MORE THAN A MARKETING SLOGAN

“Search and Destroy” hits the PA. Mushroom clouds and scenes of riots fill the PRIMEView. Without much pop and pageantry, “the Escape Artist” Rezin steps out onto the stage and immediately makes his way to the ring. It’s a mixed reaction from the PRIMEates as always, but tonight the cheers are drowning out the jeers.

Nick Stuart: Buckle up, Rich! The Five Star Champion is coming to the ring!

Richard Parker: Time for a contact high.

Rather than arriving in his usual unhinged fervor, the look on the Goat Bastard’s face is one of subdued, stoic anger. At his side, clutched in his hand, is the Five Star Championship of PRIME. On his face are the bruises of what must have been an absolutely ROYAL beatdown 

Richard Parker: Oof man. His face looks like he tried to play kissy-face with a lawnmower. You think he had a bad night in Vegas?

Nick Stuart: You could say that. Word is, he’s coming off a hellacious match that took place in another promotion less than twenty-four hours ago.

Richard Parker: Who did he face off with? Freaking GOD?

Nick Stuart: Worse. Lindsay Troy.

Richard Parker: Oh wow… that poor, unfortunate man. I’m surprised he’s walking.

Along with his usual battle vest, he’s sporting a brand new muscle-cut t-shirt: On the front, a heart-shaped jerry can with a lit rag hanging out the spout and his name scrawled on a duct tape label. On the back, two simple lines: “If it ain’t burnin’, ya ain’t learnin’.”

Nick Stuart: What do you think the meaning of that line on the back, Rich?

Richard Parker: The hell should I know, Nick? What do I look like, a philosophical laureate? Probably just something he put on there cause he thought it sounded cool. Use your imagination, geez…

Rezin wordlessly retrieves the mic from Vince and rolls into the ring and gets up to his knees, remaining there for several moments while he collects his thoughts.

Rezin: Here I am, PRIME. Your Five Star DOPESMOKER, for better or for worse…

He cranks his neck, which is apparently still stiff from whatever went down the night before.

Rezin: I’ll be honest, gang… I ain’t exactly in a great mood right now. Which is gonna be bad news for FLAMBO here in a bit.

Jeers at the mention of the young Frenchman’s name. Rezin briefly glances at the belt in his hand.

Rezin: But he’s got every right to be in a bad mood himself, knowing that the powers that be won’t allow for this strap to be on the line tonight. Nah, seems they’re dead-set on giving the title opportunities not to the homegrown PRIME talents, but to the “superstars” that hop around from one fed to the other like kids in a schoolyard. Kids like GREAT SCOTT…

He sneers. Both in contempt of his upcoming challenger at UltraViolence, and also for the multi-federation alliance.

Rezin: Look, I’m gonna say this… what they got in Playground Wrestling Alliance is drawin’ a lotta money and innerest right now. And I love that we got guys and gals here that are out there, representin’ the ol’ blue and white. Mad respect for that. But from where I’m standin’, I simply don’t want PRIME to just have a seat at the table…

Confused murmurs ripple through the crowd. He shakes his head, and the wily grin materializes on his whisker-lined mug.

Rezin: I want PRIME to sit at the HEAD of that table!

The PRIMEates pop.

Rezin: I want that SWINE Melvin Beauregard, and those other fat cats in the PWA, to know that “Number One by Definition” is MORE than just a marketing slogan!

He again holds up the Five Star Championship.

Rezin: And I’m fixin’ to do that by makin’ sure that one of PRIME’s storied championships STAYS in the number one wrestling federation on the planet!

He straps the belt around his waist.

Right side up.

Richard Parker: Hey! The stoner got it right this time!

Nick Stuart: I think he’s sending a clear message tonight, partner! He’s telling the PRIMEverse that he intends to stand and fight for them! For ALL of us!

Richard Parker: You say that, but you can’t figure out the riddle on the back of his shirt…

The crowd is firmly behind him. Rezin, a raging symbol of wrestling defiance, looks point blank into the camera.

Rezin: So if you wanna take this title, PWA… you’re gonna have to do a LOT better than GREAT SCOTT! Send your legends! Send your stars! Cause I’m willin’ to bet the FARM that this company PRIME is gonna prove to be TOO F#$!CKIN’ PUNK ROCK FOR ANY OF THOSE PART-TIMER BITCHES TO HANDLE!!

RRRAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!

Rezin: So long as this ol’ DOPESMOKER is wearin’ this belt… it STAYS in PRIME! And so long as the PWA exists, ERRYBUDDY’S GONNA KNOW that the ONLY federation that matters among its ranks is–BLEGHK!!

Nick Stuart: OH MY!! 

Nuclear heat erupts through the crowd as Rezin goes down to a stiff-as-hell double axehandle smash to the back of his head and neck. His aggressor, standing over him, stomps the ever-loving bejesus out of the Goat Bastard.

Nick Stuart: GREAT SCOTT is HERE!

Richard Parker: And boy, does he look PISSED!

BOOOOOOO!!!

The World’s Greatest SCOTT is verbally savaging the Five Star Champion as he puts the boots into him. Finally, he pulls him back up. The crowd cheers briefly when Rezin attempts to rally and fight back, wildly swinging rights and lefts. SCOTT barely registers these strikes, and instead kicks the Escape Artist in the balls to double him over.

Nick Stuart: GREAT SCOTT BOMB!!

Richard Parker: Try throwing THAT bomb into a government building, Rezin!

Rezin bounces off the impact and flops onto his belly, coughing and writhing uncontrollably. SCOTT rips off the straps to his singlet as he paces the ring, redirecting his ire to the booing fans. Trash is volleyed into the ring as he quite audibly cusses out everyone and everything in sight. 

Richard Parker: Man, the censor working for the ACE Network is earning his paycheck tonight.

Rezin tries to push himself up, but doesn’t get far. SCOTT gets his hands on him and the assault continues. Rezin’s battle-vest, adorned with so many rare and unique punk and metal flair, gets torn to shreds as SCOTT manhandles him around the ring. As does the new t-shirt.

SCOTT goes to work. German Suplex. Exploder Suplex. Tiger Suplex. ALL the Suplexes. The Goat Bastard is thrown and heaved every which way across the ring, bumping like a ragdoll.

Nick Stuart: Good GAWD almighty, the HUMANITY! GREAT SCOTT is whipping the Five Star Champion from pillar to post! What is the purpose of this malicious attack?

Richard Parker: You ask that as if GREAT SCOTT needed a purpose! Maybe he’s teaching everybody’s favorite punk that you DO NOT feed the bears. Especially the GREAT ones.

Rezin is motionless on the mat. GREAT SCOTT is huffing and puffing… but for now, his lust for violence has been sated. He leaves the ring, glaring into the loudly jeering crowd with pure animus while exiting up the rampway.

Richard Parker: Whelp… that happened.

Nick Stuart: I imagine GREAT SCOTT couldn’t wait until UltraViolence to get his hands on the Five Star Champion.

Richard Parker: Meanwhile…