 Star Championship before Tropical Turmoil, gets to find out what it means to stand in the ring with Lord Farthington. Perhaps I will be the Finish Line once more, as I make the 5 Star Championship the most important title in the wrestling universe. For now though, that’s a wish and a dream, it is not reality, it is not concrete fact.

Cecilworth returns his focus towards the camera.

Cecilworth Farthington: For now, you can call me The Financier. The man who funded the greatest Universal Champion in the history of PRIME wrestling, a man who never rightfully lost the title, the man that Hayes Hanlon wishes he could be, my mentor, my friend, my hero, Phil Atken. Such a shame he isn’t able to be here to provide his blessing upon me, but I assure you, I have been blessed all the same. 

Cecilworth lifts up his arm and gestures at Dirk Dickwood.

Cecilworth Farthington: Now, thanks to Dirk, I am to understand that many of the viewing audience of PRIME are concerned about dearest Flamberge’s role within The Glue Factory. After all, he was so dear to Philip’s heart. Phil told me time and time again that he wanted to be the father Flambo never had. It wasn’t to be though, Cancer Jiles made sure of that. So I made sure that Cancer Jiles fucking bled. That’s how this works. Man, what a Battle Royal we had, eh? If only the boy hadn’t gotten the better of me for a few seconds, I’d have had the most eliminations, given ole Ninja Master LT’s regards, turned Cancer Jiles into a redhead, and banked myself Universal and 5 Star Opportunities. I guess you can’t always get what you want though. 

Cecilworth chuckles to himself.

Cecilworth Farthington: Got most of it though.

Another chuckle, another snort. Gary, Hank and Dirk join in on the jolly laughter, although we’re unsure if they find it funny or are just worried about future employment. 

Cecilworth Farthington: Where was I? Oh yes, Flamberge. What a kid. What a talent. What an asset! Many people would be delighted to have an athlete of his calibre on their side. Just an out and out wonderkid. I don’t know how he does it. So, I guess the natural assumption would be that I’d want him in the factory…

As the tone of Cecilworth’s dialogue changes, Dirk starts to drown himself in flop sweat, clearly concerned about Cecilworth’s next choice of words. 

Cecilworth Farthington: The Factory is different now, we’re in a new era. Glue Point Oh. Flamberge was an incredible asset to Glue V1. I just don’t quite see the knife fighter in him… yet. I think he’s very, very capable. I think he could be a wonderful ambassador to our message. I just don’t think it’s there yet. Yet. Yet yet yet. The power of yet, that means the door is open. Dirk needs not worry, for opportunity is present. Let us just say that I will be watching this evening’s contest with Arthur Pleasant with a microscopic eye. For perhaps on this night potential turns into reality. Wouldn’t that be lovely, Dirk?

Dirk knows well enough to not sincerely respond to the question. He knows a rhetorical trap when he sees it. 

Cecilworth Farthington: Enough about the future. We have the present to discuss. Tonight I will begin my slow jog towards claiming wrestling’s finish line once more. Tonight I asked my dear friend, Ms. LT, for a challenge and a challenge she has certainly delivered in Adam Ellis. That kid shits plausible potential. It’s the perfect test to see if I’m still made of the right stuff, and I’m relishing the opportunity to find out what kind of man I even am in the ring these days. Adam, you have stepped up and for that, you will have an eternal gratitude of debt from Glue Point Oh. 

The camera starts to fade, but is interrupted by a further chuckle from Farthington. 

Cecilworth Farthington: Sorry, I know some of you are expecting drama after my Culture Shock battle with my best friend’s son. Let me make you a promise, PRIME. I will never lie to you. I can admit that I could not pay the TAB at Culture Shock, he was just better. He beat me. He beat me fair. He beat me clean. He beat me sweet. He is diving into professional wrestling’s deep end at Tropical Turmoil, and I sincerely wish him the best. Perhaps we will find a way to stick together in the future, perhaps not. Perhaps he meets the potential of his bloodline, perhaps not. Uncle Cecilworth will be a shoulder to cry on either way, my dear boy. 

Gary looks vaguely confused and definitely not aroused at this point.

Cecilworth Farthington: That is for another day, today is Adam Ellis day. Today is my new marathon. Minute by minute, the finish line grows nearer. In the meantime, I just hope I don’t… choke…

With another self-amused chuckle from the money behind The Glue Factory, we fade out, but for real this time. 

SEGMENT 12

Ladies and gentlemen, the PRIMEporium. A place that may or may not be the most wonderful place on Earth. Or at least, this Earth anyway. Are we even sure this is Earth, anyway? How do you know that you’re human? How do we know those aren’t just skinsuits you’re wearing?!

…

We’re joking. Besides you can be whatever you want to be as long as the money’s good. The vessel that contains the Multitudes of Anna Daniels is leisurely dressed, blue jeans and the BRAND SPANKING NEW FUCK YOUR HEAD SHIRT ONLY AT THE PRIMEPORIUM! Somewhere in the distance, an airhorn goes off! We haven’t even said anything yet. Should we? All that yelling at the top of our lungs does get a bit tiresome. So let’s try something else.

We sip on our green tea and gently sit down our toasted soul before popping to our feet. What? Are we supposed to write these in the third person? What rules are worth keeping and worth losing? Damn. We’re doing a lot of quiet contemplating to the camera drone today.

With a few thousand florishes, we display the goods in perfect silence to the background music of some classical music. It could be any kind of classical music, though personally you’d hit the nail on the head if you’re imagining something out of a Bugs Bunny cartoon. Especially the parts where he’s in drag or dropping an anvil on someone’s head. We force the camera drones to zoom in on the slightly lower than industry standard price points. We know times are tough for ya. Solidarity!

The majority of newer merch are t-shirts, no surprise there. Besides the obvious one on the vessel, Eddie Cross’ GG shirts are hung up with care (with the new color being serendipitously hidden from sight because that would be spoilers), a hysterical mockery of Foster Nackedy…

Anna Daniels: Wait, what the fuck kind of name is Nac–

Firebug, now is not the time. A pinch at the bridge of the nose. A shake of the head. Where were we?

Ah, yes. A hysterical mockery of Ol’ Mr. No-Fun Nackedy in both “old man shaking his fist at clouds” and “dedicated member of the no fun police” variants. Not to mention signs giving a nice sneak peek at the Nate Colton shirt COMING SOON TO THE PRIMEPORIUM. Another airhorn.

However, what we show next is truly amazing. Currently only available for the fans in attendance, it’s limited time only FREE SAMPLES OF BIG LEAGUE TCHU, THE (NOT QUITE) OFFICIAL BUBBLE GUM OF PRIME! These fine samples come in PRIME Orange-inal, Sour Grapple, and Greatness Grape. Sure, we lost all of our pun powers when we started to name the grape flavor. But it’s still here! That deserves five airhorns.

Two people grab their free samples. And would you look at that! It’s the dynamic duo of No Laughing Matter! What were their names again? Dean and Alejandro? Sammy and Ferdinand? Gamble Lackey #1 and Gamble Lackey #2? FRANK AND DOMINGO! That’s right! And they are enjoying the explosive flavor of BIG LEAGUE TCHU!

However, perhaps they enjoy it a little too much. They begin to blow bubbles. Huge bubbles. Bubbles as big as themselves. And that is a threat to the merchandise! Y U doing this?!?! So we shall protect the stuff that gives you joy! But how?

Oh, wait. We have a pin.

Comically, fantastically, we pop the giant bubbles that threaten Seattle. Which is impressive because we are not in Seattle! The gale force winds send some of our goods tumbling. But at least we can pick those up. Frankie and Flamingo get the brunt of the punishment.

They are stuck to the wall in a wicked web of gum and bubble and bubble gum. We look at them as they squirm. The camera drone looks at us. We shrug and hold up a sign.

BUY GLUE STUFF FROM THE PRIMEPORIUM, YOU FUCKING COWARDS!

SO A GAMER, A MONSTER, AND A MUSE WALK INTO A BAR. THE BARTENDER GRINS AND SAYS…

We then see…

That damn grin.

That damn prick.

Tony “The Grin” Gamble.

One of the many PRIME Hall of Famers that has come back from retirement to join the Revival.

Standing backstage alone, preparing for a mess of a match that is about to start, he can only think about one thing…

Fried chicken.

Winning was probably a close second, or maybe third because crispy tacos are bomb.

As much as he wanted to win, the odds were hardly in his favor in a triple threat match. He had a better chance of getting fried chicken, than he did a win, and he knew it. 

Worst record in PRIME.

Still, should the opportunity present itself, he would take the win. 

He’s not stupid.

But speaking of…

Eddie Cross: Tony F’N Gamble. The Permascar Sortastar himself. I told you I would be looking for you in person. 

Tony turns his attention toward the voice, toward the ridiculous haircut, toward Timo’s late pull out.

Tony Gamble: You did, but people say quite a few things on Jabber that they don’t actually follow through on.

Gamble takes a moment, motioning toward Cross with his left hand.

Tony Gamble: Take you being worth anything inside a ring, and Mori showing me anything worth talking about.

Eddie curls his lip, but he maintains his composure while Dave Gibson stands behind him quietly. The young wrestler looks down to his elder and shakes his head.

Eddie Cross: I honestly thought you’d be taller, like the short thing is one of the locker room running jokes about ducks or something. But now that I am here, I can see your bald spot coming in. Give it a few years and you can rock a skullet like Nova and draw attention away from the stupid scar you’ve been riding for the last twenty years.

Eddie rolls his shoulders, working out a kink from the match earlier in the evening. 

Eddie Cross: But I didn’t come here to trade jabs with you. We do enough of that already. I came here to see if you’d be man enough to look me in the eye and say it to my face, and I gotta admit, you didn’t disappoint.  

He pauses.

Eddie Cross: Yes, unlike my father. Let me just scoop up that low hanging piece of fruit that you seem to be fond of. 

Tony completes his smile.

Tony Gamble: Well, I would look ridiculous carrying a stool around to reach for anything higher. 

The Grin looks over at Dave, shaking his head.

Tony Gamble: Besides, the biggest disappointment in your life would be that you allowed this man to make you believe he could help make you a decent wrestler. Not even your time with Viv has really helped you, but there’s still hope for you…

Tony’s smile curls into more of a sneer.

Tony Gamble: Pledge your adoration to me, and I can do for your career what I did for Morty’s. I can teach you things that will help you reach your goals, instead of just being low hanging fruit.

Dave rolls his eyes and huffs. Eddie seems unphased. 

Eddie Cross: I don’t get all you supposed leaders of men. You, Ivan, Foster. You all talk a big game about how great you are, and how Dave is steering me down the wrong path. The last time I checked, you haven’t really done much except piss everyone off, Ivan didn’t accomplish his goals, and Foster spent more time whining about getting his ass handed to him than he did teaching Paxton Ray anything. 

He holds up his own hand. 

Eddie Cross: In fact it’s as if all of you just talk, and talk, and talk… then when it comes time to back up these supposed legacies, you just kinda don’t. So I guess I’ll ask since you’re trying to be reasonable, what exactly are you going to teach me that will put me on the right path?

Tony shakes his head with a crooked grin, wagging his finger at the same time.

Tony Gamble: Come on, Eddie, you don’t really think it works like that do you? 

He inches closer to Eddie.

Tony Gamble: I’m sure you’ve heard the quote about giving a man a fish to feed him for a day… Well if I told you what you needed to fix, and how I’d fix it you really wouldn’t need me anymore. But just like with Morty, I’m the one that needs to teach you…

Kohime Mori: How to cheat like a lame loser that’s lame?

In walks one Kohime Mori. The usually cheerful Japanese girl is far from jubilant at the moment. Her dark brown eyes are locked into Tony, as if trying to summon eye lasers to vaporize the man. Her hips cock slightly to the left, hands settling there.

Kohime Mori: As a matter of fact, the only things you’ve taught Morty are horrible! I might be mad at him right now, but I know the truth… I know that deep down, he’s a good guy. You and the other jerks you hang out with are only doing one thing: holding him back. I wish he could see that.

Kohime receives a deep sigh and a roll of the eyes from the Permascar Superstar, or is it Sortastar now that Eddie is pushing for it? It is fitting, considering how things are going for Tony lately.

Tony Gamble: Oh the misguided thoughts of a woman scorned. If anything, Morty sees things much clearer now. He is the one holding the Alias title, while you’re here holding on to a dream. That’s what’s holding you back.

Gamble dismisses her with a wave of his hand.

Tony Gamble: What is it with you children? I guess respect is something else your trainers failed to teach you, but I’d be willing to help both of you with that for just a bit of your adoration.

Eddie raises his eyebrow.

Eddie Cross: Bruh, are you for real? What is with you and this weird energy you got going for children to adore you?  Your words, not mine.

Kohime, seemingly ignoring Eddie’s presence, steps forward to look The Grin in the eyes.

Kohime Mori: I have respect for my trainer. I have respect for a number of veterans. You have done nothing to earn my respect! You’ve treated myself and so many others terribly. You might think that’s okay, but you’re the only one. I might not have anything but a dream, but that’s better than dealing with the nightmare that’s your way of life.

Tony Gamble: I get it, if words could kill Charles Cullen would be envious of me. 

He offers no explanation, just a shrug.

Tony Gamble: Thing is, your – nor anyone else’s – feelings really matter to me, and if anything I have ever told you hurts… Well, maybe you and Eddie need to take a step back and contemplate whether you can actually handle it here. 

Eddie instead steps forward and seemingly pushes aside Kohime. He wears a confused look.

Eddie Cross: What makes you think I care about that? Let me be blunt, Gamble, I don’t think you can actually hurt me. That has always been what this is about.

Tony Gamble: That’s because you don’t know any better, Eddie. You’re paying more attention to my record, instead of what actually happens in the ring to my opponents. I suggest you go and ask Colton or Youngblood if they feel our match was a walk in the park. Ask them, because if you knew the truth I really don’t think you’d want to find out first hand. 

Eddie scoffs.

Eddie Cross: K, Tony. Cool story, bruh.  

And this is the part where things get a little derailed. Kohime and Eddie are so busy discreetly one upping each other and jabbing at Tony and Tony is so busy being a pitiful floppy dick that next to nobody notices the boot that is about to connect to Tony Gamble’s head. Until, of course, it does. It’s an excellent punt, the type that no god stands a chance at duplicating. As Tony stumbles to the floor, the giver of said boot to the head smiles at the two youngsters.

Anna Daniels: Ohaidere.

The Merch Czar is still in her Fuck Your Head shirt, but now the wrestling gear is clearly underneath it given the shiny white boots.

Anna Daniels: We were just changing into our stuff and doing some last minute prep. Couldn’t help overhearing. Was a little disappointing seeing you three wasting valuable air time doing the same thing you’ve been doing online for free for weeks on end. We were expecting it to come to blows by now. Two young shining prospects with all the talent in the world alone with an antagonistic idiot who irritates them. His lackeys are stuck to a wall and Row–

The Time Lord looks at Mori.

Anna Daniels: Mortimer is in the fetal position somewhere hiding from a mob that have bought a whole bunch of rocks to perform target practice.

She then forces Mori’s hand open and places a #Justice4Mori throwing rock inside of it. Then a look to Eddie as Gamble is beginning to come back around to the land of the living.

Anna Daniels: He’s alone. He prefers to run his mouth right now and there’s two of you. You’re not changing his mind, he won’t change yours. Why aren’t you guys hitting him?

Tony Gamble: Did… Did any…

Up to one knee, with one hand on the ground and the other rubbing the site of impact, Tony winces as he looks up at the Time Lord.

Tony Gamble: Shit, that hurt.

He tries to shake off the birds that are circling his head, chasing after the stars that showed up the moment the heel of the shiny white boot made contact with his skull.

Tony Gamble: Did anyone get the… license plate… of that bus?

Eddie looks at Daniels then to Gamble. 

Eddie Cross: Not really my style. I’m more of a tactical sniper, buuuut… 

He spins and deftly strikes Gamble across the jaw with a back elbow as The Grin stumbles to his feet. 

Eddie Cross: I don’t have a problem with corpse camping. 

Tony takes the shot like a champ, spitting on the ground as he continues to rise to his feet, using the wall for support.

Tony Gamble: You hit… like a… bitch…

One hand on the wall, his knees a little wobbly, the other rubs at his jaw as he looks at the vessel.

Tony Gamble: No offense.

Anna Daniels: We take that as a compliment.

Tony Gamble: Why is there five of you?

Anna Daniels: Oh, there’s more than that.

The smile (dare I say grin?) returns to the vessel’s face as she teases another kick.

Anna Daniels: Wanna see?

Kohime looks down at the rock. She knows how she feels. She knows what others want her to do. That rock… feels a lot heavier than it looks. Looking down at Tony, compromised as he is, doesn’t help relieve the weight any. Mori looks over to Anna, politely handing the rock back to her.

Kohime Mori: I appreciate it… But I already eliminated him in the Culture Shock Battle Royal. That’s something he’s never gonna live down. And honestly…

Mori gives Gamble another, more malice ladened glance.

Kohime Mori: I don’t think he could beat me anyway.

Eddie snickers.

Eddie Cross: Sick burn, Mori. Not the kind he is used to either. 

Tony Gamble: Hey, can one of you tell me how many fingers I’m holding up?

For the record, it’s only one. I’ll let you guess which one it is. He spits on the ground again, this time you can see a slight red tint to it.

Tony Gamble: You’re all lucky I already have a match lined up tonight, or I’d take all twenty of you one by one.

EC stoops to Tony’s eyeline and slowly takes his yellow gaming glasses off.

Eddie Cross: You know what? I’m changing that name to Permascar Dyingstar. Seems more fitting. Oh and I got you something. Anna?

The Muse produces a blood red special edition GG shirt and hands it to Eddie. He holds up the design and smiles with menacing intent. 

Eddie Cross: (mockingly) Yo dawg, I heard you like tee shirts. Well this one is the first off the line, just for you. Hold on to it. If you keep running your mouth you’re going to want some camo. 

Eddie pulls out his Sharpie and signs “n1ghtcraw1er” on the tee, then throws it at Tony. He stands up and looks at Mori and Anna.

Eddie Cross: This was fun. We should do this more often.

Anna actually thinks about this a little bit…

Anna Daniels: Maybe we should.

…and stubbornly puts the rock back into Mori’s hand.

Anna Daniels: If you don’t wanna use it, at least keep it as a memento. Stay this way as long as you can no matter what we say. You’ll miss it when it’s gone. As for you…

She turns to Gamble.

Anna Daniels: We don’t even hate you. We just kicked you for fun. Toodles!

With that, Anna and all the Multitudes skip away.

Tony just laughs, as he slowly backs away.

Tony Gamble: Figures, it would be the little girl that ends up being the bigger man. Thanks for the shirt, I know just how to use it.

Eddie moves toward The Grin, only for Kohime to grab his arm gently and shake her head.

Kohime Mori: Don’t… Be better than he is.  

Eddie takes a deep breath and stares hollow-point bullets while Tony slinks away from the remaining two, grinning the whole time. 

We then cut to…

SAGE PONTIFF vs. DARIN ZION vs. TONY GAMBLE

We then return to the ringside area for our next match.

“You think I’m funny… Funny how?”

The unmistakable voice of Joe Pesci irritates the eardrums right before Metallica’s ‘Better Than You’ begins to blast through the PA System, the calling card of Tony ‘The Grin’ Gamble. He walks out at the same time the music kicks in, passing a quick arrogant glance toward the crowd before making his way toward the ring once the lyrics of the song kick in.

“I look at you, then you me
Hungry and thirsty are we
Holding the lion’s share
Holding the key
Holding me back ’cause I’m striving to be”

Footage from Revolution 94 when Gamble locked The Illustrious Face Eater into his ‘Smile For Me’ submission and won the Internet Title plays.

“Better than you
Better than you
Better than you
Better than you”

Tony takes his time walking up the ring steps, staring into the ring for a few seconds with his left hand on the top rope, before ducking between the top and middle rope to step into the ring. Footage from Revolution 106 plays, where Gamble slams Kenjiro Ito face first into the mat with his ‘Stop Laughing At Me’ signature move.

Vince Howard: From Las Vegas, Nevada! Weighing at at 187 pounds… TONY GAAAAAMBLE!

“Lock horns, I push and I strive
Some how I feel more alive
Bury the need for it
Bury the seed
Bury me deep when there’s no will to be”

Another clip shows, this one from the Great American Nightmare; where Tony Gamble became the Five Star Champion by pinning Chandler Tsonda.

“Better than you
Better than you
Better than you
Better than you”

Nick Stuart: This is going to be a tough test for Tony. Between personal issues and that attack from Anna Daniels earlier, it’s going to be an uphill climb.

Richard Parker: Maybe so. Don’t count him out, though. He’s a Hall of Famer for a reason!

“Satori Part II” by the Flower Travellin’ Band plays over the PA system as Sage Pontiff saunters out. His arms are outstretched, calling out to the crowd as he makes his way to the ring.

Vince Howard: From Joshua Tree, California! Weighing in at 201 pounds… SAAAAGE PONTIFF!

Nick Stuart: Can you hear what he’s saying, Rich?

Richard Parker: I don’t know, something about enlightenment or some such crap.

Nick Stuart: I thought you were a fan of Sage?

Richard Parker: Eh, he’s alright. But if you want real enlightenment, Hoyt is the man to talk to!

Sage casually slides under the ropes before sliding over to the corner. He begins engaging in a number of yoga poses while Tony Gamble shoots him some skeptical looks.

“Happy Song” by Bring Me the Horizon leaves the crowd less than happy as Darin Zion makes his way to the ring. Despite Zion’s pleas for cheers, the PRIMEates aren’t having it.

Vince Howard: From Chicago, Illinois! Weighing in at 225 pounds… DARIN ZIIIIIION!

Nick Stuart: Darin Zion is looking for love, but it seems like he’s having trouble finding it.

Richard Parker: It’s a shame, Nick. Everyone deserves a little love!

Nick Stuart: Maybe he should ask Brando-

Richard Parker: We don’t say that name around him, Nick!

Zion climbs into the ring, shaking his head in disappointment at his reception. With all three men in the ring, the bout can start.

DING DING

The match starts and the three combatants circle each other. That doesn’t last long as Tony Gamble stops in his tracks. He holds up both of his hands, almost as a sign of a truce… before dropping to the mat and rolling out of the ring. On the outside, The Grin motions for Zion and Sage to go ahead and have at it.

Nick Stuart: Tony can’t actually think this is going to work?

Richard Parker: Why not? Maybe Sage owes Zion some money or something!

Nick Stuart: When would those two ever interact away from the ring?

Richard Parker: I guess you might have a point. Darin is probably more interested in hanging with the LOVE CONVOY. Sage, he’d probably rather hang out with… hippies? Flower children? I have no idea what to call his followers.

While that study in socially acceptable labeling goes on, Zion takes a step towards Sage. Pontiff takes his own step forward. There’s a different energy between these two… Zion’s is tense, frustration trying to seep out of every pore. Sage? Almost nothing but chill. He’s here to teach, not destroy. He puts his hands on Darin’s shoulders, a conversation going on between the two.

Nick Stuart: Seems like there might be an alliance being formed here. That’d be bad news for Tony Gamble.

Richard Parker: Oh, you think? Any other earth shattering revelations you want to share with us?

Nick Stuart: The one who gets the pin or submission will be the winner.

Richard Parker: Hey! I’m the smartass of this duo! Stop infringing on my territory!

Sage’s hands move wildly, the Bodhi animated in his talk with Darin. A nod comes from Zion and we seem to have an understanding. Darin steps towards Gamble’s direction… before turning around and clocking Sage with a hard right elbow! An alliance, dead moments after it was formed.

Pontiff stumbles back, catching his footing after a moment. While rubbing his jaw, a smile begins creeping across Sage’s face. He nods before taking a quick stride forward. Pontiff blasts Zion in the hamstring with a forceful kick, drawing a yelp and painted hop from Sweet D. Zion is quick to respond with a European uppercut, knocking Sage back again. They trade off, Zion with the euro uppercuts and Sage with leg targeted kicks. All the while, Tony Gamble smirks on the outside.

Nick Stuart: After taking that boot from Anna Daniels earlier, Tony Gamble has to be loving this start.

Richard Parker: Sit back and let the other two smack each other around. Gotta respect a thinking man. Especially one that might have a concussion!

Nick Stuart: He should get some advice from Foster.

Richard Parker: Wear a helmet. There, simple enough.

The strike standoff finally ends with Zion collapsing to one knee after another thigh kick. Sage takes a step back, his focus on Darin’s head, bad intentions clear. Pontiff takes a step forward, but before he can strike, Zion frantically waves his hands. The physical outburst is enough to distract Sage from whatever he had planned.

Zion emphatically starts pointing towards the outside. The reasoning becomes clear as Sage turns his head, looking in Tony Gamble’s direction. He turns back towards Zion, locking eyes with him. The two men nod, Sage again turning towards The Grin while Sweet D gingerly gets to his feet. The smirk Gamble had been wearing slowly fades.

Richard Parker: Uh oh…

Nick Stuart: Bad news for Tony Gamble!

Richard Parker: I know Tony probably hoped this would last a while longer, but it was bound to end eventually.

The Bodhi charges outside, leading Gamble to start running. The chase covers about half the ringside area before Tony slides into the ring for safety. Under normal circumstances, Gamble would probably pounce on Pontiff as he slid into the ring. He doesn’t get that opportunity on this occasion. Before he can do so, the Permascar Superstar is grabbed in a full nelson by Darin Zion, finding himself whipped backwards onto his head and shoulders with a Dragon Suplex!

Sage and Zion start putting the boots to the fallen Gamble. Zion pulls Tony up and locks in another full nelson. He motions with his head for Sage to hit the ropes with an attack. Pontiff nods in confirmation, taking off towards the ropes. Instead of a running attack though, Sage jumps to the top rope, flying back with a savate kick! Unfortunately for Zion, Gamble stomps hard on his foot, breaking the grip of the full nelson. By the time Sage comes flying back, Tony has dropped to canvas, leaving Zion to take the kick.

Nick Stuart: Well that double team backfired! At least for Darin Zion, anyway.

Richard Parker: Not a great way to show love, that’s for sure!

Sage looks down at the anguished Zion and gives a half-hearted shrug. As Tony tries to scramble to his feet, Pontiff pounces and grabs him around the waist. Showing surprising strength, Sage yanks Gamble up and over with a gutwrench suplex! Pontiff holds his grip and floats over, pulling Tony up again before flinging him over with another! Sage still holds on, floating over a third time and yet again, Gamble takes a gutwrenching ride!

It’s hard to tell whether The Grin wants to throw up or pass out. Maybe both? One thing is for sure… He’s not interested in taking another suplex. Tony panics and grabs for anything he can to stop the suplex onslaught. In his scramble, he lunges forward and grabs the middle turnbuckle, clinging for dear life. Sage plants himself and does his best to rip Gamble away from his temporary security.

Nick Stuart: I’m a bit surprised Tony Gamble even has enough wits about him to make such a move.

Richard Parker: I think it might be self preservation more than anything at this point, Nick.

Nick Stuart: Weren’t you just praising how smart Tony is?

Richard Parker: Yeah. You know what a smart person doesn’t like? Getting thrown around like a slab of beef in a butcher’s shop.

Sage gets a little ‘help’ when Zion gets up and grabs Pontiff around the waist. With both pulling, the turnbuckle pad is now compromised as it goes flying off. Also flying is Tony Gamble. And Sage Pontiff. Both men and the pad crash down with Zion the ultimate benefactor. Sweet D gets to his feet and walks over to Tony Gamble. He yanks The Grin up to his feet before putting him right back down with the Ban Hammer! Zion goes for the cover!

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT!

Nick Stuart: Zion has momentum going his way. That Discus Clothesline about took Gamble’s head off!

Richard Parker: Never underestimate the power of love, Nick!

With Gamble hurting, Zion goes to lock in the Red Rings of Death. Tony thrashes and fights, doing his best to stay on his back. Darin changes strategies, instead locking in a Dragon Sleeper. Gamble tries moving his body to relieve the pressure. When that doesn’t get far, Tony tries to move around to get a foot, an arm, whatever he can, onto the ropes.

Sage is now up again. He charges towards the ropes and sprinboards off with a flying forearm!… that Zion easily ducks. Pontiff crashes to the mat awkwardly. Darin releases Gamble from the Dragon Sleeper, planting a hard kick into Tony’s ribs.The Grin rolls out to the apron, clutching at the damaged area. Zion nods confidently as he makes his way over to Pontiff. He scoops Sage up off the mat by his hair. He gives a fist pump and a yell, bending down to grab Sage’s legs.

Nick Stuart: It looks like we’re going to see the 6th Star!

Richard Parker: Wait! Sage is fighting him off!

Indeed, Pontiff thrashes wildly as Zion attempts to lift him. Though Zion is a bit bulkier, Sage’s lanky frame makes it awkward for Darin to get him lifted for this signature move. It’s enough of a distraction for Tony to swoop in and send a desperation forearm into the back of Zion! He groans in pain, bending forward. Unfortunately, that leaves Darin in perfect position for The Bodhisattva of Transformative Experience. He locks his arms around the waist of Zion and flings the two forward. Darin crashes into the mat head first in a calamitous fall!

Nick Stuart: Shamanic Dreamweaver! What a devastating move!

Richard Parker: Zion might have love in his heart, but that sure isn’t going to help protect his head!

A smile of pure bliss materializes onto Sage’s face. He slowly scoots on his knees to make the cover!

ONE!

TWO!

Sage is ripped off of Zion by Tony Gamble, using Sage’s hair and waistband! In an almost completely fluid motion, The Grin whips Pontiff around and tosses his face first into the exposed turnbuckle! Sage’s skull connects with the exposed steel, a sickening thud heard loudly! As Pontiff crumbles to the mat clutching his face, Gamble jumps onto the prone Zion!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

DING DING DING

Nick Stuart: That’s a HUGE win for Tony Gamble, but you got to say he stole that one!

Richard Parker: They don’t ask how, Nick, just how many!

Vince Howard: The winner of this bout: TONY GAAAAAMBLE!

We then cut to our next commercial.

COMMERCIAL: THE MADHOUSE

Down at the jailhouse, the sheriff sits at his desk, drinking his morning coffee. His hat is slung down low over his face.

Over his shoulder, a series of yellowing posters are tacked to the wall, each one showing a sinister face, along with the crime they are wanted for.

BIG IVAN – CATTLE RUSTLING, ASSAULT
MAGNUS DESTRUCTO – MURDER
“DOCTOR” DANIELS – QUACKERY
ANDREW MITCHELL – ASSASSINATION
RANDALL SCHWARTZ – MEDICAL FRAUD
EL TEMBLOR – FALSE ACCUSATIONS

And so on.

At that moment, the editor of the local newspaper barges in, carrying the most recent edition. Ink stains cover their apron, as well as their fingers. Some viewers might recognize them as Tanner Quest of RingDispatch.com, but of course that website won’t exist for another century. This must be an ancestor.

Tanner Quest: Sheriff!

Sheriff: Howdy. What’s the news?

The editor replies by tossing a newspaper onto the sheriff’s desk. The lawman picks it up; some of the ink smudges under his fingers. His eyes are drawn instantly to the headline: TRAIN ROBBED, PAYROLL STOLEN!

Sheriff: Huh. Folk ain’t gonna like that.

He continues reading the article. Just as he brings the tin cup to his lips, he sees something that makes it set it back down.

Sheriff: The witnesses who was on the train. You trust ‘em?

Tanner Quest: As much as anyone can be trusted, I suppose. Why?

Sheriff: ‘Cause this description sounds a lot like the gang that rode into town last night.

He stands up and turns toward the corner, where a young female deputy is watching curiously.

Sheriff: Ash?

Deputy Barlow: Yes, Sheriff?

Sheriff: Round up the posse. Bring in some hired guns if you have to.

He turns to face the window, pulling his hat back out of his eyes. At last we see the weathered face, covered by its ceremonial paint.

Sheriff Bolamba: It’s high time we laid down the law.

THE MADHOUSE
Presents

FISTFIGHT AT HIGH NOON
April 29. 2023

CALL YOUR SHOT

We return from commercial to see Vince Howard standing in the ring.

Vince Howard: Please welcome at this time…the Five Star Champion! The Next Diamond! NATE! COOOLLLLLLTOOOOOOOONNNNNN!!

Eagles. “Tryin’.”

RRAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!

A diamond-shaped “C” with a smaller “N” inside appears on the PRIMEview, much like it did at Culture Shock. Just before the first verse hits, Nate Colton steps through the curtain and stands in the middle of the entrance platform, arms outstretched and palms up. Check him out in his blue jeans, satin ring jacket, and of course, the Five Star Championship belt.

I’m just arriving in the city
And there’s music on my mind
Lookin’ for my destination and
My home is far behind

The Next Diamond quickly walks to the ring, but makes time to shake a few hands on the way.

Nick Stuart: Nate looks like he’s recovered from a grueling Culture Shock weekend. Not only did he have that close call against Tyler Adrian Best on Night One, but he spent more time in the ring than anyone else in the Culture Shock Battle Royal on Night Two!

Richard Parker: And then Cecilworth Farthington kicked him in his dumbass face! Good times.

‘Cause it’s a long road ahead
And you can make it in the end
I’m gonna make it with my friends
And I’m tryin’

Colton climbs the steps, steps through the ropes, and waves at the crowd. He opens his jacket a little and shows off the shirt underneath, which features the same diamond logo from his PRIMEview video. Is that a new shirt, soon available at the PRIMEporium? Maybe.

Nate shakes hands with Vince Howard, and accepts the microphone.

Nate Colton: What’s up, OKLAHOMA CITYYYYYYYYY!!!

RRAAAAAAAHHHH!! says the crowd, because they love it when someone says the name of their town.

Nate Colton: Y’all catch Culture Shock? That was a wild ride, right? Sure was for me; that might have been the toughest weekend of my life. But here I am…still standing, and STILL the Five Star Champion!

He undoes the snaps of the belt and holds it up for the crowd’s approval, which they give. Very friendly crowd here in OKC.

RRAAAAAAAHH!!

Nate Colton: Hell of a way to cap off my first year in PRIME. Been through a lot of changes…but there’s one thing that’s still the same, and that’s my focus. ‘Cause if you asked me what’s been my toughest challenge, my biggest match, my greatest accomplishment…the answer’s the same as it was a year ago.

A bit of a smirk. The kid’s feelin’ it.

Nate Colton: The next one.

Another cheer from the crowd, and Nate starts to bounce in the ring a little bit as he feeds off their energy.

Richard Parker: “The next one.” This kid’s more corny than his whole-ass home state.

Nick Stuart: Maybe, but the fans appreciate his attitude.

Richard Parker: Well, I would have appreciated help getting into that club BUT NOOOOO–

Nate Colton: Now. I’ve got a HUGE challenge on the horizon, ‘cause Cecilworth Farthington…

RRAAAAAAHH!

BOOOOOOOO!

Nate Colton: …has a title shot in the bank in a few months. I fully intend to be holding this belt heading into Tropical Turmoil…but I don’t intend to make it easy on myself. See, this title means something to me, and I want everyone to feel that. The world should know that the Five Star Championship is not a stepping stone to greatness. It’s where greatness starts.

Nick Stuart: Colton is using his title as a bully pulpit tonight, and I’m all for it!

Richard Parker: Sounds boring. I bet he’s never even kicked someone in the nards.

Nate Colton: With that in mind…earlier today I had a meeting with the boss. And she asked me who I thought should be the next challenger.

Richard Parker: Picking his own challengers now? Sounds like Colton family politicking at work.

Nick Stuart: You’ve been talking to FLAMBERGE again, haven’t you?

Richard Parker: He…has not responded to my voicemails. Yet.

Nate Colton: So here’s what I told her. I said, I want to face one of the best wrestlers in the world. Someone who hasn’t got a shot yet, but absolutely deserves one. A wrestler who’s gonna be just as hungry to take this belt as I am to keep it. We looked at our options…and there was one name that stood out, above all the others. That’s why, at ReV27, I’ll be defending the Five Star Championship against…

A pause, to draw out the tension. The audience gets excited. Richard Parker gets annoyed.

Richard Parker: Just say it, you dork!

Nate Colton: CORAL. AVALON.

RRAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!

Nick Stuart: The Crownless King himself! What an announcement!

Richard Parker: What a disappointment. Should have been someone cool, like Hoyt.

The crowd starts to stand and look towards the entrance ramp. There’s no fanfare when Coral Avalon appears through the curtains in his street clothes. There’s no pomp or circumstance. There’s not even the guitars of Monster Siren’s “Real Me” to serenade him to the ring. He’s just out here, now, and that’s everyone’s problem. They react to this problem by cheering for him.

Nick Stuart: And here’s the man himself!

Richard Parker: Oh, cool. Someone else who doesn’t know what a good, old-fashioned nard-kicking should be.

Avalon never takes his eyes off of Colton as he jumps up onto the apron and steps into the ring to join him. Even when he walks across the ring to accept a microphone from the timekeeper, his eyes never leave Colton’s. When he turns to face the 5-Star Champion, he has to wait for the crowd noise to die down before he gets right to the point.

Coral Avalon: Challenge accepted.

He smiles as the crowd cheers raucously for the match being made official, just like that. He has to again wait for the crowd noise to die down before he continues.

Coral Avalon: Nate, it’s an honor that you thought of me first. Really. I’ve always respected you and the whole Colton family. I can think of no other opponent I’d like to face for that championship of yours than you.

Richard Parker: Ugh.

Nick Stuart: Ssh.

Coral Avalon: But you should know that I don’t intend to be your tune-up match for Lord Farthington. I’m coming to take that belt from you, no matter what. 

Colton grins, and his eyes light up at the boldness of Coral’s proclamation. He’s a man who loves a challenge, after all…and this is definitely a big one.

Nate Colton: Wouldn’t have it any other way.

The crowd cheers again as the two men shake hands.

Nick Stuart: This is an absolute bombshell, folks! In two weeks, Coral Avalon will challenge Nate Colton for the Five Star Championship! If you love wrestling, that is a match you don’t dare miss!

Richard Parker: And if you love fun…

Nick Stuart: Richard.

Richard Parker: …yeah, that’s going to be pretty bad ass.

BOOP

We cut to Paxton Ray sitting backstage, tapping his fingers against the armrest of his chair. Whatever he’s waiting for, he doesn’t have to wait too long, as the door opens and Foster Nackedy walks in, finally free of all fake injury regalia…oh wait, no, he’s wearing a concussion prevention helmet. 

Paxton Ray: God ya look like an asshole.

Foster beams.

Foster Nackedy: We’re both dressed the part, then.

Foster walks in and puts a bag on the floor next to him.

Paxton Ray: So ya couldn’t find an interviewer? 

Foster Nackedy: Nope. Either there were none available or they’re all afraid you’re going to Mark Lemon them. One of the two.

Paxton smiles.

Paxton Ray: Well I guess I ain’t gotta get interviewed. What a damn shame.

The tone of his voice reflects that it might not be a shame at all. Foster smiles and starts digging through the bag.

Foster Nackedy: Well that’s where you’re wrong, Pax. You’re getting interviewed.

Paxton Ray: But ya just said…

Paxton stops when he sees Foster stand up with the item he pulled out of the bag. The item is a microphone. When Foster starts talking, it’s with an exaggerated broadcaster voice.

Foster Nackedy: Hey Nick and Richard, this is Foster Nackedy backstage. Thank you for that amazing introduction, you two are too kind.

Nick Stuart: I assure you we did not…

Foster starts talking over Nick because he can’t hear him and also because he’s very obnoxious. 

Foster Nackedy: I’m here with PRIME superstar and perhaps the best Intense Champion of all time, Paxton Ray. Paxton, can we spare a moment of your time?

Paxton stares up at Foster, clearly unamused.

Paxton Ray: Jus’ ask your damn questions.

Foster Nackedy: Direct and to the point! No wonder you’re one of PRIME’s most beloved wrestlers! Anyway, I want to get your feelings on your match at Culture Shock with Nova, a PRIME Hall of Famer. What do you want to say to the Risen Star after such a brutal battle that left your best friend and manager concussed?

Paxton shakes his head.

Paxton Ray: Nothin’.

Foster Nackedy: Nothing to say to Nova?

Paxton looks down for a moment, then shrugs.

Paxton Ray: Nice try.

Foster Nackedy: Ever the good sportsman. Now, let’s move onto the second night of Culture Shock. You were the 12th remaining participant in a Battle Royale, and the person who eliminated you, FLAMBERGE, has a shot at your title. What do you have to say to FLAMBERGE?

Paxton Ray: Get ready.

Foster blinks a few times, waiting for Paxton to elaborate. When he doesn’t, Foster sighs and drops the exaggerated voice.

Foster Nackedy: You suck at this.

Paxton Ray: They say it’s the job of the interviewer to get good answers outta the subject. So maybe ya suck at this.

Foster Nackedy: Fair enough. Finally, there are rumors that Foster Nackedy’s gym, the great and incomparable Gray’s Wrestling Academy, has been under siege by two jerkfaces who don’t know when to quit. What do you plan on doing to defend your incredible manager’s baby?

Paxton Ray: I, uh…don’t care.

Foster Nackedy: You don’t care. 

Paxton Ray: Nope.

Foster Nackedy: Well you should, and here’s why…

We never get to hear why Paxton should care, because the door opens and in walks…

“I swear to GAWD, catering never used to be this hard to find.”

The roar you heard isn’t because the people of Oklahoma love catering.  For the second time tonight, OKC thunder isn’t a basketball team but a description of a giant pop. For him. You know, living legend, walking billboard for excellence, the most common SEO result when you Google “can you be too handsome?”

Chandler Tsonda stands in the doorway, disappointment on his face as he surveys what’s in front of him. 

Chandler Tsonda: Well, shit. Neither of you has a real “about to make finger sandwiches” vibe about you. 

Paxton Ray and Foster Nackedy look at each other for a moment. Embarrassingly, Foster drops the microphone. 

Foster Nackedy: Quick, give him some threat about ripping his fingers off and feeding them to him as sandwiches.

Paxton, naturally, doesn’t pay any attention to his manager. A long time ago, before Paxton shocked the world by paralyzing his tag team partner, he would’ve pretended not to know who Chandler Tsonda was, because it fit the image everyone had of him. But that mask has come off a long time ago, and so now Paxton stands.

Paxton Ray: Whaddaya know. Another PRIME legend here to live offa his name. 

He sneers, then points behind Tsonda.

Paxton Ray: Caterin’s that way. Get out.

Tsonda doesn’t bother looking behind him. That’s the way he just came from, but Tsonda knows that the tide has turned in this conversation.

Chandler Tsonda: Wow, and I thought we had developed a company value of inclusion while I was gone? I am not feeling like this is a psychological safe space. 

The Model Citizen can’t help but grin. It’s good to be back.

Chandler Tsonda: This is where you jump in and we do kind of a charming back-and-forth hero villain thing. Not, like, annoying Marvel snarky, but sort of mid-period Sorkin, you know, proving that we’re both silver-tongued ne’er-do-wells who just happen to have different moral codes, and–

Tsonda stops as Paxton holds a hand up. After a moment, Paxton opens his mouth.

Paxton Ray: Nah.

Foster laughs, then walks up to Tsonda.

Foster Nackedy: Listen, Mr. Tsonda – big fan by the way, huge, probably the biggest here – obviously you’re a big deal. Hell, I’ve been trying to get Brandon Youngblood-senpai to notice me since I got here, and you just walk in and get his attention. So you’re awesome, a legend, did great in the Battle Royale. All of that is amazing.

Foster cocks his head to the side and grimaces as if these next few words cause him pain.

Foster Nackedy: Things are a little different around here now. Banter is fun, and I’m actually a huge fan of it. But this guy here? The Intense Champion who has left bodies and blood in his wake?

Paxton flares his nostrils.

Foster Nackedy: He’s not really that kind of guy. He doesn’t trade verbal barbs. And I’m sure by now you’ve heard what he does do. So, because I really do respect and admire you and all that, I am going to politely suggest you go find those delicious finger sandwiches you were talking about, and maybe a carrot stick or two, and leave us to our fun. Sounds good?

Chandler Tsonda: Nah. 

As he says this, Tsonda stares right at Paxton Ray. There is a glimmer of violence in the silence that hangs between them.

Chandler Tsonda: To all of it. But especially nah to carrot sticks. 

The Model Citizen defuses some of the tension with the infinite dollar smile, but he doesn’t break eye contact with Ray.  The former Universal Champion tilts his head towards Foster, making it clear that he’s talking to him. Tsonda’s eyes, however, remain lock stock on Paxton Ray.

Chandler Tsonda: And you can tell your uncharitable friend that if he’s not much for sophisticated conversation…well, I’ve never had that funny little trash-can-and-thumbtacks title belt. I know from my record-setting Universal reign that heavy lies the crown. Just say the word, and I’d be happy to relieve him of the burden.

Foster stares at Tsonda for a few moments before nodding. 

Foster Nackedy: …Right, right. We’ll just book you an appointment. That’s how it works with the legends, right? They snap their fingers and get whatever they want. 

Paxton has not broken his stare the entire time as Foster serves as the narrator between the two men. 

Foster Nackedy: Just going to warn you, and again, this comes from the best place possible…The people who want a piece of Paxton?

Foster looks back at Paxton. 

Foster Nackedy: They, uh…they get it. And maybe they learn this belt is more than just trash cans and thumbtacks. It’s pain. Suffering. Unrecoverable damage.

After a moment Foster laughs and claps Tsonda on the shoulder, an act that clearly violates The Model Citizen’s personal space. 

Foster Nackedy: But not you, I’m sure. You’re special!

An astute observer would see the balled up fist at Tsonda’s side. Chandler nods, as if he’s putting away a piece of information for later. He winks at Nackedy.

Chandler Tsonda: Mister mouthpiece, on this point…we agree. I’m one of a fucking kind.

The returning star looks back over his shoulder.

Chandler Tsonda: I gotta go get my bearings. First night back and all. But I don’t want you fellas to worry: when it comes to throwing hands, I hear it’s just like ridin’ a bike. And dude…

He returns the favor, leaning entirely too close into Foster Nackedy’s personal space. He very slowly brings up his right index finger and taps the side of Foster’s concussion helmet.

Chandler Tsonda: Boop.

And like that, the Model Citizen is gone like a thief in the night. Foster smirks, which disappears immediately as he looks at Paxton, whose stare and growl has still not wavered. 

Paxton Ray: What a piece’a shit. 

Foster Nackedy: Agreed. Don’t worry, Pax. Maybe he’ll sign an autograph next time. 

Paxton shoots Foster an angry look as we cut…

PERCEPTION IS REALITY

…to another area of the Paycom Arena, far away from whatever corner Paxton Ray and Foster Nackedy are huddling, The Anglo Luchador walks down the hallway with a spring in his step. Clad in khaki shorts, sneakers, his lucha mask, and a custom t-shirt, half in Sooner crimson and half in Cowboy orange with #SaveBedlam written in white block letters across the chest, he seems to be in better spirits for a man coming off the pay-per-view arc he just had. He passes Gary the Rumor Mills intern.

TAL: Hey Gary! Stop taking rumors from my kids!

Gary pays him no heed. He smiles and waves at several anonymous production assistants, who smile and wave back. He shoots finger guns at the concession workers lugging boxes of frozen chikky nuggies to their destinations. He’s in a really good mood for some reason. Finally, he happens upon one of PRIME’s newest signees, the man known simply as Wrestling’s Worst Nightmare, Arthur Pleasant.

TAL: Hey! You! Artie P! I just wanted to say welcome to PRIME there, buddy! Glad you decided to sign here with the best wrestling company in the multiverse!

Arthur Pleasant: What did you just call me?

The Luchador looks a bit perplexed.

TAL: Do you not like that name?

Pleasant’s glare at the former Intense Champion deepens.

TAL: Okay, okay, I can call you something different. I’m trying not to open the box of Oops! All Enemies. You know Coral doesn’t let me live that down. Ever.

Still no answer from Wrestling’s Worst Nightmare.

TAL: You know, Coral Avalon? Yay high, on the skinny side, always looks like he’s got an annoyed look on his face? No?

Pleasant brushes him off.

Arthur Pleasant: Let me ask you this, friend; when you look into my face, what is it you see?

The brow on his lucha mask furrows as he is caught ever so slightly off-guard by the deep philosophical question posed to him in the hallway of a newly built basketball arena in the middle of Oklahoma.

TAL: Uh, something tells me if I say “The Cult of Personality,” you’re going to glower at me and we’re back at square one so I’ll just say, uh, the new guy.

Pleasant chuckles a bit at the glib answer.

Arthur Pleasant: Interesting. Seems like you’re completely devoid, possibly incapable of serious conversation. But that doesn’t really scratch my itch here. I wanted to know the perception of a man needing to hide his true face behind a mask. Again, I must ask, though; what is it you see when you look into my face?

There’s a moment of unsettled silence between them. However, Arthur laughs again.

Arthur Pleasant: Remember, friend. Perception is reality.

He pivots on his heel and turns to walk away. The Luchador cocks his head to the side and goes “hmph” to himself.

TAL: Strange guy. Something REALLY off-putting about him. Ah, probably just post-pay-per-view scaries. Oh well, at least I don’t have to wrestle that arm-breaking socialite in the main event tonight. I should probably go find Adam Ellis and give him a pep talk. Or not. His wife is packing heat. Don’t really wanna risk sneaking up on her and getting Second Amendmented.

The camera lingers on the Luchador walking away before cutting to the ring for the next match on the show, a veritable clash of godlike figures.

ANNA DANIELS vs. HOYT WILLIAMS

One would think that, if we are coming directly from the back, that if a wrestler is already in the ring, such a talent would be thought poorly of. An indictment if ever there was one. Fodder for a bigger star. Even worse when you’re in the PRIME Hall of Fame, when you’ve been Universal and 5 Star Champion…and all those are beneath your true greatest accomplishment in wrestling, such a moment could be considered scathing.

If you think this?

You don’t know Hoyt Williams.

“Personal Jesus” by Depeche Mode continues to drone through the Paycom Center as YOUR Personal Jesus, the Son Of God (no, not that one), Hoyt Williams stands in his element, smiting Oklahomian’s with a televangelist vigor. The scene is so controlled, and the fans are accepting their judgments with glee. That’s why we start in the ring. No, it doesn’t have to do with folks at Ace Network actively wondering, in a place where actual war crimes have been committed, that this is too profane.

Religion always has a way of making you know where your bread is buttered in media.

Richard Parker: It’s just…it’s just so…BEAUTIFUL!

Nick Stuart: What are you…what are you…

Richard Parker: The Imperium Bible! To BE so lucky as to carry it to the ring! Joe Burro is a man of the highest caliber! Moral fiber untold!

Nick Stuart: More so than even your beloved Hoyt Williams, making his grand return to singles competition after over a decade away?

Richard Parker: I said MAN. Not deity. Not Holy Spirit. Fans, if you…if you haven’t gotten the chance to witness Hoyt Williams heal the sick of their perversions…if you haven’t seen him bag and tag sinners before sending them to the depths of Hell…

Hoyt Williams: WHICH IS OKLAHOMA–

It’s almost as if he knew how to time it. A providential gift. Brother Privilege and Brother Hypocrisy stand on the outside, Burro continuing to preen with the Imperium Bible, which Richard is definitely not replaying over and over again. 

Richard Parker: I’m just…I’m just…I’M SO EXCITED! HEEEEEEAL ME FROM THE MUNDANE, HOYT!

As the PRIME Hall of Famer does jumping jacks to limber up, all the while continuing his smiting, the lights come up, only for them to quickly fade to black. After a moment, the beginning guitar notes of Solid Space’s “A Darkness In My Soul” begin. Nothing comes on the PRIME*view to note exactly who is coming out, but they know. Suddenly, a spotlight pierces through the dark pointed to the top on the entrance ramp. Anna Daniels stands there, their profile positioned towards the light. They let it wash over them while letting the fans get a good look at the merchandise. Finally, they glance at the ring with a small smirk on their face.

Nick Stuart: Here’s someone many think could rival Hoyt for having their head in the clouds.

Richard Parker: How dare you?! Nobody ascends to the heights of Hoyt!

Nick Stuart: This is the 26th edition of ReVival, here on Ace Network. For all their promise, for all the thoughts of what they were going to accomplish, it hasn’t been since ReVival 12, against The Anglo Luchador, that Anna Daniels has won a match in a PRIME ring. 

 As The Muse takes their time heading to the ring, they wistfully observe the goings on around them as if getting into a certain type of groove that only they can hear. Their strolling sways almost like their dancing from time to time. Their robe and headpiece–once more regal and dazzling artifacts from their homeplanet–are in various stages of disrepair and utter damage. Anna slaps a hand or two, nods a little to those in attendance. 

Vince Howard: And his opponent…from Mount Perdition, Gallifrey! Weighing in at one-hundred and thirty-five pounds…they are the TIIIIIIME LORD…AAAAANNNNAAAAAA! DAAAANNNNIIIIIEEEEEELLLLSSSS!

The set up is what it is. And it is a set up, because, while Daniels goes through their motions in their entrance, they find a slight problem.

Their opponent is done smiting the fans. Now? It is time to smite the Time Lord. They do not even get a chance to disrobe before YOUR Personal Jesus is on the attack, having stopped his jump jacks, walloping into them with a massive lariat. 

Nick Stuart: Hoyt out there before the bell even rings!

Richard Parker: Timeliness is next to Hoytliness, Nick.

Trying to spring back to their feet, Daniels is practically ripped from the ramp, and, with all of the Lord’s (not Time Lord, the Time Lord is getting worked by the Abrahamic one at the moment) strength, he slams their head into the barricade, over and over, all before bieling them down the ramp. Caught unawares, Daniels struggles to get up from the vicious early assault, on their knees, throwing fists in the direction of their attacker.

He cuts through this response with a vicious Rapture Chop.

Head Official Timo Bolamba is incensed at the display, his chest perched as he pushes from the top and middle ropes, commanding Williams to stop or he will disqualify him. Hoyt merely puts his hand up, as though doing some cringe variant of “talk to the hand”. Except, this hand means more.

Hand of God (not that one) and all that.

Richard Parker: Bolamba wouldn’t DARE deprive the fans of Hoyt Williams. 

Nick Stuart: He’s dangerously close.

It is a nonfactor, as Williams lifts Daniels up before driving them into the ring apron with a powerful thrust. Within moments, he rolls them underneath the bottom rope, following up while Brother Hypocrisy and Brother Privilege jump onto the ring apron, pushing down on the top rope with all their might so as to not give it the privilege (heh) of touching The Holy Balls. 

After doing a quick check on Daniels, and getting the gurgled okay from them, Timo calls for the bell, and not a moment too soon.

DING DING

And we are officially underway, as if we weren’t already.

Nick Stuart: Hoyt Williams giving no quarter here…

Richard Parker: Hesitation is a sin in the ring, Nick. You’d know if you had your own pocket Imperium Bible guide, now available in heathen and non-heathen!

Timo tries to back up Williams as he approaches, but he is unable. Daniel launches themself from the mat toward Hoyt, a forearm driven into the Son of God’s (not that one) stomach. If Santa was jacked and still had full natural hair color, the former Universal Champion’s laugh would be dead ringer for jolly ole Saint Nick. As it stands, Daniels rises, throwing their arms, landing blows amongst blows at the sculpted figure that is the PRIME Hall of Famer. And his response?

Nick Stuart: CLUBBING FOREARM FROM WILLIAMS!

Richard Parker: Donate their brain to the poor!

Nick Stuart: Hoyt jerking Daniels up from the canvas…Lower Wacker Suplex! And COVER!

ONE

TWO

Richard Parker: A shocking kickout from Daniels! Bucky isn’t getting into Heaven because of that!

Parker is in his element, all as Hoyt grabs hold of Daniels’ neck, snuggly locking in a side headlock. The Muse’s hand reach toward the massive forearm of YOUR Personal Jesus, trying to wrest it free, but finds no quarter. They kick out their legs, trying to maneuver, trying to command their body into some position to get free. But Hoyt remains. 

Richard Parker: This might be the first time in wrestling history that a side headlock wins a match.

Nick Stuart: With that size–

Richard Parker: If anyone can do it, Hoyt will!

Sensing the danger, Daniels tries to skirt closer and closer to the ropes, to break the hold. Somehow, they are slippery, able to kick their feet out and tickle the bottom rope, causing Bolamba to come in quickly with a call to break the hold. When Williams does not, he begins his count. Ever the ring general, Hoyt maintains the hold, looking to set Daniels up for something else, bring them to their feet, looking to release the hold at the very last second. With their arms free, they grab at the hair of the PRIME Hall of Famer, jerking downward and sitting out.

Nick Stuart: What a jawbreaker to break the hold!

Richard Parker: That’s not legal! He had to break the hold! You can’t do that while in a professional wrestling hold!

You can, Richard, and Daniels will. Williams hasn’t left his feet, instead, stumbling, grabbing at his bearded jaw, all as The Time Lord, gasps, then gets to their feet, latching onto Hoyt like a parasite, throwing heavy knees into his head over and over and over and over again. Each strike lands with a grunt, a desperation. 

But the moment they let go, they charge to the ropes. And as they do? A clobbering lariat blow.

Nick Stuart: These two are throwing kill shots at each other! No sense of self preservation.

Another biel toss is follow by Williams raking his boot across the face of the downed Daniels. The savagery knows no ends, but perhaps his cover will be the saving grace they need to at least not deal with more damage.

ONE

TWO

KICKOUT!

Richard Parker: Such defiance!

Dead to rights. Hoyt isn’t playing around. He jerks Daniels up to their feet, all before tucking their head in between his massive thighs.

Richard Parker: CRUCIFIED AND SAVED!

Hoyt goes and looks to lift them up and plant them, but on the lift, Daniels breaks free of his grasp, landing a concussive knee to the bridge of the nose.

Nick Stuart: WHAT A REVERSAL!

Richard Parker: NOOOO! JOE YOUR SAVIOR NEEDS YOUR SACRIFICE! 

As Williams grabs at what might be a broken nose, Daniels pops off and hits an Interrobang with Mirko Cro Cop left high kick velocity. The blow snaps the head of Williams to the side, the shot and the cutting of bloodflow causing the Son of God (not that one) to fall to the mat, disoriented. But he still has instincts, pushing his massive paws from the canvas, looking to get back into the fight.

Nick Stuart: ANOTHER INTERROBANG!

This one, with Williams kneeling, isn’t a prayer. The blow isn’t glancing. It fully connects, sounding like the crack of wood. The Time Lord’s ankle might be broken. They have the wherewithal to make the cover.

ONE

TWO

THREE

DING DING DING

Hoyt kicks out, but just too late. Even still, he is still out of sorts, massive arms reaching outward to try and grab The Time Lord to continue the battle. Anna Daniels, for their part, is already making their way away from this mess, eyes following the figures poised to descend upon them.

Vince Howard: YOUR WINNER…BY PINFALL…AAAAAAAAAAAAAANNA! DAAAAAAAAAAAAANIELS!

Nick Stuart: What a brutal exchange!

Richard Parker: THAT WAS A FAST COUNT! HE IS RISEN! DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND TIMO! HE IS RISEN AGAIN!

An apoplectic Richard Parker goes on, his microphone being cut off by those within Ace Network production. Before more harm can come to them, Daniels gets out of the ring, as Joe Burro, Brother Privilege, and Brother Hypocrisy look ready to do something heinous. Their chance gone, they go to tend to Williams, who is grabbing at his neck, his chest against the ropes.

Nick Stuart: If that’s what we can look forward to if these two square off, I for one would like to see it again. These two looked ready for an absolute battle! 

And as Anna Daniels walks off from their first victory since July, we head elsewhere.

DRUG ABUSE

Elsewhere being backstage at the Paycorn Arena to be greeted by Abe and the Black Metal Friends. SELMA and Misereé seem to be the ones most prepared for this segment, however – their attention both facing forward and ready to address the PRIME audience. As usual, they’re head to toe in the black leather garb and grim face paint. A the B is presently preoccupied with posing in front of a separate camera, held by the guy we simply know as Purvis. Apparently, he wasn’t the one who requested this particular interview time. Or, he didn’t seem to give a care. Either way, it’s the Torture Baroness and the Scorched Seraphim who are the focal point for this evening, and they’ve got something to say!

Misereé: Horrible evening to you all. Tonight, you all will once again see this manchild go one on one with the scholarly Ned Reform in an attempt for vindication. And with any luck, it will culminate what critics are calling ‘the worst wrestling feud of all time.’

Lipschitz does not seem to take any offense to these remarks. Mostly because he isn’t paying any attention. He’s motioning for Purvis to make sure that he gets a close up of each and every brace on his teeth.

Misereé: So, this is a call to you, the fans. As much as it brings me great pleasure for you all to be in a state of melancholy, with more and more of the same Abe Lipschitz crap, I urge you to make your voices heard. SELMA…

Even the screaming of her name is not enough to deter Lipschitz.

Misereé: …has now been a member of the PRIME roster for nearly two months, yet has not been offered the opportunity to showcase her sadistic in-ring abilities. So, I need you to bombard Jabber with a simple request. Give the Sea Monstress her chance. Our patience is beginning t…

Abe Lipschitz: HEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY best buds, what’s up?

Misereé’s plea is interrupted abruptly by their third wheel, who squeezes in between them and puts his arms around both of their shoulders. Misereé is quick to distance herself. However, SELMA responds in kind by spinning him around to face her and giving him a huge hug!

Abe Lipschitz: Now that’s wha–ekkk…ekkk…little too tight there, queen.

It’s a hug that nearly squeezes out his innards from every orifice, though. SELMA eventually releases him but not without giving him a death glare.

Misereé: What the hell, Abe? Once again, you find it necessary to INTERRUPT ME WHEN I’M TRYI…

Abe Lipschitz: Yeah! That’s it! Give us some tension for the boney footie, Reé. This is what they pay to see.

Misereé stares at him, blinking.

Misereé: …’boney footie’?

Abe cracks a grin and puts his hand up to pretend as though he’s talking to the camera that Purvis is holding.

Abe Lipschitz: See guys, she’s not really down with the showbiz lingo. That’s what folks in the know call bonus footage for short.

SELMA shakes her head.

Misereé: No one calls it that. Ever. Not once. And why are you still filming for your dumb documentary? Didn’t you already release it?

Abe Lipschitz: This isn’t for Jay Man. This is boney footie for EnlightNed: The Life and Times of Ned Reform. It’s a deep dive into the storied academic and wrestling career of my once bitter rival turned good friend.

Misereé: Wow. And what’s his opinion on the film so far?

Abe Lipschitz: Uh. Well, he doesn’t really know about it yet. It’s kind of a surprise.

Misereé is at a loss for words for a moment, letting an awkward pause set over them.

Misereé: So you’re shooting a documentary about a guy who’s not even in the documentary.

Abe lifts a brow, sensing the heavy judgment wafting his way. He immediately goes on the defensive.

Abe Lipschitz: It’s not a documentary, you butthole! It’s a biopic.

Misereé: Oh. And I assume you’re playing Ned, huh?

Abe Lipschitz: Of course not. The audience would never buy Ned as someone this cute. I’m playing Ned’s younger stepbrother, Drobert.

Misereé: Oh. Well, I know I’m going to regret asking this. Who’s playing Ned?

Abe Lipschitz: Some nobody. Hey, here he comes now!

While you’re most likely expecting someone like Scurvy Jones, El Hijo del Señor Ass, or “Wrangler” Gene Toughskins to make his way into view, this might come as a little bit of surprise. Coming from behind the curtain? Someone who looks nothing like Ned Reform. And it’s apparent he’s not even trying.

Purvis: (ducking his head) What the hell?

No, it’s not an egg who is playing Ned Reform. It is the thrower of said egg, however. None other than Cancer Jiles pops in, using the lens of Purvis’ camera to adjust his hair. Yes, the former PRIME World Champion, now regulated to doing segments with the low card. Friendly reminder that this could be you someday, mother fuckers.

Cancer Jiles: Hello. My name is Ned. I’m a snake doctor and have this wonderful new tonic you should try. It boosts vigor and tastes delicious. Would you like some?

Abe Lipschitz: You don’t have to be in character until th— you know what, nevermind. Probably better off this way. So, Doctor, does it have eggs?

The COOLYMPIAN turned doctor holds out a cup for all to see. On the side written in black marker is the word TONIC.

Cancer Jiles: Zero eggs involved. 

Abe nods agreeingly. 

Abe Lipschitz: Might actually be good then. Does it always come in an unlabeled styrofoam cup like that?

Cancer Jiles: No, you can buy this all over the world. Even in uncivilized, underdeveloped places like the state of Georgia.

Abe Lipschitz: Easy Doc, you need to work on that bedside manner. It’s a little informal there. Tighten it up for the performance.

The Maestro of COOL nods, leaving one to wonder what tonic it is that he took to go along so willingly with Abe’s movie. Might be the hangover from yesterday.

Abe Lipschitz: Now tell me Doc, there’s nothing funny in there, is… there? I’ll know. I don’t do drugs. Not even caffeine. Or the purple Benadryl.

Cancer Jiles: Well that is good because you wouldn’t want to mix them together. As for my elixir, this is caffeine free. It’s Mountain Dew’s newest tonic, Caffeine Free Mountain Dew. It’s pep and zaz in a bottle or can with none of the debilitating side effects. You will not become addicted to drugs after drinking five of these everyday.

Abe Lipschitz: Sweet! Good enough for me!

As Abe begins to chug the caffeine not-free beverage, the scene cuts abruptly.

TURN THAT FROWN UPSIDE DOWN

We cut to another area backstage.

PRIME’s ace reporter stands in front of a company-branded backdrop with mic in hand.

Angelica Brooks: Ladies and gentlemen, I’m here with one half of what some people have started referring to as the “forever tag team champions” of PRIME…

There’s an eruption from the gathered faithful as the camera pulls back to reveal the subject of her statement. Tonight Jared Sykes stands alone, his partner nowhere to be found. He’s not scheduled to compete tonight so he’s dressed in street clothes. Of note is the tee shirt peeking out from under his hoodie. It’s old, faded, definitely not officially licensed, and reads “Secks-ual Healing”. After all, this is Ibrahim Seck country.

If you know, you know. If not, you’re probably better off. We just got rid of all the cults, and the last thing we need is to start inviting more of them in, because wouldn’t that just be a palpable shame.

Angelica Brooks: Jared, welcome.

He offers a small nod.

Angelica Brooks: We’re only two weeks removed from Culture Shock, where the landscape of PRIME radically changed. We crowned an inaugural Alias champion, saw a new Universal champion in Hayes Hanlon…

Another cheer from the crowd is accompanied by a grin from the Dragonslayer. The bromance is strong.

Angelica Brooks: But the night also marked the end of a year-long journey for you, one that started with the first Survivor event through winning the tag team championships at Great American Nightmare. With the tag team division no longer being officially recognized coupled with a finish that I’m sure isn’t what you wanted out of the battle royal, what’s next? And should we be reading too much into the fact that you’re here alone tonight?

Jared Sykes: Tonight? Nah. Justine’s spent the last twenty years helping to train the next generation of talent, and this weekend one of her students has a tryout with the New England Wrestling Syndicate, so it was important to her to be there for that. And yeah, the division is gone, but I’m incredibly proud of what we were able to accomplish over the last year or so. The only people to hold those titles in the ReVival Era. Six defenses, I think is the final number. She’s not going anywhere, if that’s what folks are concerned with. As for what’s next?

He slides his hands into his pockets and shrugs. It’s his default reaction.

Jared Sykes: I honestly don’t know. In truth this is kind of a weird position to be in. We were kind of in our own little world, I guess. And with the titles being retired and the division on ice… I guess now we have to play catch-up with the rest of the roster, despite being here longer than most. It’s hard to describe, but it’s almost like coming home to find all your furniture’s been rearranged. It’s still your space, only… Hell, I have no idea where this analogy is going.

Angelica Brooks: You spoke briefly after your elimination from the Culture Shock battle royal about the amount of people you were able to outlast. Has your outlook changed at all now that you’ve had two weeks to reflect?

Jared is quiet for a moment as the question winds its way through his thoughts. Twice he opens his mouth to speak, and twice catches himself. It’s only when he’s satisfied with the answer does he offer it.

Jared Sykes: It kind of sucks, the more I think about it. I got so close – so goddamn close, but still came up short. That’s not to take away from the people who finished ahead of me. Like I said at the time, that’s some rarified air. Hall of famers in two companies. Former World and Universal champions. Two next-gen prodigies carving out their own space in the business. I’m trying to keep things framed in that perspective.

Again with the shrugging. My god man, you’re going to blow out your shoulders at this rate.

Jared Sykes: There are things that I’m proud of in that match, like being one of the people who helped shove Ivan’s big ass to the floor. A little bit of payback after the ceiling incident I guess. But there are other aspects that I didn’t feel so great about. Despite the fact that Mister Stanislav had a hand in it, I wasn’t thrilled with being the reason Coral was eliminated. I know how hard he’s worked over his career to get a shot at being The Guy, and coming off the win against his students the night before… It’s like the universe decided that I was single handedly going to ruin his weekend.

He takes a minute to adjust the sleeves of his sweatshirt, rolling them up to the elbows. For most of his career Jared has worn a sleeve the length of his left arm, so for a lot of fans tonight will be the first glimpse at the tattoo that covers the skin.

Jared Sykes: I think what bothers me the most is that this could have also been Cal’s shot to do something she’s never tasted before in her career, but she insisted that I take her spot, and now I can’t help feeling like I wasted it. Can’t…

The voice that bursts from elsewhere is unmistakable. Some might have recognized it as it boomed out of Lindsay Troy’s splintered office earlier. 

Ivan Stanislav: Jared Sykes! DYAAHAAHAA!!

It’s typically a bad thing to see an angry, glowering, and frustrated Russian Bear, like we had seen earlier, but in some ways it’s even worse to see one who appears to be in a positively fantastic mood. As wide as his arms are spread as he approaches, his toothy, white smile is even wider. 

Ivan Stanislav: And the so beautiful Angelica Brooks, what a fine evening this is!

Angelica Brooks has no idea how to deal with this, but like the seasoned and unflappable reporter that she is, she stands her ground. Stanislav walks straight up to Sykes, and stands so closely that the camera has to zoom out to fit both men into the frame. Stanislav stands over a foot taller than Sykes, and is literally double his weight. 

Ivan Stanislav: Why do you have a sad face, Jared, eh? Missing Justine? Lamenting that you may have cost her once in lifetime opportunity? 

Stanislav’s smile barely masks the dripping, sardonic sarcasm that pours from between his enormous teeth. He lifts a huge paw and ruffles Jared’s hair. His hand threatens to envelope him. 

Ivan Stanislav: Life is too short to be frowning, little Jared, smile and be happy for the present. After all, how refreshing to have conversation with Ivan Stnaislav, rather than simply flying through an object or breaking the sound barrier, eh? 

Awkward stare between the two men, but Ivan appears to barely contain that smile. 

Ivan Stanislav: That is just a joke, of course!

Stanislav places his hands on his hips and straightens his back more. His suspenders audibly stretch.

Jared Sykes: I wouldn’t expect anything less, bud. But by now I’ve more or less come to regard most things you say as jokes, given how far removed from the truth they seem to be.

Ivan Stanislav: You know, Jared, I had wonderful and productive conversation with Lindsay Troy earlier today. Perhaps you heard some of it? And I realize that despite not having Universal Title, and having to wait a little longer to get the shot that I had better eventually get, I am now free to just enjoy my time with other members of the roster. Like you, dear Jared. After all, you have never hesitated to try to catch my attention elsewhere, right? 

Jared Sykes: That sure is a fun way to say “call out my bullshit,” but sure. We’ll go with what you said.

Ivan seems to completely ignore Sykes and nods politely to Angelica.

Ivan Stanislav: Please, Ms. Brooks, do not allow me to interrupt what is certainly an illuminating conversation with the King of Blueberries himself! Continue!

Stanislav moves towards Jared, as nonchalantly as one walking down the street, but of course when one is in the way of The Russian Bear, they risk being trampled.

Throughout his career, Jared Sykes has attracted all sorts of nefarious characters, drawing them into his orbit as if the man had his own gravity. Some would argue he seeks them out deliberately, putting himself in harm’s way over and over as some sort of warped badge of honor. To others it comes across as more of a compulsion, a twisted addiction that requires him to sacrifice his well-being for the high that comes from staring down the biggest monster he can find.

He doesn’t move, not willingly at least. The size he surrenders makes it easy enough for Ivan to push past him, moving him aside as if he were little more than a toy.

Ivan turns as he moves past Sykes and Brooks and backpedals without missing his stride. His smile is wide. His eyes are hateful. 

Ivan Stanislav: I be seeing you, Jared Sykes. Smile for now, because you never know when life might yeet a frown your way! Do tell Justine we give our regards! Maybe we see her soon too, eh?

The Bear turns surprisingly quickly on his heel and walks away. Angelica opens her mouth to speak but is cut off. 

DYAAAHAAHAA!!

And as quickly as The Russian Bear thundered into the interview, he is now gone. 

Jared Sykes: Gonna be a real shame when someone finally shuts that guy up.

For the first time since they were interrupted, Jared turns his attention back to Angie.

Jared Sykes: (deadpan) A palpable, palpable shame.

We return to ringside. 

NED REFORM vs. ABE LIPSCHITZ

Nick Stuart: Ladies and gentlemen and we have a fantastic matchup coming up. A story of two ne’er do wells, or rather one that tries to do well but with the aid of his black metal friends finds himself in some unique situations.

Richard Parker: And one who does everything well. Don’t lie to the people. This is a story of a ne’er do well, and a great man trying to save us from ourselves.

Nick Stuart: Sure. Anyhow, let’s send it to the ring for the introductions.

DOOOO DOOOO DOOOO DO DO DOO DO DOO
DEH DEO DOO DOOOOOOO DO DO DO
DO DO DO DO DO DOOO DO DO DO

Nick Stuart: Well, I guess Abe got his wish!

Vince Howard: The following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL… Introducing first, from Virginia Beach, Virginia… weighing in at 210 pounds… ABE! LIPSCHITZ!!!

*dong dong ding dong*
DOOOO DOOOO DOOOO DO DO DOO DO DOO
DEH DEO DOO DOOOOOOO DO DO DO
DO DO DO DO DO DOOO DO DO DO

Instead of the pulse-pounding black metal that we’re used to hearing with the entrance of Lipschitz and his Black Metal Friends, it’s a much more upbeat tune. Those with any sense of taste recognize it immediately.

Richard Parker: What is this crap?

(in case anyone is wondering what, indeed, this crap is)

Shanice – I Love Your Smile (1991) HQ

Told you. Fuck you, Dick Park. It’s the catchiest pop song of all time, the 1991 smash hit “I Love Your Smile” by Shanice Wilson. Maybe the only woman that Abe would leave Lindsay Troy for when they eventually get married. Abe is ecstatic to have the new song pumping through the PA, noticeable by the extra pep in his step. Or, it could be the fact that he just unknowingly had caffeine. He is zig-zagging back and forth the aisles to get his daps from the fans and beating on his chest like a gorilla. A man truly possessed.

Not so thrilled is Misereé. And by not so thrilled I mean she hates life. SELMA’s just fine though, for as grim and terrifying as she looks, we catch her doing the finger wag dance to the song. They follow behind Abe, sometimes having to dodge him from nearly running them over to get to the next side.

But what’s most surprising? Abe isn’t wearing a shirt. Rendering his hashtags useless from earlier!

CUZ I LOVE YOUR SMILE
DOOOO DOOOO DOOOO DO DO DOO DO DOO
DEH DEO DOO DOOOOOOO DO DO DO
DO DO DO DO DO DOOO DO DO DO

Once Abe reaches the ring, he gets in and immediately darts for the opposite ropes, bouncing off of them to get back to the other side and do 619s. Yes, with an “s,” because he keeps spinning around like a fucking hyperactive moron.

Nick Stuart: There must have been rocket fuel in that soda.

Richard Parker: I wish it would have been actual rocket fuel. So we wouldn’t have to see him tonight. Because he’d be dead.

The very familiar opening chords of Beethoven’s “Fur Elise” echo throughout the arena as the lights take on a purple hue and the fans begin to jeer in earnest.

Richard Parker: Finally, some class. 

The piano transitions into a rock version of the classic – a modern rock version by Cole Rolland – as the man himself, Ned Reform, appears through the curtain. He’s dressed for action: purple and white singlet, white boots, and arrogant smirk. One hand is tucked behind his back as he scans the people, completely no-selling the rude gestures and boos. 

Nick Stuart: I noticed TA Cole is not with him tonight, I wonder what that is about?

Richard Parker: I bet it is so when he defeats this moron a second time there will be absolutely no questions of legitimacy.

Reform begins to walk to the ring, waving and smiling to his “adoring” fans.

Vince Howard: And his opponent, from Litchfield, Connecticut, and weighing in at 226 lbs… NEEEED REFORM!

He hops onto the ring apron, gives his feet a good wipe or two, and then steps through the ropes and into the ring. He makes his way to the turnbuckle, bracing his hands on the top rope and leaning back to test its integrity. While he’s doing this, he catches sight of the hard cam and gives it a little wink before the music fades out.

Nick Stuart: All right folks, here we go!

DING DING!

Abe is ready to GO for this match, dashing at Ned, who has barely had time to soak in the adulation of the 4 people in the audience that are here to see him. Abe springs into a drop kick and sends the Sage stumbling into the corner. Fueled by caffeine and high fructose corn syrup, Abe keeps on the attack, swarming on Ned with repeated punches in bunches.

Nick Stuart: Abe going on the offense early which is a smart move. He doesn’t seem to realize that there is a strategy though as some of the shots are wildly missing the mark. 

Richard Parker: That’s why I always say that if you’re going to have a soda, stick to zero.

Reform covers up and weathers the storm, then looks for an opening and reverses Abe into the corner. Ned’s shoulder strikes him and knocks at least some of the wind out of his sails, then repeats the process. Lipschitz groans, but his healing factor is Wolverine-like with the power of a sugary drink in him, and when Ned rears back once again, Abe leaps in the air and straddles the ropes, causing Reform to miss and shoulder tackle the ring post. 

Whip quick, Abe leaps over the top of Ned with a Sunset Flip pin!

Jimmy Turnbull slides into place.

ONE!

Ned kicks out, but that doesn’t stop Abe from staying on his hot streak as he kips up and pulls Reform to his feet. He whips Ned into the ropes and as the Sage bounces off, Abe catches him with a quick knee to the midsection with sends Ned flipping forward onto his back. 

Nick Stuart: Great action so far in this one. It looks like Ned just wasn’t prepared for the literal high energy offense of Abe!

Richard Parker: I promise you, Ned has a plan! He is just letting that Sanka drinking intellectual inferior tire himself out and as soon as the sugar rush is over, he will spring into action.

In the ring, it doesn’t look like Ned has a plan. He groans and narrowly avoids a stomp to his midsection by rolling out of harm’s way. Abe follows Ned around the ring, Abe stomping and Ned rolling. They do a full three rotations around the ring before Ned finally rolls outside of the ring to get his bearings.  

As Abe reaches over the ropes to pull Reform back into the ring the Sage pokes him in the eye! Lipschitz stumbles backward and Ned Reform holds his hands up as though he has done nothing wrong while Jimmy Turnbull, who saw the reaction but not the poke, admonishes the Good Doctor. 

Nick Stuart: A dirty shot by Reform. It was really only a matter of time with these two. Dr. Reform doesn’t want to let Abe get one back on him after their last meeting at ReVival 25.

Richard Parker: Some say dirty, others say tactical.

Ned slips into the ring and tactically locks Abe into a waistlock, then lifts him high in the air and drops the youngster with a German Suplex. Abe tumbles and The Sage is on him immediately, lifting Abe with an arm ringer that he contorts into a hammerlock. Abe dances on his toes and grimaces.

Nick Stuart: Wise move slowing the pace down a little bit.

Richard Parker: Wisdom is his specialty.

Ned turns and locks Abe into the start of an Arm Breaker, but is unable to cage the squirrely youngster into position for the drop. Lipschitz fights free and spins around Reform with a go behind and spins once more into hooking Ned’s arms. He lifts him high in the air and over with a picture perfect Butterfly Suplex.

Ned crashes to the mat and grabs his back. Abe wastes little time in going for another cover and Jimmy Turnbull slides into position once again. 

ONE!

TWO!

Kick out by Ned! 

Nick Stuart: That’s twice now! It seems like Abe is after that return victory to prove Ned’s first win was a fluke.

Richard Parker: Fluke? That match was over before it began! Abe should be grateful he didn’t enroll him in any more lessons that night. 

Abe is back to his feet first and begins to soften up the doctor with well placed shots to the midsection and thighs. The older wrestler stumbles and huffs as he takes a shot to the solar plexus and drops to a knee. 

Nick Stuart: Abe is trying to take the gas out of his opponent, a wise strategy.

Richard Parker: But when is he going to run out of energy from that soda!?

Abe rushes off the ropes and tries for a cross body block, but Ned intellectually dives out of the way and watches as his opponent tumbles to the mat. Quick as a cat, Ned is on top of Abe, going back to work on the arm. He leaps in the air and stomps on Abe’s hand, and as the young man recoils, lays boots into his elbow and shoulder area. 

Again, Ned slows the pace by kneeling and putting Abe’s arm in a seated hammerlock. The youngster has nowhere to go in the middle of the ring, and all the sugar water in the world can’t prevent this from sapping his strength. 

Nick Stuart: Love him or hate him, you have to admire his commitment to attacking Abe’s softened up arm.  

Richard Parker: That’s because he is a real doctor that does important work in the field of research. 

The crowd starts to stir and get behind Abe as he shakes his fist and the power of Yellow Dye 5 runs wild through his veins. He gets to his knees and with his good arm, elbows Ned in the midsection once again. An errant elbow to the thigh and Ned grimaces after letting go. Abe pops to his feet and pumps his fist before heading to the ropes at full speed. 

Ned also seems energized and drops to the mat as Abe sprints back. Lipschitz leaps over the doctor and bounces off the ropes. As he does, Ned pops up and hops in the air for the classic leapfrog, but as Abe runs under him and he comes down, something clearly isn’t right.  

Richard Parker: Oh doctor, my doctor. His leg is compromised! 

Nick Stuart: Funny, I didn’t see anything happen, but he is clearly favoring his inner thigh and midsection. 

Abe wastes no time in capitalizing on the hobbled Ned and locks the doctor in an Abdominal Stretch. Ned groans in agony, far more than anyone should when locked into such a basic submission move. The Babe contorts and puts the screws to the doctor, really twisting for all he is worth. 

Jimmy Turnbull is close on hand asking Ned if he wants to submit, but the Doc gamely shakes his head no. The Babe shakes Ned, trying to sap all the strength from him that he can, clearly noting that there is an injury to Ned’s core.

Nick Stuart: There is a commotion happening on the ramp… it’s T.A. Cole! Why is he here now?

T.A. Cole sprints to the ring and begins to implore Ned to surrender, but the doctor will not. Finally T.A. Cole motions toward his groin and starts telling the fans, the ring crew, and anyone who will listen that Ned Reform has clearly pulled his groin and should not be allowed to continue.  

Back in the ring, all the commotion has Jimmy Turnbull keeping an eye on Ned and one on T.A. Cole. As Ned wanes, Abe sees an opportunity and turns Ned into the setup for Hot Cross Stuns, then lifts Reform and drops him with a Quackendriver II.

Nick Stuart: Surely that has to be it!

Richard Parker: Not like this!

Abe rolls Ned Reform over and goes for a pin. He hooks the leg and Jimmy Turnbull slides into position for the count. 

ONE!

.

TWO!

.

.

THREE!

DING DING DING!

Vince Howard: and your winner…AAAAAAAABE LIIIIIIIPSCHIIIIIIITZ!!!

Abe leaps off the pin and bounds into the air, jubilantly celebrating his win over Ned. 

Nick Stuart: Abe gets one back on Ned and looks to be thrilled! Maybe that theme music had an effect.

T.A. Cole slides into the ring and inspects Ned Reform before turning to Jimmy Turnbull and screaming at him.

T.A. Cole: Can’t you see this man has an injured groin?

Jimmy is unsure what to do and leans down to Ned Reform who says something that the microphones do not pick up. After a tense moment, he turns and throws up an X, except it’s more like a DX Crotch Chop, and the EMT’s storm the ring. 

Nick Stuart: Oh for crying out loud.  

Richard Parker: The man is a wounded hero! He sacrificed his groin for our entertainment, Nick!

T.A. Cole paces with worry and motions toward Ned’s groin to Vince Howard, who looks lost in the moment.  

The EMT’s are discussing what to do, and finally one of them makes the call to put Ned on the spinal board. As they are gingerly rolling Ned, he waves his hand and there is a disappointed bustle among the EMT’s as he stands up and waves off the medical help. 

For a moment, it’s clear Ned expects a hero’s response and applause for bravely walking off an injury. But nobody, not a single soul, claps. 

Finally T.A. Cole yells at the fans.

T.A. Cole: This man just wrestled with a broken freakin’ groin for you people! 

Mercifully, Ned and Cole gingerly make their way out of the ring and to the back, where no doubt there are ice packs and a maximum dosage of ibuprofen waiting.

Nick Stuart: Well, that sure wasn’t how I pictured that ending, but a big win for Abe Lipschitz…

Richard Parker: And a humiliating debilitating injury for Ned Reform. 

Nick Stuart: And with that, let’s take a commercial break!

COMMERCIAL: TROPICAL TURMOIL 2023

SURVIVOR

As the show returns from commercial, a man is already standing in the center of the ring, with a microphone in his hand. There is no fancy entrance. No pageantry, even though that’s exactly the type of thing that his family is known for. There is also no PRIME Five Star Championship, despite him promising that one would accompany him to the ring tonight. But there’s a simple explanation behind that— the man standing in the ring is not the Five Star Champion. 

No, he’s something more. 

TAB: My name is Tyler. Adrian. Best.

The words leave his mouth with intensity, as the camera gives us a close up view of the Culture Shock Battle Royal winner. His opening introduction leaves the crowd mostly quiet— it’s clearly the first half of a statement, and the fans give him enough rope to hang himself with. 

Tyler does not smirk. He doesn’t smile. He isn’t making a joke of anything. The next words that leave his mouth have something that sounds unfamiliar coming out of his mouth since his debut in PRIME. 

They have actual gravitas behind them. 

TAB: And I am a fucking. Survivor. 

There is a strangely mixed reaction from the crowd, much more so than one might expect for the son of Michael Lee Best. But then, the man has been through a war. 

Everyone saw that match. 

Everyone saw the hell that he and Cecilworth Farthington went through, after outlasting 39 other wrestlers just two weeks ago. Amidst a sea of boos, a lot of people seem to respect that, and they aren’t shy about vocalizing it. 

TAB: Forty one competitors. Forty one people entered that ring at Culture Shock, and only one of them survived. Survived with a damned near broken neck, after that completely reckless, unsafe worker Nate Colton suplexed me into the corner on Night One and nearly paralyzed me. Survived my Uncle, Cecilworth Farthington, who was not only unscoutable as he was not advertised as a forty first man, but who is also a REAL Hall of Famer from a REAL wrestling company. 

The boos are deafening. The crowd may have shown some mixed reaction to Tyler before after a heroic effort at Culture Shock, but he’s managed to use up all that good will in less time than it takes most people to order lunch at a drive thru. He’s clearly not out here for a long time, he’s out here for a good time. 

And if you pay the right attention?

He’s out here for a purpose. 

TAB: Boo all you want. Shit, I’ll boo right along with you. BOOOO! BOOOOO! This changes absolutely nothing but BOOOOO! 

He rolls his eyes unceremoniously, basking in the disdain that radiates from all around him. It feels like they’re throwing money directly into the ring. 

Carnies gonna carny, yo. 

TAB: Keep right on booing, because it is my intention to keep on giving you something to boo about. Keep on booing while Hayes Hanlon tries to limp his way into our Universal Championship match with that belt still around his waist, just so I can snatch it out from underneath him and fulfill my goddamned destiny. Keep booing when I raise that belt high over my head and display it for all the world to see. And keep booing when I take that championship… my Universal Championship…. 

He gets quiet now, leaning into the microphone as his last words are nearly a whisper. 

TAB: …and march it straight to Lee Best’s front door. 

He sneers out at the crowd, but it isn’t even completely clear if he means the words he’s saying. The youngest Best drops the mic in the center of the ring, glances at his watch as though he was timing his own promo— the winner of the Culture Shock Battle Royal drops to his back and rolls out of the ring, seemingly enjoying the negative attention as he makes his way back up the ramp. 

BASIC COMMUNISTICS

We cut away to the backstage area, where a visibly-annoyed Kenny Freeman has been sitting for what seems like forever, listening to Randall Schwartz ramble on about god only knows what. Randall is STILL rambling, as a matter of fact…only now we can finally hear what he has to say, and it is a doozy.

Randall Schwartz: So by the time he wrapped up with that final point, I thought to myself…you’re right, I’ve been to the promised land. Cuba is always nice this time of year. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll give this Communism thing a try. What’s the worst that can happen?

Kenny just stares at his wheelchair-bound friend, shaking his head as he scoffs at what the Entertainer has been saying.

Kenny Freeman: My guy, there was a whole ass fall of the Soviet Union. Do you not remember the Cold War, Randall?

Randall Schwartz: Kenny, I’ve lived in Southern California my whole life…cold is not something I’m familiar with, my man.

Kenny just rolls his eyes at this, finally getting back to his feet before approaching the back of Randall’s wheelchair.

Kenny Freeman: Well now that you’ve talked my ear off for at least an hour, can we go home now?

Randall reluctantly nods his head in agreement as Kenny grabs the handles, pushing the Entertainer along as he chimes in again.

Randall Schwartz: I’m just sayin’ Kenny, we can really serve a glorious purpose here! We can be the…the…the Comrades of the Communiverse!

Kenny just looks at him, shaking his head as they start to make their exit.

Randall Schwartz: Right, we can workshop that.

Randall starts mumbling to himself, occasionally mouthing out sounds.

Randall Schwartz: Masters of the…M-m-m…Moscow Multi…no, that can’t be it, hmm…maybe…Moscowverse?

Randall has a think on this, unsure how well that name flows as the B-Team finally walk off, giving us a chance to cut back to ringside.

FLAMBERGE vs. ARTHUR PLEASANT

As ReVival returns to the arena, we see that the fans who had been milling about purchasing many delicious beverages and food stuffs are slowly returning to their seats, awaiting with excitement for the semi-main event of the evening between Flamberge and Arthur Pleasant. As the lights slowly start to dim and more people take their seats, a small buzz starts to break through. 

The buzz is quickly interrupted by a song.

Which song?

“Dangereux” by IAM of course! The song that heralds the arrival of the Flamberge.

Nick Stuart: What a semi-main event we have for you this evening! We get to see Flamberge, who in recent months has been something of a buzzsaw through the PRIME roster take on a new signing, Arthur Pleasant, who made a bit of a splash at the Culture Shock Battle Royal.

Richard Parker: It’s a pity he didn’t drown in that splash.

Nick Stuart: RICHARD!

Richard Parker: What? I’m a Flamberge kind of guy. 

“Dangereux” by IAM plays to a weirdly supportive roar from the crowd. Perhaps it’s a Gen Z crowd that can appreciate Flamberge’s current situation of replacement daddies, who can say? Flamberge doesn’t give much away himself, heading to the ring with a very expressionless face, clearly focused on the match ahead of him, instead of backstage gossip and drama. 

Vince Howard: The following contest is scheduled for one fall, your referee is Elvis Nixon. Introducing first, making his way to the ring at this time, he hails from Strasbourg, France, standing an even six foot, and weighing in tonight at two hundred and four pounds… HE. IS. FLAMBERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGE!

Nick Stuart: You have to imagine that this new Glue Factory situation has messed with the already fragile mind of Flamberge. He has been lusting for the return of Phil Atken and what he got at Culture Shock was a very different outcome.

Richard Parker: Two things – first, please don’t use the word “lust” ever again. Second, I think Lord Farthington has made it very clear how much Flamberge is valued. Tonight is his opportunity to prove his worth and to me, Arthur Pleasant seems like the perfect opponent to do it.

Nick Stuart: Arthur Pleasant is certainly a great test for Flamberge as he heads towards his banked Intense Title match at Tropical Turmoil. Pleasant strikes me as a guy who would be right at home in the Intense Division.

Richard Parker: I’d rather we didn’t house him. He might keep coming back.

Parker and Stuart continue to bicker about the merits of Arthur Pleasant on commentary as Flamberge continues his cautious and casual walk towards the ring, playing no mind to any of the external forces. Flamberge stomps up the ring steps and pivots to the ring, immediately taking his place in his corner. As Flamberge leans up against the turnbuckles, dead eyes and all, “Dangereux” fades away, replaced by, I don’t fucking know, “Baby Elephant Walk” by Henry Mancini? Whatever Arthur Pleasant’s theme is, that’s what played. I don’t have access to such information but I bet it’s some form of evil banger. 

Nick Stuart: We saw a preview of this man’s capabilities at Culture Shock but tonight, against Flamberge, we will get a true test of what one of PRIME’s newest signings, Arthur Pleasant, can do.

Richard Parker: My mother always told me to never trust a man with wolf teeth.

Nick Stuart: Your mother always was very specific.

The music that plays when Arthur Pleasant is here continues to play as out from the back walks Arthur Pleasant to a less than warm reception from the PRIME faithful. Instead of being bothered by such things, Arthur Pleasant almost seems delighted at the hostile crowd. Two men try to get a “TEETH! TEETH! TEETH!” chant going, but no one can work out if such a chant is pro or anti-Pleasant. 

Vince Howard: And the opponent, on his way to the ring, one of PRIME’s newest signings stands tonight at six foot three inches and weighs in at two hundred and twenty two pounds, ARTHURRRRRR PLLLLEEEEEEASANT!

Richard Parker: A weirdly specific chant is developing in the crowd, I think, perhaps, due to some of Flamberge’s thoughts earlier in the week.

Nick Stuart: TEETH! TEETH! TEETH!

Richard Parker: I don’t know why I thought you wouldn’t enable this. That was an error on my part.

Pleasant makes a slow and steady walk to the ring, with a focus on Flamberge for the entire walk. Flamberge for his part rolled his eyes up to the ceiling some time ago and that is where they have remained for the entirety of Pleasant’s entrance. Pleasant enters the ring and almost knocks over referee Elvis Nixon as he tries to check him for contraband. Pleasant chuckles to himself as Nixon scrambles back up to his feet to perform his referee-y duties. 

DING DING

Nick Stuart: Elvis Nixon has called for the bell, and here. we. go.

Richard Parker: This is going to be one to watch for Paxton Ray. These two men are very eager to show they belong in the Intense division.

As the bell rings, Flamberge slowly rolls his eyes back towards ring level, where they meet with Pleasant’s. Pleasant goes for an immediate rush in, aiming to kick Flamberge in the thigh, but Flamberge is quick enough to hop back and all Pleasant makes contact with is air. With a small gap between the two, Flamberge scoops in with a double leg takedown in mind, but Pleasant manages to push him away and immediately follows with a boot to the skull. Unfortunately, Flamberge manages to roll out of the way of the boot, leaving Pleasant staggered. 

Nick Stuart: These two men have come to fight!

Richard Parker: Flamberge has to be careful here, particularly trying to take Pleasant down. Pleasant has the weight and height advantage. Flamberge is going to have to weaken Arthur if he hopes to take control of this match. 

Flamberge rolls right into the ring ropes and leans up against them, giving a dead-eyed look in the vague direction of Pleasant as he does so. Pleasant does not take very kindly to the nonchalant attitude of PRIME’s resident French youth and makes true first contact in the match by…

Poking Flamberge straight in the eye.

The warnings for Elvis Nixon seem to do very little to impact Pleasant’s game plan, as Flamberge tries to right himself after getting some fuzzy vision. The fuzzy vision allows Pleasant to slam a knee right against the ribs of Flamberge and with the advantage in hand, he throws a second and third knee into the Frenchman for good measure. 

Nick Stuart: At the start of the match, Arthur Pleasant looked very confident in his chances, which makes you wonder why he went so dirty, so fast.

Richard Parker: It’s because he knew in a fair fight, he’d never be able to stagger Flamberge. Particularly not when the young athlete has the blessing of Lord Farthington riding upon him. 

As Flamberge gasps from Pleasant’s onslaught, he manages to position himself up against the ropes. Elvis Nixon is about to step in to break up the action, but Arthur Pleasant instead hooks his arm around Flamberge’s neck and swings himself backwards for a DDT. The problem for Pleasant? Flamberge manages to wrap his leg around the bottom rope and Pleasant loses his grip, flying backwards into the mat and winding himself. The former Chipsmodel sees the opening and throws a flurry of stomps at the downed Pleasant, he gets around five solid stomps in before Pleasant manages to roll out of the way, clutching his ribs as he does so.

Nick Stuart: Hard hitting match in the opening match, Dick, do you think these two men are looking to prove something?

Richard Parker: I think they’re trying to prove that they can kick the ever loving crap out of each other, and hell, they’re succeeding in making their opponent.

Flamberge walks over to continue his assault on Pleasant but runs into a very unfamiliar sensation. Never before had Flamberge experienced a man chomping down on his ankle, and certainly not a man with teeth designed to do the job in a much efficient manner. Flamberge groans out in pain as Pleasant uses the opening of Flamberge nursing his ankle to scramble back up to his feet, looking very proud of himself as he does so. The crowd does not massively appreciate this action by Pleasant, apart from the group of “TEETH! TEETH! TEETH!” diehards in the seventh row.

Nick Stuart: I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like Pleasant before. I do wonder though, are those performing enhancing teeth?

Richard Parker: I hate to say it, but there’s nothing in the PRIME rulebook that says a man can’t sharpen his teeth for additional impact. It is very much within the man’s right.

Pleasant looks at the irate Flamberge, who is clearly nursing his ankle, a small pool of blood gently dripping out and takes a cheeky bow. Flamberge tries to swing at Pleasant, but the pain from the ankle takes over and he slowly stumbles backwards into the ropes instead, much to the delight of Pleasant. Flamberge tries to nurse his ankle, and Pleasant decides that instead of allowing that to happen, actually, he’s going to headbutt Flamberge straight in the noggin, sending Flamberge straight to the mat. Pleasant follows this up with a short DDT to the mat and quickly floats over for the cover, Elvis Nixon quickly in place for the count.

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT!

Flamberge manages to kick out at two, and Pleasant decides to hook for the cover again.

ONE! 

TWO!

KICKOUT!

Flamberge manages to break free again.

Nick Stuart: This is smart strategy from Pleasant, he’s not trying to win the match, he’s trying to tire Flamberge out.

Richard Parker: It’s good ring tactics, particularly when you have to imagine that Flamberge is still feeling that intense pain in his ankles. Pleasant knows how to make the most of the tools in his possession, I will give him credit for that. 

Pleasant goes for a third cover.

ONE!

KICKOUT!

The third kickout from Flamberge contains more authority than the first two, as the French youth leaps back up to the mat, hobbling slightly with his bad ankle. Pleasant sees that Flamberge is ready for another fight and decides his best path forward.

Eye gouging.

Pleasant drives his thumb so hard into the eye of Flamberge, you could almost say it was done with high octane energy. Flamberge, deciding that he’d rather not have a future of eyepatch purchases, returns the gouge with a knee that he directs right into the gut of Pleasant, causing Pleasant to loosen the hold. Pleasant staggers back, clutching his stomach and gives Flamberge just enough space to leap up and smack him right across the jaw with a jumping roundhouse kick. Pleasant bounces off the ropes, right into the waiting arms of Flamberge, who hooks him up tight and begins to throw knee after knee to the region just under the ribs of Pleasant. Pleasant tries to struggle free from Flamberge’s grip, but finds it difficult to do so.

Nick Stuart: It would seem that Flamberge almost took the eye gouge as an insult in how he’s chosen to respond.

Richard Parker: That’s it Flamberge! Show everyone what you’re made of in the ring! Show the world that you are worthy of the mantle of Glue! Lord Farthington believes in you!

Nick Stuart: One of these days we’ve going to have to dig into this Lord Farthington thing you have going on…

Richard Parker: …I just think he’s neat!

After softening Pleasant up with the knees, Flamberge shoots in again for a double leg take down, but the bigger frame of Pleasant once again proves to be too challenging and Pleasant manages to push Flamberge off. Pleasant seeks to follow up the assault, but as he goes to grapple with Flamberge, Flamberge uses judo magic to toss Pleasant to the mat, and as Pleasant crashes into the mat, gasping for air, Flamberge hooks the leg for a cover.

ONE!

TWO!

A kickout from Pleasant happens almost immediately at the two, causing frustration for the Frenchman. Elvis Nixon signals the two to Flamberge, and for his part, he doesn’t engage in any argumentation and gets back to the job of grappling. Or so he would hope. Instead, as he bends over to leave Pleasant back up, he’s met with a headbutt from Pleasant that comes with such force that people would expect Arthur Pleasant’s brain would need a little wash when he heads backstage. The force and fury of the headbutt completely dazes Flamberge. 

Nick Stuart: Flamberge’s legs are looking a little weak after that headbutt. For how much longer can he stay up?

Richard Parker: Flamberge is made of the strong stuff, he’ll see this out! He knows how to get his head back in the game. We’ve seen it before. It’s why he places so well at Culture Shock!

Nick Stuart: I can’t argue that he had a VERY strong performance, but I don’t know if that’s helping him in the ring against Arthur Pleasant right now.

Pleasant sees that Flamberge is completely out of sorts and scrambles back to his feet like a slippery little eel. Pleasant tilts his head slightly at Pleasant, and smiles, revealing the very teeth that his opponent had made a mockery of earlier in the week. Motioning to the crowd that he’s ready to bring the whole thing to an end, Pleasant lifts up the staggered Flamberge up upon his shoulders, but as he starts to flip him, Flamberge rolls back behind Pleasant, and plants himself back on even footing. Flamberge staggers as he lands, clear that he’s still feeling the effects of the prior attack on his ankle and it presents just enough of an opening for Pleasant to drive his boot into the temple of Flamberge. Flamberge collapses to the mat in a heap, and Arthur Pleasant quickly scoots down for the pin, with Elvis Nixon in place for the count.

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT?

NOT QUITE!

Flamberge doesn’t kickout with authority, but rather instead manages to roll himself up slightly, making sure that his shoulders no longer touch the mat. This is enough for Elvis Nixon to call off the count. Pleasant looks at Nixon, ready to argue his case but this momentary distraction ends up being slightly foolish on Pleasant’s part, as it gives the opening for Flamberge to hook his arm around Pleasant’s neck. 

Nick Stuart: Arthur Pleasant was absolutely convinced that a powerful kick to Flamberge’s temple was more than enough to put the Frenchman away and that surprise of Flamberge rolling out of the pin took him off guard.

Richard Parker: Flamberge is an incredibly fluid athlete, similar to his future mentor and hero, the great Lord Farthington. You cannot present a single opening to these men, they know how to take advantage of it and now Flamberge has a python-like grip around the neck of Arthur Pleasant. 

As Flamberge tries to position himself to put more force and power behind the choke that he finds he has Pleasant in, Pleasant wriggles back and forth trying to break free. Elvis Nixon stays in position, as he sees life start to gradually fade from Pleasant. Pleasant continues to try and fight free, trying to use his larger frame to lift himself up off the mat, but by doing so, he presents a tactical opening to Flamberge, who quickly wraps his legs around the waist of Pleasant as Pleasant strains to lift himself up. Flamberge manages to roll over and position himself into a full Marie Antoinette Guillotine Choke, and Arthur Pleasant starts to show signs of the air rushing out of his body, his fight out of the hold continually weakening. Despite Elvis Nixon checking to see if Pleasant would tap, Pleasant presents no such satisfaction for Flamberge, who now has the hold locked in tight.

Nick Stuart: Pleasant is trying to fight free of this choke but I think it’s actually helping Flamberge control the hold tighter.

Richard Parker: A smart man taps, Nick. Sometimes it is better to admit that for one brief moment, you got got. Sadly, pride is a hell of a drug and Arthur Pleasant looks like he’s going to a very proud, unconscious man in a minute. 

Arthur Pleasant is a very interesting man, and in being such, instead of tapping out, decides instead to hold up a middle finger straight into the face of Flamberge as he slowly begins to fade out. Nixon makes one last plea to ask if Pleasant gives up, but he continues to not give Flamberge the satisfaction, holding the middle finger in place, almost smiling as he passes out. As the middle finger drifts towards the ground, referee Elvis Nixon decides that he has seen enough and signals for the bell. 

DING DING DING

Vince Howard: Your winner at nineteen minute and twelve seconds, by referee’s decision, FLAMMMMMBERRRRGE!

Nick Stuart: Impressive ring tactics by the young athlete in the ring tonight. Arthur Pleasant looked very much in control of this affair, but he provided one opening and that opening was enough for Flamberge. 

Richard Parker: There’s a very sticky man that I’m sure is right now watching backstage with pride after that effort from Flamberge. The man had his ankle assaulted by illegal teeth and he still managed to push himself towards victory. He is the living embodiment of resilience! 

Flamberge scrambles himself up against the bottom and middle ropes, leaning against them as he nurses his ankle, gasping for air, emotionless but prideful in his victory. Elvis Nixon chooses to check out Pleasant as opposed to raising the hand of Flamberge, which suits the young Frenchman fine.

Flamberge rolls out of the ring as he sees Nixon help Pleasant slowly come back around. 

LATE ARRIVAL

From the sight of Pleasant passing out, we return backstage where we see…

Adam Ellis is standing outside his dressing room.  Leaning back against the wall.  Arms folded.  Nervously shifting his weight back and forth from one foot to the other.

He’s dressed and ready for his upcoming match with Cecilworth Farthington. 

He should be one hundred percent focused on his upcoming match with Cecilworth Farthington… which is only a few minutes away.

Adam Ellis: Where is she? 

But he’s not.

Adam’s fidgeting… and waiting… and getting a little worried as match time grows closer concerned because-

Female Voice: Adam!

The familiar voice calling out to him gets Adam’s attention.

Ellis exhales a breath of relief when he sees Dawn McGill, pulling a travel bag behind her with a Singapore cane affixed to the side, coming towards him. 

Adam Ellis: You made it.

Dawn McGill: Sorry I’m late. 

She walks into the shot with the bottom of her black overcoat swinging back and forth. 

Dawn McGill: Hopefully you got my text.  The match at the barn went a little long today and then I got a flat tire on the way to the airport and had to catch a later flight.

Adam Ellis: Yes ma’am, I got your text.

Dawn removes the overcoat and folds it over the extended handle of her travel bag, revealing that she’s already wearing her wrestling gear. 

Dawn McGill: Yeah, I kinda had to get dressed on the plane.

Adam Ellis: Well you’re here now.  That’s all that matters.

Dawn fluffs her medium-length blonde hair and rolls her neck a couple times.

Dawn McGill: By the way, is this the company where Richard Parker is the color man?

Adam Ellis: Yes, ma’am.

Dawn McGill: Ugh.  He looked down my dress when I was splayed out on the broadcast table at the PWA-1 show.  Damn Cancer Jiles and his Coolympian Yolk.  Right in my eyes.  Couldn’t see a damn thing.

Adam Ellis: Sorry about that.

Dawn McGill: Oh it’s fine.  So, let’s get down to business.  Are you all stretched out and ready to go?

Adam Ellis: Yes, ma’am.

Dawn McGill: Good. The only thing you should be focused on right now is how you’re going to beat Cecilworth Farthington tonight because this is your night.

He nodded as she spoke.

Adam Ellis: Well, I’m not sure about that but with you in my corner-

Dawn McGill: This isn’t about me being in your corner., Adam.  It’s about you. You can do this.  I’m just here to lend a friendly helping hand…

Adam watches her undo the straps holding the Singapore cane to her travel bag.

Dawn McGill: …and a Singapore cane to use on Cecilworth if he gets carried away.

Adam Ellis: Well okay then.

Dawn McGill: All right.  I’m going to go put my stuff in the dressing room.  Then we’re going to walk out to the ring and you’re going to go out and win this match tonight… right?

Adam Ellis: Yes ma’am.

Dawn McGill: Good.  I’ll be right back.

Dawn exits the shot with her travel bag.

Adam stands and takes a couple of deep breaths.  Then he says to no one in particular with a voice that’s not very full of conviction…

Adam Ellis: I can do this. 

BURNT ENDS

Here, from Adam Ellis, we go to another backstage area once again. The wreckage from Ivan Stanislav’s most recent foray into property damage (RIP Lindsay Troy’s Desk, 2022-2023, you didn’t live long but boy howdy how you lived!) is known. Seen. But it’s not inside The Queen of the Ring’s office garnering focus.

A large figure. It’s Brandon Youngblood, opening the door and walking from within, who falls under the gaze of the camera lens. His fingertips brush against the front of his shirt; white, with an orange ripped in half, the point of his diamond logo smashing through one of the separated pieces, a glass underneath it being filled with juice. “Freshly Squeezed Inhuman Being” appears in red gelato script. 

You can buy it now, at the PRIMEporium.

Ever the gentleman, he closes the door before cracking his knuckles, his trademark intense glare remaining etched as he begins to walk away. The further along he walks, the more the facade ebbs away.

Stoic no more. The smirk comes from confidence. In knowing. Wonder what that could mean?

We then cut to ringside.

CECILWORTH FARTHINGTON vs. ADAM ELLIS

Garrett Biggs’ “Mama Didn’t Raise No…” plays over the sound system and on the video screen, a video plays showing a series of wrestling trophies on a dresser next to an old high school football uniform that has ‘Ellis’ on the back.

An acoustic guitar plays and the vocals begin.

♫♪Mama didn’t raise no… quitter- guaranteed to get the job done.♫♪

Dawn McGill comes out first from the back.  She stands at six feet tall plus heels on the stage dressed in a black halter top, black wrestling shorts, and a pair of knee-high black boots.  She also wields a Singapore cane in her right hand.

Richard Parker: Wait a minute!

Nick Stuart: What?

Richard Parker: I know her.

♫♪“She didn’t raise no SOB who that can’t back himself up – been known to throw a good punch.”♫♪

The video screen shows a series of action shots of Ellis from his various matches

Richard Parker: She’s that Sunshine God’s valet from the PWA show who ended up on top of the broadcast desk right in front of me wearing this skimpy golden, one-piece, strapless mini-dress.Richard looks up into the rafters.

Richard Parker: Thank you Hoyt! 

♫♪And this ol’ boy gets going when the going gets tough- sundown to sun up♫♪

Nick Stuart: And your point would be?

Richard Parker: She’s coming out with Ellis tonight?  No Ginny Van Lear at ringside?

Adam Ellis comes out next. 

Nick Stuart: I guess not.

Ellis is wearing a pair of plain blue wrestling shorts…

♫♪Need a man with a helping hand – he’s always got one to lend♫♪

…and joins up with McGill as the chorus and full instrumentation hits- complete with pyro.

♫♪Oh, I might be a little rough around the edges♫♪

McGill starts forward down the ramp towards the ring followed by Ellis.

♫♪From the outside lookin’ in it might seem helpless♫♪

When they reach the ring, Adam holds the ropes open so Dawn can slide through.

♫♪I’ve been blessed with a strong backbone – I never coulda made it on my own♫♪

Then Adam joins her in the ring…

♫♪But if there’s one thing that I know – Momma didn’t raise no…♫♪

… and climbs up the top turnbuckle, raising up his arms.

Richard Parker: I wouldn’t want my wife ringside while Farthington was out here either. I couldn’t even be mad if she went home with him. 

The arena slowly begins to darken, as the opening moments of “Choke” by I Don’t Know How But They Found Me begin to slowly reverberate. 

Nick Stuart: Wha…? 

Richard Parker: Listen… we’re about to experience a legend, the greatest WRESTLER to walk the hallowed halls, the greatest man who has ever stepped foot in a wrestling ring. We’re about to experience… 

♫♪Stop

Drop

and drag me into place

and lock the fire escapes

I’ll break your pretty face♫♪

Richard Parker: YEEEEEEESSSSSSS~!

As the riff reaches it’s peak, the whole crowd is awakened with bright lights shining down upon them as out from backstage steps Lord Cecilworth Farthington.The camera quickly zooms into the self-assured smile that’s cracked upon the face of The Fiancier as he swaggers down to the right, both arms inserted into the pockets of a plain black hoodie. The jovial face of Farthington doesn’t entire match his purposeful march to the ring, his shoulders swaying to the tune of “Choke”.

Nick Stuart: He is pretty impressive… 

Richard Parker: PRETTY IMPRESSIVE!? 

His hands never leave the pockets as he slowly rolls under the bottom rope and leaps up into the ring. He slowly raises his left arm up into the sky and gives the crowd a cheeky little wave as he takes his place resting against the ring corner.

Nick Stuart: This is the man you are infatuated with though… 

Richard Parker: You just don’t get it yet… 

Timo finishes checking over Farthington and calls for the bell. 

DING DING 

Farthington begins to circle the ring, like a lion in a Roman gladiatorial game. The former Finish Line of High Octane Wrestling snarls but Adam Ellis ignores it, he takes a deep breath, preparing himself, and finally the two men collide. Collar and elbow tie up, Farthington reverses into a hammerlock, Ellis flips the script with an arm wrench and a hammerlock of his own. Farthington pulls Ellis’ arm down, behind him, and steps backwards through the hammerlock. Ellis drops the hand but Farthington retains wrist control, he slips out the back door to Adam’s right and twists Ellis’ arm as he does it, locking in a hammerlock of his own once again. 

Nick Stuart: This is… 

Richard Parker: The guy can fucking wrestle, Nick. 

Ellis fires off an elbow, but Farthington is able to shift his body to the other side so the blow barely grazes his shoulder. Cecilworth wrenches on the arm of Ellis, snarling. Farthington stands on his tiptoes to apply more pressure onto Ellis’ arm. Adam tries to turn to his left, but Farthington follows him, Cecilworth tries to slide a leg over Adam’s right hip, but Ellis keeps moving causing Farthington to abandon the attempt and slide with him. Ellis rapidly turns the other direction, he grabs Cecilworth’s heel and yanks it out from under him, sending him down to the mat. 

Nick Stuart: But Adam Ellis was trained by The Gold Standard, John Sektor, a technician in his own right, and he’s showing he has the chops to hang with Farthington tonight. 

Ellis spins around and falls forward, bringing with him a huge forearm smash across the bridge of Farthington’s nose. Farthington is shocked, but Ellis keeps throwing. Right hand, left hand, the entire time Farthington is putting his defense together. His arms stay up high, and Ellis has to devote his left arm to pulling hands away while Cecilworth’s legs go to work, wrapping Ellis up in a guard. 

Nick Stuart: Farthington looks to be in trouble. 

Richard Parker: He’s working Ellis right where he… 

Farthington reaches up and grabs the back of Ellis’ neck, pulling him in close, while making sure to leave a shoulder off of the mat. Ellis, the much bigger man, is able to slip a hand in between the two heads and pushes Farthington to the ground, and postures up. He unloads a right hand that connects, but Farthington grabs him again. Ellis tries the same thing for a second time, but Farthington is a wizard of a man. His hips rotate like lightning and he flips Ellis completely over, almost locking in an arm bar but Ellis’ leg lands on the rope. 

Richard Parker: Right where he wanted him, Nick. That’s why Farthington is so dangerous in that ring. He can rip your momentum away at any moment. 

Nick Stuart: That was impressive. 

Ellis gets to his feet, while Farthington stares back at him. As the two step back to opposite sides of the ring Farthington is clearly shouting “Worthless.” Ellis looks to his manager and nods as McGill is shouting instruction to him from the outside. The look on his face says it all, he knows how close he was to being finished. 

Farthington and Ellis begin to circle, this time some hand fighting occurs as Ellis keeps trying to slap Farthington’s hand out of his face. Finally Farthington has had enough with the grappling, and when Ellis tries to move Farthington’s hand, Cecilworth strikes. A knee is buried into Adam’s midsection in an instant. As Ellis crumples, an open left hand fires forward and connects with Adam’s jaw, sending phlegm flying to ringside. Ellis stumbles backwards, but The Financier is relentless, and comes in with a European uppercut that sends Adam into the ropes. 

Nick Stuart: Big european uppercut by Farthington. 

Richard Parker: He’s a killer. A murderer. Literal murderer. 

Ellis comes off the ropes trying to regain some momentum and whips a big lariat at Farthington. But Cecilworth ducks under, and Ellis takes off sprinting across the ring. 

Richard Parker: That’s right, run away! 

Ellis hits the ropes and comes back with a head of steam. Cecilworth looks for a drop toe hold and Adam leaps over the rolling Farthington. Ellis stops on a dime and spins himself around bringing a big forearm with him, Farthington turns just enough to get caught across the jaw with the forearm. Cecilworth staggers back, Ellis comes forward with another forearm but Farthington catches him with a european uppercut. 

Nick Stuart: Looks like these two are at a standstill! 

Ellis throws a forearm, it smashes into Farthington. Cecilworth unloads an uppercut, the two trade eye watering shots as they march towards the center of the ring. Another forearm, another uppercut, another forearm, another uppercut, then finally, a forearm staggers Farthington back. Ellis loads up a second, but Farthington cuts him off with a kick to the stomach. Ellis doubles over, and Farthington wraps his arm around Ellis’ head and yanks back, smashing him to the canvas with a DDT. Farthington with a cover. 

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT! 

Nick Stuart: Big DDT from Farthington there, but kick out by Ellis. 

Farthington shoots up to his feet and brings Ellis with him. He grabs the man in a front face lock and tries to yank him over the top for a snap suplex. But Adam Ellis doesn’t budge. Farthington fires an elbow to the midsection of Ellis and tries again, but Adam doesn’t move an inch. Farthington tries once more, but Ellis fires an elbow into Farthington’s midsection this time. Ellis snaps Farthington over his head and sends the Financier to the canvas. 

Nick Stuart: Great wrestling by Ellis. 

Richard Parker: Yeah… yeah… 

Adam Ellis gets to his feet and drags Farthington up with him. Ellis fires off a right hand, then another. Cecilworth shoves Ellis away, but Ellis comes back in with a superkick to Farthington’s jaw that floors the Financier. Ellis scrambles on top of Farthington and hooks both legs. 

ONE! 

TWO! 

KICKOUT! 

Nick Stuart: Farthington’s turn to kick out. Great superkick by Ellis. 

Richard Parker: His wife probably taught him that. 

Ellis is hard at work, getting back to his feet and dragging Farthington up with him. He grabs Farthington for another suplex, but Farthington steps through and wraps his arms around Ellis’ waist. Ellis, recognizing the danger, immediately breaks Farthington’s grip, and grabs a reversal of his own. His hands wrap around Farthington’s waist, and he yanks Cecilworth up over his head and plants him to the canvas with a german suplex. Ellis slams the mat and jumps up to his feet, absolutely roaring. 

Nick Stuart: Cinderella is getting some momentum! 

Richard Parker: IT’S MIDNIGHT SOMEWHERE! GET UP CECILWORTH! 

Ellis isn’t done. He grabs Farthington by the back of his tights, and drags him up to his feet. He grabs Farthington around the waist, and german suplexes Farthington to the mat for a second time. 

Nick Stuart: He looks like Brandon Youngblood out there! 

Richard Parker: SHUT UP NICK! 

Ellis bridges. 

ONE! 

TWO! 

…

…………..

………………..

KICKOUT! 

Nick Stuart: I thought he had him!

Richard Parker: I SAID SHUT UP NICK! 

Ellis jumps to his feet, and marches over to the downed Farthington. He reaches down and pulls him up again. Farthington turns around and sends a right hand across Ellis’ face. Ellis feigns a kick and launches into the air for a superman punch. Farthington manages to get out of the way and it sends Ellis awkwardly landing, trying to find his feet. Farthington rushes over and kicks Adam Ellis in the back of the knee, sending him down to a knee. Ellis tries to turn around, but Farthington brings down a 12-6 elbow across Ellis’ shoulder. He pushes Adam’s head to the side and brings another, then another, then another. 

Richard Parker: YJASHKDFAKJLSHD!!!!!!

Nick Stuart: What the hell did you just say? 

Richard Parker: YESSSSS!! I’M SO EXCITED! 

The Financier snarls, throwing Adam Ellis into the corner. He backs away, then comes running forward, driving a boot across the center of Ellis’ chest. 

Richard Parker: PENALTY KICK! 

Nick Stuart: You could hear that one in the nosebleeds. 

Farthington backs up again. He comes sprinting forward for a second time and once again levels Ellis across the chest with a second penalty kick. 

Richard Parker: He’s scoring more penalties than we scored at the World Cup! 

Nick Stuart: That’s not that hard to do, Richard… 

Farthington grins, pleased with himself. He grabs Ellis by the hair and starts to pull him up to his feet. He gets Ellis to his knees, but Ellis swats his hand away. The Financier fires off a boot to Ellis’ midsection. Then one to the side of the ribs. 

Richard Parker: DO WHAT HE SAYS! 

Farthington drags Ellis to his feet and slaps him in the face. Ellis stumbles backwards, but Farthington grabs him by the back of the head and fires off a second slap. Ellis once again stumbles backwards, his back touches the turnbuckle, and he throws himself forward smashing Farthington with a right hand. Cecilworth is appalled, stunned, and very, very angry. He pulls back and drives a forearm of his own to Ellis’ neck. Adam grimaces, and Farthington drives another knee into Ellis’ midsection. 

Nick Stuart: Adam Ellis sure has a lot of fight. 

Richard Parker: Yeah, yeah… tough kid… get him his flowers. 

Farthington grabs Ellis in a front face lock again, and this time flips him over before he can react, snap suplexing him to the canvas. Farthington doesn’t let go, and rolls to his feet, this time hooking Ellis’ leg. He snaps him over again, driving the back of his skull into the canvas with a Fisherman’s buster. Farthington maintains the bridge as Timo slides in. 

Richard Parker: It’s a Fisherman’s Buster, Buster! 

Nick Stuart: I already hate this so much. 

ONE! 

TWO! 

…..

……….

…………….

………………..

……………………

………………………..

…………………………….

…………………………………

……………………………………

……………………………………….

KICKOUT! 

Nick Stuart: That was close! 

Richard Parker: Let’s get it over with! 

Farthington gets to his feet, slowly, calmly. He drags Ellis up to a seated position. He slips his arms around Ellis’ neck, but just as Adam feels himself being grabbed, he leaps to his feet and out of Farthington’s grasp. Ellis scrambles to the ropes, but Farthington leaps up onto his back. Pulling him down like a lioness yanks a young zebra down in the serengeti. Ellis falls backwards, landing on Farthington. He bridges up, trying to pin Farthington to the ground. Farthington takes the opportunity to slip his forearm in under Adam’s chin. 

Nick Stuart: Pin attempt by Ellis! 

Richard Parker: FARTHINGTON IS GOING TO TURN HIS LIGHTS OUT! 

ONE! 

TWO! 

…..

……….

…………….

………………..

……………………

………………………..

…………………………….

…………………………………

……………………………………

……………………………………….

Farthington yanks Ellis over, just in time. Flattening Ellis out on the mat at the same time. Timo checks with Ellis, asking him if he wants to quit. Ellis shakes his head, shouting no. 

Richard Parker: QUIT KID! QUIT! OR DON’T! IT’LL ALL BE OVER SOON! 

Nick Stuart: Adam Ellis isn’t quitting. 

Ellis looks up at the ropes and tries to get an arm under him, but Farthington slides his leg up Adam’s side, and pins the arm underneath him. Ellis falls to the mat chin first. Farthington, with a hook in, yanks back on Ellis’ head as hard as he can. Timo looks at Ellis, who just shakes his head no. Mama didn’t raise no quitter. 

Richard Parker: HE’S OUT! HE’S OUT! 

The second shake of the head, Ellis’ head slumps down and Timo dives in, trying to pull Farthington off of Ellis. He calls for the bell, and finally Farthington lets go as Adam Ellis slumps to the canvas. 

DING DING DING

Nick Stuart: That might have been too much, Richard. 

Richard Parker: I TOLD YOU HE WAS GOING TO SLEEP! GOODNIGHT ADAM ELLIS! GOOD FUCKING NIGHT!

Farthington stomps away from Ellis, and raises his hands in the air. 

Vince Howard: Your winner by referee’s stoppage… CECILWORTH FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARTHINGTON! 

Richard Parker: This is what everyone in the back is in for with Farthington on the roster! This is for what they did to Phil! This is for ALL OF US! 

Nick Stuart: Adam Ellis wrestled the match of his life out here, and all you can talk about is Phil Atken. Incredible ring work from Cecilworth Farthington tonight, but Adam Ellis put on a hell of a show. 

Richard Parker: Adam Ellis is trained by like three different World Champions. Of course he’s a great wrestler. But they all go to sleep Nick, they all go to sleep. 

With a victorious Cecilworth Farthington standing with his arm raised in the middle of the ring, and a Dawn McGill helping Adam Ellis back to his feet, our scene, much like Adam at the end of the match. 

We slowly fade to black.

And stay there for a moment.

Before we fade back in, to the backstage area. Where we hear a familiar southern drawl.

MISTER TWO TIME

“Ah, hell. Ain’t like it’s the first time you had yer desk smashed, or door kicked in. Pretty sure there’s a budget fer all that now.”

The deep, gravelly voice of PRIME’s resident Bad Dog, Wade Elliott, greets us as we fade back in from the nights’ main event. The camera follows him down a back hallway of the Paycom Arena as he puts his arms through an old work coat.

Matching his stride, the Queen of the Ring, who huffs in annoyance.

Lindsay Troy: There is, but I could’ve done without my tablet being collateral damage.

Her hair sways over the collar of her leather jacket and she adjusts the bag on her shoulder.

Lindsay Troy: Still, to see how much I irritate Ivan…probably worth it.

Wade Elliott: (snorting his amusement) He’s a sensitive ol’ sonnuva bitch. Can’t help em’ all.

The Blue Collar Brawler pushes an exit door open with one hand, allowing his Queen to exit first. They step out into the back parking lot, but their walk to Wade’s truck has an obstruction.

The Champ, leaning against a white Audi, arms crossed over his broad chest. A small grin behind his dark ‘stache.

Lindsay Troy: (smiling) Well, if it isn’t young Mister Two Time. Surprised you’re still here. 

Hayes Hanlon: (deflecting) Remember how Sonny Silver told you to do what you could to get me signed?

Lindsay Troy: I do. His praise is hard to come by.

The Comeback Kid looks down to his Universal Title fondly, and gives it a pat.

Hayes Hanlon: Think he saw this coming?

The Queen laughs and smirks.

Lindsay Troy: You should ask him yourself sometime. But you’re not waiting out here to talk to me about Sonshine. What’s up? Figured you’d be out on the town by now with the rest of the boys.

Hayes Hanlon: Honestly, I just wanted to say thanks. Man, if you told me after I won the Five Star that I’d follow it up by winning this thing not once, but twice? I would have never believed you. 

He takes a moment, words tumbling around his head, while the Lady of the Hour and the Southern Sparkplug give him the time.

Hayes Hanlon: And, uh…I know that it puts me in some pretty special company, including you, Ms. Troy. I know there aren’t a lot of wrestlers that get a shot at the Big Belt at all. No offense, Wade.

Wade holds up a palm, no offense taken, before re-crossing his arms. The Event Horizon turns back to Troy.

Hayes Hanlon: So…thanks. Thanks for taking a chance on me.

Lindsay Troy: You’re welcome, Hayes. You’ve got a lot to live up to by carrying that belt, all the Universal Champions do, but I think you’re up to the task.

Hayes Hanlon: I appreciate that. And I won’t take Tyler lightly! I don’t know how a dude that little wins a Battle Royale, but he was trained by you, so…

The Queen smiles again.

Lindsay Troy: Well, success runs in his family. Tyler wasn’t trained just by me, though. He was also trained by Cecilworth and Dan Ryan, and despite all that Dan’s done, that doesn’t take away from how dangerous he is.

Wade Elliott: Dangerous as a big ass pile’ve vanilla soft serve…

Lindsay snorts and Wade looks pleased with himself.

Lindsay Troy: Anyway, enough about him for the moment. You’ve got a defense before Tropical Turmoil, Hayes. You make it through that, then you’ll go head to head with Tyler in San Diego.

Hayes Hanlon: Hey, if I can survive Ivan and Rezin in a cage, then I can handle whoever you got. To whom do I owe the pleasure?

Lindsay nods and retrieves her tablet from her briefcase. She powers it on, grumbling as she tries to navigate to something despite the cracked and mangled screen.

Lindsay Troy: Sorry, give me a minute. This thing got Stanislav’d earlier.

Hayes Hanlon: I know the feeling…

Hayes cranes his neck to see what the Queen is up to. Finally, Lindsay finds what she’s looking for and hands the tablet over to the Event Horizon. His dark eyes grow wide as they draw across the promotional image for ReVival 27.

His eyes shoot up to PRIME’s power couple. The Benchmark throws on her trademark smirk, and the Bad Dog snickers behind his gray beard. Hanlon looks back to the tablet, “exasperation” the only befitting description for the look on his face.

Hayes Hanlon: OH FOR FUC…

FADE.

TO.

BLACK.