UNIVERSAL CHAMPIONSHIP: HAYES HANLON (c) VS. REZIN
wwwWWWOOOOOOMMMmmm…
wwwWWWOOOOOOMMMmmm…
wwwWWWOOOOOOMMMmmm…
Ominous air sirens accompany the customary dimming of house lights, pitching the Amway Center into darkness.
Vince Howard: Ladies and gentlemen… the following contest is for the PRIME UNIVERSAL CHAMPIONSHIP…
A montage of black and white file footage of atomic weapon tests plays across the PRIMEview.
Vince Howard: Introducing first, the challenger… hailing from the Inverted Crossroads of America, Indianapolis, Indiana, and weighing in at two-hundred and five pounds…
The drums and bass introducing “I Have a Prepare Statement” by Whorse. kicks in with such a heaviness that it overpowers the house subs and brings the arena to a stomping rumble. White lights pulse in the smoke-filled entry-way on the downbeat, like the steady thump of a heartbeat.
Vince Howard: He is the ESCAPE ARTIST… the GOAT BASTARD… the self-proclaimed HERALD of the A-PUNK-ALYPSE…
Through the curtain, a crooked human figure emerges, though they remain obscured within the mist. They come to a halt at the top of the rampway and assume a Christ pose, just as Howard’s powerful voice booms the name over the public address system.
Vince Howard: RRRRRREEEEEEZZZZZZIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNN!!!
REZIN on the stage, arms extended at his sides, head tilted back so that his nefariously grinning face may defiantly curse the heavens above.
“K-K-K-K-KABOOM!!”
A row of BLAZING PILLARS burst up on the stage behind Hell’s Favorite Hoosier in perfect sequence with the guitar’s buzzsaw-like riff joining the musical ensemble. The stage lights hit just as hard.
LET’S SEE HOW LOW I CAN GOOO!!
I’M GONNA SINK THIS SHIP DOWN! DOWN! DOWWNN!!
EVERYONE ALREADY KNOOOWS!!
STAND BACK! WATCH ME DROWN! DROWN! DROWWNN!!
The Escape Artist remains in place to soak in the roaring reaction of the crowd, looking from one corner of the Amway Center to the other with burning down a spliff clenched in the corner of his crooked mouth. He has his admirers out there in the crowd, but it’s no secret as to what side the PRIMEates are on tonight. A sick and sadistic grin peers through his beard just before taking the first steps down the ramp.
I’VE SEEN ALL I WANNA BE NOW! I’VE LISTENED TO THE LIES!
LORD I’M READY TO TAKE MY PLACE SMEARED OUT AGAINST THE SKY!
Lights along the aisle strobe through his voyage to the ring, giving the effect of the Goat Bastard juking forward in stop motion.
UNTOUCHED BY HUMAN LANGUAGE! UNSEEN BY PRYING EYES!
SAIL OUT INTO THE DARKNESS! I’M FINALLY ALIIIVE!!
At ringside, Rezin walks a slow and calculated circuit around the squared circle. The fans occupying the ringside seats are savagely deriding him with every pronounced step. Coming full circle, he hops to the apron and takes a beat to hang off the ropes and leer into the ringside camera at an angle that presents him too close for comfort.
LET’S SEE HOW LOW I CAN GOOO!!
I’M GONNA SINK THIS SHIP DOWN! DOWN! DOWWNN!!
EVERYONE ALREADY KNOOOWS!!
STAND BACK! WATCH ME DROWN! DROWN! DROWWNN!!
Stepping through the ropes, Rezin,scales a turnbuckle and roars into the jeering crowd with his arms outstretched.
Nick Stuart: The wrestling embodiment of raw, animalistic fury? Or just some deranged transient with idiot luck?
Richard Parker: A bit of column A, a bit of column B?
Nick Stuart: None may ever truly grasp the enigma that is the self-proclaimed “Escape Artist”, but few can deny the astounding impact made by the Goat Bastard in his first year in PRIME. A competitor who has proven that for all his filth and frivolity, he is nevertheless formidable between the ropes. So formidable, that he has earned the right to compete for the Universal Championship of PRIME here tonight.
Richard Parker: I’m not sure I’d trust this guy with the belt, Nick. He’s definitely the type who would fence it for a brick of grass and a box of thin mints.
As the music cuts, Rezin takes to his corner and gets into a kneeling position.
The PRIME*View lights up. We’re in SPAAAACE. And what’s that? Oh, that’s just a black hole, looming large while we pass by nebulas and planets and stars. No big deal. Our view of SPAAAACE starts to shake, like we’re about to come in for a crash landing.
Orlando? Brace yourselves.
“WHEN MY BACK’S TO THE WALL!”
“I!
WILL!
CON!
QUER!!!”
The Event Horizon is here.
Planets and stars explode behind him as he marches out to the ring, never stopping, which is just as well because the music shreds so loud that just the sound of it would rip weaker planets than ours to shreds. The Universal Championship gleams over his shoulder as he stomps his way to the ring, black boots thumping on the ramp. Not that you could hear the sound that makes over the music or the raucous crowd.
“I SEE THE MOUNTAIN AHEAD, I FEEL THE THUNDER ROAR!
I FEEL THE FURY WITHIN, BUT LOUDER THAN BEFORE!”
His head is held high, chest out. He’d passed the first test at ReVival 21 simply taking in his glory without worry or stress, regardless of what Stanislav could do to spoil the moment. Tonight is his next test. Defeat a demon from his past to prove that he belongs here.
Vince Howard: HIS OPPONENT! FROM WEST LINN, OREGON! HE WEIGHS IN AT TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY-ONE POUNDS!
Hanlon hits the apron, and immediately makes his way to the turnbuckle. He never takes his eyes off of his challenger the entire time he does this. He’s learned ages ago to never take your eyes off of the Goat Bastard, especially in high stakes situations such as this.
Vince Howard: HE IS THE UNIVERSAL CHAMPION… HAAAAAAAAAAAYESSSS! HAAAAAAAAANLOOOOOOOOONNNNNNN!!!
Hanlon climbs up and puts his thumb to his throat, and while keeping his head looking squarely at Rezin, he times the throat-cutting gesture with the chorus of We Came As Romans’ “Daggers”.
“DRAW! THE! DAGGER!
CUT OUT THE PAIN! TO FIND THE POWER!”
Hanlon drops down and goes to the next turnbuckle to do the same thing.
“DRAW! THE! DAGGER!
CUT OUT THE PAIN!”
“I!
WILL!
CON!
QUER!!!”
Nick Stuart: HERE HE IS, RICH! THE UNIVERSAL CHAMPION! HOME RUN HAYES IS HERE!
Richard Parker: WHAT? I CAN’T EVEN HEAR YOU, NICK! SPEAK UP!
Even when the music fades, the crowd is raucous and buzzing for the upcoming contest. Maybe there’s a small contingent of fans who’re chanting for Rezin. The punk rock fans. But one man was the overwhelming favorite.
HOME RUN HAYES!
HOME RUN HAYES!
HOME RUN HAYES!
Hanlon turns to referee Timo Bolamba and, after a moment’s hesitation, takes the Universal title belt and hands it off to him. Bolamba turns to show Rezin the belt, but Rezin barely pays any attention to it. He’s staring daggers (no pun intended) at his opponent. His nemesis.
The champion and challenger stand across from one another.
Timo holds up the Universal championship in the center of the ring for everyone to see.
This is what it’s all about.
On one side, it’s the Escape Artist. The Goat Bastard. The Dopesmoker. No one in PRIME has vexed the Universal Champion more than Rezin has. Whether it’s stealing the 5-Star Championship from him, or then actually claiming ownership of that belt from him, or obnoxiously eating popcorn next to his ear… Rezin has done everything in his power to be Hayes Hanlon’s nemesis. The Goat Bastard isn’t in this for your glories. Your wins. Your losses. He is here for no other reason than to burn down everything in his wake.
It just so happens that the finest kindling in all of professional wrestling is the PRIME Universal Championship.
On the other side, it’s the Event Horizon. The eGG Beater. Home Run Hayes. No one in PRIME since the ReVival era had his stock rise higher than Hayes Hanlon, the reigning and defending Universal Champion. Whether it was becoming the first 5-Star Champion of the ReVival era, or bringing down Ivan Stanislav, or ending the COOL reign of Cancer Jiles… Hayes Hanlon has done everything in his power to be the man of PRIME Wrestling. Hayes Hanlon is riding on cloud nine, the top champion of the very promotion he grew up loving.
He will do what it takes to stay on the mountaintop, even if it means exorcizing the very goat demon that set him on his course to Colossus.
Only one man can be the Universal Champion.
Who will it be?
DING DING DING
Rezin gives not a single fuck about collar-and-elbow tie-ups or fireman’s carry takeovers. Remember, he’s here to burn the place down. So the moment the bell rings, Rezin races across the ring like Hanlon owes him money, leaps upon him, and starts unloading on him with rights and lefts. It doesn’t matter that Hanlon pivots and sends Rezin into the turnbuckles. Rezin’s swinging anyway.
Nick Stuart: Rezin doesn’t want to feel this one out, folks! He’s going right for the champion!
Richard Parker: I don’t know how wise this is!
Indeed, Hayes endured the barrage long enough to grab hold of Rezin. Rezin only stops punching a second before he realizes what Hanlon’s about to do to him. With a shout, Hayes flings Rezin halfway across the ring. Rezin lands, flops like a fish several times, and manages to fall out of the ring.
Hanlon isn’t even bothered by the display. He immediately slides out of the ring on the other side, gets a head of steam, and starts running around the ring. Fans in the arena making a sport out of how long they can hold the letter “O” as Hanlon comes around the corner, and then he barrels straight into Rezin with a vicious clothesline that sends Rezin onto his stomach – after getting turned head over heels first, of course.
Hanlon pumps up both fists and roars at the air. Feeling good.
He collects Rezin from the canvas and throws him back into the ring, then follows after him. Rezin is crawling to the corner, looking for some sort of escape from the champion. By the time Hayes reaches him, the Escape Artist has grabbed hold of the bottom rope and pulls himself out of the ring.
Nick Stuart: The Escape Artist looking to escape early here…
Richard Parker: Please don’t make a habit of saying lines like that. I have a “one lame Nick Stuart-ism” per match clause in my contract and we’ve already met it.
Rezin staggers a little as he lands on his feet back out onto the floor. He looks up to see Hanlon coming after him, and does the only reasonable thing he can do.
He flees.
Rezin isn’t a coward. Not really. Just because he draws tapestries in the paint of escapes doesn’t mean that he’s looking to avoid harm. That’s not punk rock. No, once Rezin turns the corner, he slides underneath the bottom rope and gets up running. Hanlon is in hot pursuit, so when he re-enters the ring, he’s faced with a Rezin bouncing back to meet him.
Rezin hits him with a running forearm on the way back. Hanlon gives maybe a foot, turned away. Then he turns to face the Goat Bastard, who promptly hits him with another forearm. Then another. Then two more. It’s raining forearms, hallelujah! Unfortunately, Hanlon has the look of a man who brought his sturdiest umbrella for such a downpour, and he slowly turns to face Rezin after he’d finished his barrage.
Rezin realizes his mistake as Hanlon squares up, daring Rezin to take another shot.
Trying to fight Hayes Hanlon normally just isn’t in his school of thought. No, Rezin’s school of thought is the University of Fuck It. So Hayes stands there daring Rezin to strike him. The Goat Bastard rears back with another forearm… and then stops short and thumbs Hanlon right in the eye.
BOOOOOOOO!
Nick Stuart: Thumb to the eyes from Rezin!
Richard Parker: Say what you will about that goat, he knows how to find openings like that. And, well, shame on Hanlon for leaving that door wide open and putting a neon sign over his face that said “poke me here!”
Rezin is quick to push Hanlon into the corner. Once he’s there, he hooks his foot around Hanlon’s leg and trips him up into a seated position in the corner, and then starts stomping away on the champion’s face. After a handful of stomps, Rezin presses the flat of his boot against Hayes’ face and tries to push him out of the ring through the ropes. All the while, senior referee Timo Bolamba exercises his five count.
Rezin breaks at four, and briefly gets in the face of Timo. Once he’d made his point crystal clear, he turned away to pull Hanlon out of the corner. Another hard forearm shot knocks Hanlon back into the turnbuckles, allowing Rezin to grasp the wrist and try to whip Hayes across the ring to the other turnbuckles. Hanlon won’t budge. Rezin tries again, but Hanlon rips him back and sends him into the turnbuckles behind him. Hanlon turns and hits him with a right hand that sends Rezin’s feet flying out from under him, and it’s only by the grace over the very turnbuckles he’s leaning against that he’s still somewhat vertical.
Nick Stuart: HUGE right hand from Hanlon!
Richard Parker: Oh no! Get out of there, Rezin! Flee! Escape while you can! Hanlon’s gonna start a-hammerin’!
Hanlon takes his turn grabbing Rezin by the wrist and trying to whip him into the turnbuckles. Rezin grabs the ropes to keep himself from this, so Hanlon steps in and grabs him by the beard instead.
Richard Parker: Not the beard! Think of all the birds that live in there!
With the powers of professional wrestling behind him, Hanlon sends a wide-eyed Rezin across the ring. Rezin hits the turnbuckles in a tumble, flipping up, and landing seated on the top rope for a moment. Then he falls backwards and almost lands on his face back in the ring.
Hanlon, behind him, starts kicking some imaginary dirt on his side of the ring. He looks to some part of the arena, and points towards it. Then he holds his hands up like he’s a batter awaiting a pitch. As he waits for Rezin to get up, he rolls his shoulders like he’s holding an imaginary bat. When Rezin finally gets up, he looks around dimly before he stops and freezes.
Something’s not right.
Did he leave the oven on?
He turns to see why the crowd is buzzing with anticipation, and…
SMACK!
DUH NUH NUH NAH…. NAH NAH!
Yes. The crowd actually chant the baseball chime as Hanlon uncorks a massive double axe-handle all across Rezin’s face. Of course they do. Rezin flies off of his feet like he’s a literal baseball, bouncing off of the canvas and briefly getting tangled in the ropes before he once again falls to the outside.
Nick Stuart: Things are going very badly for the challenger right now, Rich!
Richard Parker: Well, they do call him Home Run Hayes, but… did they have to do the baseball sound?
Hanlon slides out of the ring and starts to trot around the ring. Because man, Home Run Hayes just did it again! As he does, the crowd gets into it
TAKE ME OUT TO THE BALLGAME!
TAKE ME OUT WITH THE CROWD!
Hanlon grins a mighty grin as he reaches home and jumps back onto the apron. He turns to the crowd, lifting his arms several times to pump them up some more.
And that’s his bad.
Because Rezin’s not sleeping the sleep of the knocked unconscious like he thought.
SMACK!
That’s the sound an enzuigiri makes when it makes contact with a skull. Hanlon’s expression goes from grin to grimace in an instant and he falls off of the apron and to the floor.
Richard Parker: Too much showboating from the champion!
Nick Stuart: On that, I agree with you, Rich. Hayes Hanlon has to know better to take his eyes off of the Escape Artist!
Rezin adjusts his bearded jaw, a hint of blood escapes from his lips. He looks down at the fallen Hanlon with scorn within the relative safety of the inside of the ring. Rezin looks around, realizing how much two words of his situation make him feel revulsion.
“Relative safety”? Fuck that, that ain’t punk rock.
He sprints off into the opposite ropes, and comes back just as Hanlon gets up dazed. Like a bullet, Rezin’s body tears its way between the ropes and drives Hanlon into the barricade.
Nick Stuart: SUICIDE DIVE FROM REZIN!
Rezin himself gains so much momentum from the dive that he flies into the laps of people in the front row, who scatter like dust in his wake. Rezin, as Rezilient as ever, pops up from behind the barricade as though everything is fine. His initial stagger as he takes one step forward says otherwise, but the Goat Bastard steadies himself and grabs Hanlon by the head before dropping down to jack his jaw against the barricade.
He stops to raise his arms into the air, and is showered by boos (with a pocket of cheering). He pays them no mind. Here to burn the place down, remember? Rezin hops over the barricade and is all over Hayes with a few punches, before whipping him into the nearby steel stairs.
CRASH!
Hayes hits the stairs with his legs and flies over them in a tumbling flip, landing on his back some distance away. Rezin turns to Timo, who’s making a count, and recognizes the need to break up the ten count. So he slithers into the ring before making his way right back out of the ring again nearer to where Hayes is trying to recover. Timo’s not happy about it, but he’s powerless to stop the Goat Bastard from getting onto the apron.
He stands with his back to Hayes, waiting for him to get up. He faces Timo, who’s starting up another ten count, and he smirks. He jumps up onto the second rope, and then springboards off of it. His arms outstretched, flying majestically through the air in the way that said “fuck physics forever”. Also, he’s flipping the bird towards Hanlon all the way down.
Nick Stuart: ASAI REZINSAULT!
Rezin lands square on Hayes’ shoulder and bowls him over, and the momentum causes Rezin to land in a back roll, which he uses to smoothly land on his feet. The crowd is buzzing from the move. Plenty are impressed by Rezin for being agile enough to maintain such a perfect Rezinsault while flipping so many birds. Most start booing when Rezin starts raking his bootlaces on Hanlon’s face and clobbering him with more punches.
Timo’s count intensifies.
Nick Stuart: Rezin can’t risk getting either one of them counted out here. He can’t win the title on a countout!
Richard Parker: Well, that just wouldn’t be punk rock!
Nick Stuart: Since when did you become an authority on punk rock?
Richard Parker: Look, sometimes, a man may or may not pass you an unidentifiable paper bag at an underpass somewhere in Vegas, and you may or may not have enjoyed the contents of said unidentifiable paper bag despite everyone telling you that it’s “a bad idea, man, don’t do it”. Anyway, the point is that I know from prior experience that I legally can’t talk about that sound has a color. And that, my friend, is punk rock.
Rezin realizes in the middle of whatever the fuck Richard is talking about that he needs to get Hanlon back into the ring. He pulls Hanlon to the ring and tosses him back in, and then hops up to the apron and climbs to the top rope. Hanlon is in a daze, and doesn’t see Rezin until he’s already planting both feet of a missile dropkick right to his chest. Hanlon goes down and Rezin scrambles for the cover.
It only gets two.
Rezin goes back on the attack, stomping away at the champion’s head. Hanlon manages to get up into a sitting position, but that lets Rezin take a couple of steps back, and then…
THUD!
That’s the sound Rezin’s shin makes when it kicks Hanlon square in the chest, soccer-style. Rezin recovers smoothly from the kick, and then pivots to put his back to the fallen Hanlon.
Nick Stuart: STANDING REZINSAULT! Into the cover!
Once again, Timo’s hand only hits the mat twice before Hanlon gets the shoulder up. Rezin stands and stares dagger at Timo, but chooses to continue his assault on the champion. He batters him in the face with a few more forearms and by a “few more”, I mean “a metric shit-ton”. It gets to the point that Timo needs to make a five count to get Rezin off of the champion.
Rezin gets up at four, because “four” in Japanese can also mean “death”, and that’s punk ro– actually, no, that’s not punk rock. That’s heavy metal. Different genres of music. More consideration is required on the nature of punk rock.
Rezin pulls Hanlon to his feet. Hanlon is in a bleary-eyed daze. A cut has formed on his left brow. A mouse lined his right. Rezin’s hot and heavy barrage had done a number on the champion. Now the Goat Bastard was picking Hanlon up onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. He strains under the weight of the champion, but he keeps himself centered long enough to roll forward with a steamroller!
Landing on his feet after slamming Hanlon down, Rezin quickly jumps up onto the second rope, then makes a leap to the top rope.
Witness the Rezin, flying majestic through the air. Soaring high, treading where angels of anarchy dwell and set fires. The mighty Rezinsault has taken him far over the last twenty years of blood, sweat, and tears. It’s taken him this close to the Universal title. And yet, he notices something as he’s upside-down.
Hanlon’s not there.
Nick Stuart: REZINSAULT! NO! Hanlon’s moved!
But Rezin uses his lifetime of experience in performing Rezinsaults to land on his feet like a cat. A cat that, unfortunately, can’t halt all of his momentum and is forced to roll backwards upon landing to regain his footing. It’s a minor thing. It’s still a safe landing.
But, as we’ve established, “safe” isn’t punk rock.
And it gives Hanlon time to recover.
Rezin charges in on Hanlon as he works to regain his advantage. He tries to hit him with a running forearm to pound him into the corner, but Hanlon ducks under it and backdrops Rezin over the top and to the apron. We’ve established, however, that Rezin can be pretty cat-like for a man who styles himself after a goat. Maybe he’s one of those mountain goats. Either way, Rezin punches Hanlon in the back of the head, staggering him away from the corner, and goes to climb up to the top rope.
Rezin leaps off as Hanlon turns to face him, aiming for a hurricanrana. He lands on Hanlon’s shoulders and then rips backwards. He braces himself for how he’s going to land once he completes the motion.
Nick Stuart: Hurricanrana from Rezin!
But Hanlon holds on.
Richard Parker: CAUGHT! HE CAUGHT HIM!
Rezin goes wide-eyed with panic, as Hanlon tries to force him back up. Hanlon manages to muscle him up into a powerbomb position, but Rezin pounds on his head from his seated position. It’s enough to make Hanlon lose grip, and for Rezin to land on his feet in front of the Event Horizon. He hits Hanlon with another set of forearms, and then…
THUD!
A monstrous headbutt from Hanlon sends Rezin off of his feet and into a backwards tumble, ragdolling all the way into the ropes.
Hanlon stands there for a moment, wobbling. There’s a bit of a stagger in his step. He holds up a finger, like he’s asking everyone to give him a moment… and then he slowly falls over and lands on his back.
Nick Stuart: What a WICKED headbutt from Hayes! I don’t think Rezin expected that one! Both men are down!
Timo is forced to start counting, and it isn’t until he gets to the count of six that either man stirs. Rezin gets up with the copious assistance of the ropes, while Hanlon’s forced to stand up under his own power. It’s because of this that Rezin staggers right into a crouched Hanlon… who scoops him up into a fireman’s carry. Before Rezin even realizes what’s about to happen, he’s brought down to earth (or canvas, as the case may be).
Nick Stuart: DEATH VALLdEY DRIVER!
Rezin bounces up in a seated position for a few brief moments. Then he falls backwards onto his back.
Hanlon gets to his feet, and the crowd cheers wildly as he pulls Rezin up. He smashes him with a right hand. The crowd goes “BOOM!” as it lands. Then again. “BOOM!” One more for good measure. “BOOM!”
Then Hanlon whirls his arm around to build up momentum, if momentum worked as it does in the Popeye Cinematic Universe. When he’s all charged up, he goes for the haymaker.
Rezin thumbs him right in the eyes for it.
BOOOOOOO!
Nick Stuart: Another thumb to the eye from Rezin!
Richard Parker: Brilliant! I knew there was a brain somewhere in that miasma of mushrooms that is Rezin’s head!
Rezin pushes Hanlon into the ropes, and tries to Irish whip him into the opposite side. Hanlon’s size lets him reverse and send Rezin instead. Hanlon is still trying to clear his vision, and he can’t hit Rezin with the clothesline after he ducks. Rezin hits the ropes by jumping onto the second rope, and springboards backwards for a cutter on Hanlon.
Hanlon, though, lowers his center of gravity before Rezin can complete the cutter. The end result is that the Goat Bastard suddenly finds himself in the clutches of Hanlon. A waistlock. Rezin realizes the inherent danger and releases the cutter so he can try to grasp the ropes. He’s maybe a foot away before Hanlon lifts him a foot off of the ground. Rezin goes wide-eyed. He tries to hit Hanlon with a back elbow. It’s but a glancing blow. He can’t escape as Hanlon drops backwards with the German suplex.
Rezin hits the canvas, bounces up to his feet, only to fall back almost comically into the turnbuckles. He’s only held aloft with his arms spread across the top ropes. Hanlon is on one knee across the ring from him, catching his breath. Timo stands in the center, his head moving back and forth watching the two competitors.
And then…
Nick Stuart: Rezin is in the corner now, an– wait, what is… oh. Oh no.
Richard Parker: Oh, now things are going to get real interesting!
The crowd’s attention is taken away from the action and to the entryway, as Ivan Stanislav lumbers out from backstage with Alexei Ruslan in tow. Stanislav stomps purposefully down the ramp, taking long, quickened strides towards the ring. He points up at the ring and bellows in Russian towards Rezin and Hanlon.
Nick Stuart: On ReVival 21, Ivan won his match against Cancer Jiles, and he’s got a title shot banked for down the line. It seems like he has an interest in whoever the winner’s going to be!
Richard Parker: Well, that makes sense. Some guys need to be real close to appreciate the action. You can’t blame him.
Nick Stuart: I still blame him.
Richard Parker: Wait, why?
Nick Stuart: Did you forget that he tried to kill me?
Richard Parker: You’re still on about that? That was months ago, Nick! We’ve all grown as people since then.
Rezin is unaware of the Russian Bear’s presence. The Goat Bastard moves to leave the corner and find his footing, only for Ivan to reach under the rope and wrap a meaty arm around his ankle. With a careless motion, Ivan trips up Rezin blatantly, right in front of referee Timo Bolamba. Almost as soon as Rezin faceplants on the canvas, he climbs up to the apron and is met by Timo.
Timo Bolamba: Ivan, what are you doing!? Get off the apron!
Ivan Stanislav: Disqualify Hanlon! I have interfered on his behalf!
Nick Stuart: Wait, is… is Ivan trying to get Hayes disqualified?
Richard Parker: It’s perfect! Genius! If Timo disqualifies Hanlon for this heinous act, then he loses, but he keeps the title! Ivan will still face him, but with way less momentum!
Ivan bullies his way into the ring as he steps over the top rope. Timo continues to chastise him, clearly aware of these sorts of tactics from the old Russian. Rezin pulls himself back up to his feet like he’s being pulled along by marionette strings, and he shoves Ivan from behind just as he gets to the center of the ring. The Russian Bear whirls around and points a finger in his direction.
Ivan Stanislav: You should have done things MY way!
Timo tries to get between the two, still refusing to disqualify Hanlon. Rezin hits Ivan with an open palm chop across his chest.
Nick Stuart: Rezin is not intimidated by Ivan at all!
This just annoys Ivan, who rears back with his meaty fist, about to really get that disqualification going on… but he’s stopped when his arm is hooked, and he’s spun around.
Richard Parker: Look out, comrade!
Stanislav turns, perhaps thinking to stare in the face of Timo. Instead, it’s Hayes Hanlon’s fist nailing him directly in the jaw. Ivan’s head snaps back from the sheer velocity.
Nick Stuart: No!
Momentum from the surprise hit pushes Ivan into the corner… where Rezin still is. Rezin finds himself crushed between the turnbuckles and a four hundred pound Russian as Hanlon unloads on Ivan with rights and lefts, peppering him across the chest and body. Stanislav takes it for some time before he roars and pushes him away, only for Hanlon to immediately roll back to his feet and charge him with more blows. Several of them hit Ivan in the head in addition to the chest and body shots. By the way, Rezin’s still under there. Hang in there, buddy, it’s punk rock to endure all of this.
Amidst the chaos, though, Ruslan slides into the far side of the ring, producing his collapsible baton.
Nick Stuart: Get these two out of the ring! This is a Universal title match, not a three-ring circus!
CRACK!
That’s the sound a collapsible baton makes when it hits a Universal champion in the back. Hanlon falls into Ivan’s arms, who is still half-crushing Rezin in the corner. It’s a double-decker meat sandwich up in there. Ruslan cackles and exits the ring, quickly hiding his weapon underneath his coat. Meanwhile, Timo, who curiously hasn’t called a disqualification yet, barks at Ivan again.
Timo Bolamba: Get out of the ring, Ivan! Now!
Ivan holds Hayes in his arms as he pushes out of the corner, twists, and launches Hayes out over the top rope. Hanlon sails lazily through the air, as though launched by trebuchet (at least, one constructed in Russia) and he lands on the entry ramp.
CRASH!
OHHHHHH!
Rezin, for his part, takes one step forward as though he’s going to continue his disagreement with Ivan. His second step ends with him face-planting on the canvas. Ivan dusts off his hands – filthy American detritus – and nods his assent to Timo. He leaves the ring.
Nick Stuart: I… ladies and gentleman, Hayes Hanlon is not a small man, but in the arms of Ivan Stanislav, he might as well have been one! That’s a 250 pound man he just sent into orbit!
Richard Parker: That’s how Russia wins the space race, Nick! Hayes has been ducking Ivan for months! Ivan can only take so much, he’s a sweet, sweet Russian boy who’s listening to the rules right now!
Ivan happens to exit the ring right where Hanlon is writhing on the ground.
Nick Stuart: Why hasn’t Timo called for a disqualification?
Richard Parker: Because this is a Universal title match! He wants to see a legitimate winner just as much as anyone!
Nick Stuart: Is there even anything left of champion or challenger after Ivan barged his way into this match!?
Ivan watches as Hanlon tries to crawl his way back to the ring. He ultimately decides to walk over and grab him by the hair, pulling him to his feet before yeeting him from the ramp to the edge of the ring. Hanlon lands with a meaty thud and nearly slides under the ring from the momentum.
Ivan lets out that old familiar laugh.
Ivan Stanislav: DYAAHAAHAA!!
In the company of Ruslan, Ivan doesn’t actually leave the ringside area. Instead, he walks contemptuously past the fallen Hanlon and around the side of the ring.
Nick Stuart: Oh, God, he’s coming this way.
Richard Parker: Cool, maybe we can share styling tips on how to best wear suspenders. Been thinking about it lately, my pants have been real loose lately.
Ivan doesn’t stop at commentary. Instead, Alexei reaches underneath the ring to pull out a pair of steel chairs. One of them is normal. The other is much more appropriate for a man the size of Ivan.
All the while, there’s still a match, even if both of its participants are down. Timo has little choice but to start a ten count for Hanlon, still down outside of the ring. Because even if there was blatant Ivan-based outside interference, this match must continue.
Nick Stuart: After all of that, Rezin could still win by countout!
Richard Parker: Hey, that still fits within Ivan’s grand plan! Hayes keeps the title in a countout, but since that’s the coward’s way to lose a match, Ivan will definitely win based on strength of character.
Nick Stuart: That is not how this works, Richard!
By the count of five, Rezin realizes what’s happening. Winning by countout is absolutely not punk rock. That’s not any kind of rock. Especially not this match when he has such a golden opportunity to stick it to Hayes Hanlon one more time. So, Rezin rolls under the bottom ropes and pulls Hayes to his feet. He pushes him back into the ring with considerable effort, and then hops back up onto the apron.
Nick Stuart: Rezin has a golden opportunity here! Hayes Hanlon is in a lot of trouble thanks to certain people that I won’t name!
Richard Parker: That’s a terrible thing to say about Vince Howard, Nick. He didn’t do anything wrong.
Rezin might want to burn down PRIME, but he would rather do it on his terms. He doesn’t go for the cover on Hanlon right away, and instead pulls Hayes to his feet and pushes him into the corner. Rezin’s spent by now. The match has taken a lot out of him. He struggles to get to the top rope, but he gets there and lands a hurricanrana, taking Hanlon to the center of the ring. Rezin scrambles over for the cover.
ONE!
TWO!
NO!
Somehow, Hanlon gets his shoulder up. Ivan hasn’t killed him yet, and neither has Rezin. Rezin pulls on what’s left of the hair on his head, a wild look in his eye. He steps back and starts measuring Hanlon. When Hanlon gets to his feet, wobbly and dazed, Rezin spins for the Cloven Hoof Kick.
But Hanlon stops it, catching Rezin’s foot with his hands. There’s a few brief moments where Rezin, hopping up and down on one foot, tries to do everything he can to think of a way to escape his current situation. It doesn’t matter. Hanlon shoves Rezin’s foot down, putting him off-balance just enough that when Hanlon lands a bone-rattling lariat, Rezin has little choice but to take it.
THUD!
Rezin flips, of course. That’s just how he takes those.
Nick Stuart: WHAT A LARIAT FROM HANLON!
Richard Parker: Oh no! Is his beard okay!?
Both men are down again. It takes until Timo counts to five before Hanlon’s the first to stir. He’s weary. Sure, Ivan treating him like a shot-put has done significant damage to the Universal champion, but Rezin’s sheer tenacity is what’s sapping his strength now. Still, he’s a champion. He’s the champion. The stars would fall from the sky before he would let Rezin beat him for another championship.
Hanlon grabs Rezin and puts him in a standing headscissors. With a quick, fluid motion, he shakes the goddamn ring with a massive powerbomb.
Nick Stuart: POWERBOMB!
Rezin is folded like an accordion upon impact, if accordions are forged in hell and capable of punk rock. So, not really an accordion. Anyway, Hanlon stacks up on Rezin and goes for the pin.
ONE!
TWO!
NO!
Somehow, Rezin muscles up a shoulder despite Hanlon’s size advantage. Hanlon’s starting to get fired up again, though. He throws out both arms to his side, slowly reaching towards the sky, like he’s absorbing the arena’s energy. The crowd picks up on this, and their volume rises knowing what’s coming. Rezin gets to his feet and Hanlon throws him into the ropes.
While he might act on his impulses and his desire for fire and anarchy, Rezin’s no fool.
He knows the Epoch is coming.
So he grabs the ropes as he hits them to halt his momentum. Hanlon realizes that he’s been denied the Epoch, and moves to intercept Rezin. Rezin catches him with a back elbow as he comes in. Then he charges in, and…
Nick Stuart: FLASH POINT!
Richard Parker: Outta nowhere!
Rezin sells the sudden jumping sitout jawbreaker by popping up two feet into the air upon impact and landing on the canvas, convulsing and holding his jaw like he’d been shot. Hanlon shoots into the cover, hoping to take it right here and now.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-NO!
Richard Parker: HAND ON THE ROPES!
Nick Stuart: The Escape Artist escapes certain defeat once again!
Hanlon can’t believe it. But the Epoch is still an option. He raises his arms up again, the crowd cheering for him as he prepares for the challenger. Rezin is spaghetti-legged as Hanlon’s calling for his second attempt at the Epoch. He turns around as Hanlon moves in to push him into the ropes, and…
CRACK!
Nick Stuart: CLOVEN HOOF KICK!
Richard Parker: By Hoyt’s beard! Xenu could’ve heard that all the way from Xavier Kannon’s space palace!
The kick lashes out so suddenly that it’s a miracle that Rezin’s body could contort that fast and still get the kick out. Hanlon falls to the canvas in a heap. Unfortunately, it’s all Rezin can do in the moment before he too falls to the canvas.
Both men are down again, exhausted.
Nick Stuart: Rezin can’t capitalize! This place is going nuts!
The crowd buzzes as Rezin is the first to his feet. He remains spaghetti-legged, moving as though he’s carrying the weight of a burning planet on his shoulders. A burning planet he’s probably responsible for setting on fire in the first place. The only way he can even remain standing is by grasping the turnbuckles to keep himself aloft.
Rezin knows he needs to send Hanlon… Into The Void.
Rezin goes to Hanlon and pulls him closer, before grasping him by the head, chin under the shoulder. A prelude to sending his enemies to the void. He succeeds in the ascent… but Hanlon holds on. He reaches up and uses his immense strength to catch Rezin and prevent his momentum from bringing him down with the maneuver. Rezin flails as he finds himself in prime position for a powerslam. He does the only thing he can do in his situation – he grabs the top turnbuckle pad that he’s close to.
It’s not enough.
Hanlon’s great strength rips Rezin – and the turnbuckle cover – clean off. He turns and he delivers a bone-crushing powerslam that almost resembles an Emerald Flowsion.
Nick Stuart: POWERSLAM!
With the move naturally putting Hanlon on top of Rezin, he makes the cover.
ONE!
TWO!
THR-NO!
Rezin shoots his shoulder up, the turnbuckle cover still in his hand flying out and landing on the outside as he does so. It’s Hanlon’s turn for his eyes to go wide. He’d dodged a bullet. No. It’s better to say that he grabbed the bullet and shoved it down his would-be shooter’s throat. And yet, he still hadn’t put away Erik Black. He stands up, puts his back into the corner, and waits for him to get back to his feet. He jogs in place, trying to get his adrenaline pumping.
Rezin does.
Then the champion rockets forward and crashes into Rezin with a HUGE lariat, sending Rezin head-over-heels and landing near the corner.
Nick Stuart: A DISASTROUS LARIAT FROM HANLON!
Richard Parker: Oh my Hoyt! Hanlon just Highlandered Rezin all over the place with that lariat!
Nick Stuart: Because there can be only one Universal champion!
Hanlon realizes that Rezin is too close to the ropes to follow up. Instead, he waits for Rezin to return to his feet. Rezin is Rezilient, of course, but even he is having trouble getting to his feet this late into the contest. He needs the ropes. The ropes are his friend. He gets up and puts his back into the corner, only to see Hanlon come charging at him.
The mistake that follows would convey a high price.
Rezin ducks under Hanlon as he charges. Hanlon’s momentum carries him into the turnbuckles… which is important, because Rezin just accidentally ripped the cover off of the turnbuckle mere moments ago. He hits the exposed corner with his chest, knocking the wind out of him.
Hanlon staggers backwards.
CRACK!
Nick Stuart: CLOVEN HOOF KICK!
This one hits Hanlon from behind, a thunderous impact that despite all logic, leaves Hanlon still standing. A stiff breeze might take him down if one were to come. The lights are on, but Hayes Hanlon’s mind just took a vacation.
Richard Parker: Hayes Hanlon doesn’t even know which fine city of Florida he’s in anymore!
Rezin somehow remains on his feet after using the second Cloven Hoof Kick of the match. He’s tried everything to put Hayes Hanlon down, and nothing’s worked. He has no other choices left. Let PRIME burn. Let Erik Black herald its conflagration. Let Rezin send the Universal champion… into the void.
Rezin flips up and over Hanlon, and the sheer momentum of it makes the Universal champion land damn near on his head.
Nick Stuart: INTO THE VOID! Rezin just sent Hanlon straight to the void! Will this be enough!?
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
DING DING DING
Shock.
Buzzing.
Even Ivan Stanislav, still seated at ringside, is stunned.
The crowd who initially chanted along with the three count are left with gasps of shock and murmurs of dawning horror. There’s a few moments as Timo Bolamba retrieves the Universal championship belt from the timekeeper, passing by Ivan and Alexei who are talking to each other in Russian in puzzlement and growing rage on the former’s part. It’s only when Vince Howard makes the announcement and the belt is given to Rezin that reality is made clear.
Vince Howard: Ladies and gentlemen… the winner of this match, and NEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWW PRIME UNIVERSAL CHAMPION!!! REEEEEEEZZZZZZZIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNN!!!
Even Rezin can’t believe what he’s seeing. He can’t even fathom what Timo is giving him. Vince Howard’s proclamation doesn’t even register.
Yet, the truth is abundantly clear: the Universal championship now belongs to him.
Nick Stuart: I… I don’t believe it…
Richard Parker: Neither can I! But lightning just struck twice!
Rezin, unwanted and reviled for his entire career, is now undeniably the man in PRIME. In a currently undisclosed location, Alexa Van Horn might be having an entire panic attack. Rezin raises his arms in celebration, championship belt firmly in his grasp. A small contingent of loyal fans cheer. The rest drown them out in a chorus of boos.
And all the while, Ivan Stanislav and Alexei Ruslan stand from their seats. They haven’t grasped the true form of what’s happened. Stanislav brings his hands up and pulls his hair as he bellows with frustration. Ruslan’s mouth is agape in shock as he looks up at his friend, and then back at the ring where Rezin is still comprehending his victory. Stanislav’s confusion turns to apoplexy as he finally realizes what’s happened.
Richard Parker: Team Russia don’t look too happy about this! Ivan really wanted his promised Universal championship match to be against Hanlon!
Nick Stuart: To be fair, do they ever look happy?
Rezin is finally beginning to understand what’s transpired, and he raises his championship belt high over his head. Stanislav and Ruslan barged into the ring once again. Hanlon is still recovering on the mat, reality having not yet dawned on him. Rezin turns to see the Russian Bear glowering at him. They stare at one another for a long moment, as the buzzing crowd begins to hush.
Nick Stuart: Is Ivan going to go after the new Universal champion, now?
The answer is… not yet. Nyet. Stanislav turns his gaze from Rezin and stalks over the fallen Hanlon instead. Rezin shrugs, raising the belt, and watches curiously. Ivan roars down at Hanlon and paintbrushes the back of his head, before he stomps him across the back. His roaring continues as though he’s actually a bear, as the crowd starts to boo louder.
Rezin isn’t a fool. He watches as Ivan and Alexei put the boots to Hanlon, who rolls over and brings up his arms to defend himself. The new champion decides that he has better places to be than this scene. He’s been through a lot, and a lot means one of the toughest fought matches of his life against one of the best in Hayes Hanlon. He turns to leave with a smirk on his face.
But he stops. Though he doesn’t mean to.
The massive paw of Ivan Stanislav is on his shoulder as he growls something in Russian. In an instant, Rezin is spun around with his hands full of the Universal Title. Stanislav rears back and drives his fist into Rezin’s stomach, doubling him over, and then snatches him up in The Red Scare and suplexes him across the ring. Rezin snaps across the ring and slams into the far turnbuckle like a pinball, and lands in a pile.
Timo runs over to Ivan and yells for him to stop. He grabs Ivan’s arm and spins him around, but The Russian Bear is having none of it.
Nick Stuart: Timo’s had enough of Ivan’s shenanigans, and quite frankly, I don’t blame him!
Richard Parker: He’s trying to restore order, but… the match is over! What order is there to enforce!? And I mean, the new Universal champion is a freakin’ self-proclaimed anarchist!
Ivan roars at Timo and shoves him with all of his might. Timo flies a short distance away from Ivan, only stopping when he hits the turnbuckles with his left shoulder and he crumples to the mat. Ruslan continues to stomp over and over again along the stomach and body of Hanlon while Ivan is distracted with Timo. The Bear points down at Timo and chastises him.
But…
There’s trouble in Siberian paradise.
With Stanislav distracted, Hanlon has time to show signs of life despite Alexei’s stomps. With gritted teeth, Hanlon draws himself up and snatches Ruslan by the tie. Despite all of his exhaustion and the beating he’s taken, he still has more than enough to deck Alexei right between the eyes.
RAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!
Alexei Ruslan’s hat goes flying off of his head from the impact. Alexei himself goes flying, landing flat on his back. Ivan’s no fool, either. He hears the crowd’s reaction, and turns to see a wobbly, weary Hayes Hanlon standing in front of him.
Nick Stuart: Look out!
Ivan’s roaring continues as he swings a right fist for Hanlon’s mustachioed face. Hanlon manages to duck, somehow, as though he’s operating solely on muscle memory. Ivan’s swing misses narrowly, and it lets Hanlon grab Ivan by his suspenders. He yanks down on them, and as Ivan is forced down, Hanlon propels himself upward.
THUD!
That’s the sound it makes when the Event Horizon drives the top of his head up under Ivan’s jaw, and rocks him backward.
Nick Stuart: I can’t believe that after all he’s gone through that Hayes Hanlon has anything left, but he’s still trying to take it to Ivan Stanislav! Does anyone have as much heart and soul as this kid!?
Stanislav staggers back, shaking his head, as Hanlon rushes forward to spear the Russian Bear. Unfortunately for him, he might as well be trying to spear an iceberg. And we know what happens to things that hit icebergs. They sink. Such is the case when Stanislav brings a massive elbow down onto his back and flattens him. Despite this, Hanlon still tries to stand, but Ivan stomps down on the back of his head to make him stop moving. Ivan points down at the former champion and shouts at the booing crowd.
Ivan Stanislav: Почему он сейчас не смеется?! (Why is he not laughing now?!)
Stanislav reaches down, gripping Hayes by the back of his neck as he lifts him up. Hayes still has some fight left in him even as Ivan shakes him, but his swings are weak enough that Stanislav only laughs at him.
Ivan Stanislav: Похоже, я позаботился о своей легкой работе!! (It appears I took care of my light work!)
Nick Stuart: This… this monster is the biggest coward I’ve ever seen! He’s never alone! He bullies his way into everything!
Richard Parker: I mean… you take his music from him, you take his paydays from him, you insult his country… What did you expect?
Stanislav shakes Hayes several more times, then shrugs and drops him into the Iron Curtain. The blow knocks Hanlon nearly halfway across the ring. Stanislav laughs at the carnage and scoops up the Universal Title on the mat. He lifts it over his head and bellows, pointing at the title and then at himself. Slowly, Ruslan starts to stir and clutches his face. The Russian Bear stalks over to Hanlon and spits on his prone body. Ruslan hobbles over to Rezin and puts a few more boots into him. With the wreckage around the two Russians settling, Ivan just laughs again while holding the Universal Title over his head.
Ivan Stanislav: DYAAHAAHAA!!
Pleased with his handiwork, Ivan rockets the Universal Title across the ring and into the fallen Rezin.
Then… the PRIME*VIEW comes to life.
The unthinkable has happened. A plot twist right at the beginning of “Season 2” of PRIME that no one ever saw coming. A broken former champion lies in the ring. A new champion that may just herald the end times for PRIME as we know it.
And a monstrous, seemingly unstoppable challenger awaits the new champion.
FADE.
TO.
VOID.