The Second Great Awakening: Dying Light

Nick Stuart: And back into the side headlock! Winters regains control!

Richard Parker: Just enough time to say a prayer!

Both competitors lay on the mat, gulping down air as Winters applies vise-like pressure to Hessian’s skull. The giant seems to inflate with each breath, puffing himself up and with a sudden burst of energy throws his arms around Don’s waist and powers himself up to his knees.

Nick Stuart: It doesn’t matter what offense he inflicts, Don just can’t seem to keep Hessian down for long!

Don squeezes with all his might as he feels the giant take in another great breath. With another heave the Five Star Champion finds himself in the air, legs kicking wildly. He’s brought down violently on his opponent’s knee.

Nick Stuart: Hessian hits an atomic drop.

Richard Parker: Don’s not letting go of that headlock, though.

With Winters still attached to him, Hessian lurches backwards in frustration and executes a back drop. The pressure in his head only gets worse, while Don barely blinks upon impact.

Nick Stuart: Incredible resilience by the Five Star Champion here…

A muffled roar reverberates against Don’s side as the giant flails on the mat trying to prise his opponent off. Don’s stiff upper lip holds as Hessian applies a bearhug from prone and squeezes as hard as he can, ragdolling Winters from side to side and going into a death roll.

Richard Parker: Look at Rodeo Revelator go! Even Don Winters has a li’l cowboy in him!

They topple over one another across the ring but still Winters maintains the headlock, unfazed. Hessian gasps frantically and shoots to his feet with unnerving power, hoisting Don up and planting him with a desperate Olympic slam. Finally, Don’s expression changes.

Nick Stuart: And down he goes! What power from The Murder Show!

Richard Parker: It was enough to shake Winters off him!

Rattled from the hard landing, Don loosens his grip long enough for Hessian to tear himself free of his foe. The giant takes deep measured breaths as he shakes the stars from his vision and looks over to where Winters was lying.

Nick Stuart: Don going up top!

By the time Hessian realizes Don isn’t where he was, the Five Star Champion has already scrambled up the turnbuckles and stands perched on the top rope with his back to the giant, arms out to steady himself.

Nick Stuart: Moonsault by the Champ!

With frightening reflexes, Hessian shoots to a knee as Winters flies off the top, intercepting him in mid-flight.

Richard Parker: Caught by the chump!

Hessian plucks his opponent out of the air onto his shoulder and flips Winters onto his back, before turning to the center of the ring and dropping him with a last-ditch Ganso Bomb.

Nick Stuart: Hellevator!! Hess goes for the cover!

The champion crumples to the mat. The giant collapses on top of him. Barlow slides in to make the count.

ONE!!

TWO!!

Richard Parker: NO!

THREE!!

Richard Parker: NO!!

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Vince Howard: YOUR WINNER…AAAAND NNNEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWW FIVE STAAAR CHAMPIOOOOOON…THE MURDER SHOW!! HHHEEEEEEESSSSIIIIAAAAAAANNN!!

Both competitors spring off one another, splayed out on the mat as the crowd roars and “Kingdom of the Worm” starts to play.

Nick Stuart: A hard fought victory for the former two-time Universal Champion who stops Father Don’s ascent in its tracks and claims his first title in over a decade here at UltraViolence! What a battle!

Richard Parker: The Five Star Title just lost every bit of prestige that Winters put into it for the past six months! Screw Hessian and screw Cancer Jiles!

Richard ducks into his chair, holding a binder up in front of his face.

Nick Stuart: Tempting fate there, aren’t we?

When Richard doesn’t feel his face cave in he takes a quick peek, then settles again.

Richard Parker: Phew. Can’t be too careful.

Ashley Barlow takes the title from ringside and presents it to the new champion. Pulling himself up to a seated position, The Murder Show gazes at the title and then over to a reeling Winters. As their eyes meet Hessian moves towards him gingerly, extending a hand to his opponent and muttering something out of earshot.

Nick Stuart: Hessian trying to offer an olive branch to the former champion…

But Don pushes himself under the ropes and stumbles to the floor. Looking at the ground and shaking his head, he staggers up the ramp without looking back once. The fans let Hessian know what they think of him as he glances at his empty hand, then over at his shiny new belt. He closes his eyes, drops his chin and sighs.

Richard Parker: Ha! No shot, backstabber! You made your bed, shit in it and now you’ve got to lie in it! What good does a gold blanket do ya there, champ??

Nick Stuart: You better be keeping an eye on that grill!

“Huh?” Von Kelsig uttered, snapping out of his daze. “What?”

“Did you flip the chops every three minutes like I asked??” Cyril barked as he waddled out onto the decking with four cellophaned bowls cradled in his arms. Discarding the slaw and salads onto the dining table beside the plates and napkins he muscled his way in front of Hessian and examined the grill. Taking possession of the tongs he flipped every chop, wing, burger and rack twice over.

“I kept an eye on everything like you asked,” Von Kelsig assured him.

“Looks like you’re staring off into space to me,”Cyril scolded back, riffling through foil wraps and blowing on his fingers.

“Trying to figure out how to make things right with Winters,” the giant admitted.

“Steamroll him. Humble him,” Cyril shot back.

“..don’t think that’ll work.”

“You need to make an example out of him, especially when you’re handed a title shot. You’re letting these ReVival guys walk all over you,” the dwarf stated with an unimpressed shake of the head before muttering something about jalapeno poppers. “Can we focus on the food, please? They’re gonna be here any minute.”

“He was vehement about Jiles, though. Genuinely offended that I’m associating with him, I-” Von Kelsig looked down but Cyril was gone, no sign of him on the decking.

“You can’t have your cake and eat it!” came a shout from inside the house. He reappeared through the patio door moments later heaving an icebox behind him full of soda, beer and water. “Put that on the table, goddamnit,” he wheezed, caught a breath then added, “your actions are going to have consequences whether you like it or not. Winters beats you? You’re eating shit. You beat Winters? You’re eating shit, but, you’re eating off a gold plate and paying the bill outta the winner’s purse…”

The sound of gravel crunching under heavy tires caught their attention suddenly.

“So-oh! Right on time!” Cyril pipped, as the familiar armored frame of the hulking Conquest Knight XV pulled up in front of the house. “Turn the grill down!” he called out as he scooted off across the decking and down the steps to greet his guest.

Damned if I do. … Nick Stuart: Hessian makes it to the ropes!

Richard Parker: Fat lot of good it’s doing him though!

Ignoring the order to break from Ashley Barlow, Winters grits his teeth and sinks the hold in even deeper, tensing every tired muscle in his body and squeezing the last drop of juice out of the single-leg crab. The Murder Show lets out a jarring howl, convulsing in agony as his sweat-soaked hands grip the bottom rope even tighter.

ONE!!

Richard Parker: You think Hessian’s got it through his thick skull that Cancer’s bad news yet?

Nick Stuart: I think he knows he’s in a fight with the Five Star Champion, that’s for sure!

Hessian reaches for the middle rope with one hand, but it slips from his grasp. He scrambles for the bottom again as Winters feels the slack beneath him in the moment.

TWO!!

Winters cranks on the leg and, while The Murder Show roars in protest, Don adjusts his stance.

Richard Parker: He might not be fighting for much longer! Come on Don! Break that big turkey’s leg right off!

THREE!!

Nick Stuart: Hessian trying to shift the momentum here but Don Winters isn’t budging!

Again the giant grabs for the middle rope and this time latches on, using the extra leverage to twist his body in an attempt to knock the Champion off balance.

Richard Parker: He’s not breaking the hold Nick!

FOUR!!

Winters responds with a quick transition from The Threshing Floor into a vicious ankle lock, contorting the joint so forcibly that Hessian pivots and loses his grip on the ropes. The giant feels himself being dragged back towards the middle of the ring as Lumen Field erupts.

Nick Stuart: He got him! Don’s got him back in the middle of the ring!

Richard Parker: There’s nowhere to go! Hess has to tap!!

All but drained, Winters comes to an abrupt halt and reintroduces Hessian to The Threshing Floor. Another howl from the giant sends the fans into a frenzy as Winters readjusts his grip and wrenches with everything he has, chest heaving, jaw clenched and spittle flying. If Hessian were to reach behind his head right now he could easily touch the sole of his boot.

Instead he plants both hands into the canvas and presses himself up off the mat, eyes wide, roaring wildly.

Richard Parker: NO! STAY DOWN DAMMIT!

Nick Stuart: The Murder Show refuses to quit!

The atmosphere reaches fever pitch as Hessian digs his fingers into the mat, eyes locked on the ropes once more. Don struggles to hold fast. The giant smears a hand across the canvas by mere inches and digs in, repeating with the other hand, then the other…

Nick Stuart: He’s trying to break The Threshing Floor again!

And then he feels a lightning bolt shoot up his spine as Winters is pulled off balance and drives his weight down on the point of his knee directly into the giant’s back. Hessian’s arms give out and he hits the mat. Hard. Several times.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Richard Parker: HE TAPPED! HESSIAN TAPPED!

The Revelator flops to the mat, exhausted…

Vince Howard: YOUR WINNER BY SUBMISSION…AAAAND STIIIIIIIIIIILLL FIVE STAR CHAMPIOOON, DOOON! WIIIIIIIIIINNNTEEEEEERRRRSS!!

…but elated.

Nick Stuart: Winters retains! He just tied the record for most defenses of any title in PRIME! And he beat a giant to do it!

“Movin’ On Up” by Primal Scream accompanies a massive ovation and a blast of pyro and streamers. Ashley Barlow is handed the Five Star Title from ringside, but Winters remains face down on the floor, his back bucking.

Richard Parker: Is he crying??

Father Don lifts his head from the canvas. No tears, he’s laughing. His smile grows even wider at the sight of the belt. Finding his feet, he takes the title and turns to the fans, raising it up for all to see. Still Five Star Champion.

Nick Stuart: A well-deserved win for Winters here at UltraViolence, if he can do it one more time he cements himself as one of the all-time greatest champions in PRIME history!

Richard Parker: Don’t forget the cherry on top; Father Don just put a holy ass-whoopin’ on Cancer’s lap dog and sent a clear message to them both! Good luck tomorrow night, ya bums!

Parker instinctively recoils, throwing his arms up around his face. A moment passes, no sign of a footprint across the face.

Nick Stuart: I think you’re safe for now Richard…

Hessian clutches what’s left of his leg on the other side of the ring, face buried in the floor as the weight of the loss sinks in. He feels movement nearby and cautiously glances up to see the Five Star Champion staggering past. Don’s gaze is fixed ahead, but as he reaches the ropes he notices the outstretched hand in his periphery.

Nick Stuart: …wait, what’s this now?

The Five Star Champion stops and looks to the heavens, hands on his hips. Closing his eyes, he shakes his head slowly and drops his gaze to the ground. Then to the one-legged giant, offering his hand from the ground. Like a beggar at Jesus’s feet.

Richard Parker: Looks like the Murder Express begging for assistance…or forgiveness?

Nick Stuart: Both perhaps.

Despite the pain flourishing throughout his body, the look of agony drains from Hessian’s face as Winters appears to contemplate his redemption. The crowd hoots ominously as Five Star Champion Don Winters picks his chin up and…exits the ring. Hessian stares at him in disbelief, his empty hand dropping suddenly to the mat. He lies there defeated, forced to reckon the consequences of his actions. Then a balled-up napkin hits him in the face.

Damned if I don’t.

“And this is our illustrious grill master, Angelus. Angelus, meet CooCoo.”

Von Kelsig came to his senses, quickly checking that he had in fact turned the grill down and blurting out, “hey, pleasure to meet you Mister Haggerty,” before even looking.

Cyril’s heart skipped a beat as the pair locked eyes.

“Jesus, how ya doin’? Lookit the size’a ya, no wonder you drive that tank of a car,” CooCoo replied in awe.

The wooden beams creaked beneath the weight of the old, heavy-set visitor as he took measured steps up onto the decking and ambled over to the giant. As wrinkled as a Shar Pei, soulful-eyed, large-nosed, full-lipped, thick head of dark gray oiled-back hair, tracksuit. Working man’s hands, Von Kelsig noticed as he greeted Cyril’s friend. Strong grip. “Cuckoo, like the bird?” he asked.

“Na, Coo-Coo, like a baby,” CooCoo’s gutturally grating laugh echoed, “childhood nickname. What about Von Kelsig, that dutch?”

“Prussian,” Von Kelsig said as his personal driver Stevie came bounding up the steps behind Cyril’s friend with the keys to the Conquest in hand.

“Russian??” CooCoo asked, questioning his hearing.

“With a P, Prussia; state that unified Germany in the nineteenth century,” the giant corrected him.

CooCoo nudged Cyril and winked as he grabbed a water out of the icebox and settled into one of several large, cushioned garden chairs available. “Had me for a second there, thought you were in cahoots with the mugs that brained our boy.”

“Oh, he’d cozy up to Ivan Stanislav given half the chance…” Cyril remarked, looking the giant up and down.

“Cyril says you’re a fan of the show,” Von Kelsig dryly glossed over the taunt, as Stevie approached him swinging the keyring around his finger. “I. love. that. truck,” the driver said gleefully, but quietly so as not to interrupt Coocoo. He dropped the keys into The Murder Show’s hand and retired to one of the chairs with a beer. Von Kelsig thanked him for picking up their guest from the airport with a nod and a pat on the shoulder.

CooCoo continued proudly, “yeah, we watched it together every other week back in Chicago. Good times,” then added, “sendin’ text messages and waitin’ ‘til after the show for a reply ain’t as much fun though,” with a little less zeal.

“That’s how it goes on the road,” Cyril shrugged as he started plating up the food. “How was the flight?”

“No complaints,” CooCoo responded, before zeroing back in on Hessian. “You’re a bad son of a bitch takin’ up with Cancer Jiles, you know that? After what he did to Phil Atken?”

“That was before my time,” Von Kelsig played off the indignation with a wry smile.

CooCoo pressed the issue. “Looks to me like you’re buddyin’ up to the king of the assholes, ‘cos maybe you’re gonna wanna get back at the guys that’ve been shortin’ you in your matches...”

“No, no. That’s not it at all.” Von Kelsig explained, “See, back at WarGames…”

It was that easy to get the giant talking about himself, that easy to steer the conversation away from the wrong direction. … Nick Stuart: Winters goes for the back slide! Has he got enough left in the tank to bring the giant down??

Richard Parker: If Father Don’s Miraculous Sparktaculous Deitergent can shift even the most stubborn stains then the Five Star Champion can move this mountain!

Hessian struggles to keep his footing as Don strains with every fiber of his being to pull his opponent over his back. When the giant feels his feet leave the ground he panics and kicks his legs, jerking Winters backwards. With the momentum in his favor Hessian powers Winters up onto his shoulders, and Lumen Field goes into meltdown.

Nick Stuart: Backslide countered into the Canadian backbreaker! He’s going for the Hellevator!!

Richard Parker: No, look! Don’s fighting out of it! You can do it D-

Salt kiss. Dead air.

Nick Stuart: Another backslide atte-huh? Richard?

T-shimmer. No mercy.

Winters struggles like a wild animal in a trap, fighting Hessian’s grasp and kicking out with everything he has. A stray heel to the lower back is all it takes, and with another burst of energy Father Five Star brings the giant crashing down on his shoulders!

ONE!!

TWO!!

THREE!!...doesn’t come.

Headshot. Change of plan.

Don hefts the giant’s weight off his back and looks up in bewilderment. The crowd is spitting venom. Barlow is face down. He sees the shot leave the barrel.

Sparked out.

The giant senses the commotion and looks up in time to see Winters fall forward on his knees. He hits the deck, jaw askew, eyes glazed over and staring directly at him. Judging him. Hessian’s arm is taken by the wrist and a hand locks around his. The Murder Show is pulled up to a seated position. He stares into mirror tints. A hand pats the back of his.

Sorry pal, it’s Terminal.

Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!

Back to the drawing board.

Vince Howard: YOUR WINNER…AS A RESULT OF A DISQUALIFICATION! AAAAAND-

That’s enough out of you too.

Lights out.

The porch light came on above the patio door, bathing the decking in its glow as night approached. “Come again??” Von Kelsig said loudly into his phone, stepping woozily off the decking to put some distance between the call and the loud radio. Amidst empty plates and bottles, Stevie was passed out and CooCoo had his arm around Cyril.

“I - said - I - don’t - give - a - shit. - He’s - a - non - entity. - A - cromb. - Cripple - him - for - all - I - care,” Jiles enunciated down the line, loud and clear so the dear old man wouldn’t miss a word.

I don’t want that, he thought. “So you’re okay with me taking the match?”

“As - long - as - you-”

“You can talk normally now, I just had to step away from present company.”

“As - long - as - you - can - go - the - next - night - then - let - it - fly. - You - do - you.”

Wiseass.

“Okay, just wanted to be sure.”

“If - you’ve - got - my - back - then - I’ve - got - yours.”

“Is that so?”

“No. - Fuck - that - guy.”

Call ended.

There was no good way out of this bad situation. Staying in good stead with Don Winters meant excommunicating Jiles and going back on his principles and his word. Doing that meant depriving Jiles of the same chance that everyone else was being given. Von Kelsig couldn't imagine offering up Cancer's bones to appease Winters, much less calling off the match out of respect. Something didn’t sit right about the way the Five Star Champion was behaving, whereas Jiles had given his blessing for Hessian to fly solo and bring more gold back to the carton. Cyril hit the nail on the head earlier.

“Fuck.”

Nothing else to say other than that. No threats, promises or promos. He didn’t feel the thrill of being a contender. Just disappointment.

“‘member earlier on I’s sayin’ ‘bout us used-to watchin’ the wrestlin’ together?” CooCoo slurred to Cyril after Von Kelsig had walked away.

“I 'member,” Cyril nodded curiously.

“You’re gonna b’seein’ a lot more’a yer Uncle Cooc, pal,” CooCoo continued regardless, giving the dwarf a sly wink as he nursed his seventh drink.

Cyril felt a stone drop in the pit of his stomach. “What do you mean?”

He’d held his nerve all night despite the fact that Von Kelsig was crowing about PRIME to the man that had helped Cyril piss all over his retirement plan. A stupid, senseless act of revenge to make up for the fact that he couldn’t get over without Hessian. A plot that was years in the making, forgotten and forgiven before its fruition. Now the facilitator had invited himself over. Was he enamored with Hessian, or his property?

“Your brother and I are on vacation. Indefinitely.”

That was the last thing he expected to hear. Vacation in the Salazar household didn't mean rest and relaxation or fun in the sun. Vacation meant feds. Now it all made sense. He wouldn’t be hearing from Cecil for a while, and his brother’s associate wasn't going anywhere.

Cyril pasted on a smile and raised his bottle.

“Make yourself at home.”