ASCENSION 2025 NIGHT ONE

Lucas Oil Stadium. Indianapolis, Indiana.

Seventy thousand screaming fans, ready to watch two nights of the best, fiercest, most intense wrestling action in the world. So yeah, they’re pretty excited.

You know what would make it better?

Some familiar faces.

Vince Howard: At this time we would like to announce a very special guest! A respected veteran of the squared circle, his career spanned the entire globe over nearly two decades! Now he is a well-respected mentor, trainer, and father of a PRIME superstar! Please welcome…JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE COOOOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLTOOOOOOOOOOOONNN!!!

RRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!

An unfamiliar tune by a familiar band blasts through the Lucas Oil Stadium loudspeakers. But enough wrestling hipsters and oldheads remember the Eagles’ “Outlaw Man” to give a raucous cheer; the rest of the audience reaction comes from him being Nate Colton’s dad.

While the PRIME*View shows highlights of a young man in his glory days, an older version of that man steps out on the stage.

Sure, he’s got a spare tire. Sure, the short hair and Selleck–a far cry from the mullet and trucker ‘stache of his wrestling days–have a lot more gray in them. But he still knows how to present himself to a crowd. When he takes center stage, he turns around to show off the name on the back of his satin jacket.

RRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!

As the music dies down, the old man brings a microphone up to his face. He did this for twenty years, but still seems a little overwhelmed. Maybe because this crowd is easily three times bigger than anything else he’s experienced.

Jake Colton: HOW ARE WE FEELING TONIGHT?!

RRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!

Jake Colton: Me too. It feels damn good to be out here tonight, right here in INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA!

RRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!

That’s some good pandering.

Jake Colton: When the good folks at PRIME called me, asking if I could kick things off tonight…well, you know I jumped at that chance. But now that I’m out here…I’m worried that I may not be up to it. In my whole career, I never had to face a crowd of seventy thousand people…

RRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!

Jake Colton: That might be more than I can handle by myself. So…you don’t mind if I bring in some help, do ya?

RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!

Another Eagles tune starts up– “Out of Control”–and two more bright shining faces with bright shining jackets step out on stage. PRIME fans, please welcome two-time SHOOT Project Tag Team Champions, The Lads…Benjamin and Dennis.

RRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!

The Lads smile and wave, Benny a bit more animated than the typically stoic Dennis. Benny’s got a Caitlin Clark Fever jersey underneath his red jacket; beneath Denny’s green one is a Dwight Freeney Colts jersey.

They’re barely out on stage when we get a stinger of “Heartache Tonight.” The PRIME*View switches to a live feed from Tokyo, where Jennifer Colton is watching with her new besties, the Ironhearts. The 2022 Belmont Classic winner also got the memo about the dress code; she’s got the 2022 Indy Eleven IMS edition jersey under her purple ring jacket.

RRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!

Oh, but we’re not done. The playlist skips to “Life in the Fast Lane,” and the newest member of the wrestling family joins the others. He doesn’t have his jacket yet, but he does have a loose-fitting Indianapolis Racers jersey–number 99, Wayne Gretzky. If you’re not familiar with this chapter of hockey history, Blake Colton will tell you all about it. Whether you want him to or not.

Jake’s smile grows as big as all outdoors, standing on the grandest stage and surrounded by his family.

Jake Colton: These kids have already given me so much to be proud of–and now I’ve got one more thing to add to that list! Blake here just had his first professional match, and picked up a big win!

RRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!

The Lads step in behind Blake, rubbing his shoulders and tussling his hair. He gives a half-hearted protest, but obviously he’s too excited to really be bothered.

Benny Colton: Hey Dad…ain’t we missing someone?

Jake Colton: Well dammit, you’re right. Should we bring him out?

RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!

Denny Colton: I dunno…they don’t seem that enthused.

Jake Colton: Lemme try again. I said, SHOULD WE BRING HIM OUT?!!

RRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!

Jake Colton: All right then! Let’s hear it for PRIME’s greatest wrestler, and my son–”THE NEW DIAMOND!” NATE! COLTON!

Eagles. “Tryin’.”

RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!

All eyes turn to the entrance in anticipation of the New Diamond’s presence.

…

The music plays.

…

The fans cheer.

…

And finally, Nate Colton…

…

…is nowhere to be seen.

The in-person Coltons huddle together and hold a hushed conversation. Up on the PRIME*View, Jennifer looks concerned…and then her feed cuts, leaving a blank screen.

Richard Parker: Nate Colton lets his family down at the worst possible time. Typical!

Nick Stuart: Knock it off, Richard. Clearly something’s gone wrong, and the Coltons don’t seem to know more than any of the rest of us!

Richard Parker: You got that right.

Nick Stuart: The show hasn’t even started yet, Richard. Try and pace yourself.

As confusion runs rampant, the PRIME*View ominously flickers to life…

What appears on the screen is a wall-mounted framed portrait of this man:

“Oooooooh, Jim… it’s times like this when I’m GLAD you’re not around to see what they’ve DONE to our beautiful city!”

The lamentations stem from none other than the reformed punk turned yuppie douche known to us now as ERIK BLACK, who slides into the frame looking up tearfully at the portrait of the late owner of the Indianapolis Colts.

Erik Black: The AUDACITY of these people, Jim! You’re still barely COLD in the GROUND… still being MOURNED by your friends, family, and the people of this city… only for these CHARLATANS and GRIFTERS to straight up WALTZ into the HOUSE YOU BUILT for their SAD and PATHETIC little Ascension event!

The Colton family look amongst each other in confusion. The faithful fans filling Lucas Oil Stadium share the feeling.

Nick Stuart: Ladies and gentlemen, there appears to be an outside party taking over our live feed right now! Our production crew is quickly working to get to the bottom of this!

The camera follows the devil in white as he tsk-tsks in disappointment walks over to a large nearby window, granting a full view of the city of Indianapolis at night.

Down below, right in the heart of the city’s downtown district, is the stadium itself, filled to capacity lit up in blue and white for the event.

In the arena, people are pointing up at the looming skyscraper from where the other feed is apparently being broadcast. It’s not hard to find; it’s the big, brutalist-looking one with a giant red KABAL running across the top.

Erik Black: WORST of ALL… they NEGLECTED to invite your TRUEST FRIEND and SUPPORTER right up until the end! They up and FORGOT about one of this state’s greatest HEROES and LEGENDS of WRESTLING! A former UNIVERSAL CHAMPION whose LASTING IMPACT on PRIME is talked about to this DAY!

Black twirls from the view of the stadium to the camera standing with him in his penthouse lair. Along with his pearl white suit, he’s wearing a delectable purple turtleneck.

Erik Black: No… instead they choose to give the spotlight to that HEATHEN CLAN of COLTONS! A bunch of jacket-wearing GOOD FOR NOTHINGS spawned from a DRIVELING, CORNFED FOOL! The absolute WORST of which being…

His head snaps to the left, eyes glaring furiously at someone off camera.

**Erik Black: …**YOU!!

The camera whips over to follow his gaze, where we see a large, three-meter diameter disc of metal slowly turning around on a mechanical axis.

Coming into view, adorned in a snazzy tuxedo with his hands and legs spread out and bound to manacles, is none other than “The New Diamond” of PRIME…

Erik Black: NATE… COOOLLLTONNNN!!

Beat me to it.

Nate Colton: The last time I was in this situation, I had much better company.

Black pulls out a handheld remote and presses a button. Hydraulic servos beneath the disc Colton is bound to slowly lower him back at a forty-five degree angle.

Erik Black: BEHOLD!! My NEW DEATHRAY!!

He hits another button, and a large, barrel-shaped object lowers from the ceiling over him.

Well, not exactly “large”. It almost looks like someone swiped an X-ray machine from a dentist’s office and gave it a few extra lights and pipes. The racing stripe down the side looks rather snazzy.

Erik Black: …okay, so it’s not quite a DEATH ray, but if we crank this baby up to eleven, it can still ROYALLY FRICK UP your FUZZY FOOSBALLS, Evansville!! My BEST BUDDY JIM had this commissioned to remove a pesky “MY HEART BELONGS TO BALTIMORE” tattoo from when he was younger! Then, after attempts to repurpose it for Peyton’s spinal fusion surgery fell through, it got MOST of its usage separating Andrew Luck’s unibrow! And in his LAST WILL and TESTAMENT, it was bequeathed to ME!! The GREATEST HOOSIER that EVER LIVED!!

Indulging in his heavy, shmultzy Blofeld vibes, Black rubs his palms together as he looms over

Erik Black: And TONIGHT, Evansville… YOU get to be the next one to test it out! You see, I may not be able to BLOW UP the whole Ascension event anymore, but I can STILL stick it to those hoity-toity PRIME pretenders and l do this state a favor… by ZAPPING your BALLS into DUST, and ensuring that the Colton line ENDS HERE TONIGHT!!

Nate Colton: Umm…I’ve got three siblings. And a cousin.

Erik Black: …crap… forgot about them. Oh well, ONE AT A TIME THEN!

Black pushes another button. With a mechanical whine, the ceiling-mounted laser SNAPS to life and projects a hot red beam into the base of the round metal table.

Erik Black: AAH-HAHAHAHAHAHA, YES!! That famous HOG?! We’re making BACON tonight, pal!

The end of the beam slowly drifts up toward Colton’s exposed groin, kicking up a trail of scorched metal in its wake. Nate tries to play the role of calm, cool, collected super-spy…but if you’ve ever seen his local commercials, you know he’s not a good actor. He wrenches against his bonds, but it’s no use.

Erik Black: Only thing is that the auto-aim feature is kinda wiggy! Give it a minute, and it should calibrate! I’m TOTALLY not dredging this out on purpose! But you just GIVE IT A MOMENT, Evansville… and you’re going to discover a whole new meaning to the term… TENDERLOIN!!

Black begins to walk away. Colton, not wanting to have his loin tendered, tries to make Erik reengage.

Nate Colton: Shouldn’t we talk about this? There’s no need to go off half-cocked.

Poor choice of words there, Nate. Anyway, his foe doesn’t seem interested.

Nate Colton: So I’m just supposed to give up then? Do you expect me to tap?

Erik Black: NO, Mr. Colton, I expect your DINGLE to FRY!

Black continues walking over to a nearby leather lounge chair and falls into it.

Erik Black: KATSUKI DENNINGUSU… a SHOULDER RUB, if you will!

On command, his mail-order Kat Dennings lookalike gets behind his seat and sets her large white paws upon his shoulders.

Erik Black: Yeah… don’t be afraid to get DEEP in there! Like some of those songs on your Infinite Playlist!

Black looks questionably at his shoulders, noticing that his blazer has been shredded to tatters by his assistant’s huge, razor-sharp claws.

Erik Black: Um… Katsuki Denningusu, have you had your nails done recently?

Something is awry. In a flash, he bolts to his feet and points accusingly.

Erik Black: Wait a second… YOU’RE NOT KATSUKI DENNINGUSU!!

Black tears off the wig…

Helen: 🐅?

Erik Black: GYAAAAAAAHHH!!

Eyes wide and arms outstretched, the man in white scrambles in terror around his high-rise supervillain’s lair while a whole ass tiger tears forth from its “clever” waitress-from-Two-Broke-Girls disguise and chases after him, claws and teeth coming precariously close to the former Universal Champion’s posterior with every ferocious swipe.

Erik Black: WHOA SHUCKS!! HOW DID I SERIOUSLY NOT NOTICE THIS UNTIL NOW?! HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN A TIGER!?

Helen: 🐅!

As the chaos ensues, the laser beam continues creeping precariously closer to Colton’s… progenitor of future Coltons, one would hope. Anxiously, he looks around for any means of escape.

Then above, ceiling tiles explode into white dust as no fewer than a dozen uniformed men rappel into the room.

With a lot of hup-hup-hupping, the uniformed men quickly unfetter the clasps binding Nate’s wrists and ankles and pull him off the round metal table to safety. The “leader” — whose nametag reads “DAVE” — removes his scuba mask and salutes.

Dave: Agent Double-Oh-Sevansville? Department of Convenience reporting. We hope this rescue operation was to your liking.

Nate Colton: Thank you, Dave!

Two more of the dubiously named “Department of Convenience” — whose nametags also read “DAVE” — hand him a black duffle bag.

Nate Colton: And thank you, Dave and Dave! Hey, Dave, you think you could take care of my pal over there?

A handful of other Daves go to Helen, who has forced Erik Black into taking shelter in the corner huddled behind an overturned table. As they strap the tiger into a harness, Black fretfully peeks out of his hiding spot.

Erik Black: WH-WH-WHAAT THE HECK?! NOBODY told ME about any DEPARTMENT of CONVENIENCE!

With another salute and a terse “CLEAR!” spoken by the lead Dave, the task force (and tiger) zip back up through the ceiling whence they came. Colton unzips the duffel bag left to him and pulls out what looks like a backpack.

No longer threatened by the fierce claws of a four-hundred pound tiger, Black shoves the table aside and storms to his feet!

Erik Black: COOOOLTOOONNNNN!!! I WON’T LET YOU GET AWAY WITH THIS!!

Black dives.

Casually fastening a strap around his waist, Colton ducks.

And Erik launches himself face-first with his own stupid ceiling laser.

Erik Black: BLEGHK!!

The impact knocks the laser off its set trajectory. It slowly swivels around, the beam carving a fiery trail of destruction across the walls and expensive furniture of the lounge.

Erik Black: OOOOOH SHUCKS!!

Then Black’s eyes nearly leave his skull when he sees where the beam is heading…

Erik Black: JIM!! NOOOOO!!!

Before the laser can destroy the portrait of the “handsome” white billionaire hanging on the wall, Black throws himself in the way of the beam.

The laser catches him directly on the top of the head, ZAPPING his hairplugs into nonexistence.

Erik Black: AAAAHHH!! MY IMAGE!!!

Colton watches this absurdity unfold around him with an almost casual indifference. With his back satchel now firmly secure, he walks over to the wall overlooking Lucas Oil Field. Reaching into the pocket of his tuxedo, the New Diamond withdraws a ring.

Erik Black: Wait a second…

Crash zoom on the ring, revealing a blue horseshoe immersed among diamonds.

Erik Black: THAT’S THE COLTS’ 2006 NATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP RING! WHERE DID YOU GET THAT?!

Nate Colton: You’re not the only one in tight with the Irsays.

Colton sets the ring over his knuckle, and, using its diamond edges, cuts a large HOLE into the glass. Kicking the loose piece out, Nate turns back to Black, smiles, waves…

Nate Colton: Shame about your plans, Erik. Looks like they’ve gone…down in flames.

…and DIVES OUT!!

Erik Black: AAHHH!!

Black scrambles to the opening in the window and looks out, spotting Colton plummeting through the air in an accelerating freefall…

…until he yanks the cord on his back satchel, and releases a PARACHUTE in the form of the FLAG OF INDIANA!!

Furious, Black hangs out the window and shakes his fist while the flames spread around him.

Erik Black: COOOOOOLLLLLLTTOOOOOOOOONNNNNN!!!!!!

The former Goat Bastard’s cries of anguish fade into the distance as Nate Colton glides through the air, tugging at handles and controlling his descent. If he stays on his current course, he should land right in the middle of…the White River.

Shit.

Nate tries to adjust his trajectory, but the handles aren’t affecting him enough. The New Diamond is about to go out of the frying pan and into the sink, unless something happens very soon.

At that exact moment, something happens.

A rickety old plane comes barreling toward Nate. Patches of Dacron are peeling off in the wind, and smoke pours out of the lone propeller. The grinning madman at the controls pays no heed; he stays on target and opens up the throttle.

Huh. That guy looks a lot like Larry Bird.

Looks like you’re doomed, Nate…and a lot earlier than expected. Any last words?

Nate Colton: There’s the end…right in plane sight.

…

Fuck you, Nate Colton. You deserve to die for that one.

The plane comes closer…closer…closer still…and then…

ZOOM!

It tilts to its side, narrowly missing the parachutist. As the plane heads into the night sky, its pilot tosses off a salute. Nate responds in kind, both for the pilot and the flag of [REDACTED]land painted on the side.

The plane’s path is enough to knock Colton off course, altering his wind cone and decreasing his drag. Good news, he won’t land in the river, and in fact is heading back toward Lucas Oil Stadium.

Bad news, he might land very soon.

Through a series of adjustments, Nate slows his speed to something that won’t cause lasting damage. He looks down, hoping to find a safe–or at least soft–landing spot.

Instead, he sees something very intriguing. Not something normally found on city streets, but something that will get him to his intended destination…very fast.

He finally lights on the ground, framed by the Circle City evening sky. Over his shoulder, you can see a brightly-colored hot air balloon with a tiger dangling from it.

In front of him is maybe a stranger sight: a Team Penske Indy car, with a blue anthropomorphic panther behind the wheel.

Nate Colton: Boomer! My second favorite giant cat!

Boomer nods. Even the Pacers mascot knows he’s not as cool as Helen.

Nate Colton: Can you get me to the stadium? I fear they may be waiting on me.

Boomer gives a thumbs up as Nate straddles the back of the car. That’s not safe, but…eh. It’s probably fine.

The engine roars to life, and the car goes tearing down the streets of Indianapolis.

NNYYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMM!

It screeches around a corner…

SCRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECHHHH!

And squeals around another…

SSSSSQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAALLLLL!

And now it’s pulling up to the front entrance of Lucas Oil Field. Colton hops off the car and addresses Boomer; they shake hands, as gentlemen.

Nate Colton: Always a pleasure, sir.

He straightens his jacket and saunters into the stadium. This may be a time-sensitive issue, but super-suave super-spies never run. They dive out of windows, careen down mountains, plunge into ocean depths…but running? Never. It’s undignified.

Besides, things always seem to work out for them. Things like a cart, piloted by yet another one of the city’s sports monsters–an enormous blue horse named…umm…Blue.

With a wry smile, Nate Colton hops into the cart and points toward the inner workings of the building.

Nate Colton: Onward, friend! And don’t spare the–

Blue turns around, casting a glare at Colton. We think. Those head pieces aren’t great for showing emotion.

Nate Colton: …right.

The mascot puts the pedal to the metal, sending man and horse careening down the hallways of the Lucas. They race through masses of backstage workers; the stage hands the security, the on-air staff…

Simon Tillier: Hey, watch it!

Before long, they arrive at Argyle, where once again Nate Colton disembarks from his chariot. He marches through the curtain, tugging at his collar as he does.

The camera switches to the arena interior, where father, brothers, cousin and (virtually) sister are waiting. They don’t have to wait long, as the Man of the Hour emerges, looking bespoke…but uncomfortable. And out of place, next to his family.

Can’t have that. With a mighty rip…

RRRRRIIIIIIIIIIPP!

…he tears the suit off his body, leaving it in tatters on the floor. His new attire–and thankfully there is some, or this was about to get really weird–is more inline with his family. His blue ring jacket, covering up a Tyrese Haliburton jersey.

RRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!

Jake Colton: You took your damn sweet time.

Nate Colton: Sorry, Dad. Things just…blew up on me.

Somewhere outside the stadium, a giant fireball lights up the sky.

Meanwhile, on the stage, Nate throws his arms around his father and youngest brother. The Lads crowd in too, preparing to make the big group announcement.

Nate Colton: INDIANAPOLIS! ARE YOU READY?!

RRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!

The Coltons: WELCOME! TO! ASSSSSSSSSCCCCEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENNNNNNNNTIOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNN!!

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1Aa1XM9W6aKWeTUSCCKjz7HR0GfXQtgfV/view?usp=sharing

Fireworks.

More fireworks.

ALL THE GODDAMN FIREWORKS!

And then the swooping pan of the crowd as we take in the sea of people who have turned out for night one of Ascension.

Nick Stuart: Hello, everyone and welcome to Ascension!! I’m Nick Stuart, and with me as always is my broadcast partner Richard Parker:

Richard Parker: Sup.

Nick Stuart: We are on the Ace Network and we! are! live!

We also have signs, which I shall now include for the giggles and the ha-has.

TSIZARD ME TIMBERS

TSIZARD SISTERS

Y’ALL DROPPED THE BALL BY NOT BOOKING A BRICKYARD BRAWL, JUST SAYIN’

FLAMBERGE ODD YEAR LOSS COUNTER:

INDIANA IS COLTON COUNTRY

THIS LIZARD V. VIPER MATCHUP IS SIMPLY TEARING APART THE HERPETOLOGY COMMUNITY

TSONDA?! TCHU? WHAT’S UP WITH THESE LAST NAMES?!

THERE’S MORE THAN (ONE WAY TO EAT) CORN IN INDIANA

WHY WON’T THE COWARDS AT PRIME AUTHORIZE A NAPTOWN SLEEPYTIME RULES MATCH?

SILENT T’S MAINLY!!

ON THE ROAD TO COLOTSSUTS

Nick Stuart: Fans, we’re not going to waste any time, so let’s get down to the ring to get this started!

Hey look, it’s Vince Howard. Hi, Vince Howard!

Vince Howard: Our opening contest is schedule for one fall, and the winner will become the NEEEEEEEW Alias Champion! Introducing first…

The arena lights dim and the first notes of “A Darkness in My Soul” by Solid Space start to play over the arena speakers.

Vince Howard: Introducing first… hailing from Sydney, New South Wales, Australia and weighing in tonight at one hundred and thirty five pounds…

The Time Lord begins her passive walk to the ring, hands planted firmly in the pockets of her coats. There is no acknowledgement of the fans that try to reach over the barricade to slap hands with her, there is only the casual walk to the ring.

Vince Howard: Representing the Poor Whoresmen… ANNNAAAAAAAAAAAAAA DAN!-IELS!!!!!!!!!

Now at ringside, she ascends the ring apron and wipes off the soles of her boots before stepping through the ropes and getting ready for the fight at hand.

Vince Howard: And her opponent…

The regal strains of “Fanfare for the Common Man” herald the arrival of “Dandy” Charles de Lacy, who emerges from behind the curtain. Following closely behind, Mickey—dressed in a long duster coat, rugged jeans, and fingerless gloves—cuts an imposing figure, his sharp eyes warning the crowd to keep their distance.

Vince Howard: He hails from York, England and weighs in tonight at two hundred and forty pounds…

De Lacy, exuding arrogance, strides down the aisle with a sneer of disdain, completely ignoring the outstretched hands that dare to approach his impeccably tailored silk robe.

Vince Howard: Accompanied to the ring by Mickey, he is… DANDY… Charles DEEEEEEEEEE LA-CYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!

At ringside, Mickey swiftly steps forward to hold the ropes open for de Lacy, who wipes his feet on the apron with a practiced elegance before entering the ring. The referee cautiously assists de Lacy with removing his robe, handing it off to Mickey, who glares at the official with barely concealed hostility. As de Lacy loosens up with a series of deliberate stretches, Mickey barks some final words of advice from ringside.

DING DING

The crowd, though unsure who exactly to root for here, is hot nonetheless as the show gets underway. Both Daniels and de Lacy circle and then tie-up in the center of the ring. de Lacy gets the early advantage, quickly using his size advantage to bring Daniels to the mat with a headlock takeover. The Muse is quick to counter, using a headscissors to force de Lacy to break his grip. Dandy immediately rolls free of it, and then two spring back to their feet.

Nick Stuart: Charles de Lacy doing an excellent job here at the start to make sure Anna Daniels can’t use that speed advantage against him.

Richard Parker: Wait, she’s on amphetamines?

Nick Stuart: (sighing) …already with this?

Richard Parker: I’m just saying that would explain a lot.

de Lacy once more brings Daniels to the mat, this time with an armdrag. He maintains his grip, shifting to get a better position and bear down on her wrist, but again Daniels slips out. She makes her move, but de Lacy is ready for it and a drop toe-hold brings her down to the mat for a third time. The frustration on The Time Lord is palpable as de Lacy immediately transitions from the trip into another side headlock in an attempt to keep her grounded this time.

Daniels tries to pry herself free, but de Lacy is adept at changing up his grip to make sure that she can’t escape. Still, it buys her enough time to get her feet underneath her, and the Muse is able to get back to a vertical base. de Lacy doesn’t break his grip. It’s only when Daniels is able to shove them both towards the ropes, forcing a break, that Dandy reluctantly lets go.

Daniels steps back towards the middle of the ring, light on her feet to try and ward off another series of takedowns by de Lacy. She tests the distance between them by firing off a series of low kicks. The first one is aimed just above de Lacy’s knee, and he tries to roll with it to blunt the impact.

The second comes after a feint, and targets the same spot. This one strikes true, and de Lacy takes a moment to try and walk it off. He tries to grin through it, but the sharp sting is evident through gritted teeth.

Daniels, now a ball of perpetual motion, snaps off a third, but her opponent is ready. de Lacy sidesteps, and in one fluid motion moves down to one knee, traps Daniels’ leg, and scoops her into a leg-trap pendulum backbreaker.

Nick Stuart: Charles de Lacy with the first big move in this one, but they’d been pretty evenly matched so far, Richard.

Richard Parker: You know what else they’re matched in? Coming from horrible places. de Lacy survived the Chicago Ooze Pits.

Nick Stuart: And Daniels is from Australia. Are you saying that’s a horrible place?

Richard Parker: I dunno, Nick, do you like spiders big enough to steal your clothes and dress up like a man?

Nick Stuart: …what?

Richard Parker: Besides, that country lost a war against some birds. I don’t know how they’re going to cope with all those free-range Vosses roaming the bush.

“Roaming the Bush” is also how a Voss gets preg-

Nick Stuart: NO!

Sorry.

de Lacy, opting to try and put additional pressure on Daniels’ core, transitions the hold into an abdominal stretch. As referee Elvis Nixon checks on her to see whether or not she wants to concede (she does not), de Lacy reaches out a hand towards Mickey who hops up onto the apron to assist in putting some extra pressure on the hold.

BOOOOOOOOOOO

The crowd noise signals to Nixon that something is amiss, but Mickey is already down on the ring floor before the referee has a chance to admonish anyone.

de Lacy releases the hold, turning Daniels and sending her once again to the mat, this time with a snapmare. He briefly holds his hands out before him, measuring Daniels for the next strike, and then connects with a standing knee drop. Instead of covering, de Lacy stands back up and saunters over to the ropes, where Mickey is waiting to wipe Anna Daniels’ sweat from his knee.

Nick Stuart: A little bit of preening here by de Lacy. I’m not sure this is a good idea.

Richard Parker: I disagree. You don’t know where Anna Daniels’ face has been.

Nick Stuart: Oh, come on.

Richard Parker: I’m serious. For all we know she was bite-fighting coconut crabs before flying over for the show. Have you seen the size of those things? They’re massive!

Nick Stuart: …bite-fighting?

Richard Parkers: What’s confusing about those words?

de Lacy moves to reassert himself after the taunt of having his knee cleaned, but soon finds it’s his turn to take a trip to the mat as a leg sweep by the Muse cuts his legs out from under him. He gets back up quickly, and lunges in to try and grapple Daniels, but her speed allows her to duck underneath the attempt and connect with a backstabber. de Lacy grimaces as a surge of electricity fires the length of his spine. He doesn’t fall though, the momentum from the move practically pushing him back up to his feet. He staggers towards the ropes to try and get his bearings.

Nick Stuart: Like I said, Richard. Taking his foot off the gas might have just cost de Lacy.

Richard Parker: You think he drives his own car? Interesting.

Nick Stuart: It was an idiom!

Richard Parker: Hey hey… there’s no need for name-calling.

A rolling elbow by Daniels stuns de Lacy. He steps back towards the ropes, but a follow-up strike by Daniels is ducked, and Dandy uses an arm drag to once again stunt her offensive flurry.

Satisfied with his work so far, de Lacy makes a dismissive motion with his hand to brush Daniels away. His eyes go wide when he looks down and realizes that not only is Anna Daniels back on her feet, but has grabbed him by the fingers. Charles does the sensible thing and tries to beg off. After all, one needs ones fingers in order to drink a nice cup of tea. What, are the servants going to hold the cup for him?

Okay, so perhaps he doesn’t need his fingers (what with the whole servant thing), but he’d still like to keep them.

Nick Stuart: Yubi Yubi!

Richard Parker: I hate how fun that is to say.

de Lacy begins feverishly shaking his hand in pain, and takes a moment to duck through the ropes for a little protection. They’re not broken, but they don’t exactly feel great either.

Elvis Nixon: C’mon, de Lacy. Bring it back inside! Let’s go!

Dandy looks absolutely appalled that a referee – the help – would speak to him this way, but he ducks back in between the ropes to square up with the Time Lord, only to get kicked square in the same hand she just used to make balloon animals. A second kick causes de Lacy’s entire body to wince as he begins frantically waving his wounded hand in the air. Daniels uses this as her opportunity. She darts under that arm, grabbing a waistlock and snapping de Lacy to the mat with a lightning fast German suplex.

de Lacy gets to his feet, but Daniels is already waiting. A flowing DDT spikes Dandy right on his crown.

Nick Stuart: Alligator Clutch!

ONE

Nick Stuart: Daniels trying to put this one away!

TWO

Nick Stuart: No! de Lacy managed to get the shoulder up.

But Daniels does not relent. de Lacy has had her on the back foot thus far, managing to stunt her offensive flurries at every opportunity. Now it’s her turn to lay the hurt in. She pulls him into a front facelock.

Nick Stuart: Snap suplex by Anna Daniels takes Charles de Lacy to the canvas! The tenacity of the Muse on full display.

Richard Parker: Must be all that time spent in the Australian bush.

Nick Stuart: …

Anna Daniels maintains her grip on her opponent.

Richard Parker: What?

A second snap suplex brings de Lacy down to the mat again, hard.

Nick Stuart: I thought you were going in a certain direction with that, and I didn’t want to be part of it.

Richard Parker: I considered it, yes. Decided against it.

And we are very grateful for that.

For the third suplex in the Rolling Girl, Anna Daniels changes things up a bit. She shifts her grip down on de Lacy before popping her hips into a textbook Northern Lights suplex, complete with bridge. Just as Elvis Nixon gets down to begin the count, Mickey reaches in under the bottom rope to pull one of Daniels’ feet out from under her, effectively breaking the pinfall attempt before it even gets started.

When confronted about this by the referee, Mickey insists that she simply slipped, going so far as to mime the motion of her foot sliding with his hands. It doesn’t do much to help his case that Daniels kicks him when she gets back to her feet.

Nick Stuart: And now Elvis Nixon finds himself in Anna Daniels’ crosshairs.

Our illustrious referee tries to plead the case that he can’t do much about Mickey’s potential involvement given that he didn’t see anything, which clearly does not sit well with the Muse. This gives de Lacy time to recover, and Nixon dives out of the way just as Dandy comes in firing with a discus forearm. Daniels staggers back into the ropes, building up a bit of reluctant momentum, and a spinebuster takes her down to the mat.

de Lacy moves in for a cover, but an up-kick gives him pause and creates enough room for Daniels to get back to her feet.

Nick Stuart: European uppercut by de Lacy! And another!

He backs Daniels into the corner before connecting with three more.

Elvis Nixon: Out of the corner, de Lacy! ONE. TWO. THREE. I said out of the corner! FOUR!

He pulls Daniels out and drops her down with a snap DDT.

Nick Stuart: de Lacy with the cover!

ONE

Richard Parker: He could be our new Alias champion!

TWO

Nick Stuart: de Lacy! Charles de-NO!

de Lacy tries to argue that should have been a three count, but Elvis Nixon is adamant that it was just a very close two. Dandy slaps the mat in frustration and gets back to his feet. He converses briefly with his cornerman…

Nick Stuart: Anna Daniels is back up!

Richard Parker: Turn around, Charles! Turn around!

He does, right into a running knee. It staggers him, and Daniels follows with a bicycle knee that sends the elder grappler sprawling on the canvas.

Nick Stuart: RETRO!

Anna Daniels springboards to the top.

Nick Stuart: GRADE!

She flies, arcing through the air with the shooting star.

Nick Stuart: AM-NO!!

She strikes only the bare canvas.

Nick Stuart: He moves! Charles de Lacy moved out of the way!

Anna Daniels is on her feet, but she’s on one wobbly leg as her other knee – the one she had targeted her opponent with – isn’t currently cooperating.

Nick Stuart: Fireman’s carry by de Lacy! And a standing knee drop of his own! This has been a war of attrition to kick off our night, Richard. Both of these competitors are throwing everything they have at the other to be the next Alias champion.

Richard Parker: I don’t blame either one of them. It’s the only title in PRIME where the champion sets the rules for their division, and if last year is any indication then the title is a gateway to infamy.

Both Daniels and de Lacy are on their feet, but both are showing signs of the battle thus far. The fingers on de Lacy’s hand have started to swell as a result of the Muse trying to snap them like a chicken wing. For her part, Daniels is hammering the side of her knee with a fist to try and get some feeling back into it after the missed high risk maneuver.

OOOOOOOOOH!

Nick Stuart: Superman punch by Anna Daniels out! of! nowhere!

de Lacy doesn’t go down. Instead he grabs Daniels by the waist, scoops her into the air and connects with a second backbreaker. This time he transitions directly into a pinfall, trying to end things.

Nick Stuart: de Lacy with another cover!

ONE

Richard Parker: This one’s got to be it, right?

TWO

But Anna Daniels shifts her positioning and manages to roll through into a reversal.

Richard Parker: Wait what the hell?!

ONE

Nick Stuart: Daniels with the reverse! Daniels with the reverse!

TWO

Nick Stuart: New champion! New champion!

THR-NO!

Richard Parker: Why are you saying everything twice?!

de Lacy kicks out and tries to hurry to his feet. Anna Daniels flashes a quick glance in the direction of Elvis Nixon, himself not far from Charles de Lacy, and hatches a plan. She shoves de Lacy, who has to quickly slam on the brakes to prevent himself from crashing right into Elvis Nixon. As Dandy puts up his hands to indicate this was all an accident, Anna Daniels finds the right footing.

Nick Stuart: INTERROBANG!!!!

Richard Parker: But she didn’t get all of it, Nick.

In this case that’s very true, as it’s clear she’s still smarting a bit from the missed shooting star knee earlier on. de Lacy wobbles, his head now facing a different direction than it was a minute ago, and it looks as though a strong breeze might be enough to knock him over.

Nick Stuart: Daniels swoops in…

But it’s not a breeze.

Nick Stuart: BLUE! TARDIS! BOMB! And there’s the cover!

ONE

Richard Parker: Okay, THIS has to be it, right?!

TWO

Mickey makes a move to try and get to the referee, to pull him out of position and break the count.

THREE!!!

DING DING DING

It just comes a second too late.

Vince Howard: The winners of this match… AND… NEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeew ALIAAAAAAAAAAAS CHAMPION…

The timekeeper presents the belt to the referee, who in turn brings it over to where Anna Daniels is kneeling on the canvas.

Vince Howard: ANNAAAAAAAAAA DAN-IELLLLLLLLLS!!

Nick Stuart: Anna Daniels has claimed another championship in PRIME, and with it she earns the ability to set the rules for every defense!

Richard Parker: Welp, shit’s gonna get real weird real quick, Nick.

Nick Stuart: The Poor Whoresmen have opened Ascension by capturing championship gold! Will they close the weekend with even more?!

Richard Parker: That is something for Future Us to learn.

Nick Stuart: Fans, don’t go anywhere. This is just the beginning. We’ve got plenty more to come, including the finals of the Almasy Tournament!

Richard Parker: Why would they go anywhere? They paid for this.

Fade.

…Previously On…

…THE NEWS…

Max Kael: Bodies. Tons of bodies.

Max nods to himself, straightening his bow tie with a smug, smarmy expression on his face.

Max Kael: And that’s when I thought of you. You know, so many people just chuck them into the ground or toss’em into a fire. Or dump them in the water, just the worst. I’m pragmatic, I believe in energy independence AND labor independence.

Placing a hand over his heart, Kael does his best to look honest and trustworthy. It doesn’t really work, in fact it kinda looks uncomfortable for the former Red Army member.

Max Kael: … but you! Look at you! Well, not too closely of course, but you! You’re the solution to Arkham’s graveyard space shortage!

We pan over to see a figure in a heavy black robe complete with a hood that completely obscures their face in shadows. Pouring down from the hood is a long grey beard stretching nearly to their knees. In response to Max’s words the figure lifts a withered wooden staff into the air, a collection of skulls hanging from it rattling.

Blue light radiates from the skulls empty sockets as an unearthly howl screams from the far distance. A crack of lightning cuts across the sky outside a nearby window. Max jumps a little at the loud thunderclap that follows.

Max Kael: ..uh.. Well sure, we’ll throw in dental, Baron.

The hooded figure nods their head appreciatively.

☠️☠️☠️☠️

…Snark Darkly Presents…

…A SPECIAL ELECTION NIGHT COVERAGE EDITION AND ALSO ASCESION…

… THE WON ACTION NEWS TEAM…

That hard hitting, high action NEWS music blares out as we get opening shots of all the ONE ACTION NEWS TEAM members.

The Herald, Sub-Marquis Bentley Tennyson Primrose-Farthington!

Kai, the lovely baby-momma of Bryan Dawkins.

Kirk the Sportshead, reanimated head of Lowell Dot Com.

Instead of the normal intro leading to the WON ACTION NEWS STAGE we’re taken to the local Arkham News Team, an older looking man with a square jaw in a black suit and his co-anchor, a younger woman in a business formal blue business suit.

Gary Blarguhfeinen: Good evening, I’m Gary Blarguhfeinen.

Stalwartennette Tait: And I’m Stalwartennette Tait. This is Arkham Nightly News’s special Mayoral election coverage. Voting booths clothed just a few hours ago but the votes continue to be tabulated.

Gary Blarguhfeinen: Though both candidates, Maximillian Wilhelm Kael and Doctor Millicent Armitage, were hoping to claim an early lead, the race remains tightly contested. With neither candidate showing a clear advantage, Doctor Armitage remains confident she will prevail.

We cut to Doctor Millicent Armitage standing on a stage in some ballroom with her gathered supporters. She looks poised, commanding and regal as she addresses the cameras.

Doctor Armitage: Though my opponent declared victory two hours before the polls even opened, I remain pragmatic and fully confident in the people of Arkham to make the right choice. On this most important night my opponent, Max Kael, isn’t even in Arkham. He’s not even in the state! He’s down in Indiana wrestling, which shows you where his priorities lay.

An almost smug look crosses her face as she adjusts her position at the podium.

Doctor Armitage: Once the chaos of this election passes and Monday rolls around, Arkham can turn a new page and look forward to a brighter future with you and I, Arkham, leading the way.

The gathered throng of devoted supporters cheer the doctor as we cut back to the Arkham Nightly News team of Gary and Tait.

Stalwartennette Tait: Max Kael could not be reached for comment.

Gary Blarguhfeinen: In other news…

☠️☠️☠️☠️

Cutting away from the Arkham Nightly News we find ourselves on the ACTION ONE NEWS STAGE though it is bisected by a thick plexiglass wall. On one side is the WON ACTION NEWS DESK, the other has a simple couch.

Clamouring out onto the stage with the desk is Max Kael wearing his smile that’s all teeth.

Max Kael: WORMS of PRIME! Bet you thought you’d be stuck with those boring old new casters, Gary Bleh-Blahmmn and Stalala Taint all night? No-no! It’s election night but it’s also ASCENSION Night One, what would that be without a Max Kael appearance!?

Walking over to the glass wall, Max drums his knuckles against it.

Max Kael: Plus we got a very special guest tonight…. Heh-heh.

Slinking back to his desk, Max takes a seat grinning ear to ear.

Max Kael: Allow me to introduce everyone’s favorite brain washing… BLAZE “BRAINPUDDIN’” CLAYMORE!

A light shines down on the other side of the stage as a door opens up. Blaze Claymore is roughly shoved out, half stumbling into the light. We see the tip of a pink, glittery manicured finger nail retract behind the curtain as Blaze turns around to find a closed and locked door.

His eyes begin to adjust and he realizes where he is.

Where IT is.

Hell.

Turning his head slowly, Blaze eventually sees the NEWS DESK behind the glass wall.

He takes rapid, shallow breaths and keeps turning.

It’s empty.

Blaze cautiously leans in to get a closer look, careful not to step out of the light.

Max Kael: BOO!

Jumping up from behind the desk comes Max Kael, a twisted, wide mouthed, silver toothed smile stretched across his long face.

If Max was hoping for Claymore to shriek or recoil in fear, he’s mistaken. Instead Blaze throws himself against the glass wall, slamming his fists against it like a wildman.

Max takes a step back, the smile melting away into a grotesque sneer.

Max Kael: Oh what are you so angry about!? BOO-HOO I got tortured for a few weeks! Well FUCK YOU, Blaze Claymore, back in my day we called that character building. You know this time last year I was gearing up to face our current world champion and now I’m wrestling in the fucking dirty with a bunch of Hollywood rejects.

Realizing he’s not getting through this wall with his fists, Blaze looks around for something to use. His eyes fall on the couch and he stomps over to it; but as he reaches down, however, he stops, realizing that to get the couch, he can’t stay in the light.

Blaze blinks, his head twitching as his eyes fill with sudden panic. Looking around he’s once again filled with the uncertainty of where he is.

Max Kael: You okay, buddy? I was kinda mean just a second ago.

The voice drives the uncertainty from his face as his more aggressive side takes over again. Blaze damns the consequences and grabs for the couch. With surprising strength, the lanky and otherwise unathletic Claymore manages to swing it toward the wall. He roars, his voice filled with rage as the couch smashes harmlessly against the wall.

Max Kael: Hey! Hey, stop that! Lindsay Troy made me put that stupid wall up so we wouldn’t hurt each other before our match tomorrow, not so you could fuck up my furniture! We have a limited budget here and I’ve blown a lot of it on the ONE ACTION NEWS VAN.

Blaze begins to kick and smash the couch, breaking off a leg before he starts smashing the wall once again like a man possessed. He doesn’t speak, he simply snarls and grunts as he tirelessly seeks to break down that wall.

Max Kael: Oookay I don’t think this is going anywhere. See you tomorrow night, Glaze Lamemore.

The wall suddenly cracks, a victorious smile swelling across Blaze Claymore’s face.

Max Kael: …oh shit.

Kael immediately darts for the exit on his side of the stage, diving through the doors. Blaze howls with rage, lifting the couch’s leg above his head to deliver a deathblow to the wall when his side of the stage is suddenly flooded with darkness.

Blaze’s roars of rage soon turn to screams of terror, and then a wet, sloppy gurgling sound, before all we hear is a droning, digital tone.

The scene is cut off by a “We’re Experiencing Technical Difficulties” card.

☠️☠️☠️☠️

We return from our technical difficulties to see Kai, Bryan Dawkin’s baby momma and one of Max’s guests. It’s clear from the angle that this is a candid shot and Kai is not aware she is being filmed.

She’s sitting on her bed, head in her hands.

Kai: He… he hasn’t tried to rescue me.

Max slithers onto screen, placing his hand on her shoulder. She winces but doesn’t brush it away.

Max Kael: Well, no. Bryan Dawkins got what he wanted. He got Nico. And your son? I hear he doesn’t even ask about you. As far as he’s concerned he got to be with the cool parent, flying all over the place with wrestlers? He’s living his dream. They both are.

Sinking onto the bed next to her, Max pretends to be empathetic.

Max Kael: And that dream is without you, darling.

Max stifles a laugh, his eyes flickering toward the camera before he goes back to emulating a caring individual. Kai cries into her hands as Max pats her back.

Max Kael: There-there. Hey, when you’re feeling better… I got a great book to read.

He looks back up at the camera and winks as we cut away.

☠️☠️☠️☠️

We cut back to the WON ACTION NEWS STAGE, the glass wall having been removed. Max sits with his back to the camera. Several monitors show the current Arkham election coverage.

Still too close to call, they all say.

Narrowest margins of any Arkham election in recorded history, they all tout.

He slowly turns his chair toward the camera, a deep scowl curls his mouth in disgust. The lines of his face are drawn tight revealing that this is probably Max’s most common expression.

Max Kael: I hoped to be here tonight telling you all about how I was now Mayor of Arkham, victorious here and then later, victorious as the LLP against Blaze and the Pulp Culture Phenoms. But… alas here we are.

Looking down at his arm, Max brushes away some imagined speck of dirt.

Max Kael: It’s been a difficult year. Ending 2024 to the man who is now Universal Champion. An uneven record, just barely skirting the top ten. My Almasy dream stolen by FLAMBERGE, just like he stole my. My.

He stutters for a moment, hesitating. After consideration he shakes his head, his eyes darting back at the camera.

Max Kael: It’s not important. Now we’re entering the end of the year and what am I doing? Fucking around with some random new-comers, some fucking interlopers who want to make use me and the GVG as a launch point for their careers in PRIME?

Snorting, Max Kael forward. His upper lip hitches up, the glint of his metal teeth visible.

Max Kael: Mr. The D. Mr. Claymore. Ms. Ares. I’m no one’s launch pad but… they don’t call me the most uplifting force in PRIME for nothing. Tomorrow night I will uplift you all, just as I did to Bryan Dawkins. To Crash Jackson. To Eddie Cross.

The snarl turns into a hideous smile.

Max Kael: … and thank you all for your votes. And that’s the NEWS! …Heh-heh!

We cut to black as we move onto the next segment.

Richard Parker: Hey… Nick?

Nick Stuart: What’s up, Rich?

Richard Parker: What is this…?

The camera cuts to the commentary table. Sitting on the table in front of Parker is a ridiculously large, round cut of breaded meat between two miniscule hamburger buns.

Nick Stuart: …that’s your lunch, Rich.

Richard Parker: What?! But I ordered the breaded pork tenderloin!

Nick Stuart: That is the pork tenderloin.

Richard dubiously pokes at the edge of his “sandwich” as one does when probing roadkill for signs of life.

Richard Parker: This is no pork tenderloin! This is a deep-fried manhole cover! How am I supposed to eat this?!

Nick Stuart: Um… carefully?

Richard Parker: Someone get me a set of silverware!

Nick Stuart: I wouldn’t recommend doing that here in Indiana, Rich.

Richard Parker: God, I hate this state…

Nick Stuart: Folks, the first night of Ascension is moving right along! We just witnessed the crowning of a new Alias Champion, and next up, we have tag team action in the form of the eGG Bandits’ Cinderella team of Hessian and Tony Gamble taking on the pairing of Kazuhiro Troy and Cecilia Ryan, the Heirs to the Throne! But, while we’re on the topic of tag team wrestling…

We cut to a ringside camera, trained on a pair of well-dressed young gentlemen sitting in the front row. Their sharp suits are complimented by championship belts belonging to DEFIANCE Wrestling, worn over their shoulders like Klingon battle sashes. The chyron appears at the bottom of the screen to identify them to the PRIME fans viewing at home.

Nick Stuart: We’ve got here at ringside the victors of the recent Milo Flynn Cup… Zack Daymon and Leo Burnett, otherwise known as the Rain City Ronin!

The live crowd reaction to the Ronin is decidedly mixed. General fans of wrestling cheer, recognizing an accredited and successful young tag team in attendance and spectating an event. Some of the marks jeer and give them puke emojis, cuz they salty and big mad for no particular reason.

Nick Stuart: It was a harrowing and dramatic event last week in St. Paul, with a tournament that saw the likes of the Green Vale Gang, New World Trash, and the 2023 Flynn Cup winners, the Vae Victis Besties! Despite the odds, and some rather underhanded tactics employed by Dr. Ned Reform, these talented young men overcame the odds and triumphed through the finals to take the coveted Cup! They may be strangers to PRIME, but we’re happy to have them here tonight as our special guests!

The duo sit with their arms crossed, sternly staring back into the camera.

Richard Parker: Yeah, looks like a couple of fun dudes…

We cut back to commentary, where Richard, having given up on the conventional means of eating his meal, has his oversized fritter held in both hands while he chews off the edge.

Nick Stuart: While my partner, um… masticates here, ladies and gentlemen, why don’t we head to the ring where Vince Howard is waiting to announce the competitors!

We cut to the ring, where Vince Howard is waiting to announce the competitors.

Vince Howard: Ladies and gentlemen, the following tag team contest is scheduled for one fall!

“Born Over This” by Divide Music hits the PA. Without delay, Tony Gamble bursts forth from the curtain, while the towering Hessian soon emerges next. As they come down the aisle, Gamble berates and jaw-jacks with the jeering fans on the other side of the barricade. Stone-faced and focused on the ring, Big Hess quietly marches after him.

Vince Howard: Introducing first, at a combined weight of five-hundred and fifty seven pounds… they are the team of TONY “THE GRIN” GAMBLE and THE MURDER SHOW, HESSIAN… THEY ARE… the EGG BANDITS!!

Richard Parker: I’m torn, Nick.

Nick Stuart: Torn over what, Rich?

Richard Parker: We still have eGG Bandits…

Nick Stuart: Yes?

Richard Parker: …but Cancer is gone!

Nick Stuart: Are you wondering if you should still hate Bandits even without Jiles?

Richard Parker: I mean, once a Bandit, always a Bandit. There’s no redeeming that… but, I mean… it’s Tony! How long am I supposed to hold against him? It’s not his fault he had to be associated with that yolky puke!

Nick Stuart: I don’t know how to advise you, but I wish you the best of luck in that personal journey, partner.

The music is replaced with the boom-stomp anthem of “Get What I Came For” by The Phantoms. Emerging first from the entry-way is “the Merry Mischief Maker” herself, Ami Troy, sporting a general’s helmet and wielding a riding crop. She salutes the crowd as a purple, pink, and white American flag is unfurled behind her.

A moment later, the pair of Kazuhiro Troy and Cecilia Ryan come around the flag and join her on the stage. Looking cool and confident, the trio pause at the head of the ramp and bask in the reaction.

Vince Howard: And the opponents, accompanied to the ring by “The Merry Mischief Maker” Ami Troy… fighting at a combined weight of four-hundred and twenty (tee-hee!) pounds…

“The Heir Apparent” KAZ TROY and “The Murder Daughter” CECILIA RYAN… the HEIRS TO THE THRONE!!

Richard Parker: Look at these arrogant, spoiled rotten nepo babies, Nick! What did they do to earn this spot in a match on a supercard? Against an accomplished team of proven veterans, no less?

Nick Stuart: While they may be the children of Hall of Famers, I don’t think it wise to overlook their talent, Rich! Cecilia Ryan and Kaz Troy have demonstrated many times that they have the skill and the drive to live up to the pedigree, and they look determined to prove it tonight!

Richard Parker: It’s FAVORITISM, Nick! There’s no other way of looking at it! But I supposed it doesn’t matter, because Tony and Hess are about to teach these snot-nosed little kids that Boss Mommy and Famous Daddy aren’t going to be able to save them in the ring!

The Heirs descend the ramp and circle around the ring to their corner, slapping hands and keeping a close watch of the Bandits standing by in the ring. Ryan scales the steps to the apron, only for Kaz to briefly pause when notices Daymon and Burnett sitting in the front row.

Nick Stuart: Uh oh… this could get ugly!

Richard Parker: They’re already ugly, Nick!

Nick Stuart: These teams had quite the ugly battle when they met in the Flynn Cup, and I think it’s safe to say the animosity between them is still very much fresh!

Richard Parker: Unlike this tenderloin…

They stare each other down, until Kaz approaches the barricade. Zack and Leo rise to their feet. But before anything can happen, Ami jumps between them and pushes her brother back to the ring, favoring the Flynn Cup winners with an endearing middle finger. Grinning, the DEFIANCE Tag Champs retake their seats.

Nick Stuart: Of course, that’s a score to settle for another time, as right now, the Heirs to the Throne have their own battle with the eGG Bandits to focus on!

Richard Parker: Those unruly punks, with their anger issues and mitochondrial challenges… always picking fights!

The Troys join Cecilia in the ring, scale either side of a turnbuckle, and pose for a bombastic pop from the PRIME Faithful. Across the ring, Gamble and Hessian sneer and stare respectively. Official Jimmy Turnbull begins making his final checks on both teams as the music cuts.

Nick Stuart: Ryan and Troy look eager to prove something tonight, but the Murder Express that is Gamble and Hessian look set on ruining this young new team’s PRIME debut!

Richard Parker: So what if they’re the children of Hall of Famers? They’re in the ring with ACTUAL Hall of Famers! And now that Cancer’s gone, they can stop holding back!

Nick Stuart: Looks like this is going to begin with Kaz Troy facing down Hessian! Turnbull sees everyone ready to go, and he cues for the bell! Here we go!

DING DING

Big Hess walks to the center of the ring and beckons Kaz to make his move. The Heir Apparent paces around him in an arc, deliberating the best possible angle to approach the big man. Finally, he shoots in low from the left, snagging Hessian by the leg in an attempt to roll him off balance. Hess doesn’t bite, instead grabbing Troy around the waist and effortlessly heaving him aside.

Nick Stuart: Troy’s first attempt to take down the Murder Show immediately runs into a brick wall!

Richard Parker: Right out of the gate, he’s made a fatal mistake! Hess is gonna pick his teeth with the kid’s bones!

Kaz is quickly back up on his feet and into a neutral corner. Hessian stays on him, trying to smash him up against the turnbuckles with a charging shoulder block! At the last second, Troy rolls to the side.

Nick Stuart: Nobody home as Hessian parks her shoulder into the corner! Kaz is back up… and a standing dropkick connects with Big Hess’ chest as he turns around! Great height on that, but it only staggers Hessian!

Richard Parker: Barely wobbled him!

Kaz scrambles up, only to be met by a knee lift from Hessian! With Troy doubled-over, the final Universal Champion of the ReVolution area quickly traps him with a waistlock, scoops him off his feet, and rolls him back over his shoulder. But before Hess can drive him back down to the mat, the Heir Apparent tags him in the ear with an elbow and slips down his back.

Richard Parker: See that?! FAVORTISM!

Nick Stuart: Oh, can it, Rich! Hessian had Kaz up for something I assume was meant to be devastating, but Troy slipped free, and here he goes into the ropes for a head full of steam!

Kaz snaps off the ropes, leaping up and catching Hessian around the face for a slingblade… but doesn’t expect the PRIME veteran’s massive arm to snatch him out of the air and drive him down over the knee!

Nick Stuart: Hessian with a backbreaker reversal!

Richard Parker: Nearly snapped that pretty-boy in twain!

Nick Stuart: Now Hess folds him up to put the shoulders to the mat! Turnbull counts!

One!

Two!

LEGSCISSOR across the face, and Kaz Troy rolls out of it!

Troy rolls back onto his feet, but remains kneeling on the mat. Looking more annoyed than hurt, Hessian clutches his nose as he rises back up. He simply brushes off the pain, grins, and beckons the Heir Apparent once more.

Nick Stuart: Kaz Troy seems to be reluctant about running back in there!

Richard Parker: He’s got nothing! The Murder Show is a brick wall with eyes and a beard!

Nick Stuart: Standing over seven feet tall and weighing close to three-hundred and seventy pounds, there are few–if any–who could take down a man the size of Hessian with ease!

With an eyeroll and a semi-flustered “UGH!”, Cecilia Troy extends her arm over the ropes. Nodding, Kaz tags to her, and they swap places.

Richard Parker: Oh-ho-ho… now THIS is going to be interesting!

Nick Stuart: Troy giving his partner a stab at taking on the Murder Show, and now the daughter of legend Dan Ryan steps back into the PRIME ring for the first time in over three years!

Hessian smirks. The crowd cheers on the instant David and Goliath visual. There’s almost a two-hundred pound weight difference in the ring right now, but you’d hardly believe it by the cold, determined look on Ryan’s face. Big Hess motions with his hands for her to bring it. Taking a moment to push her hair back, Cecilia suddenly pushes off her feet and charges ahead, zero to a hundred.

Nick Stuart: And Ryan is off in a flash… DUCKS a lariat by Hessian… she hits the ropes… FLIPS over a back-handed chop!

Richard Parker: When did the circus get into town?!

Nick Stuart: Cecilia Ryan, moving like a blur in that ring… vaults into the ropes, and comes off with a SPRINGBOARD–NO!!

Ryan gets impressive air time… but inexplicably drops right into Hessian’s waiting hand!

Nick Stuart: Hessian just PLUCKED HER OUT OF THE AIR by the NECK!

Richard Parker: Crush her, Hess!

Holding Daddy’s Princess feet off the canvas, the all-too-familiar sadistic grin of the Murder Show spreads wide across his face. He has Ryan at his mercy.

What he doesn’t expect next, though, is the grin that soon appears on her face.

Nick Stuart: Waitaminute–RYAN WITH A SURPRISE FLYING ARMBAR!

Within seconds, Cecilia’s legs snap to life and ensnare the giant around the shoulder. When her hands take hold of his wrist and twist with all their might, he has no choice but to go where the sudden sharp pain in his shoulder joint leads him.

Down.

Nick Stuart: And CECILIA RYAN FELLS THE GIANT HESSIAN with the SURPRISE SUBMISSION ATTEMPT! What a feat!

Richard Parker: Oh big deal! Isn’t she supposed to be half giant herself?

Nick Stuart: I half think she allowed Hessian to grab her out of the air like that! She baited him into giving her the arm!

Richard Parker: You’re reading too far into this, Nick, because you’re biased, and looking for a raise!

Nick Stuart: Oh, go chew on your tenderloin, Rich!

Richard Parker: I’m not even halfway through this thing!

Ryan scissors the arm and torques the shoulder. Hessian grinds his teeth and fights the pain, blinking up at lights he’s not used to looking up to. But because his natural height is easily half the length of the ring, it’s of no effort to him to extend a leg by a few feet and clip the bottom rope.

Nick Stuart: Hessian makes it to the ropes… but Ryan almost looks annoyed that Jimmy is calling for the break!

Richard Parker: Obstinate whippersnapper! If this is the future of wrestling, then this sport is doomed!

Showing no mercy toward a historically dangerous opponent, Cecilia continues twisting the arm until Turnbull gets to the count of three, then finally releases the hold. Hessian rolls away and rises up as fast as a man his size can, only to quickly fall back to his knees after Ryan slices his calf with a sharp kick.

Nick Stuart: Ryan with a kick to the leg, keeping the Murder Show from getting to his feet! There’s another! Another! And a THIRD! You can hear them snap all the way up in the nosebleed seats of Lucas Oil Stadium!

Richard Parker: Don’t tell me… she’s a black belt in Muay Thai!?

Nick Stuart: She’s wisely targeting the giant’s leg, landing kick after kick with deadly precision! Now a quick springboard off the ropes… and a KNEE STRIKE catches Hessian right in the temple!

One of Hessian’s hands covers the point of impact while the other palms the mat to keep him from going down the rest of the way. The knee strike has shaken him, but also seems to lift the cloud of stinging pain that kept him on his knees. Without delay, he pushes himself back up…

Nick Stuart: Hessian getting picked apart by Cecilia Ryan! Here she goes for a SPINNING HEEL–

The Murder Show slaps that shit aside. He lifts up one of his massive legs, and in the blink of an eye, Cecilia Ryan is on the mat.

Nick Stuart: BIG BOOT by Hessian!

Richard Parker: Crusher her like a BUG!

Nick Stuart: Cecilia Ryan looked to be in complete control of this match, but the Murder Show is through playing around!

Hessian’s eyes are filled with cold rage as he scoops Cecilia off the mat, roll her over his shoulders so that they’re back to back, and pushes her off by the arms.

Nick Stuart: Hessian with the BALLISTA! He got ALL of that Crucifix Powerbomb! And now he drops down for the cover!

One!

Two!

Ryan pops the shoulder!

Richard Parker: UGH! Now that I think about it, she’s not half giant! She’s half CARDBOARD!

From the Heirs’ corner, the Troy siblings look on in concern, as Hessian pulls Ryan back off the mat and dumps her against the opposite set of turnbuckles. With his knee slightly tweaked by all the kicks, he opts to tag the Grin into the action.

Nick Stuart: Tag made to Tony “The Grin” Gamble, as the eGG Bandits try to maintain control of this match. Ryan is trapped in their corner, and now Gamble lights her up with a flurry of vicious jabs!

Richard Parker: Straighten these kids out, Ton’! Show ‘em what they signed up for!

Nick Stuart: Gamble going from high to low… LANDS a shoulder block to Cecilia’s midsection! LANDS another! LANDS a–NO!! Ryan JUMPS, and his SHOULDER hits the POST!

Wedged between the top set of turnbuckles, Gamble groans in pain and grabs at his shoulder. He has little time to tend to it, as Ryan drops onto his back and rolls forward.

Nick Stuart: SUNSET FLIP ROLL-UP BY RYAN!

One!

Two!

And NO! HESSIAN just reaches right over and yanks her off his partner by the head!

Storming to his feet, Ryan argues with the ref over the interference. Before anything can come of it, the Grin buries his forearm into the small of her back that sends her stumbling across the ring. Gamble follows up by bulldogging her around the head and dropping it to the canvas.

Nick Stuart: BULLDOG by Gamble puts Cecilia back to the mat! He jumped on her while she had her back turned!

Richard Parker: Took her eyes off her opponent! That’s a sign of still being green in the ring!

Nick Stuart: Gamble rolls her over and hooks the legs!

One!

Two!

KICKOUT by Cecilia Ryan!

Gamble quickly pops to his feet and hits the ropes, but when he drops down, his elbow hits nothing but mat. Having rolled clear, Ryan reaches and tags the waiting hand of Kaz Troy.

Nick Stuart: Tag made to Kazuhiro Troy, who is coming back into the ring hot!

Richard Parker: Heads up, Ton’! It’s the BOSS’s kid!

Nick Stuart: Gamble going for a hook–BLOCKED by Kaz who counters with an inside kick to Tony’s ribs! Gamble is doubled over now… and Kaz goes for the KNEE LIFT!

The Grin rears up, clutching his brow and staggering back into the ropes. Troy pushes him off, sending him running uncontrollably across the ring and rebounding back into a (admittedly low) spinning heel kick that lays him out.

Nick Stuart: The Crown Prince of Kicks taking it to the Permascar Superstar! Now he goes for the cover following that spinning heel!

One!

Two!

NO! Gamble got the shoulder up!

Richard Parker: He ain’t yet sleepin’ with the fishes, Nick!

Troy takes Gamble by the head and pulls him up with him as he rises back to his feet. To his surprise, Tony fights back with a set of low shots to his diaphragm. With Kaz stunned, Gamble swings for the fences… only for the Heir Apparent to duck and counter with a Saito Suplex!

Nick Stuart: Troy with a released back suplex on Gamble… he quickly rolls through and hooks the arms… lifts Tony UP… and DRIVES HIM DOWN with THE ROYAL TREATMENT!!

Richard Parker: WHAT!? I thought the double-underhook piledriver was ILLEGAL! He’s getting preferential treatment, I tell you!

Nick Stuart: Kaz folds him up for the COVER! That could be it!

ONE!

TWO!

And he’s KICKED ASIDE by HESSIAN!!

Turnbull instantly orders Hessian back onto the apron, while at ringside, Ami shows instant frustration with this bullshittery. Kaz pops to his feet looking pissed, but resists the urge to repay the favor. Instead, he peels Tony off the canvas, and, once the giant is back outside the ropes, walks him to the corner where he makes the tag.

Nick Stuart: Cecilia Ryan is tagged back into the action, and she’s immediately going up top!

Richard Parker: Geez, these entitled kids, and all their inflammations… they just ALWAYS have to be the center of attention!

Nick Stuart: Kaz Troy with a dragon screw to take Gamble back to the mat, and he keeps hold of the leg!

Gamble lies in the center of the mat, completely exposed and unable to move. Then the Murder Daughter comes flying off the top rope…

Nick Stuart: OH WOW, RYAN LANDS AN ABSOLUTELY PICTURE PERFECT SHOOTING STAR PRESS!!

Richard Parker: No way!

Nick Stuart: Unbelievable double-team move! She hooks the legs for the cover!

ONE!!

TWO!!

THR–NO!! Gamble kicks out…

Richard Parker: My man Tony! He had to work hard for it… but at least he knows the VALUE of hard work!

Ryan stays on task, pulling Gamble back up by the neck and dumping him into the Heirs corner and tagging to Kaz once more.

Nick Stuart: Tag made to Kaz Troy, who steps back into the ring… and immediately, he begins setting Tony Gamble up onto the top turnbuckle!

Richard Parker: No, get him down from there! A man of his vertical handicap has no business at that elevation!

Troy climbs up with him, extending an arm across Gamble’s face and preparing him for a Spanish Fl–

Nick Stuart: EYE RAKE!!

Richard Parker: Where?! I saw nothing!

Unfortunately, Turnbull didn’t have an angle on it. The Heir Apparent tumbles from the turnbuckles and wobbles in agony while clutching his face. Before the official can get a better look, Gamble resets himself and dives off the top rope.

Nick Stuart: DIVING CUTTER BY GAMBLE!!

Richard Parker: What a heroic turnaround!

Nick Stuart: After that cheap gouge to the eyes, you mean!

Richard Parker: Ah, that silver-spoon punk doesn’t need eyes!

Nick Stuart: Gamble not looking the gift horse in the mouth here! He quickly goes for the cover!

ONE!!

TWO!!

THR–KICKOUT!!

Tony quickly rolls to his corner and tags to Hessian. Meanwhile, Kaz, motivated by the cheers of support coming from Ami at ringside, shakes out the cobwebs and heads for his corner with the Hess Express bearing down on him from behind.

Nick Stuart: TAG MADE to Cecilia Ry–

Richard Parker: YES YES YES, IT’S THE HESS EXPRESS!!

Though Kaz makes it with a half second to spare, he’s punished for his timing as the massive Hessian outright avalanches him into the corner. The Murder Show ruthlessly follows up by biel throwing the Heir Apparent out of the corner before turning his attention to the legal woman.

Richard Parker: Kaz just served his partner up for a slaughter!

Ryan narrowly ducks a massive hand pawing for her head and quickly runs to the far post. Hessian pursues while she pounces to the top and dives backwards in a graceful moonsault.

Nick Stuart: RYAN WITH A MOONSAULT TORNADO DDT ON HESSIAN to enter the ring! She pulled it off in the blink of an eye! Big Hess wasn’t expecting that!

Richard Parker: He slipped in a puddle of Kaz’s hair grease!

Nick Stuart: Ryan with the lateral press!

ONE!!

TWO!!

HESS BENCHES HER OFF HIS CHEST!

Richard Parker: Put the kiddies to bed, ladies and gentlemen, because it’s time for the MURDER SHOW to begin!

Hessian rises up to his feet, his face as dark as a stormcloud. Thinking fast, Cecilia tags Kaz back in to make it two on one.

Richard Parker: Look at these two cowards, having to resort to ganging up on Big Hess! Were they raised to think this okay?!

The Heirs to the Throne advance on the former Universal Champion. Grinning, Big Hess backs up to the ropes, reaches over, and slaps Gamble on the chest.

Nick Stuart: Tag to Gamble! Hessian taking hold of the top rope now… and he SLINGSHOTS THE GRIN INTO THE ACTION with a FLYING CROSSBODY OVER THE ROPES that COMPLETELY LAYS OUT the Heirs to the Throne!

Richard Parker: THAT is how you TAG TEAM, kids!

Nick Stuart: Gamble is a house on fire right now! He stands up Cecilia Ryan… and DROPS her with a European uppercut! Here’s Kaz Troy back on his feet… and a swift boot to the gut and DDT puts him right back on the mat!

Clutching his forehead, Kaz rolls under the ropes to ringside, quickly checked upon by Ami. In the ring, Gamble sets his sights on Ryan, verbally taunting her while kicking her around the ring.

Richard Parker: These kids like their kicks, eh? Well I wonder how it feels now that they’re on the receiving end!

Nick Stuart: Gamble can’t help but let his arrogance run wild when he feels he’s in control!

Before Cecilia can get to the ropes, Gamble pounces, pulling her up, setting her into position beside him, and dropping her face-first back onto the canvas.

Nick Stuart: Gamble with the STOP LAUGHING AT ME!! He rolls Ryan over for the pin!

ONE!!

TWO!!

THRE–NOOO!! She GOT THE SHOULDER UP!

Richard Parker: Bah! She takes a beating like a cardboard box! Must be in the genes…

Gamble takes a handful of hair to pull Cecilia back up and lead her back to the Bandits corner. But before he can get there, she instinctively reaches up and grabs him by the head.

Nick Stuart: JAWBREAKER by Cecilia Ryan!

Tony clutches his jaw and staggers. Ryan recoups, and immediately rolls to her corner.

Nick Stuart: Tag back to Kaz Troy!

Richard Parker: This glory hog!

Troy rushes into the ring and catches Tony before he can react with a spinning neckbreaker! Rather than go for the cover, he quickly goes to a neutral corner and climbs to the top…

Nick Stuart: The Heir Apparent is on the top rope like a bird of prey, perched and ready to strike! He’s waiting for Tony Gamble to make it to his feet!

Richard Parker: That ain’t no owlet! That kid is a vulture if I’ve ever seen one!

Nick Stuart: Gamble is UP…he TURNS AROUND…

The Coronation?

No.

Just before Kaz launches himself, his footing suddenly gets unstable.

Nick Stuart: Hessian is shaking the ropes!

Richard Parker: As he oughta be!

Troy drops to his feet before losing his balance and taking a tumble. Finally fed up with the big man’s constant interference, he throws himself at the Bandits corner and fearlessly facepalms the Murder Show.

Richard Parker: Big mistake, kid!

Hessian steps over the ropes to make a head go squish. He’s immediately stopped by the official, who orders him back to the apron under threat of disqualifi–

Nick Stuart: LOW BLOW BY GAMBLE!!

Richard Parker: Talk about a TENDERLOIN, am I right? Oh, by the way, I finally finished that thing. Disgusting, let me tell you. Oh wait, I mean, uh… WHERE?! I didn’t see anything!

Troy is frozen in agony. Gamble easily schoolboys him onto his shoulders.

Nick Stuart: Gamble with the ROLL-UP, but Turnbull DOESN’T SEE IT!

Richard Parker: One… TWO… THREE… COME ON, JIMMY!! THIS IS OVER!!

Nick Stuart: He’s still getting Hessian to get back on the apron… OH-HEY-WAIT–

In a flash, Cecilia Ryan darts into the ring, claps Tony Gamble across the back of the head with a buzzsaw kick, and darts back out to the apron. With Hessian finally stepping over the ropes back in the Bandits corner, Jimmy Turnbull turns around in time to see a KO Gambled being set into the Koji Clutch.

Hessian sees the sudden turn of events seconds too late. He quickly tries stepping back over the ropes, but the attempt is hampered as Ryan suddenly latches onto his back.

Nick Stuart: HERETIC’S FORK!!

Richard Parker: WHAT?! NO!!

Nick Stuart: GAMBLE IS OUT COLD!!

Richard Parker: BUT THEY CHEATED! TONY HAD THIS!!

Nick Stuart: TURNBULL IS MAKING THE CALL!!

Richard Parker: NO!!

DING DING DING

“Get What I Came For” hits the PA. Kaz releases Gamble and pops to his feet, soon joined by his sister Ami. They’re joined by Cecilia, after Hessian bats her aside and moves in to check on his partner.

Vince Howard: Ladies and gentlemen, the winners of this match, by submission… CECILIA RYAN… KAZUHIRO TROY… the HEEEEIIIIIIIRSS TOOOO THEEEE THRRRROOOOOOONNNNEEE!!!

Turnbull raises their arms to a favorable cheer from the PRIME Faithful.

Richard Parker: What a crock, Nick! Tony and Hess had this thing won, and the stupid ref was too busy doing his job to see it happen!

Nick Stuart: I won’t deny that this was a decidedly flukey win for the Heirs to the Throne, but given the underhanded tactics of the Bandits throughout the entire match, I can’t outright say it wasn’t warranted in some capacity!

Richard Parker: Nonsense! They got screwed here tonight by the officiating crew, is what happened! And you know WHY, right?

Nick Stuart: Don’t say it–

Richard Parker: FAVORTISM! That’s why!

Nick Stuart: Ugh…

A stewing Hessian can be seen walking back up the ramp with a dazed Tony draped over his shoulder. Before they disappear, Gamble comes to in time to vengefully shake his fist at the victors.

Ryan and the Troys leave the ring. On their way out, they notice the Rain City Ronin standing up in the front row, “congratulating” them with a mocking golf clap.

Nick Stuart: Oh no… this looks like trouble!

The Heirs to the Throne dauntlessly approach the barricade and stare down the winners of the Flynn Cup. Kaz talks trash. They respond with silent smirks.

Then, things escalate.

Troy slaps Daymon. Daymon responds with a shove. Then Kaz clocks him hard across the jaw. In a flash, fists are flying, and Enemigos are swarming to break up the fracas.

Nick Stuart: Oh my! The Heirs to the Throne still have some fight left in them for their Ronin rivals!

Richard Parker: These unruly rich kids, picking fights with our favored guests!

Nick Stuart: Security is quickly breaking this one up… but I doubt it will damper the victory celebration for these young, promising stars!

Security escort RCR out of the building while the trio of Ryan and the Troys continue on their way to the back, celebrating with the other ringside fans.

Nick Stuart: The match-up to determine the number one contender to the Five Star Championship is coming up next, ladies and gentlemen! Scott Hunter squares off against the former champ, Steve Harrison! But first… a quick commercial break! Don’t go away!

Ascension moves on.

Earlier Today.

We find ourselves about two hours away from Indianapolis on a very warm pre-autumn afternoon in the city of Gary, Indiana. More to the point, we are outside City Hall, where the Masters of the Moscowverse are dressed to the nines in their finest business attire consisting of grey business suits with matching red shirts and black ties that make them stand out drastically from the crowd of people passing them by. Kenny Freeman can be seen setting down a large box in the background, and Randall Schwartz has a smile on his face as he approaches a podium to speak into the microphone that rests upon it.

Randall Schwartz: Greetings, PRIMEates! We’re here in beautiful Gary, Indiana, with the final results of the Great Gary Mayoral Election of 2025!

This gets a confused look from one of the presumed residents, but The Entertainer ignores it as he presses on with whatever speech he’s cooked up.

Randall Schwartz: Indeed, we’ve canvassed the entirety of Gary, Indiana–a surprisingly large city, might I add–calling for votes to determine the next mayor. Some called us crazy for daring to challenge the status quo–something about already having an election in 2023–but nevertheless, we persisted. So, with all that out of the way, we present to you the results.

Randall turns around, shouting toward Freeman who can be seen waving at a family walking by.

Randall Schwartz: Kenny! The box!

We see Kenny nodding in acknowledgement before retrieving the box, making his way to Randall’s side before setting the box on the ground, with “MASTERS OF THE BALLOTVERSE” written in big, bold letters like they ordered it from ACME. He then pulls out an envelope from his jacket pocket, handing it to The Entertainer.

Randall Schwartz: Your winner, and new Mayor of Gary, Indiana with a landslide victory, is…

Randall opens the envelope with a smile…which immediately fades as he opens the sheet of paper inside, reading the final results. As a matter of fact, by the time the final syllable has reached the darkest corners of his mind, the look becomes a near snarl as he snaps.

Randall Schwartz: Daytona Diamonds!?

Somewhere, one can only assume Diamonds is celebrating a well-earned victory ahead of his Universal Title match tomorrow night. Randall, on the other hand, is NOT happy about what has just transpired, and begins to crash out over it.

Randall Schwartz: Daytona wasn’t even in the damn running! I was under the impression that the field of politics was OUR thing, this is some absolute horsesh–

Kenny moves the mic on the podium away to interject, doing his best to de-escalate the situation with a feigned smile of his own.

Kenny Freeman: What my friend Randall means is, congratulations to one Daytona Diamonds. A victory for the Poor Whoresmen is a victory for the Red Army, per the Whoresaw Pact. Enjoy the rest of your weekend, PRIMEates, and here is to a successful night for the Pact!

He gives us a wave, pulling his friend away before the rage overflows. We cut away to literally anything else after the mess we’ve seen unfold.

We cut to Fred Dick’s three thrawls on their own for once.

The three Lasagna Boys are huddled in a corner outside Lindsay’s office. Miguel and Toddrick part to reveal Sebas-I mean Sebanga Gold who is dressed an awful lot like Sebastian Gold right now.

Sebanga: Guys, I look ridiculous.

Miguel: You look just like him! If you squint.

Toddrick: Lindsay’s gonna be totally fooled.

Sebanga: Uhhhh. I dunno. You guys really think Lindsay will believe I’m Sebastian Gold?

The other two nod encouragingly.

Toddrick: Why don’t you practice first?

Sebanga: Okay! You guys are the best.

He clears his throat, then recites in “acting” voice:

Sebanga: Hello, Lindsay Troy! I, Sebastian Gold, for that is who I am, do not want my intense title shot. Begone with it, I say!

He smiles proudly. Nailed it. He continues.

Sebanga: And…I can I do that cause I’m..

Sebanga catches his reflection on a shiny surface and goes silent, his head hangs. He slowly turns to Toderick and asks in a horrified whisper.

Sebanga: …am-am-aaaaam I Sebasti-?

“NOW!”

Out of nowhere, the Heroes spring into action. With expert coordination they pin Sebanga to the floor and restrain him. TAL shoves a phone playing a movie in Bash‘s face.

TAL: Look Bash it’s Police Story! It’s Jackie Chan shortening his life for our entertainment. Just like you!

The enthralled stuntman watches the footage as if hypnotized. Then Crash throws a thick pair of headphones over Bash’s ears.

Crash: And this is the ‘We’re Family’ speech from every Fast and Furious, playing at the same time! Because we’re family!

TAL swipes from the movie to a picture Bash’s family.

TAL: Remember who you are, Bash!

Crash: We just want our buddy back…

Sebastian begins to shake violently as if going into a seizure, TAL and Crash back off until the shaking stops, and Sebastian’s body lies still on the hallway floor.

Crash: Is he okay-

In a split second, Bash is back on his feet and sprinting down the hallway and out the exit at full speed. An agonized scream from outside follows.

The other two Heroes exchange stunned looks then rush after him. Ascension moves on.

“Burning Heart” by Survivor hits, and fans roar out their approval.

Vince Howard: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest will determine the NUMBER ONE CONTENDER for the FIVE STAR TITLE!

Fog rolls out from the stage, and we begin to see the silhouette of a man – a man, and his mullet.

Vince Howard: Introducing first! From Miami, Florida, and representing Vae Victis! Weighing in at 245 pounds…SCOOOOOOOOTT HUUUUUUUUUNTERRRRRRRRR!

RAAAAAAAHHHHHH!

Nick Stuart: The fans sure seem to be behind Scott Hunter tonight! Surprised?

Richard Parker: When it comes to the people of Indiana, nothing surprises me – for every Colton, there’s a Rezin. For every Larry Bird, there’s an Orville Redenbacher.

The mists part, and Scott Hunter triumphantly marches down the ramp towards the ring. His mullet is absolutely majestic, flowing with each stride like John Stamos.

Nick Stuart: This is a big opportunity for Scott Hunter tonight, and we’ve seen him improve quite a bit – he’s had two notable clashes with two-time Universal champion, Ivan Stanislav, and he’s beaten the likes of Hayes Hanlon!

Richard Parker: Caught them by surprise, more like. It’s hard to convince me that Steve Harrison is going to be surprised out there tonight.

The lights dim and the slow melodic song of “Monsters,” by Phish begins to play. Boos come pouring down, mixed with pockets of cheers here and there.

Vince Howard: And his opponent! Weighing in at 250 pounds…he is the IMMORTALLLLLL JELLYFISH! STEEEEEEEVE HAAAAAAARRISOOOOOOOOON!

Steve Harrison slowly emerges to the entrance ramp. His green robe flows behind him as he takes a few steps. His eyes are closed as he stops at the top of ramp:

“Easy now, easy now

Easy now, easy now

I wake up in my bed

With monsters in my head

Easy now, easy now

Easy now, easy now

I wake up in my bed

With monsters in my head”

Steve’s eyes open at the last mention of Monsters and “Set Your Soul Free,” by Trey Anastasio w/ Derek Trucks begins to rapidly play. He puts his arms in the air and nods towards the crowd as he begins to walk a bit faster down the ramp.

He smirks as the fans react to him, he doesn’t seem to care if they boo or cheer as he concentrates on the ring he will be competing in tonight. He gets to the steps and swiftly makes his way up and into the ring.

He walks to the middle and looks out at the crowd and then runs from one corner to the other and then leans against the turnbuckle and takes his robe off and hands it to the ring attendant as he prepares mentally for the battle ahead.

DING DING

Nick Stuart: A shot at the Five Star Championship is on the line! Here we go!

Both men have a spring in their step. They each circle around each other, arms raised, looking for an opening – Hunter’s mullet bobbing to and fro, in sharp contrast to Harrison’s shiny dome.

Almost perfectly in sync, they both pause for a brief little moment before lunging across, locking into a tight collar-and-elbow. Hunter gets the advantage first, going for the side headlock. Harrison doesn’t let it linger long, and soon he’s out, switching behind Hunter with a rear waistlock. A standing switch by Hunter has him now with a rear waistlock on the Miracle Man! Harrison switches again!

Harrison looks like he’s going for a German Suplex, but Hunter with a swift back elbow breaks up the hold. He follows up with a couple of earnest punches, backing Harrison into the ropes. Hunter gains wrist control and looks to Irish Whip his opponent across the ring…Harrison counters, whipping Hunter into the far ropes! Hunter rebounds off – Harrison flies for the drop kick!

No! Hunter’s got his arms wrapped around the top rope, and Harrison finds nothing but air! Hunter charges in and goes for a standing splash – Harrison rolls out of the way, and Hunter splats the mat! Harrison launches forward and gets a rear naked choke on the prone Hunter!

Scott is nowhere close to tapping out, but Steve takes the opportunity to reach for that glorious mullet – he grabs a fistful and yanks it back, hard. Ashley Barlow is right on it and begins a five count, and Harrison releases at four.

Richard Parker: If you ask me, that’s pure jealousy.

Nick Stuart: Jealousy? Jealous of what?

Richard Parker: I’m telling you, if Steve Harrison had his way, he’d trade hairdos with Scott Hunter any day of the week.

Nick Stuart: I’ve never imagined a jellyfish with a mullet, myself.

Richard Parker: Welcome to Indiana, partner.

Hunter reaches for the back of his head and checks for blood or missing hair – this gives Harrison an opening, and he connects with a picture-perfect belly-to-belly suplex! He goes for a quick cover!

ONE!

Hunter gets the shoulder up with urgency, and he locks up once again with Harrison. This time, instead of going for the side headlock, Hunter decides to be more direct with his offense, and he lifts Harrison! He’s got the Miracle Man’s feet pointed straight to the sky!

Nick Stuart: Scott Hunter going for the delayed vertical – oh, would you look at that?

Boos rain down as Harrison desperately reaches down, grabbing Hunter by the nose and blocking his airway. Hunter is forced to release the hold and as Harrison drops to his feet, he quickly throws a clubbing elbow to the back of Scott’s head. He follows it up with a big Dragon Suplex that sends Hunter crashing directly onto the back of his head and neck.

Harrison hooks the near leg!

ONE!

TWO! Hunter kicks out!

Richard Parker: That’s veteran experience from Harrison there – he knows just how far he can bend the rules, he knows the benefits that come with forcing your opponent into pinning predicaments – he’s come in here with a game plan.

Nick Stuart: That’s absolutely true, but no reason to count out Hunter here – these two men both reached the quarterfinals of this year’s Almasy, and Hunter has shown tremendous growth in recent months.

Almost on cue, as Harrison and Hunter launch at each other for what would be the third collar-and-elbow of the match, Hunter ducks at the last possible second, setting Harrison off balance! Hunter slips around, and as Harrison turns, Hunter scoops him up! BIG body slam to Harrison! Hunter’s big baby blues scan all the way to the rafters at Lucas Oil Stadium, and he takes a few steps towards the near ropes, rebounds, and leaps HIGH in the air, practically jumping out of his boots…

BOOOOOOM!

A huge elbow drop connects! He shoots the half!

ONE!

TWO!

NO! Harrison gets a shoulder up!

Hunter looks to press his advantage and mounts the prone Harrison, throwing these huge looping right hands straight out of 1986. Harrison scrambles to cover his face as much as he can, but a few shots are definitely breaking through his defenses, and the crowd lights up at each punch. Hunter goes for a big windmill motion for what, presumably, would be the biggest and best punch of the bunch – only to get interrupted by Harrison, who swings his hips around and reverses the mount.

Now on top, it’s Harrison’s turn to rain down strikes – rather than looping fists, it’s precision elbow strikes, and they’re coming in hot, at about twice Hunter’s frequency. Boos rain down at this – which quickly turn to cheers, as Hunter reverses! Big right hands from Scott!

Harrison reverses! Then Hunter! Harrison! Hunter!

Back and forth they go in something akin to a gator roll, each man throwing strikes where they can, before finally they stumble into the ropes, forcing a break. Hunter finds himself inside the ropes, while Harrison gathers himself on the ring apron. Each man catches their breath for a moment after the high-intensity exchange.

Nick Stuart: Both men giving as much as they’re taking out there!

Richard Parker: They’re both hungry for a shot at gold! Who can blame them?

Nick Stuart: Hunter is up first, it looks like he has something in mind…

Indeed, Scott stands opposite Harrison with a bit of distance between them, and he’s measuring, beckoning Steve to get to his feet outside the ropes. Steve is maybe a little bit more rocked from those punches than he expected, because he’s moving at about three-quarters speed as he uses the ropes to pull himself to his feet…and just as he gets his boots underneath him, Scott sprints across the ring –

CRASHHHH!

Hunter connects with an absolutely MASSIVE flying lariat, leaping over the top rope and sending both men crashing to the outside! Hunter rolls through to his feet and lets out a big ol’ roar, which fires up the crowd!

Harrison is absolutely dazed on the outside, and Hunter stomps over. He grabs Harrison by the head and goes for another lift – Harrison flails and struggles, fighting hard to get free, but Hunter’s got too much of the positional edge to overcome – and soon, Harrison’s feet point to the sky once again!

Ashley Barlow has begun a ten count, and Hunter finds it a useful tool to determine just how long to hold this tall, 250-pound man aloft.

As Barlow reaches 5, Hunter leans back!

BANG!

The stalling vertical suplex connects to the outside! Harrison writhes on the floor, clutching at his lower back!

Nick Stuart: The momentum has turned!

Hunter stomps over to Harrison and grabs him by the scruff of his neck and his trunks, and heaves him beneath the bottom ropes and into the ring. He hops on the apron and steps through in pursuit.

Richard Parker: See – this to me is a mistake. In this situation, a win is a win is a win – and a count out would have served Scott Hunter just fine.

Nick Stuart: True enough – maybe this decision is because of the stakes. The Five Star Title has been won by some of the most technically proficient wrestlers in the world, including Steve Harrison himself. Those matches tend to stay in between the ropes, you know?

Richard Parker: It’s a mistaaaaaaake. Trust me, partner.

As quickly as he can, Hunter charges towards the prone Harrison, leaps, and goes for the big knee drop. Scott’s knee connects flush with Steve’s chest – however, Harrison arms snap shut around Hunter’s leg! He’s got full leg control! With a menacing glare, the Immortal Jellyfish rises to his feet and he wrenches and twists at Hunter’s leg until he loses his balance. As Hunter falls forward, Harrison steps through, locks the toe, and reaches forward!

It’s an STF!

Hunter’s eyes bug out wide as the Jellyfish locks his tentacles around his face! Ashley Barlow wheels around, checking for the submission!

Nick Stuart: WILL SCOTT HUNTER TAP OUT??

Hunter’s hand shakes like a leaf for a moment before he balls his fist and slams it into the mat. He takes his other arm and slams it down too, and begins to do his damndest to try to brute force an army crawl towards the ropes. It’s a challenge, though, as Harrison’s a big strong boy.

Hunter slowly, agonizingly makes progress, Barlow checking for the submission with every passing second. After several moments, Hunter is mere feet away from reaching the ropes and forcing the break – Harrison recognizes this and gets to his feet. He drags Hunter by the boot back towards the center of the ring, then raises that boot high, SLAMMING Hunter’s knee into the center of the ring! Scott howls in pain and the STF is reapplied!

Richard Parker: I told you partner! Coming back in the ring was a mistake!

Hunter’s in trouble, and the ropes seem like they’re a mile away. Barlow checks for the submission again, but Scott valiantly shakes his head no, the sweat from his mullet spraying off him in a fine mist.

Harrison cinches in as tightly as he can, the strain of containing this Equally Big Strong Boy showing on his face – it’s taking an incredible amount of exertion, but it would all be worth it if it leads to victory.

The fans do everything they can to will this match on.

CLAP

CLAP

CLAP

CLAP

CLAP

CLAP CLAP

CLAP CLAP

CLAPCLAPCLAP

CLAPCLAPCLAPCLAPCLAPCLAPCLAP

Hunter hears his people and knows he has to find another way out. For them. Like a true 1984 hero would.

He gets one of his palms flat on the mat, and with all his strength and might, he begins to push up, bringing Harrison up with him. He uses his other hand to slowly, but surely, push in between his head and Harrison’s forearm, desperately working towards changing this position somehow, some way…and then with a BURST of power, he EXPLODES outwards, launching Harrison off of his body!

Both men scramble to get to their feet! Hunter charges forward!

Harrison eats the shoulder tackle!

Hunter charges again! Another shoulder tackle!

Harrison gets up and sees that the Mullet Train has left the station once again –

SMACK!

Whether it was out of instinct or desperation, Harrison swings a wild chop that connects flush with Hunter!

SMACK!

Another chop from Harrison! He grabs Scott, lifts – SAITO SUPLEX CONNECTS! He goes for the cover!

ONE!

TWO!

HUNTER REVERSES! He’s got Harrison in a pinning predicament now!

ONE!

TWO!

HARRISON REVERSES! He’s got the high stack!

ONE!

TWO!

HUNTER ROLLS THROUGH! HE SITS ON HARRISON’S CHEST AND REACHES BACK FOR A LEG!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE-NO!! HARRISON FINDS A WAY TO GET THE SHOULDER UP!

The intensity has definitely picked up! Hunter looks to try to press an advantage, scrambling to his feet, springboarding off the middle rope, and launching himself for the cross body!

Harrison catches him! He shifts Hunter’s weight, pivots, and

BANG!

SPINEBUSTER!

The sheer momentum of being spiked on the mat causes Hunter to sit upright on the mat, though he’s a little loopy! Harrison charges – KNEE TRIGGER TO THE BACK OF HUNTER’S HEAD!

Nick Stuart: ENLIGHTENMENT CONNECTS!

Harrison presses his palms on Hunter’s chest!

ONE!

HUNTER REVERSES!

ONE!

HARRISON REVERSES! HE ROLLS OVER FOR ANOTHER COVER!

ONE!

TWO!

HUNTER GETS A HAND ON THE ROPE!

Harrison tries to drag Hunter bodily away from the ropes, but Hunter clings on for dear life! Ashley Barlow goes for the five count, and Harrison is forced to break at 3 – Hunter wastes no time and pounces! A flying forearm sends Harrison down to the mat!

Hunter grabs Harrison’s legs in a fluid motion and looks out at the crowd! Everyone’s on their feet! He twists, twirls, and THE FIGURE FOUR IS LOCKED IN!

Richard Parker: He’s using his invention against the Miracle Man!

Nick Stuart: Do we have a new #1 Contender for the Five Star??

Barlow’s locked in on Harrison, looking for the submission – but no! He refuses!

Hunter reaches back and tries for the neck bridge!

Nick Stuart: He’s won matches in the Almasy with this! He’s giving this hold everything he has!

Something about this angle, something about this approach, seems to be something Harrison has scouted out before – because as Hunter starts to arch back, Harrison waits for the perfect moment and violently HURKS his hips around, reversing the figure four! They’re on their stomachs now, legs intertwined, and Hunter howls out in pain!

Richard Parker: I can’t believe Harrison’s done this! He’s reversed the pressure!

Barlow looks to see if Hunter’s going to submit, but no – he kicks his feet and finds a way to slip out!

Nick Stuart: So close there, from both men!

Harrison’s on his feet first, but he’s limping! Hunter’s limping a bit too as he gets up – only for Harrison’s turn to pounce! He grabs a hold of Hunter’s head and arm, wrenching and twisting! The crossface chicken wing is locked in!

Nick Stuart: If Harrison pulls off a Harracle, it’s all over!

Indeed, Harrison looks like he’s going for his signature crossface chicken wing suplex!

He lifts!

…

HUNTER BLOCKS IT WITH HIS FEET AND ROLLS FORWARD! HE’S GOT HARRISON STACKED!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!!

DING DING DING

Richard Parker: Are you freaking kidding me?!

Nick Stuart: What an unbelievable counter from Scott Hunter!!

Hunter is launched off of Harrison, who springs up and looks ready to continue the match – only for Ashley Barlow to confirm the three count!

Vince Howard: HERE IS YOUR WINNER, AND THE NUMBER ONE CONTENDER FOR THE FIIIIIIVE STARRR TITLE…SCOOOOOOOOTT HUUUUUUNTERRRRRRRR!!

Scott looks as surprised as anyone as Barlow raises his hand in victory! Harrison is ANGRY, stomping his feet in frustration!

Nick Stuart: Either man could have won that one for sure! It was as back-and-forth as a match gets, and I don’t know about you, partner, but I lost count of how many counters and reversals there were, especially towards the end!

Richard Parker: He may be Banditsbane, but tonight, Steve Harrison wasn’t VaeVictisbane…ah hell, that one doesn’t roll off the tongue as well.

Nick Stuart: It sure doesn’t. Big congratulations to Scott Hunter, who’s earned a shot at either Kerry Kuroyama or The Anglo Luchador – tune in tomorrow night to catch that match! More from night one of Ascension right after this!

Ascension moves on.

We return from commercial. Or we return from something involving Lawnmower Man III. Or maybe Muriel Puddings. Maybe Tapioca has returned, his dream of being named employee of the month at Ross Dress For Less realized. You know, if you achieve this vaunted feat, they reward you with a pair of ten dollar gift cards? It’s true! One of the gift cards can be used within Ross Dress For Less. What a value! Do keep in mind, your employee discount DOES NOT compound with the gift card, so you have to pay full retail price. Capitalism! The other gift card? Well, hope your taste buds are ready, because your diligence in retail store operations (running the cash register, folding clothes, hanging clothes, folding more clothes, maintaining vigil over the changing room, folding more clothes, cleaning the toilets real good like really good like getting down in there with your hands and knees getting your toothbrush loaded with scrubbing bubbles and going to town on the under rim not just elbow deep but also full throated, folding clothes, trying to get rid of the awful smell in the break room microwave that’s lingered for the last six and a half years because keyholder Darryl nuked two pounds of pollock fillets WAAAAAAY past any logical time frame, folding more clothes, etc) has earned you a one way trip to McDonaldland! That’s right; the value of about four McDoubles is all yours for the taking, or maybe you go with only three and pair it with an ice cold soft drink of your choice? The world is your hamburger oyster, go nuts. Robble robble! Don’t try to take the Fry Patch Kids though; that involves some rather unfortunate optics about age of consent, and the next thing you know, you’re being implicated in traveling to a private island to partake in–

So yes, we are back from that. Whatever THAT is or was. Pull the trigger on a buckshot loaded shotgun; one of the pellets has to hit somewhere on the continuity target.

The Indianapolis faithful filling Lucas Oil Stadium have already seen a new champion crowned, witnessed the Heirs to a wrestling legacy test their mettle against a seasoned pairing of Bandits who’d cemented their status as PRIME Hall of Famers while they were in elementary school, knew who’d earned a collision course with 5 Star Champion. Eventful. Barely a chance to breathe. Unfortunately for them, it wasn’t about to get any easier. Returning to the announce table, Nick Stuart and Richard Parker are center focus, the waves of thousands of spectators stretched out to the distance acting as their backdrop.

Nick Stuart: Folks, the road to Ascension has been paved with the Almasy Invitational. And one would assume that, in the process of that tournament, with the set ups from that bracket, the path we’ve arrived at would have been straight forward and clear. However, this next contest is proof positive that even when you think you know the trajectory of PRIME, what’s to come…what you’ll witness…is anything but predictable.

Richard Parker: Nick, when the Almasy Invitational bracket drawing occurred, I think many saw the name Nate Colton…they saw Indianapolis Indiana…Lucas Oil Stadium…and well…Hoyt damn…it wasn’t going to be easy. It was going to be an undertaking. Some might have thought it impossible given his draw. But they looked at Ascension…I looked at Ascension…as practically made for Colton…the Indiana native…the practically hometown boy…to plant his flag…to not only take the mantle that has been ordained to him, but to finally prove he is The Diamond of Prime…to win the Almasy and punch his ticket for Atlanta and compete in the main event of Colossus for the Universal Championship.

Nick Stuart: An understandable sentiment. Unfortunately for The New Diamond, any notion of such a story ended within its first stanza. Joe Fontaine, Glueminati member, PRIME Tag Team Champion–

Richard Parker: –the partner of Colton’s GREATEST rival–

Nick Stuart: –dashed Colton’s hope, balled up and tossed countless brackets into the trash–

Richard Parker: –only to see that FLAMBERGE is in what is, ostensibly, his hometown, with a chance to win the Almasy–

Nick Stuart: –and the fact that his exit carried with it controversy AT the hands of FLAMBERGE–

Richard Parker: –that only serves to make it all the more bitter–

Nick Stuart: –but tonight, in truth, Ascension isn’t about the Almasy for Nate Colton. He isn’t here in a showcase for his Indiana brethren. And as bitter a pill as it was to swallow, as frustrating as it must have been to fall before having a chance to leverage home field…or home ring advantage…tonight isn’t a consolation prize. Nate Colton finds himself staring down the barrel of something very personal. A friend–

Richard Parker: –former.

Nick Stuart: –given the circumstances, that might be the case. Now, folks, we do not know all the details about Nate’s personal life, his personal relationships– 

Richard Parker: –Nate Colton made mistakes. And it involves love. And it involves people getting hurt and betrayed and–

Nick Stuart: –RIA Lockhart is proof positive that, sometimes, the road intended and expected isn’t the road you follow. RIA wasn’t a part of the Almasy, and after Culture Shock and Manhunt, had become a ghost. A physical, brutal confrontation with Fred Dick, exploding barbwire death match, the Manhunt match itself– 

Richard Parker: –and let’s not forget the fact that she comes and goes, comes and goes, comes and goes–

Nick Stuart: –as tough as that match was, I think it’s clear RIA needed some time to recover, if not physically, but emotionally. And as much as her forays have been talked about, let’s keep in mind, despite all that, she IS a day one ReVival member of PRIME. She IS a former PRIME Champion. She IS one of PRIME’s most beloved wrestlers, not just amongst the fans, but her peers in the back. She wears her emotions on her sleeve, her heart on her shoulder, and I’d argue that she is the heart of the ReVival. Someone who fights her ass off and doesn’t make excuses. Who gets better and better each time out.

Richard Parker: And that’s great, but she’s got a point she needs to make tonight. And to be honest with you, good on her for pointing out the ten thousand ton elephant in the room. You look at Hayes Hanlon, you look at FLAMBERGE, you LOOK at Nate Colton…PRIME is a three pillar place. Homerun Hayes took a rocket ship off smashing THAT RETIRED GARBAGE CRUMB. Colton was pegged from the jump. Glue Factory FLAMBERGE was coming off eating potato chips and having his father and a management team fumbling what is PRIME’s certified youngest Hall of Famer EVER. RIA isn’t that much older than them. How many Dabney Doubleday’s, or Cecilia Ryan’s, or Abe Lipschitz’s, or Black Sheep Baez’s, or Adam Ellis’s…or…hell…Tyler Adrian Best’s came in with all that primed up ‘FUTURE OF PRIME’ mantle shine on them. And what did it amount to? How many opportunities did they get? And what about RIA Lockhart, huh? She’s day one PRIME. What’s that gotten her?

Nick Stuart: There’s clearly personal animus between Lockhart and Colton that extends beyond the ring. Something so deep and central that she has brandished him a coward. And Colton doesn’t even push back against all that…but from the first slap that started this trajectory, to the conflict on the last ReVival and the tag team bout that took place…that’s there. That’s clearly there. But I think it would be foolish to think that these two are about to face off solely because of lovers or friends scorned. Nate Colton isn’t going to lay down and flagellate himself just for the sake of it. RIA Lockhart isn’t going to wait for chances and opportunities…she is going to go out and make them for herself. And this…these fans here in Lucas Oil Stadium…they are ready. They’ve been buzzing all evening about this one. So let’s not wait any longer. Vince Howard…the floor is yours.

Dapper as ever, Vince Howard stands center in the ring, microphone in hand. Standing to his left is the sanctioned official for this bout, Jimmy Turnbull.

DING DING DING DING DING DING

The ringside bell sounds the approaching battle. In its wake? A surge of noise from those filling the stadium to maximum capacity.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Vince Howard: The following contest is scheduled for one fall, and has a sixty minute time limit! Innnnnnnnnntroducing first…

The beat of “RATATATA” by BABYMETAL and Electric Callboy thumps over the sound system of this massive football venue. Pink and blue lights pulsate throughout in impressive coordination with the music. The vocals soon kick in.

EVERY NIGHT WHEN THE SKY TURNS RED UP ABOVE

I FEEL THE BEAT IN MY VEINS, AND I’M SEARCHING FOR LOVE

YOU KNOW THAT HIPS DON’T LIE, I LEAVE YOU HYPNOTIZED

JUST GIVE ME ONE MORE TRY TO MAKE YOU FEEL THAT VIBE

WHEN IT GOES

(RA-TA-TA-TA-TA-TA)

MY BODY IS A WEAPON

(RA-TA-TA-TA-TA-TA) WE’RE GONNA HIT THE FLOOR

(RA-TA-TA-TA-TA-TA) WE’RE GONNA MAKE IT HAPPEN

(RA-TA-TA-TA-TA-TA) NOW GIMME SOME MORE

The light rumble that permeated throughout the faithful PRIMEates packed in Lucas Oil Stadium burst into outright raucous cheers as RIA Lockhart steps onto the stage. With an exaggerated cadet cap on her head, her usual heart-shaped glasses on her face and a short leather jacket ending just above a corset that trailed a lace train, RIA soaks in the adoration from the audience.

Nick Stuart: Despite the particulars, RIA is not facing any antagonism due to being in the home state of her opponent. This is, quite possibly, the biggest match of RIA Lockhart’s career. Nate Colton is a tried and tested superstar in PRIME. He’s consistently been ranked within the top five of PRIME rankings throughout his entire career. It’s going to take quite the effort to secure a victory.

Richard Parker: Yeah yeah. So, to be blunt and honest, I treated this preamble as a journalist, but I have ask…I dunno what’s worse; Colton and his ‘Aww shucks’ family or RIA and her rotating surnames. Maybe I’ll get a solid answer in the midst of them smacking each other around.

The Psychoberry galloped to one side of the stage, encouraging the crowd to raise their volume even further. After a moment, Lockhart takes off to the other side, mimicking her previous action. As the second verse begins, RIA heads down towards the ring. Though she’d usually be more gregarious, Lockhart puts her game face on as she heads to the ring. On the way, she yanks her shades off and tosses them haphazardly into the audience.

Vince Howard: From Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, weighing 160 pounds!…Representing VAAAAAAAAE! VICTIS! A FORMER PRIME ALIAS CHAMPION…SHE IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIS…THE PSYCHOBERRY…RIAAAAAAAA! LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOCKHART!

Once ringside, the Rainbow Riot leaps onto the ring apron. She gazes out to PRIMEates before stepping between the middle and top rope to enter the ring, bending at the waist to do so before swinging her outside leg into the squared circle. She starts taking off the various pieces of gear, her focus 100% on the upcoming match.

The music fades.

Vince Howard: Her opponent…

The lights go out.

RRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!

The fans know who’s coming. But let’s build that anticipation a bit.

We don’t get the name yet. Nor the logo. Instead, another instantly recognizable symbol: a golden torch on a field of blue surrounded by nineteen stars. Thin gold lines representing rays of light for the torch reach out from the flame to the stars near the top. In case you don’t know your state flags very well, the name is helpfully positioned near the top center.

INDIANA

RRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!

Music swells as the flag fades. Well, most of it. The torch, the stars, the lines, all fade into the background…but the name itself grows larger. Once it reaches its new size, another word fades in underneath it, so that now it reads:

INDIANA

MADE

The song begins in earnest now, instantly recognizable to the Hoosier masses and anyone who’s been to the 500. It’s called “(Back Home Again In) Indiana,” and it doesn’t matter who’s singing it; most of these 70,000 people are drowning them out.

“Back home again in Indiana

And it seems that I can see…”

And now a series of montages, short stills or video clips, with famous faces. A new word is added to the bottom of the caption that dominates the PRIME*View.

INDIANA

MADE

ENTERTAINMENT

Florence Henderson as Carol Brady. James Best as Roscoe P. Coltrane. Ron Glass as Lieutenant Harris, then again as Shepherd Book. Shelley Long as Diane Chambers. Jenna Fischer as Pam Beesly. Marc Summers, host of Double Dare. David Letterman, never the King of Late Night but always the most influential member of the court.

“That gleaming candlelight still shining bright

Through the sycamores for me…”

INDIANA

MADE

MUSIC

Cole Porter, the legendary musical songwriter. Wes Montgomery, the jazz legend. Scatman Crothers, star of song and screen. John Cougar Mellencamp. You like 80s rock? We’ve got you covered–David Lee Roth, Mick Mars, Axl Rose and Izzy Stradlin of Guns ‘n Roses. Adam Lambert; if he’s good enough for the surviving members of Queen, he’s good enough for you. Oh, and let’s not forget about the King of Pop himself, Michael goddamn Jackson.

“That new-mown hay sends all its fragrance

From the fields I used to roam…”

INDIANA

MADE

MAGIC

Carole Lombard, a popular Hollywood actress and legend of screwball comedies from the early 20th century. Steve McQueen, the original King of Cool, who defined action films of the 1960s and 70s. Adam Driver, whose iconic look became the new face of a sci-fi franchise. Gene Hackman, Barbara Hershey, and Dennis Hopper command the screen in one of the most beloved sports films ever, Hoosiers.

“When I dream about the moonlight on the Wabash

Then I long for my Indiana home…”

INDIANA

MADE

HISTORY

General Ambrose Burnside commands a regiment in the Civil War (and names an entire facial hair style in the process.) Opha May Johnson, the first woman to join the Marine Corps. A shirtless David Wolf performs an experiment aboard the Columbia space shuttle. Gordon Johncock scores the checkered flag at the 1982 Indianapolis 500, a mere .16 seconds before Rick Mears crosses the line.

“Back home again in Indiana

And it seems that I can see…”

INDIANA

MADE

FIGHTERS

Edward Ralph May, the lone delegate at the state’s Constitutional Convention to cast a vote in favor of African-American suffrage. Eugene Debs, the labor activist and five-time Socialist Party presidential candidate (including once from prison.) Ryan White, who helped open the country’s eyes to a terrifying disease.

“The gleaming candlelight, ooh it’s shining so bright

Through the sycamores for me…”

INDIANA

MADE

CHAMPIONS

Still photos of the 1924 Notre Dame football team, who defeated every opponent they faced that year, whether it was Nebraska on the field or the Klan off of it. Grainy basketball footage of Roger Brown, Mel Daniels, and George McGinness, the stars that brought acclaim to the state in the form of three ABA Championships in the 1970s. Further basketball footage, with Bobby Knight screaming from the sidelines as he pushes his team to championship glory in 1976, then again in 1981, and finally in 1987. More modern footage, this time of Peyton Manning, Reggie Wayne, Dominic Rhodes and others, as their heroics built a performance that not even the vaunted Sex Cannon could bring down and brought the Lombardi Trophy to the Crossroads. They may not have been native Hoosiers, but the state loves them just the same.

“The new-mown hay sends all its fragrance

From the fields I used to roam…”

INDIANA

MADE

LEGENDS

A pair of brothers–

RRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!

–“Stray Cat” Tom West and “The Rottweiler” GD West lift a man up and bring him down with a devastating stunner/gutbuster combination. That move, the Westside Demolition, helped established the Indianapolis-born Westsiders as tag team legends in the National Wrestling Council.

More footage, this time–

RRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!

–of Rezin, the Escape Artist, the Goat Bastard, launching himself into the air and flipping over Hayes Hanlon, then slamming the back of his head into the mat and Into the Void. Until that moment, the legacy of the Event Horizon seemed destined, even preordained. But no force in the universe is a match for a stubborn, chaos-fueled Hoosier, and the Champion is usurped by the Anti-Champion.

Finally, we’re back to the basketball footage, as a lanky blonde man steals, rebounds, and shoots his way to multiple MVP awards, championships, and a Hall of Fame career. He may look like a wrestler, but make no mistake, this isn’t the Generalissimo. This is the Hick from French Lick.

INDIANA

MADE

GREATNESS

The shot now cuts to–

RRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!

–a live shot of the crowd. The screaming masses, throwing up their arms and cheering for themselves and their presence at an event none of them will ever forget.

The field of dark blue returns…and this time, in the middle of the screen, a silhouette. It appears to be a tall man with short hair, well built, possibly wearing some kind of jacket.

Wonder who it could be.

“When I dream about the moonlight on the Wabash

Then I long for my Indiana home…”

As the song wraps up, the phrase on the screen shortens itself to two words again.

INDIANA

MADE

The figure stalks toward the screen, taking up more and more of the space…and just as it’s about to envelop the entire PRIME*View, the picture quickly transitions to a blank white screen.

On that field of white, three words appear.

THE

NEW

DIAMOND

These fade away, replaced by a logo. It’s the letter C in the shape of a diamond, with a smaller N inside. The logo is framed by the name.

NATE

COLTON

A classic rock riff signals the beginning of “Tryin’” by the Eagles, and the fans give out a raucous cheer. Moments later, Nate Colton emerges from the curtain. He holds his arms up high, showing off his blue satin jacket–his family name emblazoned on the back; his first name stitched on the front.

RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Just a few steps behind him is his baby brother, Blake Colton. He’s still wearing his Wayne Gretzky Indianapolis Racers jersey from earlier (did you know he played there for eight games? Blake will sure tell you!) He’s so hyped up right now that he might explode, jumping up and down and waving his limbs at the capacity crowd.

The New Diamond pauses at the edge of the platform, motioning for his brother to join him. Eventually Blake takes the hint, and big bro throws an arm around little bro’s shoulder, and they walk to the ring together. The New Diamond seems in much better spirits than he’s been in a long time, smiling and slapping hands as the Colton boys (not the Lads, they’re not here this week) walk to the ring.

Vince Howard: Accompanied to the ring by Blake Colton!

RAAH!

Modest pop for the kid.

Vince Howard: He hails from Evansville, Indiana… weighs in at two hundred and forty pounds…a FOOOORMER! PRIME 5 STAR CHAMPION! HE IS…the NEEEEEEEEEEEW DIAMOND… NAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATE! COOOOOOOOOOOOOOLTON!!

When they arrive, Nate slips off his ring jacket and hands it to Blake, who he then directs toward the timekeeper’s table. While the family’s youngest heads to his assigned position, the eldest heads for the ring.

He climbs the steps, wipes his feet on the apron, and enters the ring through the top and middle ropes. He heads directly to his corner and undoes his jacket, showing off his gear–white trunks that reach his upper thigh with a blue stripe down the side, white boots with blue trim, white MMA gloves, and blue elbow and knee pads. After handing his jacket to a ring attendant, he makes another appeal to the fans.

After one last point toward his little brother, Nate shifts to the task at hand. His good mood vanishes as Jimmy Turnbull pats him down. The New Diamond is all business.

So is The Rainbow Death Doll.

DING DING

The bell has tolled. For a moment, the roiling tension evident between the two filters through the crowd, frothing in a low cadence hum in anticipation. Turnbull stands at the ready just in case of a coming breakdown. There is none, just a shared glower between wrestlers armed with both animus and something to prove. The drone only grows, the cadence akin to an electrical current rising, enough to set teeth on edge. Half a minute of this has transpired, and the dour expressions on both Colton and RIA evoke more initiative than bodily advancement. The Rainbow Death Doll’s nostrils flare. The New Diamond’s stare remains transfixed on her, his shoulders turning slightly, gloved hands grabbing onto the top rope, testing its spring.

Enough already.

RIA marches across the canvas toward him. Colton releases his grip, ready to meet her. His eyes see her right shoulder tensing, her arm coiling. Twice over, these engagements have started with her throwing her hand toward his face. The first time connected; the second time did not.

What of the third time?

The New Diamond isn’t about to allow it. Like a hitter knowing what is crossing the plate. Tipped pitch. His forearms are going to strike at her palm, and his strength is going to crush through her, creating instability. An intelligent endeavor.

Until RIA launches her forehead right into the bridge of his nose.

Colton is caught completely off-guard; he’s the one stumbling now, his palms pressing against the point of the blow, his fingers cradling the spreading surge of pain radiating through his cheeks. His eyes water. Without even a moment’s hesitation, The Psychoberry pirouettes on her heel, a blue and pink ballerina of violence throwing a back elbow at his temple. A braced knee to the stomach follows, and the sudden surge has the fans going wild.

The former 5 Star Champion struggles, his face and head rocked, the oxygen forced from his lungs from blows of sharp succession; he’s unable to anticipate the next action. All the same, if his mind was clear, what his opponent did would still draw confusion; a back waistlock, and push of her chest into his shoulder blades, a step through with a leg for a trip. She rides Colton to the canvas with the takedown, smothering him from behind, her impressive base of power from her hips and thighs helping her maintain control of her much larger foe.

Wrestling. Nate Colton once traversed the mats in Bloomington, an Indiana Hoosier, competing in the amateur side of the world’s greatest sport. It didn’t look like he’d maintained his experience from those days. Her crispness would be embarrassing to him when he was at that grappling prime; that she is able to transition levels and lock her arms around his neck, a vice, a headlock, with such efficiency makes it all the worse. The power base only adds to the effect, her tilt dragging his forehead across the canvas. Sandpaper. It feels like sandpaper. This, however, is welcome; the corresponding motion, her jerking back, her knee planting on the mat, is much worse. The pull wrenches his back in a bow. The heels of his hands anchor into the canvas as he bares his teeth.

Guttural heaves. Groans from the depths. They hear each other clear as day even in the din surrounding them. Like a heartbeat strumming along. The New Diamond reaches back with one hand, attempting to grab hold of the former Alias Champion. His fingers fail to get enough of a brace. She makes sure of that with subtle head movements.

Fine then.

His fingers tangle through her hair, and with urgency, he pulls with all he has, snapmaring her over and onto her back. Colton tries to scramble for a reverse side headlock, but RIA rolls onto her stomach and pushes herself against the canvas, up onto her knees, her expression ferocious. Turnbull is admonishing the kneeling Colton for pulling the hair, and the momentary rules reminder draws his attention just long enough to allow the slap bell clapping him across the ear to arrive unabated. His hand braces against the canvas as his head lolls downward, his eyes wide and vacant. She snaps toward him, a guillotine lashing across, her hips popping to drag him deep down. The crown of his head falls to the canvas much akin to a DDT, but the speed in which it happens provides physical indication that such was not intention. Her fingers lock in an s grip.

Nate Colton knows this move well. Too well.

Mlem mlem mlem.

He uses his size and strength to push her shoulders to the canvas before the oxygen supply runs out.

ONE

TWO

RIA relents. Her grip eases.

Just enough.

Blake can hear the roar from his brother. We all can see the tensing of The New Diamond’s muscles. The movement is ginger to start, but the pace picks up; from the canvas, he deadlifts her. A snap of the hips as she is near perpendicular.

Deadlift northern lights suplex.

He plants his toes for the bridge.

ONE

TWO

THR–NOOO

RIA refuses to relinquish the hold as she kicks out, but any notion of remaining s grip is gone, replaced by a loose locking of the fingers. The momentum from the kickout carries Colton to his side. An opportunity. RIA once again tries to reestablish the superior grip, but as oxygen once more enrichesThe New Diamond’s blood, he gathers a sudden surge of strength. Another grinding deadlift. They’ve already gone on this ride before, and the impact for The Rainbow Riot was undeniably jarring. Let’s…not do that again. Fervent need of avoidance isn’t a gnawing concession; it’s a rushing panic. The need to choke the life out of this cornfed Indiana prick boy that she wants desperately to respect, despite his stupidity, despite his DAMN stupidity, he’s supposed to know better! He’s supposed to be someone to aspire towards. Look up to. From a good family home, all the warm apple pie Americana that is supposed to soothe the soul, that’s supposed to make you feel comfortable. Things she didn’t have the privilege of knowing.

And yet, he’s too busy to see what’s before him. He doesn’t know what it is to struggle just to be in this ring from her position. From where she comes from. From what she is. A question posited so often, beyond fractured concepts of person. Her existence is a goddamn question of why, and she’s finding the answers, and making her peace, and living in her own skin as the person she always KNEW she was inside. And her opponent…this STUPID BOY with his STUPID BRAIN…he seeks out the corners of nightstands and cabinets, of bedposts, practically aiming to smash his toes into them. Self made misery. What a joke. What a bitch he is. RIA knows she’s a woman; does Nate Colton know what it is to be an actual man?

Man or boy, The New Diamond is strong as an ox. Her struggle to garrote Colton is losing leverage. Or perhaps not? Such impressions of raw power do mean she is having to carry her entire weight as she wraps around his neck. His hips pop and he drives her over. Another northern lights suplex.

This one is worse.

This one breaks him free of her hold.

He struggles in the scramble, grabbing hold of both her legs, yanking at near the braces up the back of her thighs, pushing her heavy on her shoulders.

ONE

TWO

TH–NO!

The power base of RIA Lockhart pushes him away in a stumble, and she tries to roll and scramble back to a stand. Unfortunate, then, that the moment she tries, he launches towards her, a clothesline on the rise, his arm wrapping around her windpipe and driving the two back to the ground with him grabbing hold of her with a side headlock. His inside knee anchors against the canvas, his outside splaying out with the side of his heel digging in as well. Her fingers clasp against his forearm, and she sneers, struggles, yet doesn’t sink her nails into his flesh. He leverages her shoulders back to the canvas.

ONE

TWO

A smash of the heel of her hand against the base of his neck. This just causes him to wrench deeper. Another strike. He has to think, truly, are we going to keep doing this? Another swivel and wrench. Her hand lashes back to find the impact point she was attempting to create, however, this time, there is no hammer to the nail. Just a bit of positioning. Height can be a sore subject for The Psychoberry, but it has its advantages; it allows her, in this moment, to bring her hips from the canvas, to wrap the former 5 Star Champion with a headscissor takeover, forcing him to let go of her given how powerful her center base is. This is why you do not skip leg day. This is why you post your hands and crush like a vice. Coal makes diamonds, but after the fact, all pressure will do to a diamond is break it up smaller, if one can manage.

All that strength, and where does it get him? Nowhere. He can’t get loose, can’t get free. So, he works not like an amateur wrestler, but more from a standpoint of having to deal with plentiful scraps with brothers and one spirited sister now absent. The clamber is a wild volley of movement, but with a push of his hands against her knee braces, with his body now not forced onto its back, he does a headstand.

This won’t win awards.

His fall on top of her may well win this match.

ONE

TWO

NO

In some alleys of simulated professional wrestling, in the world of sports entertainment, this is where the audience is trained to politely clap. Where the two competitors hold their stand off and acknowledge the grappling. But this isn’t a simulation of the sport; RIA and Colton are both up, and are ready to collide all over again. The New Diamond looks to throw a forearm shiver, but The Rainbow Riot throws her hip right into his ribs, arriving at the destination first. Lockhart follows up by grabbing hold of the doubling over Colton, forcing his face against her knee, then powering it downward in motion with her stabbing her boot into the canvas, causing him to explode toward the canvas violently. While he grabs at the bridge of his nose, she wrings out her right leg, giving it a hellacious slap before turning on a dime, caroming off the ropes and throwing herself ontop of her opponent with a mix back senton and elbow drop. The momentum carries her quickly back to her feet, and with another bounce off the ropes, she drives her foot out and connects with a crushing diving yakuza kick to the side of Colton’s head.

It’s her turn to cover.

ONE

TWO

THR–

If Nate Colton thinks he is going to get respite, he is mistaken. ANOTHER charge off the ropes. A yakuza kick is bad.

How about a Berry Bomber?

The New Diamond’s head flings outward as though Lee Harvey Oswald pulled the trigger. Blake Colton slams his hands into the ring apron, his features wrought with worry.

RIA hooks the leg.

ONE

TWO

THRE–NO!

Lockhart slams her knuckles into the canvas, and she rises up, her boot finding purchase against his hip, then his ribs. Stomps. Frustrated and vengeful. She throws her head back, black and pink and neon blue tendrils splaying out, the sweat stinging her eyes. She isn’t about to let this momentum go to waste. She’s also not about to use her energy to lift the home state boy up. Index and middle fingers, pressed together, goading him on, her voice cutting through as she demands he get to his feet.

Drunkenly, Colton staggers to his feet, and with a burst, her arms latch around his waist from behind. Hands locking. Colton tries to brace. It’s time for The Psychoberry to show some deadlift chops.

German.

Suplex.

Right on the top of Colton’s head!

The brutality of the drop brings rows of those in Lucas Oil Stadium to their feet in collective wonder.

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

The New Diamond TRIES to get up, but he collapses. RIA surges to her feet, stumbling backward, her shoulders falling into the ropes before she gets back to a stand. Once again, her opponent tries to manage, but he cannot. Each time, he falls back to the canvas. The Psychoberry shakes her head, bites her lip, and glowers at the near corner, then back at him. Her hand against the top rope, she moves closer and closer, all before ascending to the top.

Hair thrown back. Pistol drawn. Trigger pulled. It all feels natural in this, the greatest challenge of her PRIME career. Pink Pony Crush or Astrojunk. No.

How about some Kneemotinal Damage?

Blake tries desperately to warn his brother. There, however, seems to be no getting through to him. Tottering in limbo, he is ripe for the crushing.

RIA jumps.

Meteora.

METEORA!

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Colton jumped and grabbed hold of her in the fall.

Knee.

Breaker.

RIA lets out a scream of pain as her hands shoot toward her right knee before she even reaches the canvas.

Nate Colton isn’t a shark, but he can taste the blood in the metaphorical water. Hands clasping around The Rainbow Riot’s ankle, he jerks her up from the canvas, and she has no choice but to follow, her face etched in excruciating pain.

It’s about to get even worse.

Dragon screw leg wipe.

RIA crashes the canvas in absolute agony, but The New Diamond isn’t done. Scott Hunter might have wrestled the match before, but the intent behind what Colton is about to do is just drive as RIA’s Vae Victis brethren in locking on the figure four.

Fully held in place.

Fingernails digging into her skull. She roars as the involuntary tears spill from her eyes. Colton yells back for her to tap. It’s not a demand; it’s a plea. A ferocious one at that. RIA screams back at him, her eyes transfixed as they lock on to his, her teeth bared. Colton smashes his hips into the canvas, driving RIA to collapse in pain, shoulders on the mat.

ONE

Yet she springs up, ready to meet him. He once again yells at her to tap.

The finger she throws at him says everything that needs to be said.

Colton throws a forearm at her, his length affording him the joys of reach. Her shoulders slam against the canvas, but she shoots back upward, throwing the bird once again.

Another forearm shot.

This time, when she rises, it’s two birds.

There are some boos. But also? There’s a whole hell of a lot of cheers. A wall of noise floods across them as Colton throws another forearm at her.

This time, her elbow catches him right on the bridge of the nose.

Colton falls, but the hold remains. And then, he sits up, ready to fire back. The Psychoberry, however, lashes out and connects first. Wrought bile rising up. No. This is something else. A fighting spirit. The two are locked in this figure four, and the agony is etched across RIA’s face, as is the exhaustion from every pore of The New Diamond practically pissing sweat. No way out but through. The two begin to hammer back and forth against each other, forearm after forearm, each strike connecting with a ferocity and certainty that this one will be the one to surmount the other. A foolish endeavor; neither one seems willing to submit to the other in any show of acknowledgement to the other. So there they sit, locked, striking each other.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

FIGHT FOR–OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!

That interruption?

That’s because RIA, in absolute desperation, threw her head toward Colton, connecting with him. The blow causes his legs to release the hold, and in the aftermath, RIA cradles her right leg, her fingers fervently clawing at the straps of her knee brace to release them. Once they are free, she starts smashing hammerfists into her kneecap, spittle flying from her lips as she angrily chastizes it. Trying to get feeling. Trying to get some sweet adrenaline.

Colton begins to rise, as so does RIA, all with a vicious hobble. She can barely maintain a stand. The cry that escapes her lungs is gut wrenching. The New Diamond tries to get near, but The Psychoberry swipes at him with her hand, a wounded animal trying to keep him away. Another swipe keeps the distance.

A third does not.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Nate Colton has her.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Nate Colton has the Colton Clutch.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

RIA’s eyes bug out from her head. Her hands grip at his arms for dear life. A bleeping gasp of desperate rushes from her. Not even enough air to let out a roar in defiance. The New Diamond’s eyes are glazed in fury. After everything, all these months, everything she said to him, called him, kicked at him when he was down, denied him a welcoming shoulder and understanding. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want ANY of this! Skye and Kohime and the violence brought out from Hayes fucking Hanlon and Jason fucking Snow and Rexton William Bader and Joe Fontaine knocking him out of the first round of the Almasy BECAUSE OF FLAMBERGE AND THAT FRENCH WEASEL PRICK THAT GODDAMN LIZARD FUCK IS LAUGHING IN THE BACK AND HE COULD PUNCH HIS COLOSSUS TICKET AND LAP HIM AGAIN DESPITE THE FACT THAT THAT PIECE OF BEARDED SHIT CAN’T BEAT HIM

A Rainbow gurgle.

A twist of the hands.

Colton Clutch becoming Colton Choke.

Is it. Does it have to be this way. Blake isn’t cheering him on. The look towards his older brother is despondent. Drained of color. Nate’s eyes catch him for the briefest of moments. Then, it’s back to her black and pink and blue hair and he stops himself. No. No.

No he will not.

Not today.

Hate isn’t what guides him. Hate isn’t what fuels him. Those around him, the bastards, the scum, they want to force it upon him. To weigh him down with it. No matter what he does, they will always mock and tease. They will always act as if they have the moral high ground. If he doesn’t do it, he lacks the killer instinct. If he does, then he is no better than them. Just as heinous and blood soaked.

How about this for reality; they need him to play their little game their way. To stay within their structures, within their boxes. You know what the worst thing you can do is?

You can tell them to fuck off and live your life the best way you can. You can try hard to be the better man. And if those that dwell in the shadows demand your soul if you do not quell them? Well…you run them through. That’s the way.

That’s how Diamonds of PRIME are forged.

Colton.

Clutch.

Suplex.

Cover.

ONE

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

That scream isn’t from the crowd.

It’s from RIA fucking Lockhart.

Standing there.

Belting out everything she has.

Refusing to give.

Refusing to die.

Every Colton witnessing this, in Lucas Oil Stadium, on television, on their phone, wherever, quakes in terror. Never. Goddamn NEVER.

At one?

At fucking ONE?!

What…

…in the fuck…

…is SHE?!

Wide eyes.

An elbow crashes into his face.

A hobble but a rush.

The New Diamond doesn’t know what to do. He throws his arm out, trying to catch her with a lariat on the carom.

The Psychoberry grabs the wrist.

NEON

MOTHER

FUCKING

SUNRISE

ONE

TWO

THREE

THREE

THREE?

At the VERY last second, Nate Colton kicks out. RIA collapses. Her hands cradle her knee. She feels the drop of adrenaline, but she pushes on. She refuses to quit. Not now. Not so close. Nobody has truly pushed her like this. Nobody has coaxed, from her, this level of valor. This isn’t foreign. This night isn’t about making a statement; she belongs. Right here. Against the biggest and baddest dogs of PRIME. Know why? Because RIA Lockhart IS one of the biggest and baddest dogs of PRIME.

Disdain and disappointment might have gotten her into this, but the fight, the spirit of the battle, it has taken her to a place beyond. She rises up. She has arrived.

Colton is barely holding on.

So is Lockhart.

Another draw of the pistol. Then, to her lips.

Kiss me Angel.

This truly is your last day.

Lock

Shock

Syn

COLTON

CLUTCH

SUPLEX

ONE

Please.

TWO

Please…

THREE

DING DING DING

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Lucas Oil Stadium is going to need renovated.

Maybe demolished.

After all, its foundation has been irreparably rocked.

Vince Howard: YOUR WINNER! NAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATE! COOOOOOOOOOOOOLTON!

The match is over. Jimmy Turnbull made his count. Vince Howard made his call.

But do the participants know it’s over?

RIA Lockhart stirs. Her neck is killing her. Her shoulder, not much better. Her knee is screaming obscenities, cursing the Rainbow Death Doll’s life choices for as far back as she can remember.

Nate Colton moves on the mat. His head is extremely displeased at this turn of events; his ribs and chest are in full agreement. The New Diamond isn’t shining at all right now.

Lockhart pushes herself into a sitting position. She grabs at the ropes to pull herself to her feet, grimacing as she gets vertical. Colton rolls onto his stomach before slowly rising onto his knees. He flexes his neck to and fro before rolling his right shoulder. Nate puts his right foot out, bracing for a moment before pushing himself to his feet. RIA hobbles away from the ropes while Colton slowly turns around.

That’s when it happens; eyes lock again. At first, they’re just staring. Colton’s lips move, though it’s not clear what’s been said. Whatever it was causes the Psychoberry to sneer, limping over towards Nate while running her mouth herself. Unfortunately, RIA gets a bit too fired up and forgets her throbbing knee. That doesn’t last long as she cries out and drops to one knee.

Despite being sore, both physically and emotionally, the New Diamond approaches…but judging by his expression, his intentions can’t be good.

He reaches a hand for Lockhart’s shoulder, but it’s smacked away in short order. Colton throws them up in frustration before the two start jawing yet again.

Nick Stuart: Oh no! These two just fought a war, and it looks like they’re ready to go again!

Richard Parker:

Colton takes a step back, but it’s clearly not to deescalate. He sets his feet and squares up, daring RIA to stand. RIA, still on her knee, makes no motion to do so. She just tells him to bring it on anyway. She can’t stand up…but she never backs down.

Like so many times before, these two have taken to the ring to settle their difference…and in the end, nothing is settled.

It’s then that the crowd buzzes, their cheering growing in intensity.

RRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!

That’s due to a presence making their way to the ring. Kohime Mori is jogging down to the ring, and the PRIMEates make their feelings known.

KO-HI-ME!

KO-HI-ME!

Nick Stuart: It’s Kohime Mori! Maybe she can talk some sense into these two!

Richard Parker: Maybe she can beat up both of them!

Nick Stuart: Richard, I swear to God…

Mori slides under the ropes and immediately goes in between the two. Colton’s face flushes, possibly from the match, maybe from the recent shouting match, or… her. She gazes at him with those soft eyes, warmth and kindness practically radiating off the woman. He can’t, not right now. Nate turns away. He can feel his eyes watering, his breathing getting erratic. Kohime takes a small step towards him, reaching out…

But the moment breaks as RIA vainly tries to stand once more, practically an infant trying to stand for the first time. The Moé Monster turns and with haste, slings Lockhart’s arm over her shoulder. The Steel Hart looks up to her friend. More unheard words, this time between Kohime and RIA. She leans against the Japanese woman lovingly, tears of her own spilling down her cheeks.

RRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!

Mori lets her right hand go to Lockhart’s waist and gives her friend a gentle squeeze. With Kohime navigating, the pair turns towards Colton. He’s leaned against the top rope, head buried against his forearms, powerful shoulders rising and falling irregularly. Mori pulls the pair over to him before placing a hand on his back.

“Nate?”

He turns around, face streaked with tears. They lock eyes while time seems to stop. There’s a moment of uncomfortable silence while Nate does his best to try and compose himself. So much damage. So much wrong. But… she smiles. That smile. The things it can accomplish are incredible. Kohime opens her right arm to him.

RRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!

In no time at all, Colton is by her side, his head going to her shoulder. She wraps her arm around his back and holds him close. His security. His safety blanket. It’s her. It had been her. It was going to stay her.

When he finally pulls back, Nate and RIA’s eyes meet each other. Another intense conversation, but this one is different. Anger seems to have given way to healing. After more brief words with the two getting emotional again, Nate extends his hand. RIA falters for a moment… not because she refuses to reciprocate, but due to the fact that she’s resumed blubbering. She calms down enough to nod and grip his hand, shaking it weakly.

RRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!

Kohime’s smile grows enormous. She pulls the two close and the three share a group hug. The crowd EXPLODES, cheering ferociously at the reconciliation. They hold the hug for a period before pulling apart enough to leave. All three of them, together. Colton and Mori ensure Lockhart safely gets to the ring floor. She gently pulls Nate’s right arm over her shoulder before doing the same with RIA’s left. The trio slowly walks up the ramp.

Tonight, Kohime Mori will carry them both.

She is strong enough.

The camera follows as they get through the curtain and into the backstage area. Shortly into their walk, RIA gently pulls away.

RIA Lockhart: Look, you two need time. I’m gonna go get my knee checked out. We’ll talk, though, yeah?

Nate and Kohime share a look of concern between them but nod. She has a point.

Kohime Mori: Love you, Miss Ria.

Nate Colton: Love ya, Ri.

RIA grins, the first that’s crossed her face in awhile.

RIA Lockhart: Love ya both!

One more nod is exchanged as they go their separate ways. The Rainbow Riot watches them go; as they round the corner, a thought floods her mind, pushing out all other concerns.

Thank goodness.

All the animosity RIA had felt towards Colton now had a chance to slowly dissipate. Yes, there was still work to be done between the New Diamond and Kohime Mori. But the Psychoberry’s trust in him had been restored, at least to some degree. The couple’s healing, and a mending of the friendship between Nate and RIA, had some possibility of turning out well.

Despite Lockhart’s exhaustion, her feet felt light. She’s walking (or more accurately, slowly limping) on the puffiest cloud. The Milo Flynn Cup, the nastiness with Nate, the continued animosity with a number of her co-workers… A darkness had been tracing along RIA’s path for a spell. Maybe her amends with Colton wasn’t a silver lining? Maybe instead, it was the light beginning to break through?

CRACK!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Any attempt at postulation was cut short as she went crashing against the hard concrete of Lucas Oil Stadium. Lockhart ragdolled off the wall, collapsing to the floor on her side.

The figure of her assailant gracefully readjusted her into an upright position. RIA was floating on the clouds so much that she failed to notice the arms clasped around her waist, the lift upwards, or the release of the hands for maximum ragdoll physics. So blinded by the light that she failed to hear the not-so-subtle sound of a train about to run her over.

That’s okay. Everybody makes that mistake. Some make it more than once.

As RIA tries to shake the cobwebs off, she is met with some very familiar strikes that start at the ribs and begin to work up (or to the left, depending on one’s perspective). They are made so cleanly that it is clear to anyone watching that this isn’t an act of passion. The fury of each kick isn’t blind. This assault is deliberate and it does not stop even when there’s a glint of rage in RIA’s eyes.

The problem? The mind is willing, but the body is weak. Lockhart attempts to push her assaulter away, trying to get some, ANY space. The perpetrator quickly plants their right foot, barely budging from the shove. A stiff right hook drops RIA to a knee. Droplets of blood from a leaky human faucet stain the ground. The Psychoberry attempts to push herself to her feet. That attempt is foiled when her cranium gets dunked against the wall like a fleshy basketball.

CRACK!

Down to all fours she goes. Fucked. She was fucked. She needed a plan, some form of defense or escape. Any train of thought forming in her head derailed with a precision boot to the ribs. A loud, pained yelp echoes from RIA’s person as she drops to her side. A boot goes to the side of her head, pressing down and causing more strained gasps from Lockhart. The minor amount of blood flow coming from her mouth picks up, a quarter sized puddle forming on the floor. Lockhart reaches up to try to push the foot from her skull to little effect.

If anything, the biggest blessing in this whole mess for Lockhart is that the person bludgeoning her isn’t an Ivan Stanislav-sized brute. If they were, she’d be dead by now. Besides all that, they don’t want her dead. They want her to feel something. The struggle. The hopelessness. The pain. Perhaps most importantly, the fact that there’s nobody around to help her when she needs it most. Not anymore.

The boot slowly lifts off of her head. Not from any effort of her own. But because heads the size of soccer balls only create urges to punt them.

So they do.

CRACK!

A swift punt right between the eyes. There’s definitely a crack which could’ve came from anywhere on the crimson splatter that has become RIA’s face. Her eyes glaze over, clearly knocked out. Maybe another concussion or twelve. Her world-ender’s head tilts to the side, hearing the faint stampede of the Enemigos doing their job just a little too late to make a difference. That’s the cue to let whatever needs to happen, happen.

By the time they come swarming onto the scene, Anna Daniels is already three feet away from RIA’s body. They act like they’re pushing her away, perhaps to make their paychecks worthwhile. There really is no need.

As she backs away, the Muse watches the entire scene in all of its chaotic glory with a distant dreamy stare. Notably, she stands taller as if a weight has just been lifted off her body.

Ascension moves on.

Fade in.

You ever see those Olive Garden commercials where everyone is smiling, and eating, and drinking, and just having a grand old time with life? Happy families all enjoying each other’s company. None of the kids are screaming. No one is arguing. It’s downright idyllic, right down to the fast casual Italian decor.

What sets it apart is the food. Sure, it has that same mass-produced look as your average chain, only there are no obvious plates. Instead everyone seems to be eating out of a bucket in different shapes, sizes, and colors. This is where the logo fades into view.

But since there isn’t one yet, we’ll just give you the name of the joint:

SKETTI BUCKET

And then there’s the voiceover.

Voiceover: Come on down to Sketti Bucket, the family-friendly pasta experience that everyone can enjoy! We’ve got skettis in all shapes and sizes. Try our traditional skettis, or take a trip to Southern Italy with our skettucini. Looking for something to fill you up? Let our bucketini carbonara do the trick!

Voiceover: Every meal at Sketti Bucket comes with a trip to our salad trough. Choose from dozens of options with your choice of dressing!

We’re treated to a shot of the restaurant where happy patrons shovel (literally) scoops of pasta into their mouths. Something about the decor looks different this time, however.

There is a framed piece of art of someone who looks like Leonardo da Vinci, but isn’t Leonardo da Vinci. Both because da Vinci didn’t have bright red hair, and because the Chicago Bulls didn’t exist in the 1400s. It looks a little like this:

If the camera zoomed in close enough (it doesn’t), the viewer would be able to see the little faux gold placard that reads “Fredonardo da Sketti.”

Voiceover: This fall, come into Sketti Bucket and try our new stuffed pastas! Bring the whole family and dine on a hearty bowl of ravis, or our succulent linis! And for a limited time only, guests at our Indiana and Illinois locations can enjoy an old favorite… toobs!

Now we get the official jingle.

Run to Sketti Bucket!

Don’t be a snail

It’s the pasta that your whole family eats from a pail!

We fade to darkness, but the voiceover continues.

Voiceover: Visit us online at sketti-bucket.com!

Yes, that is a real website.

Fade.

A buckett of sketti, sitting in a sink.

Fred Dick, in a tuxedo that’s pink.

It’s that time again, baby.

Fred Dick: We don’t haaaave a jingle yet, but this is my fuggin’ shoooow!!! YAKUZK is adorabler than Hell, and this is my fuggin’ shoooooow!!!! It’s Baffroom Fights and you better be ready, it’s mothafuggin Freddy and a Bucket of Skettiiiiiiii… which ya win if yew kick my ace!!!

Grumpus: Nyak! Nyak! Nyak!

Fred does a little river dances.

Fred Dick: Hard to be mad about the last episode. The childish wonder in YAKUZK’s eyes as he beat my ace up and down the Baffroom, well, was it humblin’? Sure it was. But was it a magical moment as well? Yew. Dayum. Right. And that’s what Baffroom Fights with Freddy and Sketti is all about, neow! Magical moments.

Fred peers at the door.

Fred Dick: Will our next contestant bring yet another magical moment?

A voice addresses Fred Dick off-camera, and Fred literally freezes. It’s a voice he would recognize for sure, because that voice belongs to a man who’d faced him last year for the Universal championship.

Coral Avalon: Hey there, Fred.

Fred whirls around to face the voice.

Fred Dick: CORAL????

Yes, he put his hands on his knees, and yes, he made the Rick Grimes face.

What Fred finds is not quite the ass-kicker he expected. You see, that is indeed Coral Avalon’s voice. However, Mr. Avalon’s presence is only there because there is a man standing there holding a tablet, with a Zoom call open. That man is, unfortunately, Lord Gavin Yum, Esq. He’s that weird little British nerd who wears a trilby and uses a napkin as a tie for his lawyering business suit that nobody likes. Lord Yum is currently holding up the Zoom call tablet to his face, such that Avalon’s face is replacing his own.

Coral Avalon: Nice suit. Very tasteful.

Lord Gavin Yum, Esq.: It definitely doesn’t make him look like a human vagina!

On the Zoom call, Coral facepalms.

Coral Avalon: Gavin. You’re supposed to be me. Show some respect to Fred. He’s the Intense champion now. That’s the only title in PRIME I’ve never held.

Lord Gavin shows the proper respect by shutting his mouth, because anything he says at this point would not be showing proper respect. And the last thing he wants is to catch an ass-beating from both Fred Dick and Coral Avalon.

Coral Avalon: Anyway, Fred. I unfortunately couldn’t physically make it to Indianapolis this evening since I have a lot of prior commitments over here in Japan. But I’m here regardless, thanks to my proxy here.

Lord Gavin Yum, Esq.: Tallyho!

Coral Avalon: When the hell have I ever said “tallyho,” Gavin!?

Lord Gavin Yum, Esq.: Just now! As you were asking when the heck you’d ever said it.

Avalon clearly regrets this whole plan as he shakes his head.

Coral Avalon: I’ve made worse mistakes than this.

He pauses to consider his many, many mistakes over the course of his long career.

Coral Avalon: I think.

Fred Dick: Oh! Oh, this is rich! Big Coral Avalon, thank he got it all figgered out, with his sexy ace, masculine forehead what protrudeth slightly from the eyebrow, suggestin’ a tad more Neandert’al DNA than others. Well riddle me dis den, SMART ACE, how tha fug yew gon’ put the Sketti over — assumin’ this lil bastard kicks my ace which he won’t do because I’m the Innovator of Lavatory Violence — given that you only with us in spirit this evenin’?

Coral Avalon: Well, see…

We cut to the Zoom call, whereupon Coral looks to his right. A man in a pristine, immaculate suit appears next to him carrying a bucket of Sketti. The man sets down the bucket next to Coral’s desk, and then he backflips out of the scene majestically. Like an eagle spreading its wings. Like it was what he was born on this goddang planet to do.

Coral watches his majestic departure.

Coral Avalon: Thanks, Satoshi-san.

Coral smiles and carefully maneuvers the Sketti Bucket so that the logo faces his camera.

Coral Avalon: I had a lovely chat over the phone with some of the lovely Sketti ladies working over there, and they said they’d have one of these bad boys conjured for me as the crow flies. Their exact words.

He pauses, and then adds.

Coral Avalon: They also said it would be *un-*conjured if my… “friend”… Gavin were to get his ace kicked. Which he might. It’s Gavin.

Lord Gavin Yum, Esq.: Hey!

Coral Avalon: So, how about it, Fred?

Fred squints his eyes at Lord Gavin Yum, Esq. He doesn’t like him. Something about his face he finds irritating to the existence of his very soul.

So Fred kicks him in the nuts.

Fred Dick: AVAST YE!!!

Lord Gavin Yum, Esq… is not that phased. It’s almost as if he was preparing for a game of Roshambo.

Lord Gavin Yum, Esq.: Oof! Solid hit, good sir!

Coral Avalon: Oh. I’m beginning to realize what this is about to become.

Lord Gavin Yum, Esq.: Allow me a swift retort! YEARGHBLBLE!!!

Lord Yum’s foot connects with the lasagna in a way that makes Fred’s eyes bulge out. You see, Lord Yum isn’t wearing his usual loafers with his suit. That is a steel-toed loafer, direct from the Yum family line of loafers. We don’t know how he does it, either.

Lord Gavin Yum, Esq.: The first rule is to always wear a cup afore bathroom shenanigans, sir!

Coral Avalon: Oh my god, you actually prepared for this. What the hell? You don’t prepare for anything!

Realizing that Fred isn’t retaliating yet, Lord Yum makes his intentions clear.

Lord Gavin Yum, Esq.: HAVE AT THEE!!!

The Yum family loafer lands square in the lasagna without that pesky dick to get in the way, and Fred now looks like a man who has been betrayed by the existence of his balls. He’s on Sketti legs, as it were.

Lord Gavin Yum, Esq.: I SAY THEE NAY!!!

Loafer. Lasagna. You now know the rest.

Coral Avalon: Please stop saying lines like that when you’re carrying me that close to your mouth.

He hesitates.

Coral Avalon: That came out wrong.

Lord Gavin Yum, Esq.: And now, for the pièce de résistance!

Lord Yum takes one step back from Fred, then gets a running start and… boom, goes the dynamite.

Fred topples over.

Coral Avalon: I have no words.

Fred Dick: Well I have several god damn words!!!

Fred rummages his hand over his general lasagna area, you know, his manitalia, and groans in severe pain.

Fred Dick: Sometimes, you gotta look at a man who came prepared for a Baffroom Fight, stare deep into the windows of his soul, and say, ‘GOD DAMN IT. MY BALLS.’ And he understands, don’t he? He understands that he just decimated your balls and that here, in this holy place, it ain’t just expected, it’s encouraged.

Fred gestures towards the sink.

Fred Dick: You, too, may put over the sketti, Gavin. God damn it, YOU EARNED IT. And if I’m bein’ real?

Fred snarls.

Fred Dick: DICK KICK!!!

Once again, Gavin’s cup absorbs the dick shot. It’s clear that Fred possibly doesn’t understand what a cup is.

Lord Gavin Yum, Esq.: REPOSTE!!!

Poor Fred.

I lied, he deserves this.

Gavin, with Coral still on the Zoom call, saunters over to Ye Olde Bucket o’ Sketti. Later, he will complain about how his cup really chafes at all of his sensitive bits after the dick kicks, but let’s not worry about Gavin here. Let’s worry about some Sketti, y’all.

The scene cuts to a split screen of Gavin and Coral, on opposite sides of the world, partaking in their buckets. Did you know that Sketti Bucket now delivers internationally? You’d swear it was magic!

Finally, the two men have this to say.

Lord Gavin Yum, Esq.: My word! The explosion of flavor! The way each noodle is perfectly salted in my mouth! The way the sauce clings for its very life upon each individual Sketti! It’s like being transported into a magical dimension where all of my taste buds are united as one into a perfectly synchronous force that demands even more Sketti! Simply incredible! Simply stupendous! Ten… no, ELEVEN out of ten!

Coral’s response was muttered, almost as though he struggled to find the words that came so easily to Gavin.

Coral Avalon: Had an alright texture, I guess.

Oh. The Zoom call suddenly ended. How strange.

And so does this seg. We cut away.

Nick Stuart: And it’s main event time!

Richard Parker: 32 men will become 1 tonight and the only question left is if it will be the veteran Chandler Tsonda or the young phenom, FLAMBERGE.

Nick Stuart: And the fans sound ready for it.

A completely unprecedented sound hits the PA, a summery stroke of a guitar announcing a song that you surely haven’t considered in years.

Richard Parker: Am I stroking out?

Nick Stuart: Always a possibility.

And then the vocals come in.

Kiss me out of the bearded barley

Nightly beneath the green, green grass

It’s “Kiss Me” by Sixpence None The Richer.

Nick Stuart: Not…the song I expected to hear, and certainly not what’s on our run sheet.

Swing swing swing the spinning step

You wear those shoes and I will wear that dress

A collective “huh” is issuing from the crowd. A noise that sounds something like: hrmmmk?

Richard Parker: This song takes me back to being young, Nick.

Nick Stuart: You were a full-grown man when this came out. We were working together.

Oh, kissssss me beneath the milky twilight

Lead me out on the moonlit floor

Lift your open hand

Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance

And then things start to make slightly more sense.

Silver moon’s sparkling

So, kiss me

Static hiss.

Repeat.

So, kiss me.

Static hiss.

Repeat, only the audio file sounds corrupted, the voice garbling and the volume shaking like it’s protecting someone’s identity on an A&E show.

so KISS me

Now it’s chopped and screwed.

SO k-k-kiss mmmmmmmmeeee

Richard Parker: Audio truck guys are on the good stuff tonight.

And one final time for good measure, the vocals now truly distorted down to a molasses-y baritone.

So kisssss me

Lights dim.

A familiar growling voice, the timing synced up just right so that the first half of something more familiar fits into the cadence we just heard.

I said kiss me

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

And now the bit is clear.

I said ‘kiss me, you’re beautiful’

These are truly the last days

Nick Stuart: It’s all making sense now, Richard!

Richard Parker: I don’t care for this.

A short acoustic staccato guitar, plucked at max volume, with the lights still down. A zillion camera phones light up the dark in preparation for what will happen next.

Gold pyro thunders out in time with the wicked axe work that announces “Welcome Home” by Coheed & Cambria.

Up come the lights and out comes the Viper.

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Nick Stuart: Listen to that ovation for Chandler Tsonda!

Yeah, him. He’s out here now.

The Model Citizen is showered in the gold pyrotechnics that illuminate and silhouette him at the top of the ramp.

Richard Parker: At three songs and five minutes, this entrance is more involved and lasts longer than he’s going to make it against FLAMBERGE.

From the top of the ramp, Tsonda thumps his chest with his fist, and points out to every corner of the Indianapolis faithful. He takes a long look, a deep breath, and then puts his head down and charges the ring.

He slides under the ropes, and pops up in his chosen corner.

Vince Howard: Our following match is one fall and is the final Almasy Tournament match! Only one will be crowned! Introducing first, hailing from San Diego, California via Hanoi, Vietnam, the PRIME Hall of Famer… CHANDLER! TSSSSSSSSSSONDA!

Nick Stuart: Tsonda has had one hell of a run and vanquished Ivan Stanislav his last time out!

Richard Parker: Those two put each other through hell and now Tsonda has to do it all over again.

We pause a dramatic pause.

…

…

A familiar keyboard.

♫…

ROOOOOAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

♫, ♫

♫…♫, ♫

♫…♫, ♫

♫…oh, shit.

OOH LA LA, AH OUI OUI

OOH LA LA, AH OUI OUI

OOH LA LA, AH OUI OUI

OOH LA LA, AH OUI OUI

AHH OUI OUI! AHH OUI OUI!

AHH OUI OUI! AHH OUI OUI!

AHH OUI OUI! AHH OUI OUI!

AHH OUI OUI! AHH OUI OUI!

It’s an absolute cascade of fireworks. When it’s a PRIME pay-per-view, they shell out.

Teals, coppers, whites surround the stage. KABOOMS as each accolade fires across the screen in electric teal lettering:

HALL OF FAMER

PRIME WRESTLER OF THE YEAR 2023

LE GRAND CHELEM

THE BEARDED DRAGON

THE LIZARD KING

THE ACE

LE PROTAGONISTE

THE YOUNGEST LEGEND ALIVE

THE NECK COLLECTOR

F L A M B E R G E

FLAMBERGE emerges onto the stage and it is LOUD. He’s got fresh gear once again – this time his boxing shorts are crisp white with thin wavy teal and copper stripes running up the sides. His boots are electric teal with copper flamberge swords running down his shinguards. He has an absolutely insane, yet somewhat regal jacket…floor-length green lizard scale lined with black fur. FLAMBO wears his tag team championship around his waist. And notably, he’s alone. No fabby, no Hank – none of the Glue Boiz.

Tonight, at least for now…FLAMBO stands alone.

AHH OUI OUI! AHH OUI OUI!

AHH OUI OUI! AHH OUI OUI!

Vince Howard: Aaaaaaand his opponent! Hailing from Strasbourg, France!

AHH OUI OUI! AHH OUI OUI!

AHH OUI OUI! AHH OUI OUI!

Vince Howard: Weighing in at 206 pounds…Theeeeeeeee NECK…COLLECTORRRRRRRR! FLAAAAAAAMBERRRRRRRRRRRGE!

ROOOOOOOAHHHHHHHHHH!

Nick Stuart: Where do we begin when we talk about FLAMBERGE, partner? He started 2025 by defeating the man challenging for the Universal Championship tomorrow night, Daytona Diamonds. He won the PRIME tag team championships alongside Joe Fontaine, and they’ve successfully defended those belts. He beat Jason Snow. The Anglo Luchador. Max Kael. Steve Harrison. Fred Dick. It’s been an undefeated 2025 so far, and now, if he can keep his momentum going – if he can keep his MLEMENTUM going – he will find himself the winner of the third-ever Almasy Invitational.

Richard Parker: Literally every opponent FLAMBERGE has faced this year has been a champion in PRIME, by the way. He hasn’t been crushing tomato cans – he’s facing the best of the best each week, and he’s been dominant.

Nick Stuart: It’s been two years since Chandler Tsonda and FLAMBERGE first crossed swords at ReVival 34. Both men have travelled through extremely challenging roads since then, and now they find themselves head to head with a Universal Championship opportunity on the line.

Richard Parker: A shot at the Uni, and a shot at history. FLAMBO would love nothing more than to add his name next to Brandon Youngblood and Jonathan-Christopher Hall – both of whom had their own legendary runs to win previous Almasy’s.

Nick Stuart: …I can’t believe you would compliment JCH, partner. That’s real growth.

Richard Parker: Don’t get used to it.

He enters the ring and flourishes his wild jacket to the side dramatically. He looks out into the crowd and can’t tell if he’s being booed or cheered, or if this is just another case of “we’re at the fireworks factory let’s see some fireworks” frothing at the mouth that red state wrestling fans tend to get into, but he’s absolutely locked in.

He lets the jacket casually fall off his shoulders and he rips off his tag team championship, almost slamming it to the ground on top of the coat before he stomps around the ring, pumping his arms up, egging the crowd on to get louder and louder as a ringside attendant reaches through the ropes and removes the accoutrements he’s shed.

Nick Stuart: The stadium is reaching a fever pitch as FLAMBERGE and Tsonda are staring one another down while Nixon gives his final set of instructions.

Richard Parker: For FLAMBERGE, being in the final of this tournament is new for him, but for Tsonda this is not his first time in this dance. He’s a former winner of the predecessor to this tournament, although it’s been 18 years since he won that tone.

Nick Stuart: Think about that for a moment. FLAMBERGE was seven years old then.

Richard Parker: And I’m sure could’ve cared less about Tsonda even then.

Nick Stuart: Fair.

DING DING

FLAMBERGE and Chandler Tsonda circle each other with deliberate precision, both wrestlers hyper-aware of the reputation staring at them across the ring. They lock up in a traditional collar-and-elbow tie-up, with FLAMBERGE using his slight size advantage to muscle Tsonda toward the corner. Tsonda shows his veteran instincts by ducking under at the last second, spinning behind FLAMBERGE and attempting a quick waistlock takedown. FLAMBERGE sprawls expertly, his judo background evident as he widens his base and forces Tsonda to abandon the attempt. They separate cleanly, both nodding with mutual respect.

Richard Parker: FLAMBERGE trying his best to assert his dominance out of the gate, but Tsonda will have the agility and speed difference here.

Nick Stuart: Yes, but Tsonda going for a waistlock takedown is definitely a choice.

Richard Parker: Yeah, that was odd because that can’t be Tsonda’s gameplan. If it is, he’s going to walk into the teeth of the beast and have his neck taken.

Nick Stuart: Yeah, I can’t see that being his plan of attack tonight.

FLAMBERGE shoots for a single-leg takedown, but Tsonda’s evasiveness kicks in immediately as he hops backward on one leg while peppering short kicks to FLAMBERGE’s exposed shoulder and upper arm. The Frenchman absorbs two kicks before switching to a double-leg attempt, driving forward with his shoulder into Tsonda’s midsection. Tsonda counters with a sprawl of his own, then quickly transitions into a front facelock, looking for a guillotine of his own. FLAMBERGE recognizes the danger and rolls through, ending up in Tsonda’s guard position on the mat. Tsonda immediately scrambles to his feet, not wanting to play FLAMBERGE’s ground game.

Back on their feet, Tsonda begins implementing his kick-based strategy early, snapping a sharp roundhouse kick toward The Lizard King’s lead leg. The Frenchman checks it with his shin, then counters with a quick jab-cross combination that Tsonda slips by leaning back matrix-style. Tsonda fires back with a jumping roundhouse kick that FLAMBERGE ducks under, then immediately shoots for another takedown attempt. Tsonda stuffs it with a knee strike to FLAMBERGE’s chest, then follows up with an enzuigiri that barely grazes the back of FLAMBERGE’s head as he moves at the last second. Both wrestlers reset to center ring, breathing slightly heavier but maintaining their composure.

Nick Stuart: Both competitors looking to come out and hit some big moves out of the gate, but you can tell the last two weeks has been these two studying one another and preparing for this very match.

Richard Parker: Tournament wrestling, at its core, is inherently different than your standard cards. There’s an element of studying and gaming that you just don’t see when you’re bouncing from one match to another with no thought to who your next opponent is. You know in a tournament that you’re being scouted and you’re trying to work out strategies for not just the match you’re currently in, but for the next one as well.

Nick Stuart: Well put. You couldn’t have two more different styles in this ring. FLAMBERGE with the more technical and ground you out kind of style while Tsonda is one who throws his body into everything, throws caution into the wind.

Richard Parker: And yet, they’re more evenly matched than I think most experts would’ve expected. Not a significant height or weight differential, which both men faced in their previous rounds. The age and experience, though, could play a big part in this match going forward.

FLAMBERGE feints a leg kick, causing Tsonda to lift his leg defensively, then explodes forward with a beautiful Osoto Gari, sweeping Tsonda’s planted leg while driving him backward with his upper body. Tsonda crashes to the mat but immediately rolls backward and kips up to his feet, showing his athleticism. However, FLAMBERGE was expecting this and catches Tsonda mid-kip-up with a perfectly timed knee strike to the ribs. Tsonda doubles over from the impact, and FLAMBERGE smoothly transitions into a standing kimura attempt, torquing Tsonda’s arm behind his back. Tsonda grimaces but uses his flexibility to roll forward and escape, ending up behind FLAMBERGE and immediately creating distance with a backstep.

Tsonda demonstrates his “evade, counter, kick” strategy by allowing FLAMBERGE to press forward with a combination of punches. Tsonda weaves and bobs, making FLAMBERGE miss with a right cross, then immediately fires a stiff leg kick to FLAMBERGE’s thigh followed by a spinning heel kick aimed at the Frenchman’s head. FLAMBERGE blocks the head kick with both arms but absorbs the full impact of the leg kick, which visibly staggers him for a moment. Tsonda presses his advantage by shooting forward with a running knee strike, but FLAMBERGE catches the knee and elevates Tsonda, looking for a capture suplex. Mid-air, Tsonda adjusts his body and lands behind FLAMBERGE, immediately wrapping his arms around the Frenchman’s waist for a German suplex attempt.

Nick Stuart: And look at the these two continue to tussle with one another, looking for an inch of space where there is none. FLAMBERGE being more aggressive here, which could be his youth shining through, while Tsonda is looking to take out the legs of the Lizard King.

Richard Parker: Le Phenom has legs made of steel, not sure that is the way to go there!

Nick Stuart: Legs are not made of steel, don’t be ridiculous.

Richard Parker: And Tsonda going for the German Suplex, the counter-style wrestling between these two are looking for gaps or to create them if they have to.

FLAMBERGE blocks the German suplex by widening his stance and grabbing Tsonda’s wrists, then performs a beautiful standing switch to reverse their positions. Now behind Tsonda, FLAMBERGE doesn’t go for the suplex—instead, he slides his arm over Tsonda’s arm and across his throat, looking for a sleeper hold setup. Tsonda immediately recognizes the choke danger and drops to his knees while tucking his chin, making it impossible for FLAMBERGE to secure the hold properly. Tsonda then performs a perfect fireman’s carry, lifting FLAMBERGE up and over his shoulders before driving him down with authority with a slam. FLAMBERGE hits the mat but rolls through immediately, popping back to his feet and resetting his stance.

Both wrestlers charge at each other simultaneously, with Tsonda attempting a running crossbody and FLAMBERGE going for a knee strike. They collide mid-ring in spectacular fashion—Tsonda’s crossbody connects partially, but FLAMBERGE’s knee catches him in the ribs, causing both men to crash to the mat in a heap. FLAMBERGE recovers first, immediately transitioning to side control and looking to advance the position. The Model Citizen bridges and rolls, creating enough space to get his knees between them and push FLAMBERGE away with his feet. As FLAMBERGE stumbles backward, Tsonda kips up again and immediately launches into a dropkick that catches FLAMBERGE square in the chest, sending the Frenchman into the ropes. FLAMBERGE bounces back and walks into a picture-perfect arm drag from Tsonda, who uses the momentum to send FLAMBERGE rolling across the ring.

Richard Parker: Tsonda has clearly been training for the submission holds of FLAMBERGE as he immediately tucked his chin and cut FLAMBERGE off before he could get that sleeper in. That could’ve been the opening the Lizard King needed.

Nick Stuart: And then transitioned that beautifully into the fireman’s carry and subsequent slam. Neither man able to sustain any kind of offense as you can see the pain of them colliding in mid-air like that!

Richard Parker: Knees will always win in that battle, Nick. Still, Tsonda fighting through the pain and keeping the pressure up on FLAMBERGE.

Nick Stuart: Exactly, as Tsonda connects with an arm drag that definitely caught FLAMBERGE by surprise there.

FLAMBERGE gets back to his feet and adjusts his strategy, recognizing that Tsonda’s speed and counters are neutralizing his submission attempts. When Tsonda charges in with a jumping knee strike, FLAMBERGE sidesteps and catches him perfectly for a textbook Harai Goshi. Tsonda goes flying through the air, rotating a full 180 degrees before crashing onto his back with tremendous impact. FLAMBERGE immediately follows up by dropping into a north-south position, looking to apply his signature north-south choke. However, Tsonda’s ring awareness saves him as he immediately turns to his side and starts scrambling toward the ropes. FLAMBERGE maintains pressure, transitioning to a side headlock, but Tsonda reaches the bottom rope with his foot, forcing a decision point for the Lizard King.

Nick Stuart: Are we going to get a clean break here from FLAMBERGE?

Richard Parker: History would suggest not a chance.

Nick Stuart: And FLAMBERGE is breaking the hold cleanly after Nixon informs him of the rope break.

Richard Parker: Well, I didn’t expect that.

Nick Stuart: I don’t think most did.

Back on their feet, Tsonda creates distance and signals to the crowd that he’s going to take flight. He runs toward the ropes, but instead of bouncing off for a springboard move, he stops short and spins around with a back elbow that catches FLAMBERGE rushing in behind him. The elbow stuns FLAMBERGE momentarily, and Tsonda capitalizes by grabbing his opponent’s head and running up the turnbuckles, looking for a tornado DDT. However, FLAMBERGE’s strength and base prove superior as he plants his feet and reverses the momentum, turning Tsonda’s attempt into a modified northern lights suplex that drives Tsonda back-first into the corner — with Tsonda’s chronically in pain back hitting the middle turnbuckle. Tsonda’s back arches from the impact, and he falls to the mat holding his lower back—the first sign that his chronic back issues might become a factor in this match.

FLAMBERGE sees Tsonda favoring his back and immediately goes into hunter mode, dropping down and looking to capitalize on the weakness. He pulls Tsonda away from the ropes and attempts to turn him over for a Boston crab, but Tsonda shows incredible flexibility by turning his body and hooking FLAMBERGE’s ankle with his hand, tripping the Frenchman face-first to the mat. Both wrestlers scramble on the ground in a technical exchange that showcases their grappling backgrounds—FLAMBERGE going for leg control while Tsonda looks for an escape route. Tsonda manages to slip out the back door and pop up to his feet, immediately following up with a standing moonsault attempt onto the grounded FLAMBERGE. However, FLAMBERGE rolls away at the last second, causing Tsonda to crash abdomen-first onto the mat. FLAMBERGE quickly scrambles over and applies a front facelock, cranking on Tsonda’s neck while keeping his hips heavy to prevent an easy escape. Tsonda fights the hold, working his way up to his knees as both wrestlers continue their technical chess match.

Richard Parker: Tsonda can’t take too many blows to his back if he wants to capture this tournament final win. That kind of attack will give FLAMBERGE a sweet spot to target and it could spell the end for Tsonda.

Nick Stuart: Well, that’s what the Lizard King is best known for, attacking the weaknesses of his opponents and capitalizing on it. Remember, FLAMBERGE doesn’t have a singles loss this year. He is truly having himself another 2023 and we saw how that ended.

Richard Parker: With the Universal Title, but he’s got a long way to go before he can even think about that. FLAMBERGE picking up the intensity here and is doing everything he can to wear Tsonda down. Not just with keeping his hips heavy here and applying pressure on Tsonda’s neck, but by also making Tsonda carry this extra weight.

Nick Stuart: Tsonda is going to need to conserve his energy as much as he can. Moments like this could be what forces him to come up short in the end. It’s all a chess match at this point, with both men looking for ways to drag the other into the deep waters.

Tsonda powers his way back to his feet from the front facelock, but FLAMBERGE maintains his grip and attempts to transition into a standing guillotine choke. Tsonda immediately drops his weight and turns his body, slipping out of the hold and ending up beside FLAMBERGE. Without hesitation, Tsonda fires a sharp elbow strike into FLAMBERGE’s ribs, followed by a quick knee to the midsection that doubles the Frenchman over. The Model Citizen then grabs FLAMBERGE’s head and snapmares him over, immediately following up with a stiff kick to the spine as FLAMBERGE sits up from the impact that echoes throughout the arena. FLAMBERGE arches his back from the shot, and Tsonda quickly bounces off the ropes, looking for a low dropkick to FLAMBERGE’s face. However, FLAMBERGE leans back at the last second, causing Tsonda to slide harmlessly past him and roll to his feet near the corner.

FLAMBERGE gets back to his vertical base and immediately charges at Tsonda in the corner, looking for a running knee strike. Tsonda uses his agility to leap up and over FLAMBERGE, causing the Frenchman to crash knee-first into the middle turnbuckle. FLAMBERGE staggers backward, favoring his knee slightly, and Tsonda capitalizes by grabbing him from behind and executing a perfect German suplex with a bridge. Nixon slides into position for the count.

ONE—but FLAMBERGE kicks out immediately, showing his conditioning and ring awareness.

Both wrestlers scramble to their feet simultaneously, with FLAMBERGE slightly favoring his knee and Tsonda still feeling the effects in his lower back.

Richard Parker: And Tsonda with the first pin attempt of this match!

Nick Stuart: With FLAMBERGE quickly kicking out of that. This was less about thinking he put FLAMBERGE away and more about putting that seed in FLAMBERGE’s mind — that Tsonda can pin him before he even realizes it.

Richard Parker: Tsonda’s evasiveness in this match is lending well to being the counter to what FLAMBERGE wants to do in this match.

Nick Stuart: It’s going to make FLAMBERGE think twice if he’s going to end up slamming his body into the corner.

The pace immediately quickens as both wrestlers begin to abandon some of their more methodical approaches. Tsonda attempts a spinning heel kick, but FLAMBERGE ducks under and immediately wraps his arms around Tsonda’s waist, looking for a belly-to-belly suplex. Tsonda blocks by hooking his leg behind FLAMBERGE’s, then breaks the grip and fires a series of rapid-fire kicks to FLAMBERGE’s lead leg. Each kick lands with a sharp SMACK, and FLAMBERGE’s stance begins to waver. Sensing an opening, Tsonda bounces off the ropes and comes back with a running knee strike, but FLAMBERGE catches him mid-stride and pivots into a beautiful Uchi Mata throw that sends Tsonda flying across the ring. Tsonda lands hard on his shoulder and back, rolling through the impact but clearly feeling the effects of the powerful judo throw.

FLAMBERGE stalks Tsonda as the veteran gets back to his feet, and immediately shoots for a double-leg takedown. This time he’s successful, driving Tsonda down to the mat and immediately transitioning into side control. FLAMBERGE begins working for position to set up a submission, but Tsonda’s defensive grappling comes into play as he creates frames with his arms to prevent FLAMBERGE from advancing. Tsonda manages to turn to his side and start working back to his feet, but FLAMBERGE maintains his grip and attempts to take Tsonda’s back. Tsonda recognizes the danger and immediately drops to his knees, rolling forward in a granby roll that breaks FLAMBERGE’s grip and allows him to pop back up to his feet. FLAMBERGE quickly follows suit, and both wrestlers reset in the center of the ring, breathing heavier now as the technical exchanges begin to take their toll.

Nick Stuart: Impressive stuff here from Tsonda, who has been in the ring with the best of them and has figured out counters that will keep FLAMBERGE at bay.

Richard Parker: And you have to wonder if the frustration is starting to build in FLAMBERGE’s chest as he is quite keen to put Tsonda down on the mat and start to extract some pain from the Hall of Famer.

Nick Stuart: You were talking about the gap between age and experience between these two. FLAMBERGE is not a slouch in the least bit — given by the way that Tsonda is conducting this match — but patience is something that is learned over time. FLAMBERGE is going to have to lean on that or he’s going to open himself up to a mistake and Tsonda will capitalize.

Richard Parker: Which I imagine Tsonda is keen to have happen.

Tsonda decides to test FLAMBERGE’s striking defense by throwing a combination of kicks and punches. He starts with a low kick to FLAMBERGE’s calf, followed by a middle kick to the ribs, then attempts to cap it off with a high roundhouse kick to the head. FLAMBERGE absorbs the first two kicks but catches the high kick, immediately using his grip on Tsonda’s leg to sweep the other leg and send Tsonda crashing to the mat. FLAMBERGE maintains his hold on Tsonda’s ankle and attempts to turn him over for an ankle lock, but Tsonda uses his free leg to kick FLAMBERGE in the chest repeatedly, forcing a break of the grip. Tsonda rolls backward and springs to his feet, immediately launching into a dropkick that catches FLAMBERGE in the chest and sends him stumbling backward into the ropes.

As FLAMBERGE bounces off the ropes, Tsonda meets him in the center of the ring with a picture-perfect hip toss that showcases his technical fundamentals. The Lizard King hits the mat but immediately rolls through and gets back to his feet, only to be met by Tsonda attempting a hurricanrana. FLAMBERGE shows his strength by catching Tsonda mid-move and powering him up into a powerbomb position. However, Tsonda’s flexibility and ring awareness allow him to lean back and reverse the momentum, turning the powerbomb attempt into a modified DDT that drives FLAMBERGE’s head into the mat. Both wrestlers hit the canvas hard, with FLAMBERGE holding his head and Tsonda clutching his back from the impact of executing the counter.

Nick Stuart: What a counter there from Tsonda, executed perfectly!

Richard Parker: He had his legs wrapped around the neck of FLAMBERGE for a hurricanrana and I thought he was going to hit it, but you have to know that FLAMBERGE has also soundly scouted out the Model Citizen.

Nick Stuart: Still, Tsonda managed to counter the counter and FLAMBERGE is paying dearly for it.

Richard Parker: Yeah, but that back of Tsonda is starting to become a problem for Chandler and a bullseye for FLAMBERGE as Tsonda was unable to capitalize on the moment.

Both wrestlers take a moment to recover before getting back to their feet, circling each other with renewed respect and caution. FLAMBERGE attempts to close the distance with a jab-cross combination, but Tsonda slips the punches and responds with a lightning-fast enzuigiri that catches FLAMBERGE behind the ear. The kick staggers FLAMBERGE, and Tsonda immediately follows up by grabbing the Frenchman’s arm and whipping him toward the corner. FLAMBERGE reverses the whip, sending Tsonda into the turnbuckles instead. Tsonda hits the corner back-first and grimaces from the impact, his back issues clearly becoming more of a factor. FLAMBERGE charges in with a running knee strike, but Tsonda gets his boots up at the last second, catching FLAMBERGE flush in the face and sending him stumbling backward.

Tsonda uses the momentum to climb to the second turnbuckle and launch himself at FLAMBERGE with a diving crossbody. FLAMBERGE sees it coming and attempts to catch Tsonda, but the impact sends both wrestlers crashing to the mat with Tsonda landing on top and Nixon immediately slides in for the count.

ONE

TWO

—but FLAMBERGE kicks out with authority, showing his power by actually launching Tsonda off of him.

Tsonda rolls with the momentum and gets back to his feet quickly, but FLAMBERGE is right behind him. The Frenchman immediately grabs Tsonda around the waist and executes a perfect German suplex, bridging for a pin attempt of his own.

ONE

TWO

—and now it’s Tsonda’s turn to kick out decisively, arching his back despite the pain to break the bridge.

Nick Stuart: The fans here are watching with bated breathe as both wrestlers are starting to get more offense here, but none of it is truly sustained.

Richard Parker: Still, pin attempts are signs that we are starting to shift to a near gear in this match and you have to wonder what the tanks for both of these men are starting to look like.

Nick Stuart: Especially coming off their matches two weeks ago. FLAMBERGE had Fred Dick, Tsonda had Ivan Stanislav —

Richard Parker: Both of whom are squaring off against one another tomorrow night —

NIck Stuart: And neither man walked out of that match feeling a hundred percent, with I would assume Tsonda being the most battered out of both men tonight.

Richard Parker: It’s a fair question, though knowing Tsonda, he won’t let that slow him down.

Both wrestlers get back to their feet simultaneously. Tsonda attempts a spinning back fist, but FLAMBERGE ducks under and immediately wraps his arm around Tsonda’s throat from behind, looking for his first real choke attempt of the match. Tsonda immediately drops his chin and grabs FLAMBERGE’s arm, preventing the choke from being fully applied. Tsonda then performs a perfect standing switch, ending up behind FLAMBERGE and attempting a sleeper hold of his own. FLAMBERGE counters by grabbing Tsonda’s arm and performing a judo throw that sends Tsonda over his shoulder and onto his back. FLAMBERGE immediately follows up by dropping down and applying a side headlock, cranking on Tsonda’s neck while keeping his weight distributed to prevent an easy escape.

Tsonda works his way back to his feet despite the headlock, using his leg strength to power up while FLAMBERGE maintains his grip. Once vertical, Tsonda backs FLAMBERGE into the ropes and uses the momentum to shoot him off toward the opposite side of the ring. FLAMBERGE bounces back and Tsonda leap frogs over him, causing FLAMBERGE to continue running to the far ropes. On the return, Tsonda drops down to the mat, forcing FLAMBERGE to hop over him and continue to the ropes once more. This time when FLAMBERGE comes back, Tsonda is ready with a beautiful arm drag that sends the Frenchman rolling across the ring. FLAMBERGE rolls through to his feet near the corner, and both wrestlers pause for a moment, breathing heavily as they stare across the ring at each other.

Nick Stuart: And both men are staring at each other, chests heaving, as the fans here in Indianapolis explode to their feet in admiration for the match these two have put on thus far!

Richard Parker: Neither man has gained any kind of lasting advantage, but the toll of the match is wearing on both men’s faces. They understand what is at stake here and neither are willing to lay down and die for the other.

Nick Stuart: Far from it, but even at this stage of the match, they’re both looking for any kind of opening to take advantage of.

Richard Parker: And when that opening is there, the door is quickly slammed shut on their fingers and they’re left scrambling to close the door that’s opened elsewhere.

The brief stalemate breaks as FLAMBERGE decides to press the action, charging forward with renewed aggression. He fires a stiff jab toward Tsonda’s face, but The Model Citizen slips it and immediately counters with a sharp kick to FLAMBERGE’s lead leg. The Neck Collector absorbs the kick and responds by grabbing Tsonda’s kicking leg and using it to pull him into a clinch position. Once in close, FLAMBERGE drives a knee strike toward Tsonda’s midsection, but Tsonda turns his body and takes the knee on his hip instead. Tsonda then fires a short elbow strike toward FLAMBERGE’s ribs, but The French Phenom blocks it with his forearm and immediately attempts to trip Tsonda with his leg. Tsonda hops backward to avoid the trip, but FLAMBERGE follows through by grabbing Tsonda’s head and attempting a standing guillotine choke. Tsonda immediately drops his weight and spins out of the hold, ending up behind FLAMBERGE and firing a quick kick to the back of his knee.

FLAMBERGE’s knee buckles slightly from the kick, and Tsonda immediately capitalizes by grabbing The Bearded Dragon around the waist and attempting a German suplex. However, FLAMBERGE blocks by widening his stance and throwing his elbow back, catching Tsonda in the temple and breaking his grip. FLAMBERGE quickly turns around and shoots for a double-leg takedown, but Tsonda sprawls and immediately starts throwing short punches down at FLAMBERGE’s exposed head and neck. The punches aren’t particularly hard, but they’re persistent and targeted, forcing FLAMBERGE to abandon his takedown attempt and scramble back to his feet. As soon as both wrestlers are vertical, Tsonda fires a spinning heel kick that barely misses FLAMBERGE’s head, the French wrestler ducking at the last possible second. FLAMBERGE immediately counters with a leg sweep that takes Tsonda’s feet out from under him, sending The Sultan of Style crashing to the mat.

Richard Parker: Both competitors now desperate to get a moment of advantage, to try and press that into something more.

Nick Stuart: Still, the counters are coming fast and furious between both of them. Tsonda is doing everything he can to not be trapped by the submissions of FLAMBERGE while Le Phenom is taking a beat on his legs from The Model Citizen.

Richard Parker: Yeah, if I’m FLAMBERGE, I’m not interested in taking those kicks any longer and I’m doing whatever I can to slow down this pace because Tsonda’s conditioning is unlike any other.

Nick Stuart: Still lots of match to go, but you can tell both of these are feeling the moment upon them.

FLAMBERGE quickly moves to capitalize on Tsonda being grounded, dropping down and attempting to apply a side headlock. However, Tsonda’s ring awareness serves him well as he immediately turns to his side and starts working his way back to his feet. FLAMBERGE maintains his grip on the headlock and attempts to use it to control Tsonda’s movement, but The Tsuperstar shows his flexibility by ducking his head low and slipping out of the hold. Free from the headlock, Tsonda immediately fires a sharp elbow strike toward FLAMBERGE’s ribs, then follows up with a knee strike to the same area. Both strikes land clean, causing FLAMBERGE to double over slightly, and Tsonda takes advantage by grabbing The Lizard King’s head and driving it down into his rising knee. The knee strike catches FLAMBERGE flush in the forehead, snapping his head back and causing him to stumble backward toward the ropes.

Tsonda presses his advantage by charging forward with a running knee strike, but FLAMBERGE moves at the last second, causing Tsonda to crash knee-first into the middle rope. The impact stuns Tsonda momentarily, and FLAMBERGE immediately grabs him from behind, lifting him up and executing a beautiful release German suplex that sends The Viet Viper flying across the ring. Tsonda lands hard on his upper back and neck, rolling through the impact but clearly feeling the effects of the powerful suplex. FLAMBERGE doesn’t give him time to recover, immediately rushing over and dropping down to apply a front facelock. However, Tsonda’s defensive instincts kick in as he immediately starts working his hands between himself and FLAMBERGE, creating frames to prevent the choke from being fully applied.

Nick Stuart: What a German Suplex from the Lizard King! Tsonda seemed to be creating some momentum for himself with his combo, but FLAMBERGE was able to move out of the way at the last second to send Tsonda crashing into the ropes.

Richard Parker: Those suplexes are targeted to, designed to maximize the impact on Tsonda’s neck and upper back. You know Chandler must’ve been on the leg curl machine and instead of working out his legs, doing his neck instead.

Nick Stuart: Well, that seems a bit dangerous.

Richard Parker: When your nickname is the Viet Viper, nothing is too dangerous.

Nick Stuart: The Lizard King versus the Viet Viper. That’s one hell of a match.

Tsonda manages to work his way up to one knee despite FLAMBERGE maintaining the front facelock, showing impressive neck strength as he powers through the hold. FLAMBERGE recognizes that the submission isn’t fully locked in and decides to transition, releasing the facelock and immediately grabbing Tsonda’s arm to attempt a standing kimura. However, The Model Citizen’s flexibility comes into play as he rolls forward through the hold, ending up behind FLAMBERGE and immediately firing a stiff kick to the back of The Ace’s calf muscle. The kick lands with a sharp SMACK, and FLAMBERGE’s leg visibly buckles for a moment. Tsonda follows up immediately with another kick to the same spot, then adds a third kick to FLAMBERGE’s hamstring area. Each kick is precise and targeted, clearly designed to weaken FLAMBERGE’s base and limit his ability to execute his powerful throws and takedowns.

FLAMBERGE turns around to face Tsonda, his leg clearly bothering him as he adjusts his stance. The French Phenom attempts to close the distance with a jumping knee strike, but his compromised leg affects his timing, and Tsonda is able to sidestep the attack. As FLAMBERGE lands awkwardly on his targeted leg, Tsonda immediately fires a low dropkick that catches The Neck Collector directly in the injured calf. FLAMBERGE goes down to one knee from the impact, and Tsonda quickly bounces off the ropes, coming back with a running knee strike aimed at FLAMBERGE’s head. However, FLAMBERGE’s ring awareness saves him as he ducks under the knee at the last second, causing Tsonda to sail over him and continue toward the opposite ropes. When Tsonda rebounds, FLAMBERGE is ready with a beautiful hip toss that sends The Sultan of Style crashing to the mat, though the Frenchman winces slightly as he puts weight on his targeted leg.

Richard Parker: FLAMBERGE is compromised! This is the worse case scenario playing out right before his very eyes! Tsonda’s strategy is starting to work and this could be the opening that Tsonda needs.

Nick Stuart: Without question, it’s working, but FLAMBERGE is far from down and out as evidence by his ring awareness that sent Tsonda sailing by on that running knee strike to the back of his head. Tsonda also can’t appreciate the hip toss that drives his body into the mat repeatedly. FLAMBERGE does it with such intensity that the entire ring shakes.

Richard Parker: Still, look at the way that FLAMBERGE is wincing.

Nick Stuart: Both men though are going to continue to push through the pain for the prize at the end of it all.

Both wrestlers get back to their feet, with FLAMBERGE clearly favoring his leg while Tsonda shows signs of wear from the various impacts he’s absorbed. The Model Citizen decides to test FLAMBERGE’s compromised mobility by throwing a series of kicks, starting with another sharp strike to the injured calf. FLAMBERGE lifts his leg to check the kick, but Tsonda immediately follows with a middle kick that catches The Bearded Dragon in the ribs. The kick doubles FLAMBERGE over slightly, and Tsonda capitalizes by grabbing his head and attempting a DDT. However, FLAMBERGE shows his strength by blocking the DDT attempt and countering with a northern lights suplex that drives Tsonda back-first into the mat. FLAMBERGE bridges for the pin and NIxon is ready for the count:

ONE

TWO

—but Tsonda kicks out decisively, his shoulder shooting up off the mat with authority.

FLAMBERGE gets back to his feet, still favoring his leg but looking determined to press his advantage. He pulls Tsonda up by the head and immediately fires a stiff European uppercut that snaps The Tsuperstar’s head back. FLAMBERGE follows up with a second uppercut, then grabs Tsonda’s arm and whips him toward the corner. Tsonda reverses the whip, sending FLAMBERGE toward the turnbuckles instead, but The Lizard King manages to hop up to the second rope and immediately launch himself backward with a moonsault attempt. However, his injured leg affects his leap, and he doesn’t get the full rotation, allowing Tsonda to sidestep and watch as FLAMBERGE crashes chest-first to the mat. Tsonda immediately moves in, grabbing FLAMBERGE’s legs and attempting to turn him over for a Boston crab, clearly looking to target the Frenchman’s back and put additional pressure on the injured leg.

Richard Parker: FLAMBERGE has shown an ability to simply counter where it matters most and even though he didn’t get the pinfall on Tsonda after that Northern Lights Suplex, it’s now putting that same bit of doubt in the back of Tsonda’s mind.

Nick Stuart: Even with that, Tsonda has truly compromised the Lizard King and now he’s setting up FLAMBERGE for the Boston crab! If he locks this in, it could be the moment we point to when FLAMBERGE lost this match.

Richard Parker: FLAMBERGE though isn’t going to go down without a fight.

Nick Stuart: He never has.

FLAMBERGE recognizes the danger of the Boston crab and immediately starts fighting the hold, using his core strength to prevent Tsonda from turning him over completely. The Ace manages to kick out with his free leg, catching Tsonda in the chest and breaking his grip on the attempt. Both wrestlers scramble back to their feet, but Tsonda is quicker and immediately fires a superkick toward FLAMBERGE’s jaw. The French Phenom barely gets his hands up in time to block the kick, but the impact still staggers him backward. Tsonda doesn’t let up, immediately bouncing off the ropes and coming back with a running knee strike. This time FLAMBERGE is ready, catching Tsonda’s knee and immediately transitioning into a capture suplex attempt. However, his injured leg gives out slightly as he tries to lift Tsonda, allowing The Viet Viper to slip out of the hold and land behind FLAMBERGE.

Once behind FLAMBERGE, Tsonda immediately wraps his arms around The Neck Collector’s waist and executes a German suplex of his own, though he doesn’t bridge for the pin. Instead, he maintains his grip and pulls FLAMBERGE back up to his feet, looking for a second German suplex. FLAMBERGE blocks the attempt by hooking his leg behind Tsonda’s, then throws a sharp elbow back that catches The Model Citizen in the temple and breaks his grip. FLAMBERGE quickly turns around and fires a spinning backfist toward Tsonda’s head, but The Sultan of Style ducks under the strike and immediately counters with an enzuigiri that catches FLAMBERGE behind the ear. The kick staggers The French Phenom, and Tsonda quickly capitalizes by grabbing FLAMBERGE’s arm and whipping him toward the ropes. However, FLAMBERGE reverses the whip, sending Tsonda toward the ropes instead. As Tsonda rebounds, FLAMBERGE drops his head for a back body drop, but Tsonda sees it coming and leaps over FLAMBERGE, grabbing his head on the way over and driving him down with a sunset flip DDT that plants The Bearded Dragon head-first into the mat.

Nick Stuart: The Model Citizen with a crazy AF sunset flip there!

Richard Parker: Did you just say AF?

Nick Stuart: I did.

Richard Parker: What is the world coming to?

Tsonda quickly scrambles on top of the downed FLAMBERGE and hooks the leg for a cover, with Nixon sliding in for the count.

ONE

TWO

—but The Neck Collector kicks out with authority, his shoulder shooting up off the mat. However, the impact from the DDT has clearly affected FLAMBERGE, as he rolls to his side holding his head while Tsonda gets back to his feet with renewed confidence. The Model Citizen doesn’t waste time, immediately pulling FLAMBERGE up by the head and firing a sharp knee strike into his midsection. FLAMBERGE doubles over from the impact, and Tsonda capitalizes by grabbing his head and running toward the corner, looking for a tornado DDT. However, The French Phenom shows his ring awareness by planting his feet and reversing the momentum, launching Tsonda up and over the top rope. Tsonda manages to land on the apron rather than crashing to the floor, but FLAMBERGE immediately charges forward with a running knee strike that catches The Sultan of Style flush in the ribs, causing him to double over on the apron.

FLAMBERGE grabs Tsonda’s head over the top rope and attempts to suplex him back into the ring, but The Tsuperstar blocks by hooking his leg on the bottom rope. Tsonda then fires a sharp jab strike into FLAMBERGE’s ribs, breaking his grip, and immediately grabs The Bearded Dragon’s head, looking to snap his neck down across the top rope. FLAMBERGE recognizes the danger and pulls back, but Tsonda uses the momentum to springboard off the top rope and catch FLAMBERGE with a flying forearm that sends both wrestlers crashing to the mat. The impact is significant for both men—Tsonda landing hard on his chronically injured back while FLAMBERGE takes the full force of the forearm to his chest and head. Both wrestlers roll in opposite directions, with Tsonda arching his back in pain and FLAMBERGE holding his jaw where the forearm connected.

Nick Stuart: Tsonda caught all of that forearm strike and FLAMBERGE is reeling from it!

Richard Parker: FLAMBERGE is letting the momentum shift too far into Tsonda’s direction and if he doesn’t curb it soon, it might be too much for him to truly battle back from.

Nick Stuart: Tsonda continues to throw caution into the wind and it is working out well for him, looking to keep FLAMBERGE on his toes and off balance at every chance he can take.

Richard Parker: FLAMBERGE needs to ground Tsonda because springboard forearms are playing right into Tsonda’s hands.

Both wrestlers take several seconds to recover before getting back to their feet, the accumulated damage clearly starting to affect their movement and timing. FLAMBERGE gets up first, still favoring his targeted leg but moving with purpose as he stalks Tsonda. The Lizard King attempts a running clothesline, but The Viet Viper ducks under and immediately counters with a drop toe hold that sends FLAMBERGE face-first into the middle turnbuckle. The impact stuns FLAMBERGE momentarily, and Tsonda quickly moves behind him, grabbing his waist and pulling him backward into a rolling German suplex. However, FLAMBERGE manages to land on his feet behind Tsonda, showing impressive athleticism despite his injuries. The Ace immediately wraps his arms around Tsonda’s waist and executes a German suplex of his own, this time maintaining his bridge for a pin attempt.

ONE

TWO

—but Tsonda rolls his shoulder up at the last possible second.

FLAMBERGE releases the bridge and immediately transitions into a front facelock, looking to wear down Tsonda’s neck and potentially set up for his signature Marie Antoinette. However, The Model Citizen’s defensive instincts are sharp, and he immediately starts working his hands up to create separation. Tsonda manages to get to one knee, then fires a sharp uppercut into FLAMBERGE’s midsection that loosens the hold enough for him to slip his head free. Once free, Tsonda immediately fires a spinning heel kick toward FLAMBERGE’s head, but The French Phenom ducks under and the kick catches nothing but air. FLAMBERGE capitalizes on Tsonda being off-balance by grabbing his leg and executing a beautiful dragon screw leg whip that sends Tsonda spinning to the mat. However, instead of staying down, Tsonda rolls through the impact and pops back up to his feet, immediately firing a superkick that catches FLAMBERGE flush in the jaw and sends him stumbling backward toward the ropes.

Richard Parker: FLAMBERGE took all of that right to the jaw and he might be out on his feet!

Nick Stuart: He definitely is stumbling around like he could be. Tsonda continues to keep the pressure up and is fighting through whatever pain – and rest assured there is plenty of pain there – to keep the pressure up.

Richard Parker: FLAMBERGE needs a good combo to slow Tsonda down. He’s doing good work with the German Suplexes and keeping Tsonda from picking up too much monetum, but the Viet Viper just seems to have his number thus far and there’s no slowing him down.

Nick Stuart: FLAMBERGE needs to get back to his game and work to wear Tsonda down if he wants to capture one of the few things in PRIME that’s eluded him thus far.

As FLAMBERGE bounces off the ropes, Tsonda meets him in the center of the ring with a running knee strike that doubles The Neck Collector over. Tsonda immediately follows up by bouncing off the ropes himself, coming back with a running knee strike that catches FLAMBERGE right in the face and sends him crashing to the mat. However, the impact of delivering the knee also aggravates Tsonda’s back injury, causing him to stumble and grab his lower back instead of immediately going for a cover. This hesitation allows FLAMBERGE to roll toward the ropes and use them to pull himself back to his feet. The Bearded Dragon shakes his head to clear the cobwebs, blood starting to trickle from his nose where the knee connected, but his eyes show the fierce determination that has made him one of the favorite’s in the tournament.

Tsonda charges forward looking to press his advantage, but FLAMBERGE drops down and pulls the top rope, causing The Sultan of Style to tumble over the top rope and crash to the floor outside the ring. Tsonda hits the protective mats hard, his back taking most of the impact as he writhes in pain on the outside. FLAMBERGE takes a moment to wipe the blood from his nose, then looks at Tsonda struggling on the floor and makes a calculated decision. The French Phenom bounces off the far ropes and comes charging back, launching himself over the top rope with a tope suicida that crashes into Tsonda just as The Model Citizen was getting back to his feet. Both wrestlers crash into the security barrier with tremendous impact, FLAMBERGE’s injured leg buckling as he lands while Tsonda’s back takes another vicious shot against the unforgiving steel.

Nick Stuart: And now it is FLAMBERGE who is taking the risk.

Richard Parker: A necessary risk if you ask me! He needs to keep Tsonda off balance, put him on his back foot much like Tsonda has as of late. Still, you could see FLAMBERGE favoring that leg as he tried to plant it on his landing.

Nick Stuart: Tsonda has done a great job of putting the work in on having that pay off and even that little hesitation could keep Tsonda from getting too behind in the count with FLAMBERGE.

Richard Parker: FLAMBERGE is going to need to go to that dark place to fight through the pain and get the momentum he desperately needs.

Nick Stuart: Well, this is a good start down that path.

Nixon begins his count as both wrestlers lie in a heap against the security barrier, the PRIMEates on their feet showing their appreciation for the sequence that just unfolded before their very eyes.

ONE…

TWO…

THREE…

Tsonda is the first to stir, rolling away from the barrier and using it to pull himself up to one knee.

FOUR…

FIVE…

FLAMBERGE follows suit, his leg clearly bothering him as he struggles to get vertical.

SIX…

Both wrestlers are on their feet now, with Tsonda throwing a wild haymaker that FLAMBERGE ducks under. The Lizard King immediately counters with a European uppercut that snaps Tsonda’s head back, then grabs him by the head and drives him face-first into the ring apron.

SEVEN…

FLAMBERGE rolls under the bottom rope to break the count, then immediately rolls back out to continue the assault on the outside.

The Ace grabs Tsonda by the head and attempts to drive him into the steel ring steps, but The Tsuperstar plants his feet and reverses the momentum, sending FLAMBERGE crashing shoulder-first into the steps instead. The impact is tremendous, with the top portion of the steps separating from the bottom as FLAMBERGE crashes through them. The French Phenom holds his shoulder in obvious pain while Tsonda leans against the ring apron, his back clearly bothering him as he tries to catch his breath. The Viet Viper realizes he needs to get back in the ring and slides under the bottom rope, then immediately slides back out to reset Nixon’s count as well. He pulls FLAMBERGE up from the wreckage of the ring steps and attempts to roll him back into the ring, but The Neck Collector shows his toughness by firing a short punch into Tsonda’s ribs as he’s being lifted.

Richard Parker: FLAMBERGE’s shoulder might be separated after taking that shot into the steps! Another big risk moment that the Lizard King crashed and burned on!

Nick Stuart: You can see the pain in his eyes, but Tsonda is feeling it too in his lower back. The stakes were much higher for Tsonda if he crashed into the steel steps instead of FLAMBERGE.

Richard Parker: FLAMBERGE though is still fighting back and you have to admire the never-quit attitude he is displaying tonight. He’s fighting through it all to keep things as even as possible.

Nick Stuart: And FLAMBERGE knows all it takes is one moment to cinch in the Marie Antoinette and he may be the winner of this. Tsonda is well aware of that too.

The punch doubles Tsonda over, and FLAMBERGE capitalizes despite his injured shoulder by grabbing The Model Citizen around the waist and executing a belly-to-belly suplex on the outside that drives Tsonda back-first into the stadium floor. Tsonda’s back arches in agony as he writhes on the ground in pain, but FLAMBERGE doesn’t have time to follow up as Nixon’s count is approaching dangerous territory. The Bearded Dragon grabs Tsonda and rolls him under the bottom rope, then follows him into the ring at the count of eight. However, the accumulated damage is clearly affecting both wrestlers—FLAMBERGE favoring his shoulder and leg while Tsonda can barely stand straight due to his back injury. Both men struggle to their feet in the center of the ring, sweat and exhaustion evident on their faces as they stare across at each other with mutual respect and determination.

FLAMBERGE makes the first move, charging forward with a running knee strike despite his injuries. However, his compromised mobility telegraphs the attack, and Tsonda sidesteps at the last second while simultaneously firing a superkick toward FLAMBERGE’s jaw. The French Phenom barely gets his hands up to block the kick, but the impact still staggers him backward. Tsonda immediately follows up by grabbing FLAMBERGE’s injured arm and whipping him toward the corner. FLAMBERGE hits the turnbuckles hard, his injured shoulder taking additional punishment, and Tsonda immediately charges in with a running knee strike that catches The Lizard King flush in the midsection. FLAMBERGE doubles over from the impact, and Tsonda capitalizes by climbing to the second rope and grabbing FLAMBERGE’s head, looking for his signature Runway Vault. However, as Tsonda leaps forward for the turnbuckle somersault, FLAMBERGE flips the script by catching him mid-move and transitioning into a Northern Lights suplex that drives The Sultan of Style into the mat with authority, bridging for what could be the decisive pin attempt of the match.

Richard Parker: This could be it! He might have caught Tsonda enough off guard here to win the tournament!

Nick Stuart: ONE! TWO!

Richard Parker: Tsonda JUST kicks out!

NIck Stuart: Nixon’s fist was coming down for that three count and instinct kicked in for the Model Citizen.

Richard Parker: That could’ve been it. FLAMBERGE would be marching on to a match at Colossus!

Both wrestlers remain down for several seconds, the accumulated damage from their battle clearly taking its toll. FLAMBERGE is the first to stir, rolling to his side while holding his injured shoulder, but there’s a newfound determination in The Neck Collector’s eyes as he realizes he successfully countered Tsonda’s signature setup move. FLAMBERGE gets to his feet first, though he’s clearly favoring multiple body parts, and immediately moves to capitalize on his advantage. He pulls Tsonda up by the head and fires a stiff 12-6 elbow strike down onto The Sultan of Style’s shoulder and neck area. The strike lands with a dull THUD, and Tsonda’s knees buckle slightly from the impact. FLAMBERGE follows up immediately with a second elbow strike to the same area, then transitions into a standing kimura attempt, torquing Tsonda’s arm behind his back while applying pressure to the shoulder joint.

Tsonda grimaces in pain from the kimura but shows his veteran instincts by immediately dropping to one knee and rolling forward, using his flexibility to slip out of the hold before FLAMBERGE can fully lock it in. However, The French Phenom anticipated the escape and immediately transitions into a front facelock as Tsonda comes up from the roll. This time FLAMBERGE has better positioning, and he cranks down on Tsonda’s neck while sprawling his hips to prevent The Tsuperstar from standing up. Tsonda’s face begins to redden as the blood flow is restricted, but he manages to work his hands up between himself and FLAMBERGE, creating enough space to fire a short uppercut into The Bearded Dragon’s ribs. The punch loosens FLAMBERGE’s grip slightly, and Tsonda immediately capitalizes by grabbing FLAMBERGE’s leg and executing a single-leg takedown that sends both wrestlers crashing to the mat. However, FLAMBERGE maintains his grip on the front facelock even as they hit the ground, now applying what’s essentially a guillotine choke from his back.

Nick Stuart: Tsonda is in a precarious situation here! If he’s not careful, he’s going to be passed out or tapping out to this guillotine choke!

Richard Parker: This just goes to show you that you can never let your guard down against the French Phenom. He’s on his back and has got a choke on the Model Citizen and you have to imagine Tsonda isn’t quite liking this position that he couldn’t have easily trained for.

Nick Stuart: No, Tsonda is going to need to do something in a hurry or else FLAMBERGE will be marching towards Colossus with only one thing on his mind.

Richard Parker: I think he’s going to tap, Nick. I don’t think he has another choice.

Tsonda recognizes the extreme danger of the position and immediately starts working to escape, using his core strength to posture up while keeping his chin tucked to prevent the choke from being fully applied. The Viet Viper manages to get to his knees despite FLAMBERGE’s grip, then fires a series of back elbows into The Lizard King’s ribs and midsection. Each shot lands with a sharp SMACK, and after the fourth strike, FLAMBERGE is forced to release the choke attempt to protect his body. Tsonda immediately scrambles away and gets back to his feet, but FLAMBERGE is right behind him, showing impressive conditioning despite his injuries. The Ace immediately shoots for a double-leg takedown, driving his shoulder into Tsonda’s midsection and lifting him off the mat. However, Tsonda’s defensive wrestling comes into play as he sprawls and starts throwing short punches down at FLAMBERGE’s head and neck, forcing the Frenchman to abandon the takedown attempt.

As both wrestlers scramble back to their feet, FLAMBERGE immediately changes tactics and fires a jumping roundhouse kick toward Tsonda’s head. The kick whistles through the air, but The Model Citizen ducks under at the last second and immediately counters with a leg sweep that takes FLAMBERGE’s feet out from under him. FLAMBERGE crashes to the mat but immediately rolls backward and kips up to his feet, showing remarkable athleticism despite his current state. However, his injured leg affects his balance slightly as he lands, and Tsonda capitalizes by firing a sharp superkick toward FLAMBERGE’s jaw. The French Phenom barely gets his hands up in time to block the kick, but the impact drives him backward into the corner. Tsonda immediately charges forward with a running knee strike, but FLAMBERGE moves at the last second, causing Tsonda to crash knee-first into the middle turnbuckle. The impact stuns The Sultan of Style, and FLAMBERGE immediately capitalizes by grabbing him from behind and executing a beautiful Komi Goshi throw that sends Tsonda flying across the ring.

Richard Parker: FLAMBERGE starting to pick up some momentum now and the fans here in Indianapolis are recognizing it as they’re on their feet, watching these two talented performers go back and forth with one another.

Nick Stuart: I don’t think you’ve ever taken a match so seriously.

Richard Parker: Lindsay told me I would get a bonus if I did.

Nick Stuart: What?! I’ve never gotten a bonus in all of my life!

Richard Parker: Haha, sucks to be you.

Tsonda lands hard on his shoulder and back, rolling through the impact but clearly feeling the effects of FLAMBERGE’s precise judo technique. The Neck Collector doesn’t give him time to recover, immediately rushing over and dropping down to apply his signature north-south choke. FLAMBERGE positions himself perpendicular to Tsonda’s body and wraps his arm around The Tsuperstar’s throat, applying pressure while using his body weight to keep Tsonda pinned to the mat. Tsonda’s eyes widen as he realizes the danger of the position, and he immediately starts bucking his hips and trying to turn to his side to escape. The crowd noise reaches a crescendo as it appears FLAMBERGE might have his first major submission locked in, but Tsonda’s ring awareness saves him as he manages to hook his leg around the bottom rope. Nixon calls for the break, and FLAMBERGE releases the hold cleanly, though frustration is evident on his face as he gets back to his feet.

FLAMBERGE pulls Tsonda away from the ropes and immediately goes back on the attack, grabbing The Model Citizen’s arm and attempting to hyperextend it with his signature jujigatame armbar. However, Tsonda’s flexibility allows him to roll with the pressure and slip his arm free before FLAMBERGE can fully lock in the submission. Once free, Tsonda immediately fires a sharp elbow strike into FLAMBERGE’s ribs, then follows up with a quick knee to the midsection that doubles The French Phenom over. Tsonda bounces off the ropes and comes back with a running knee strike aimed at FLAMBERGE’s head, but The Bearded Dragon shows his ring awareness by catching Tsonda’s knee and immediately transitioning into a capture suplex. This time FLAMBERGE’s technique is flawless despite his injuries, and he drives Tsonda overhead with authority, both wrestlers crashing to the mat with tremendous impact.

Nick Stuart: How either of these two men are still standing is unexplainable to me! Neither has been able to get a clear advantage over the other and yet they’re still beating the ever-loving hell out of one another.

Richard Parker: The Night Two main event of Colossus is the spot every wrestler on this roster craves. It’s the biggest show to the year, the biggest main event, and there is no question that you could make a case for either of these two stars being in that spot.

Nick Stuart: Yet, there will only be one.

Richard Parker: Exactly.

FLAMBERGE immediately goes for the cover, hooking Tsonda’s leg as Nixon begins his count.

ONE

TWO

—but The Viet Viper kicks out decisively, his shoulder shooting up off the mat. However, the kickout takes visible effort from Tsonda, and it’s clear that FLAMBERGE’s sustained offensive attack is wearing him down. The Lizard King gets back to his feet and immediately pulls Tsonda up, firing a stiff European uppercut that snaps The Sultan of Style’s head back. FLAMBERGE follows up with a second uppercut, then grabs Tsonda’s arm and whips him toward the ropes. However, Tsonda reverses the whip, sending FLAMBERGE toward the ropes instead. As The French Phenom rebounds, Tsonda drops down to the mat, forcing FLAMBERGE to hop over him and continue to the far ropes. On the return, Tsonda leap frogs over FLAMBERGE, but as The Ace continues to the ropes once more, Tsonda is ready with a beautiful dropkick that catches FLAMBERGE flush in the chest and sends him crashing to the mat.

The dropkick creates some much-needed separation for Tsonda, who uses the moment to shake out his injured arm and back while FLAMBERGE rolls to his side holding his chest. However, The Neck Collector’s conditioning shows as he gets back to his feet quickly, though he’s clearly feeling the effects of the sustained battle. FLAMBERGE charges at Tsonda with a running clothesline, but The Model Citizen ducks under and immediately counters with a German suplex attempt. FLAMBERGE blocks by hooking his leg behind Tsonda’s, then throws a sharp elbow back that catches The Tsuperstar in the temple and breaks his grip. The French Phenom quickly turns around and attempts a hammerlock suplex, grabbing Tsonda’s arm and twisting it behind his back before lifting him up. However, Tsonda’s ring awareness allows him to shift his weight mid-move and land behind FLAMBERGE, immediately wrapping his arms around The Bearded Dragon’s waist for a German suplex of his own.

Richard Parker: Back and forth these two stars go! Can Tsonda connect with the German Suplex?!

Nick Stuart: Both are intent on destroying body parts on their opponent tonight.

Richard Parker: It’s only a matter of time before one of them gives out.

Nick Stuart: I wouldn’t be so sure of that.

This time Tsonda’s German suplex connects cleanly, driving FLAMBERGE back-first into the mat with authority. However, instead of bridging for the pin, The Sultan of Style maintains his grip and pulls FLAMBERGE back up to his feet, looking for a second German suplex. FLAMBERGE recognizes the danger and immediately starts throwing elbows back with his free arm, catching Tsonda in the ribs and forcing him to release the waistlock. The Lizard King quickly turns around and fires a spinning backfist toward Tsonda’s head, but The Tsuperstar ducks under the strike and immediately counters with his signature Breathtaker cobra clutch. Tsonda wraps his arm around FLAMBERGE’s throat from behind while applying pressure to the back of his neck with his other hand. FLAMBERGE’s eyes widen as the blood flow is restricted, and he immediately starts fighting the hold by grabbing Tsonda’s arm and trying to break the grip. The crowd is on their feet as it appears Tsonda has turned the tables on the young superstar.

FLAMBERGE shows his submission defense by immediately dropping to one knee and rolling forward, using the momentum to break Tsonda’s grip and slip out of the cobra clutch. However, the escape leaves both wrestlers on the ground in a scramble position, and FLAMBERGE immediately transitions into a triangle choke attempt, wrapping his legs around Tsonda’s arm and neck. The Model Citizen’s face begins to redden as FLAMBERGE applies pressure, but Tsonda’s strength allows him to stack FLAMBERGE up on his shoulders, threatening a powerbomb counter. FLAMBERGE recognizes the danger and releases the triangle attempt, allowing Tsonda to slam him down to the mat with a modified powerbomb. Both wrestlers hit the canvas hard, with FLAMBERGE taking the impact on his back and shoulders while Tsonda immediately falls backward, his back injury preventing him from following up on the powerful counter. Nixon looks at both wrestlers lying on the mat and begins a standing ten count, the accumulated damage finally catching up to both competitors.

Nick Stuart: Both men going for submission moves is something I didn’t expect, at least from Tsonda!

Richard Parker: Tsonda has been chopping away at the legs of FLAMBERGE, but he found himself in a position to go for the Breathtaker and that definitely gave FLAMBERGE some pause.

Nick Stuart: FLAMBERGE would’ve never been able to live it down if Tsonda managed to make him tap out to a submission move.

Richard Parker: Yeah, that goes without saying. However, we might have a double countout if neither of these manage to get back to their feet soon!

Nixon’s count reaches–

FOUR…

FIVE…

1. -before both wrestlers begin to stir, the roar of the PRIMEates helping to fuel their recovery.

SIX…

SEVEN…

Tsonda rolls to his side and uses the ropes to pull himself up, his back visibly stiff as he struggles to straighten up.

EIGHT…

FLAMBERGE gets to one knee, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs from the powerbomb impact.

NINE…

Both wrestlers are on their feet at the last possible second, though neither looks particularly steady. FLAMBERGE immediately recognizes that Tsonda is hurt and moves in for the kill, grabbing The Model Citizen’s arm and whipping him toward the corner. However, Tsonda’s legs give out slightly mid-run, and he stumbles into the turnbuckles back-first, crying out in pain as his injured spine makes contact with the unforgiving steel. FLAMBERGE sees the opening and charges forward with a running knee strike that catches Tsonda flush in the midsection, doubling him over in the corner. The Neck Collector immediately capitalizes by grabbing Tsonda’s head and bulldogging him out of the corner, driving his face into the mat with authority.

Without hesitation, FLAMBERGE immediately transitions into a rear naked choke, sliding his arm under Tsonda’s chin and locking his hands together behind The Sultan of Style’s head. The crowd noise reaches a fever pitch as FLAMBERGE applies pressure, his technique textbook perfect as he uses his legs to grapevine Tsonda’s body and prevent any escape attempts. Tsonda’s face begins to turn red as the choke cuts off his air supply, and his hands desperately claw at FLAMBERGE’s arm trying to create space. Nixon gets in close position, watching for any sign of Tsonda tapping out or going unconscious. Tsonda’s movements become more frantic as the seconds tick by, but The Tsuperstar shows incredible heart by managing to work his chin down and create just enough space to get a finger between his throat and FLAMBERGE’s arm. Using every ounce of strength he has left, Tsonda manages to roll to his side and then to his knees, though FLAMBERGE maintains the choke throughout the transition.

Richard Parker: Tsonda is in trouble here and he better figure out something fast or he is going to be watching FLAMBERGE watch out of her with a date with the Universal Champion.

Nick Stuart: Well, technically so would Tsonda as he has the Golden Ticket, but your point is rather valid.

Richard Parker: Tsonda wants this, otherwise he would’ve told FLAMBERGE to screw off and rested tonight and maybe face off against him at Colossus with the title around his waist.

Nick Stuart: Still, Tsonda needs to get out of this choke or else he’s going to be in a world of pain.

The crowd is on their feet as Tsonda fights desperately to escape the rear naked choke, his face now a deep shade of red as FLAMBERGE’s grip remains locked tight. The Viet Viper’s vision begins to blur, but his veteran instincts kick in as he drives his elbow back repeatedly into FLAMBERGE’s ribs, each strike weaker than the last but persistent enough to gradually wear down The French Phenom’s grip. After what feels like an eternity, Tsonda’s seventh elbow finally forces FLAMBERGE to loosen the choke slightly, and The Model Citizen immediately capitalizes by tucking his chin and slipping his head free of the hold. However, the escape leaves Tsonda gasping for air on his hands and knees, while FLAMBERGE quickly scrambles to his feet and stalks his wounded prey. The Bearded Dragon immediately grabs Tsonda’s arm and yanks him up to his feet, then fires a devastating 12-6 elbow strike down onto Tsonda’s shoulder and neck area that sends The Sultan of Style crashing back down to one knee.

FLAMBERGE doesn’t give Tsonda a moment to recover, immediately dropping down and applying his signature triangle choke with picture-perfect technique. The Lizard King wraps his legs around Tsonda’s arm and neck, then leans back and applies tremendous pressure while using his hands to pull down on Tsonda’s head. The angle is devastating, cutting off both Tsonda’s air supply and blood flow simultaneously. Tsonda’s free hand immediately goes to tap the mat, hovering just inches above the canvas as his body begins to shut down from the lack of oxygen. Nixon gets in position, hand raised and ready to call for the bell the moment Tsonda’s palm hits the mat. However, The Tsuperstar’s incredible willpower keeps his hand from falling, and he instead uses his free arm to grab FLAMBERGE’s leg and start working to stack him up on his shoulders. FLAMBERGE recognizes the counter attempt and adjusts his position, cranking down even harder on the triangle choke.

Nick Stuart: FLAMBERGE is working his gameplan to perfection now and Tsonda is going to have to either weather this storm or admit that the end is here!

Richard Parker: You are 100% correct that FLAMBERGE has Tsonda right where he wants him. Going from the rear naked choke to the triangle choke, you’re just draining the life out of Tsonda with these two chokes. He’s having to breathe harder to get any oxygen in, his body is becoming numb, there’s no recovery time for Tsonda.

Nick Stuart: Nixon looking to see if Tsonda is going to tap out, but Chandler thus far has resisted that tempation.

Richard Parker: He’s overriding his brain right now that is surely telling him to give up.

Tsonda’s movements become increasingly desperate as the triangle choke takes its toll, his free hand shaking as it hovers over the mat. Just when it appears The Model Citizen is about to tap out, he summons every ounce of strength remaining in his body and manages to lift FLAMBERGE up off the mat, stacking The French Phenom on his shoulders in a powerbomb position. FLAMBERGE’s eyes widen as he realizes the danger, and he’s forced to release the triangle choke to prevent being driven into the mat. Both wrestlers crash down in a heap, with Tsonda immediately rolling away and gasping for air while holding his throat. FLAMBERGE gets back to his feet first, but there’s visible frustration on his face as he realizes he had Tsonda on the verge of submission twice and couldn’t finish the job. The Ace immediately moves back on the attack, grabbing Tsonda’s legs and attempting to turn him over for a Boston crab, looking to target the injured back that has been a factor throughout the match.

However, Tsonda’s defensive wrestling instincts are still sharp despite his battered condition, and he manages to kick FLAMBERGE away before the submission can be fully applied. The Model Citizen scrambles back to his feet, though he’s clearly running on fumes at this point. FLAMBERGE charges forward with a running knee strike, but Tsonda’s evasive philosophy finally pays dividends as he sidesteps the attack and immediately counters with a sharp kick to FLAMBERGE’s injured calf. The kick lands with a wet SMACK, and The Neck Collector’s leg buckles visibly from the impact. Tsonda immediately follows up with a second kick to the same spot, then adds a jumping roundhouse kick that catches FLAMBERGE in the ribs and doubles him over. Sensing an opening, Tsonda bounces off the ropes and comes back with a running knee strike that catches FLAMBERGE flush in the face, snapping his head back and sending him stumbling toward the corner.

Richard Parker: Listen to this crowd as they’ve exploded with Tsonda’s flurry of moves here! FLAMBERGE had Tsonda exactly where he wanted him and couldn’t finish off the Model Citizen! That frustration for FLAMBERGE must be real right now.

Nick Stuart: Not only that Richard, but to now be compromised after Tsonda’s repeated leg strikes has to be demoralizing. Not only is Tsonda not out of this match, but he’s put FLAMBERGE right back on the defensive as he has to wonder if he will enough strength from his vertical base to execute anything with confidence.

Richard Parker: This reminds me of Tsonda’s match with Ivan, where The Russian Bear had Tsonda dead to rights and Tsonda kept coming back from the dead.

Nick Stuart: Tsonda has made a career out of doing so.

FLAMBERGE hits the turnbuckles back-first and immediately slumps against them, blood now flowing freely from his nose where Tsonda’s knee connected. The Sultan of Style doesn’t waste the opportunity, immediately charging forward with a running knee strike that catches FLAMBERGE in the midsection and drives the air from his lungs. Tsonda then grabs FLAMBERGE’s head and attempts to bulldoze him out of the corner, but The Bearded Dragon shows his toughness by blocking with his hands on the turnbuckles. FLAMBERGE then fires a sharp elbow that catches Tsonda in the temple, stunning The Tsuperstar long enough for The French Phenom to reverse positions and drive Tsonda back-first into the corner. However, the impact aggravates Tsonda’s back injury significantly, and he cries out in pain as his spine makes contact with the turnbuckles. FLAMBERGE immediately capitalizes by grabbing Tsonda around the waist and executing a belly-to-belly suplex out of the corner that drives The Model Citizen into the center of the ring.

Instead of going for a pin, FLAMBERGE immediately moves to Tsonda’s legs and applies an ankle lock, twisting The Viet Viper’s foot and applying pressure to the joint. Tsonda’s back injury prevents him from immediately scrambling to the ropes, and FLAMBERGE takes advantage by grapevining the leg and really cranking on the submission. The pain is written across Tsonda’s face as he pounds the mat in frustration, his hand once again hovering over the canvas as he considers tapping out. However, The Tsuperstar’s incredible flexibility comes into play as he manages to turn his body and reach the bottom rope with his free foot, forcing the break. FLAMBERGE releases the hold reluctantly, the frustration now clearly visible on his bloodied face as yet another submission attempt has been thwarted. Both wrestlers take a moment to catch their breath, the sustained pace and high-impact moves clearly taking their toll on both competitors.

Richard Parker: FLAMBERGE not giving up either though and he is taking it to Tsonda! He is exacting as much pain as he possibly can from the weathered joins of the Model Citizen.

Nick Stuart: Ooof. Weathered? Hitting below the belt there, Richard.

Richard Parker: Just calling it like I see it!

Nick Stuart: Does Tsonda have anything left in the tank here after that ankle lock?! You can see that Tsonda’s face is screaming about the pain he is currently experiencing.

FLAMBERGE pulls Tsonda away from the ropes and immediately goes for another submission, this time attempting his signature jujigatame armbar. However, Tsonda’s experience shows as he immediately clasps his hands together, preventing FLAMBERGE from fully extending the arm. The two wrestlers struggle on the mat, with FLAMBERGE trying to break Tsonda’s grip while The Model Citizen fights desperately to keep his hands locked together. Eventually, Tsonda’s strength gives out and FLAMBERGE succeeds in separating his hands, immediately hyperextending the arm and applying tremendous pressure to the elbow joint. Tsonda’s face contorts in agony as FLAMBERGE wrenches back on the arm, and for the fourth time in this phase, The Sultan of Style’s free hand hovers over the mat as he considers submitting. However, Tsonda’s ring positioning saves him once again as he manages to hook his leg over the bottom rope, forcing another break.

As FLAMBERGE releases the armbar, both wrestlers remain on the mat for several seconds, exhaustion evident in every labored breath. When they finally get back to their feet, the dynamic of the match begins to shift as FLAMBERGE’s submission-heavy approach has left him drained, while Tsonda’s survival instincts have given him new life. The Model Citizen immediately fires a sharp superkick toward FLAMBERGE’s jaw, but The French Phenom ducks under and counters with a leg sweep that takes Tsonda’s feet out from under him. However, Tsonda shows his athleticism by immediately kipping back up to his feet and firing a spinning heel kick that catches FLAMBERGE in the chest and sends him stumbling backward. Both wrestlers pause in the center of the ring, breathing heavily and staring at each other with mutual respect and determination, realizing that they’ve pushed each other to their absolute limits and that both were going to start digging into desperation in short order.

Richard Parker: These two have been going at it for well over thirty minutes now, sweat is dripping from their bodies, and it’s a miracle either remain standing.

Nick Stuart: You have to wonder just how much both men have left in the tank.

Richard Parker: Just enough to get them to the end and not an ounce more.

Nick Stuart: That means these fans haven’t seen anything yet.

The brief pause ends as both wrestlers simultaneously charge forward, abandoning all pretense of strategy in favor of pure aggression. Tsonda throws a wild haymaker that FLAMBERGE ducks under, while The Neck Collector fires a European uppercut that barely misses The Model Citizen’s chin as he leans back. They end up in a collar-and-elbow tie-up in the center of the ring, but this time there’s nothing technical about it—both wrestlers are throwing short punches and elbows at close range, each strike landing with dull thuds as they batter each other while locked together. FLAMBERGE manages to drive a knee into Tsonda’s midsection, doubling The Sultan of Style over, but Tsonda immediately retaliates with an uppercut that snaps FLAMBERGE’s head back and opens up a cut on his already bloodied lip. They separate and immediately crash back together, with Tsonda firing a series of rapid-fire kicks to FLAMBERGE’s injured leg while The French Phenom responds with sharp elbow strikes to Tsonda’s neck and shoulder area.

The striking exchange becomes increasingly violent as both wrestlers throw caution to the wind, their exhaustion making their technique sloppy but their desperation making every blow count. FLAMBERGE lands a particularly stiff jab that rocks Tsonda backward, but The Tsuperstar immediately responds with a spinning back elbow that catches The Bearded Dragon flush in the temple and sends him stumbling sideways. However, FLAMBERGE’s conditioning shows as he uses the momentum to bounce off the ropes and come back with a running clothesline that nearly decapitates Tsonda, sending The Viet Viper crashing to the mat in a heap. FLAMBERGE immediately goes for the cover, hooking both legs.

ONE

TWO

—but Tsonda kicks out with such force that he actually throws FLAMBERGE off of him, both wrestlers rolling in opposite directions as the near-fall sends shockwaves through the arena.

Nick Stuart: And business has picked up here in Indianapolis as both wrestlers are going for broke now!

Richard Parker: Hard to say who this truly favors because all it takes is one place elbow or knee that could seriously daze one of them and change the direction of this match in a hurry.

Nick Stuart: Well that clothesline nearly did it as Tsonda was nearly pinned.

Richard Parker: I don’t know if Tsonda’s ego could allow him to be pinned off a clothesline, no matter how vicious it is.

Both wrestlers struggle back to their feet, sweat and blood making their movements labored but their eyes still burning with determination. Tsonda charges first, attempting a running knee strike, but his injured back affects his timing and FLAMBERGE is able to catch the knee and immediately transition into a capture suplex attempt. However, Tsonda’s desperation gives him strength, and he manages to shift his weight and land behind FLAMBERGE, immediately wrapping his arms around The Lizard King’s waist for a German suplex. This time Tsonda maintains his grip after impact and pulls FLAMBERGE back up, looking for a second German suplex in the series. FLAMBERGE blocks by hooking his leg, then throws a sharp elbow back that catches Tsonda in the jaw and breaks his grip. The French Phenom quickly spins around and attempts a discus clothesline, but Tsonda ducks under and immediately counters with his signature Golgotha Drop, grabbing FLAMBERGE in a stalling lift position before driving him head-first into the mat with the implant DDT.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

The crowd explodes as Tsonda finally connects with one of his signature moves, but the effort of executing the Golgotha Drop aggravates his back injury significantly, causing him to arch his spine in pain instead of immediately going for the cover. This hesitation allows FLAMBERGE to roll toward the ropes, though The Ace is clearly stunned from the impact of the DDT, his eyes glazed over as he uses the ropes to pull himself up. Tsonda fights through his back pain and gets to his feet, immediately stalking FLAMBERGE as The French Phenom struggles to regain his bearings. The Model Citizen grabs FLAMBERGE’s head and attempts to set up for another high-impact move, but The Neck Collector’s survival instincts kick in and he fires a low blow that doubles Tsonda over. However, in his desperation, FLAMBERGE’s strike is more of a body shot than a true low blow, and while it hurts Tsonda, it doesn’t incapacitate him completely.

Richard Parker: The wear and tear of this match on both competitors is shining through at this particular moment.

Nick Stuart: I mean, better men would be laid out, chests heaving, if they were in this match.

Richard Parker: FLAMBERGE is lucky that last shot was more of a body shot rather than a low blow or he could’ve been disqualified.

Nick Stuart: Nixon admonished him nonetheless to be more careful.

Tsonda straightens up despite the body shot and immediately fires a superkick toward FLAMBERGE’s jaw, but The Bearded Dragon catches the foot at the last second and immediately transitions into a dragon screw leg whip that sends Tsonda spinning to the mat. However, instead of staying down, The Sultan of Style rolls through the impact and pops back up to his feet, immediately launching into a dropkick that catches FLAMBERGE square in the chest. The dropkick sends FLAMBERGE crashing into the corner, and Tsonda immediately follows up by charging forward with a running knee strike that drives the air from The French Phenom’s lungs. Tsonda then grabs FLAMBERGE’s head and bulldogs him out of the corner, but instead of a standard bulldog, he transitions it into a facebuster that drives FLAMBERGE’s face into his knee on the way down.

FLAMBERGE bounces off Tsonda’s knee and crashes to the mat, but his toughness shows as he immediately starts getting back to his feet despite the punishment he’s absorbed. Tsonda doesn’t give him the chance to fully recover, immediately bouncing off the ropes and coming back with his signature Perfect 10 suicide springboard corkscrew body press. However, FLAMBERGE’s ring awareness saves him as he sidesteps at the last second, causing Tsonda to crash hard into the mat with no one home. The impact is devastating for The Tsuperstar, whose back takes the full brunt of the missed high-risk maneuver. FLAMBERGE immediately capitalizes on the mistake, grabbing Tsonda’s legs and attempting to turn him over for a Boston crab. This time he’s successful in applying the hold, sitting back and applying tremendous pressure to Tsonda’s already injured spine while also putting pressure on his legs.

Nick Stuart: And Tsonda crashes and burns in a moment that could change the momentum of this match!

Richard Parker: FLAMBERGE immediately has capitalized on it and is going after the injured back of Tsonda here. You can see the agony on Tsonda’s face.

Nick Stuart: Does he have it in him to fight through this or is this going to be the moment that ends the match?

Richard Parker: I don’t know how much longer Tsonda can hold out for.

Tsonda’s face contorts in absolute agony as FLAMBERGE cranks back on the Boston crab, the pressure on his injured spine nearly unbearable. The Model Citizen’s hand hovers over the mat once again, but this time the pain is so intense that his entire body is shaking as he fights the urge to tap out. The crowd is on their feet as Tsonda begins crawling toward the ropes, inch by agonizing inch, while FLAMBERGE leans back further to increase the pressure.

TS-ONDA! TS-ONDA! TS-ONDA!

Every movement sends shockwaves of pain through Tsonda’s spine, but The Viet Viper’s incredible willpower keeps him moving forward. Just when it appears the pain might be too much to bear, Tsonda makes one final desperate lunge and manages to grab the bottom rope with his fingertips, forcing the break. FLAMBERGE holds the submission for an extra second before releasing, clearly frustrated that another submission attempt has been thwarted.

As FLAMBERGE releases the Boston crab, Tsonda immediately rolls out of the ring and collapses to the floor, his back injury now so severe that he can barely stand upright. Nixon begins his count–

ONE…

TWO…

THREE…

1. -while FLAMBERGE takes a moment to catch his breath inside the ring, wiping blood from his face as he watches his opponent struggle on the outside.

FOUR…

FIVE…

Tsonda uses the security barrier to pull himself up, but his movements are labored and painful, every step clearly causing him significant discomfort.

SIX…

SEVEN…

The Sultan of Style realizes he needs to get back in the ring and begins moving toward the apron, but his pace is slow and deliberate due to his injury.

EIGHT…

Tsonda manages to roll under the bottom rope just in time, but FLAMBERGE is immediately on him, stomping down on the injured back with authority.

Nick Stuart: Tsonda was stuck between a rock and a hard place! He needs time to recover, but he couldn’t risk being counted out and now FLAMBERGE is captazliing on it.

Richard Parker: Those kicks, no matter how much damage Tsonda has done to the legs of the Lizard King, are still vicious and sickening. Tsonda trying to fight through it, but FLAMBERGE has him right where he wants it.

Nick Stuart: FLAMBERGE wants nothing more than to put Tsonda down right here, right now.

Richard Parker: Well, that might be coming sooner than later.

FLAMBERGE pulls the wounded Tsonda up to his feet and immediately whips him toward the corner, but Tsonda’s legs give out mid-run and he stumbles face-first into the middle turnbuckle. The impact stuns The Model Citizen, and FLAMBERGE capitalizes by grabbing him from behind and executing his signature Guerilla Plex ’69, the second-rope release tiger suplex that sends Tsonda flying through the air before crashing down hard on his neck and shoulders. The crowd gasps at the height and rotation of the suplex, and FLAMBERGE immediately scrambles over for the cover.

ONE

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TWO

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THRE–

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—but somehow, impossibly, Tsonda kicks out at the last possible second, his shoulder barely getting off the mat before Nixon’s hand comes down for three. FLAMBERGE can’t believe it, holding up three fingers to Nixon who confirms it was only a two count.

The frustration is now clearly visible on FLAMBERGE’s bloodied face as he gets back to his feet, realizing that despite landing several of his signature moves and nearly submitting Tsonda multiple times, The Tsuperstar refuses to stay down. FLAMBERGE pulls Tsonda up once more and sets him up for what appears to be his finishing sequence, grabbing The Model Citizen’s head and setting up for the Marie Antoinette guillotine choke. However, as FLAMBERGE attempts to apply the choke, Tsonda’s survival instincts kick in one more time, and he manages to grab FLAMBERGE’s injured leg and sweep it, sending both wrestlers crashing to the mat in a heap. Both competitors lie motionless for several seconds, the accumulated damage finally catching up to them both as Nixon considers starting another standing ten count. The crowd is on their feet, awarding both competitors for their grit in this hellacious match.

Nick Stuart: I’m not sure how Tsonda kicked out of that pinfall!

Richard Parker: FLAMBERGE certainly doesn’t understand it, he was certain that was it!

Nick Stuart: Yet, Tsonda keeps on fighting.

Richard Parker: But the question is… which man’s tank is nearly empty?

Nixon raises his hand to begin another standing ten count, but both wrestlers begin stirring as he starts.

FOUR…

FIVE…

Tsonda rolls to his side, using the ropes to pull himself up while grimacing with every movement.

SIX…

SEVEN…

FLAMBERGE gets to one knee, blood dripping from his nose onto the canvas as he shakes his head to clear the fog.

EIGHT…

Both wrestlers are vertical, though neither looks particularly steady on their feet. Without warning, Tsonda explodes forward and catches FLAMBERGE completely off guard with a satellite DDT, spinning around The French Phenom’s body before driving his head into the mat with tremendous impact. However, the rotational movement aggravates Tsonda’s back injury severely, and instead of going for an immediate cover, he rolls away holding his spine. FLAMBERGE, meanwhile, lies motionless from the unexpected DDT, his arms spread wide as the crowd reaches a fever pitch.

After what feels like an eternity, Tsonda crawls over and drapes his arm across FLAMBERGE’s chest and Nixon begins his count.

ONE

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TWO

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THR

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—NO! The Neck Collector kicks out at the absolute last millisecond, his shoulder barely lifting off the mat as Nixon’s hand comes down. The crowd explodes in disbelief, many fans holding their heads in their hands as they thought the match was over. Tsonda can’t believe it either, staring at Nixon with wide eyes before holding up three fingers. Elvis, though, confirms it was only two, and The Model Citizen pounds the mat in frustration before slowly getting back to his feet. FLAMBERGE rolls to his stomach and pushes himself up to his hands and knees, still clearly dazed from the satellite DDT but showing incredible heart by continuing to fight.

Nick Stuart: If only Tsonda had managed to cover FLAMBERGE sooner, he might be walking out of here the champion!

Richard Parker: This is a big chess match at the end of the day. The work FLAMBERGE has been doing on Tsonda’s back throughout this match saved him right there, no question about it.

Nick Stuart: Tsonda is going to have to ignore that pain if he wants to win that match.

Richard Parker: And FLAMBERGE is going to need to stall out Tsonda if he wants to win it.

Tsonda stalks FLAMBERGE as The Bearded Dragon struggles to his feet, and once The French Phenom is vertical, The Sultan of Style immediately attempts his signature Spinal Tap sequence. Tsonda applies a hammerlock to FLAMBERGE’s injured arm, then transitions into an inverted dragon sleeper, cranking back on The Lizard King’s neck while maintaining the arm control. However, before Tsonda can complete the sequence with the kneeling backbreaker, FLAMBERGE shows incredible ring awareness by dropping forward to his knees and rolling forward, using his momentum to break free of both holds simultaneously. As both wrestlers scramble back to their feet, FLAMBERGE immediately fires a devastating rolling thunder, somersaulting forward and driving both knees into Tsonda’s chest with tremendous impact. The Model Citizen crashes to the mat holding his chest, while FLAMBERGE uses the momentum to pop back up to his feet despite his injuries.

FLAMBERGE doesn’t waste a second, immediately pulling Tsonda up and hooking him for what appears to be a fisherman suplex. However, as he lifts The Tsuperstar up, Tsonda shifts his weight and manages to slip out behind FLAMBERGE, immediately grabbing The Ace around the waist and attempting a wheelbarrow suplex. FLAMBERGE blocks by spreading his legs wide, then reaches back and grabs Tsonda’s head, looking for a reverse DDT counter. However, The Viet Viper’s flexibility allows him to duck under FLAMBERGE’s arm and spin around to face him, immediately firing a bicycle knee strike that catches The French Phenom flush in the jaw. The knee snaps FLAMBERGE’s head back violently, and he stumbles backward into the ropes, blood now flowing freely from a cut opened up by the impact of Tsonda’s knee.

Richard Parker: That was one hell of a shot from Tsonda and FLAMBERGE took all of that one! FLAMBERGE has been bleeding at various moments of this match and it’s a miracle he’s still able to stand after that sickening shot.

Nick Stuart: FLAMBERGE might be out on his feet, the ropes are what’s kept him standing.

Richard Parker: Tsonda would do well to capitalize on this moment and put this match away.

Nick Stuart: As if FLAMBERGE will easily allow that to happen.

As FLAMBERGE bounces off the ropes, Tsonda meets him in the center of the ring with a picture-perfect hurricanrana that sends The Neck Collector flying across the ring. However, FLAMBERGE shows incredible athleticism by landing on his feet despite the rotation, immediately turning around and charging back at Tsonda with a Yakuza kick that barely misses The Model Citizen’s head as he ducks at the last second. Tsonda immediately pops back up and attempts a pele kick, but FLAMBERGE sidesteps and catches Tsonda’s leg, immediately transitioning into a single-leg Boston crab that targets the injured back once more. However, Tsonda’s desperation gives him strength, and he manages to roll through the hold and kick FLAMBERGE away before the submission can be fully applied. Both wrestlers scramble to their feet simultaneously, with FLAMBERGE attempting a lariat while Tsonda goes for a clothesline, both moves connecting at the exact same time and sending both wrestlers crashing to the mat.

CRACK!

The double clothesline leaves both competitors down in the center of the ring, neither moving as the crowd rises to their feet in appreciation of the incredible battle they’re witnessing. Nixon begins his count.

ONE…

TWO…

THREE…

FOUR…

FIVE…

Finally, both wrestlers begin to stir, rolling in opposite directions before using the ropes to pull themselves up.

SIX…

SEVEN…

EIGHT…

Both men are vertical at the same time, staring across the ring at each other with a mixture of respect, disbelief, and determination. Without hesitation, they charge at each other again, with FLAMBERGE attempting a discus lariat while Tsonda goes for a flying forearm. This time both wrestlers duck under each other’s moves, bouncing off opposite ropes and coming back with even more momentum. FLAMBERGE leaps for a flying knee while Tsonda attempts a dropkick, and both moves connect simultaneously once again, with devastating results for both competitors.

Richard Parker: These two are just throwing their bodies into each other at the same time. Could you imagine if we end with a double countout because they can’t answer the count.

Nick Stuart: That would be unbelievable and something I hope doesn’t happen.

Richard Parker: These two keep crashing into one another like crash dummies and that’s what you’re going to see happen.

Nick Stuart: These two are operating on just pure adrenaline right now.

Both wrestlers crash to the mat from the dual impact, but this time FLAMBERGE is the first to recover, rolling on top of Tsonda for a cover.

ONE

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TWO

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THRE

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—NO! Tsonda kicks out with tremendous force, actually bridging up and throwing FLAMBERGE off of him. The crowd is deafening now, sensing that they’re witnessing something truly special. FLAMBERGE gets to his feet first, blood streaming down his face as he pulls Tsonda up by the head. The French Phenom attempts to set up for an exploder suplex, but Tsonda blocks by hooking his leg behind FLAMBERGE’s. The Model Citizen then fires a series of short punches into FLAMBERGE’s ribs, each strike landing with a wet thud as both wrestlers are now running purely on fumes. FLAMBERGE’s grip loosens, and Tsonda immediately capitalizes by grabbing The Bearded Dragon’s arm and whipping him toward the corner.

However, FLAMBERGE reverses the whip, sending Tsonda toward the turnbuckles instead. The Sultan of Style rushes into the corner, but he immediately runs up the turnbuckles and launches himself backward with a moonsault attempt. FLAMBERGE sees it coming and moves to the side, but Tsonda adjusts in mid-air and manages to land on his feet, immediately spinning around with a discus clothesline that catches FLAMBERGE across the throat. The Lizard King goes down hard, but his conditioning shows as he immediately rolls toward the ropes and starts pulling himself up. Tsonda doesn’t give him the chance to recover, immediately charging forward and catching FLAMBERGE with a running knee strike that drives The French Phenom back into the corner.

Richard Parker: Tsonda keeping the intensity up here and staying light on his feet. I’m not sure how he adjusted his rotation mid-leap to land on his feet, but he did it and FLAMBERGE paid the price for it.

Nick Stuart: FLAMBERGE has lost any momentum he’s built up and is just being hammered on by the Model Citizen. This is starting to spell the end of the Bearded Dragon.

Richard Parker: I don’t know if I would go there quite yet. Each time we’ve seen each one pick up some momentum and we thought the end was in sight, something stunning has happened and pulled us in the opposite direction.

Nick Stuart: Well, FLAMBERGE is going to need to do that and do it quick.

With FLAMBERGE stunned in the corner, Tsonda immediately climbs to the second rope and starts firing down punches, the crowd counting along.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!

FIVE!

However, before Tsonda can continue, FLAMBERGE shows his power by grabbing The Model Citizen around the waist and walking him out of the corner, setting up for a powerbomb. Tsonda recognizes the danger and immediately starts firing punches down at FLAMBERGE’s head, each strike landing with authority. After the fifth punch, FLAMBERGE’s grip loosens enough for Tsonda to slip down behind him, immediately hooking both of The Ace’s arms and attempting a tiger suplex. However, FLAMBERGE blocks by widening his stance, then throws his head back and catches Tsonda with a reverse headbutt that breaks the hold and staggers The Tsuperstar backward.

FLAMBERGE quickly spins around and charges at the staggered Tsonda, but The Viet Viper shows incredible ring awareness by dropping down and pulling the top rope, causing FLAMBERGE to tumble over the top rope and crash hard to the floor outside. The impact is brutal, with FLAMBERGE hitting the protective mats and immediately rolling against the security barrier while holding his ribs. Tsonda takes a moment to catch his breath in the ring, blood now trickling from a cut above his eye that opened up during the exchange of strikes. The crowd is on their feet as Tsonda looks at FLAMBERGE struggling on the outside and makes a decision that could define the match. Despite his injured back, The Sultan of Style bounces off the far ropes and comes charging back, launching himself over the top rope with a tope con hilo that crashes into FLAMBERGE just as The French Phenom was getting back to his feet. Both wrestlers crash into the security barrier with tremendous impact, the crowd exploding in appreciation as both competitors lie motionless on the outside, Nixon beginning another count on both stars.

Nick Stuart: Holy hell, what is Tsonda thinking?!

Richard Parker: Either go big or go home.

Nick Stuart: That could have sent him to the emergency room.

Richard Parker: Yeah, well.

Nixon’s count echoes through the stadium as both wrestlers lie in a crumpled heap against the security barrier.

ONE…

TWO…

THREE…

The PRIMEates are on their feet, willing both competitors to get up as the tournament final hangs in the balance.

FOUR…

FIVE…

Tsonda is the first to show signs of life, using the barrier to pull himself up to one knee, blood dripping from a cut above his eye onto the protective mats.

SIX…

SEVEN…

FLAMBERGE stirs next, his face a crimson mask as he struggles to his hands and knees, the impact having reopened every cut on his battered face.

EIGHT…

Both wrestlers realize the danger simultaneously and begin crawling toward the ring, their movements desperate and labored.

NINE…

Tsonda dives under the bottom rope just as Nixon’s hand is coming down for ten, with FLAMBERGE rolling in a split second behind him. Both wrestlers lie motionless in the ring, breathing heavily as they realize how close they came to a double countout that would have left the tournament without a winner.

The crowd erupts in appreciation as both wrestlers slowly get to their feet, neither man willing to give an inch despite the punishment they’ve absorbed. FLAMBERGE charges first, his desperation overriding his tactical thinking as he attempts a wild lariat, but Tsonda ducks under and immediately counters with a reverse DDT that spikes The Neck Collector head-first into the mat. However, the impact of executing the move sends shockwaves through Tsonda’s injured spine, causing him to arch his back in agony instead of going for the cover. This hesitation proves costly as FLAMBERGE rolls to his side and starts getting back to his feet, showing the heart of a warrior as he refuses to stay down. When both wrestlers are vertical again, Tsonda immediately attempts his signature Runway Vault, grabbing FLAMBERGE’s head and running toward the corner. He leaps to the second rope and launches into the turnbuckle forward somersault, but FLAMBERGE’s desperation gives him strength as he catches Tsonda mid-rotation and drives him down with a modified spinebuster that shakes the entire ring.

Nick Stuart: And FLAMBERGE manages to counter, driving more pain and pressure into the back of the Model Citizen!

Richard Parker: Tsonda looked like he was going to lay FLAMBERGE out there and it was not meant to be.

Nick Stuart: Can FLAMBERGE capitalized on this?

FLAMBERGE immediately hooks both of Tsonda’s legs for what could be the tournament-winning cover.

ONE

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TWO

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THRE

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—NO!

The Model Citizen kicks out with such force that he actually sits up, the crowd erupting in disbelief as another near-fall slips away. FLAMBERGE pounds the mat in frustration, blood streaming down his face as he stares at Nixon in complete shock. The French Phenom gets back to his feet and immediately signals to the crowd that it’s time to end this, grabbing Tsonda’s head and setting up for the Marie Antoinette guillotine choke. However, as FLAMBERGE attempts to apply the finishing hold, Tsonda’s veteran instincts kick in one final time. The Sultan of Style grabs FLAMBERGE’s injured leg and uses it to trip The Bearded Dragon, then immediately transitions into a modified ankle lock that targets the leg he’s been working on throughout the match. FLAMBERGE’s eyes widen in pain as Tsonda cranks on the ankle, but The Lizard King shows incredible flexibility by rolling through the hold and kicking Tsonda away with his free leg.

Both wrestlers scramble back to their feet, exhaustion and desperation written across their bloodied faces as they realize this match could go either way. FLAMBERGE attempts a jumping knee strike, but Tsonda sidesteps, immediately grabbing The Ace from behind and attempting a dragon suplex. However, FLAMBERGE blocks by grabbing the top rope with both hands, then fires a sharp elbow back that catches Tsonda in the temple and breaks his grip. The French Phenom quickly turns around and attempts a Northern Lights Suplex, but Tsonda slips out behind him and immediately applies his Breathtaker cobra clutch. FLAMBERGE’s face begins to redden as the blood flow is restricted, but The Neck Collector shows his submission defense by immediately dropping to one knee and rolling forward, using the momentum to break Tsonda’s grip and slip out of the hold. However, the escape leaves both wrestlers on the ground in a scramble position, and they immediately begin trading short punches and elbows at close range, neither willing to give the other any breathing room.

Richard Parker: When all else fails… just hit the hell out of one another.

Nick Stuart: At this point, does either man have much of an option?! They’re running on pure fumes and at any given moment, one of them is going to have nothing left in their body.

Richard Parker: Flip a coin, because you could say it’s the wily veteran who has shown no signs of slowing down or the young veteran who might be being dragged out to the deep waters.

The ground exchange becomes increasingly violent as both wrestlers abandon all technique in favor of raw aggression, each punch and elbow landing with wet thuds as they batter each other while jockeying for position. FLAMBERGE manages to work his way on top and attempts to apply a mounted guillotine choke, but Tsonda immediately bridges and rolls, reversing their positions and ending up in FLAMBERGE’s guard. The Viet Viper starts throwing short punches down at FLAMBERGE’s already bloodied face, but The French Phenom wraps his legs around Tsonda’s waist and pulls him down into his guard, then immediately starts looking for a triangle choke attempt. However, Tsonda’s strength allows him to posture up and break FLAMBERGE’s guard, then he immediately stands up and attempts to stomp down on The Bearded Dragon’s chest. FLAMBERGE rolls away at the last second, and both wrestlers scramble back to their feet, circling each other like wounded animals as the crowd noise reaches deafening levels.

Without warning, both wrestlers charge at each other simultaneously, with Tsonda attempting a running knee while FLAMBERGE goes for a spear. The collision is massive, with both moves connecting partially and sending both wrestlers crashing to the mat in a heap. The impact is so violent that Nixon immediately checks on both competitors, but neither man is willing to stay down. They roll in opposite directions and use the ropes to pull themselves up, both wrestlers swaying on their feet as they stare across the ring at each other. Blood covers both of their faces, their gear is torn and stained, and their movements are labored, but the fire in their eyes burns as bright as ever. FLAMBERGE makes the first move, stumbling forward and attempting a wild haymaker, but Tsonda ducks under and immediately fires an uppercut that snaps The Lizard King’s head back and sends him stumbling into the corner.

Nick Stuart: Folks, this is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. Both of these men should be laid up in a hospital somewhere and yet they’re out here just going toe to toe with one another.

Richard Parker: As we said earlier, this means something to both men, no matter how you slice it. It comes down to grit and determination now and even that… may lose out to luck.

Nick Stuart: The fans here are all watching with bated breath, wondering what’s going to come next.

Tsonda follows FLAMBERGE into the corner and immediately starts throwing a flurry of punches and elbow strikes, each blow landing with authority as The Model Citizen unleashes all of his frustration and pain. However, FLAMBERGE shows incredible heart by grabbing Tsonda around the waist and spinning him around, driving The Sultan of Style back-first into the corner and immediately firing his own series of strikes. The exchange becomes a war of attrition, with both wrestlers trading blow for blow in the corner, neither giving ground as the crowd counts along with each strike. Finally, FLAMBERGE gains the upper hand by driving a knee into Tsonda’s midsection, doubling him over, then grabbing his head and driving it into the top turnbuckle with authority. However, instead of following up immediately, The French Phenom takes a step back to catch his breath, allowing Tsonda to explode out of the corner with a running knee strike that catches FLAMBERGE flush in the jaw and sends him crashing to the mat.

Tsonda immediately climbs to the top rope, his movements slow and deliberate due to his injuries, but the crowd senses something big is about to happen. The Model Citizen looks down at the prone FLAMBERGE and launches himself with his signature Model Citizen high-arc moonsault, rotating perfectly through the air. However, at the last possible second, FLAMBERGE rolls out of the way, and Tsonda crashes hard into the mat with no one home. The impact is devastating for The Tsuperstar, whose body bounces off the canvas after the missed moonsault, and he immediately rolls to his side clutching his spine in agony. FLAMBERGE, despite his own injuries, recognizes the opportunity and immediately crawls over to the fallen Tsonda, draping his arm across The Sultan of Style’s chest for what could be the tournament-winning cover.

ONE

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TWO

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THRE

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—NO! Somehow, impossibly, Tsonda kicks out at the very last instant, his shoulder barely lifting off the mat as Nixon’s hand was coming down for three.

Richard Parker: That kickout was off of pure instinct.

Nick Stuart: Both men have scouted one another, both men have managed to avoid their opponent’s biggest move and that could be the difference maker as we surely come to the end of this match.

Richard Parker: Look, I ordered Doordash to bring me an ice cream cake. We’re going to be here for a while.

The arena is in pandemonium as FLAMBERGE sits up and stares at Nixon in complete disbelief, holding up three fingers as blood continues to stream down his face. Nixon confirms it was only a two count, and The Neck Collector pounds the mat in frustration before slowly getting back to his feet. FLAMBERGE looks down at the barely moving Tsonda and knows he needs to end this match now, before his own injuries prevent him from capitalizing on any more opportunities. The French Phenom pulls The Model Citizen up to his feet, Tsonda’s legs barely supporting his weight as FLAMBERGE sets up for what he hopes will be the final sequence of the match. The Bearded Dragon hooks Tsonda’s head and attempts to apply the Marie Antoinette guillotine choke one more time, but as he starts to cinch in the hold, Tsonda summons every ounce of strength and desperation left in his battered body and drives FLAMBERGE backward into the corner, breaking the choke attempt and potentially setting up one final dramatic exchange.

FLAMBERGE hits the turnbuckles hard, the impact jarring him enough to break his grip on the choke attempt, and Tsonda immediately capitalizes by firing a series of short punches into The Lizard King’s midsection. However, FLAMBERGE shows his toughness by grabbing Tsonda’s head and attempting to drive it into the top turnbuckle, but The Viet Viper blocks with his hands and immediately fires an elbow back that catches FLAMBERGE in the ribs. Both wrestlers are now operating purely on instinct and adrenaline, their technical skills giving way to raw determination as they trade strike for strike in the corner. The crowd is on their feet, sensing that this epic battle is going to conclude sooner rather than later, with both wrestlers pushed far beyond their normal limits and fighting for every breath as they refuse to give up their dreams of tournament victory.

Nick Stuart: Who is going to be able to put the other away?

Richard Parker: My money is on double knockout or countout or something. Neither man is going to finish this.

Nick Stuart: Someone will win!

Richard Parker: Meh.

The corner exchange intensifies as both wrestlers throw caution completely to the wind, FLAMBERGE driving his shoulder into Tsonda’s midsection while The Model Citizen fires elbow strikes down at The French Phenom’s head and neck. However, Tsonda’s desperation gives him a burst of energy, and he manages to grab FLAMBERGE’s head and drive it into the top turnbuckle three times in rapid succession. Blood spatters against the turnbuckle pad as FLAMBERGE’s face becomes a crimson mask, but The Neck Collector shows incredible heart by grabbing Tsonda around the waist and driving him out of the corner with a release belly-to-belly suplex that sends The Sultan of Style crashing across the ring. However, Tsonda’s determination shows as he rolls through the impact and immediately pops back to his feet, charging back at FLAMBERGE with a running knee strike. FLAMBERGE sidesteps at the last second, causing Tsonda to crash knee-first into the turnbuckle, and The Bearded Dragon immediately capitalizes by grabbing Tsonda from behind and executing a perfect release German suplex that drops The Tsuperstar on his head and neck.

FLAMBERGE doesn’t waste a second, immediately pulling the dazed Tsonda back to his feet and hooking his head for the Marie Antoinette. This time The Lizard King manages to get his arm across Tsonda’s throat, but as he starts to apply pressure, The Viet Viper shows incredible desperation by grabbing FLAMBERGE’s injured leg and sweeping it, sending both wrestlers crashing to the mat. However, FLAMBERGE maintains his grip on the guillotine choke even as they hit the ground, now applying the submission from his back with Tsonda on top of him. The Model Citizen’s face begins to turn red as the choke cuts off his air supply, and his hand hovers over the mat as he considers tapping out. The crowd is deafening as Tsonda’s movements become more frantic, but The Tsuperstar summons incredible strength and manages to stack FLAMBERGE up on his shoulders while the choke is still applied and Nixon checks to confirm the shoulders are down before he starts to count.

ONE

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TWO

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…

—FLAMBERGE is forced to release the hold to kick out, saving himself from defeat but allowing Tsonda to escape the submission that had him on the verge of unconsciousness.

Richard Parker: FLAMBERGE is going to be kicking himself on that one, he had Tsonda exactly where he wanted him! Tsonda was down and out and somehow the Model Citizen manages to get FLAMBERGE’s shoulders on the mat.

Nick Stuart: Amazing ring awareness there from Tsonda! To know where he’s at, to know what he has to do, to realize there’s no other option. He could’ve passed out during that pinfall even!

Richard Parker: How do you even rule that? Victory for FLAMBERGE or Tsonda?

Nick Stuart: No idea, but it’s one that would be heavily debated for months to come.

Both wrestlers roll away from each other and struggle back to their feet, sweat and blood making their movements labored as they realize they’re both operating on borrowed time. FLAMBERGE charges first with a desperate clothesline attempt, but Tsonda ducks under and immediately fires his signature axe kick, the same setup move that FLAMBERGE uses to set up the Marie Antoinette. The irony isn’t lost on the crowd as Tsonda’s boot catches FLAMBERGE flush on top of the head, staggering The French Phenom backward. However, instead of following up immediately, Tsonda’s back injury causes him to stumble, giving FLAMBERGE just enough time to recover and fire a devastating Yakuza kick that nearly takes Tsonda’s head off. The Model Citizen crumples to the mat, but FLAMBERGE is too exhausted to capitalize immediately, instead falling to his knees while blood continues to pour from his facial lacerations.

After several seconds, FLAMBERGE crawls over and hooks Tsonda’s leg.

ONE

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TWO

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THRE

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…

—NO! The Sultan of Style throws his shoulder up at the last possible moment, with Nixon’s hand just inches from crashing into the mat for a third time. The crowd erupts as FLAMBERGE pounds the mat in absolute frustration, unable to believe that Tsonda continues to survive his best efforts. Both wrestlers slowly get back to their feet, and in desperation, FLAMBERGE charges at Tsonda looking for a spear. However, The Model Citizen leapfrogs over the charging Frenchman, and FLAMBERGE crashes shoulder-first into the turnbuckle post behind him. The impact is sickening, and FLAMBERGE immediately grabs his shoulder in obvious pain as he stumbles backward. Tsonda, despite his own injuries, immediately recognizes the opportunity and grabs FLAMBERGE from behind, executing a bridging German suplex!

ONE

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TWO

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THRE

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…

—NO! FLAMBERGE barely manages to roll his shoulder up, showing the heart that carried him through this entire tournament.

Richard Parker: The same question applies to both men… how did they manage to kick out of that?! How are they still breathing, living, surviving?!

Nick Stuart: It’s truly something to behold. Either man could win this tournament tonight and you would be satisfied with the outcome.

Richard Parker: Except for those two. Those two, it would eat them up.

Nick Stuart: That’s for sure.

The near-fall energizes Tsonda, and he immediately pulls FLAMBERGE up, setting him up for his Golgotha Drop stalling lift implant DDT. However, as Tsonda lifts FLAMBERGE into position, The Bearded Dragon manages to shift his weight and slips out behind The Tsuperstar. FLAMBERGE immediately wraps his arms around Tsonda’s waist and charges forward, driving both wrestlers through the ropes and out onto the ring apron. The impact on the narrow apron is brutal for both men, but FLAMBERGE maintains his grip and attempts to suplex Tsonda off the apron to the floor. However, Tsonda blocks by hooking his leg on the bottom rope, then fires a series of elbow strikes into FLAMBERGE’s ribs that forces him to release the attempt. Both wrestlers teeter dangerously on the apron, and Tsonda capitalizes by grabbing FLAMBERGE’s head and executing a DDT on the apron that drives The French Phenom’s skull into the unforgiving surface with a sickening thud.

CRACK!

FLAMBERGE goes limp from the apron DDT, his body falling off the apron and crashing to the protective mats below while Tsonda struggles to maintain his balance on the narrow ledge. The Model Citizen looks down at the motionless FLAMBERGE and makes a decision that could define the entire match—despite his injured back, he climbs to the top rope and measures the distance to his fallen opponent. The crowd rises to their feet as Tsonda launches himself with a diving crossbody to the outside, crashing into FLAMBERGE just as The Neck Collector was starting to stir. Both wrestlers hit the protective mats with tremendous impact, rolling against the security barrier as the crowd explodes in appreciation for the high-risk maneuver. However, the dive aggravates Tsonda’s back injury significantly, and both wrestlers lie motionless on the outside as Nixon watches helplessly, having abandoned any thought of counting them out.

Nick Stuart: FLAMBERGE’s skull spiked against the hardest part of the ring and you have to wonder if he’s done for good after that. How do you get back up from that?!

RIchard Parker: Well, if Tsonda hadn’t gone for the high-risk move right there, he could’ve rolled FLAMBERGE into the ring and won this match! Instead, he did the most bone-headed thing he could’ve done.

Nick Stuart: Well, Tsonda has always been one to show off a bit.

Richard Parker: And it might be what costs him this match and the tournament! Thank goodness Nixon realizes a double countout would cause him to be strung up faster than the January 6 crowd wanted to do to Mike Pence.

Nick Stuart: Whooooooooooooooooooa.

After what feels like an eternity, both wrestlers begin to stir on the outside, using the security barrier and ring apron to pull themselves up. FLAMBERGE is the first to his feet, blood streaming down his face as he grabs Tsonda and attempts to drive his head into the ring steps. However, The Sultan of Style plants his hands on the steps and blocks the attempt, then immediately grabs FLAMBERGE’s head and drives it into the steel steps instead. The impact echoes throughout the arena, and FLAMBERGE stumbles backward while holding his head. Tsonda immediately capitalizes by grabbing The French Phenom and rolling him back into the ring, then climbing to the top rope once more despite the obvious pain in his back. The crowd senses something big as The Model Citizen measures FLAMBERGE and launches himself with his signature Model Citizen high-arc moonsault. This time the rotation is perfect, and Tsonda crashes down across FLAMBERGE’s chest with tremendous impact.

Richard Parker: THIS IS IT!

Nick Stuart: The first finishing move hit in this match and it could be the deciding factor!

ONE

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TWO

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THREE

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—NO! FLAMBERGE kicks out at the absolute last possible instant, his shoulder barely lifting off the mat.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Tsonda can’t believe it, holding his head in his hands as he stares at Nixon, who confirms it was only a two count. The Model Citizen gets back to his feet, sweat and blood mixing as he realizes he needs to dig deeper than he’s ever dug before. Tsonda stands next to the Bearded Dragon, chest heaving, before he begins to reach down for FLAMBERGE. As he does, the French Phenom sweeps Tsonda’s legs out from underneath him. Chandler crashes to the mat and FLAMBERGE is on top of him, connecting with a series of twelve-six elbows that pummel Tsonda in the face. FLAMBERGE moves away, looking refreshed for the moment, as Tsonda staggers back to his feet.

The Tsuperstar, dazed and confused, never sees the axe kick as it crashes down across the back of his neck. He drops to both knees, blinded by the pain. FLAMBERGE is back to his feet in a hurry and yanks Tsonda up before locking in the Marie Antoinette!

Richard Parker: Holy hell, FLAMBERGE might do it!

Nick Stuart: He’s got that locked in and Tsonda isn’t even trashing, his body is void of any energy in the least bit!

Richard Parker: Nixon is checking on Tsonda, who isn’t out yet, but he doesn’t have much fight left in him.

FLAMBERGE drags Tsonda to the ground, feeling the life leaving the Tsuperstar. Tsonda reaches out, trying to do something as he desperately wants out of this corner of the ring and to the ropes. Still, he is fading. His eyes are closing.

The tens of thousands gathered in Indianapolis can only watch, holding their breath, as the Model Citizen fades before their very eyes.

FLAMBERGE leans back, applying more pressure while Nixon checks on Tsonda, whose eyes aren’t opening again. His hand is limp. His body is limp. The fight he’s put up for so long gives out as his body relaxes completely, his body sprawled out.

Nixon does one final check of the Model Citizen while FLAMBERGE screams for it to end.

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And Nixon orders FLAMBERGE off of Tsonda! FLAMBERGE erupts to his feet in celebration, but Nixon is waving his arms frantically at the Bearded Dragon.

Richard Parker: FLAMBERGE HAS WON THE ALMASY TOURNAMENT!

Nick Stuart: NO! NO HE HASN’T! NIXON IS POINTING AT TSONDA, WHO AS HIS BODY FULLY EXTENDED, FOUND HIS LEFT FOOT TOUCHING THE BOTTOM ROPE!

Richard Parker: WHAT?!

Nick Stuart: IT’S A ROPE BREAK! ELVIS IS TRYING TO TELL FLAMBERGE THE MATCH IS STILL GOING ON!

FLAMBERGE looks at Nixon, very confused as to why the bell isn’t being rung and it takes a moment for it to dawn on him.

The match isn’t over.

The Bearded Dragon rushes over to Tsonda and drags him off the mat before dragging him to the center of the ring. He goes to lock in another Marie Antoinette, but Tsonda slips out of it and behind FLAMBERGE before connecting with a snap Dragon Suplex, dropping FLAMBERGE on the back of his skull and neck! FLAMBERGE stumbles back to his feet where Tsonda greets him with a boot to the midsection followed by a stalling lift implant DDT.

Nick Stuart: GOLOGTHA DROP!

Richard Parker: And Tsonda is back to his feet, looking like a man possessed.

With FLAMBERGE laid out in the center of the ring, Tsonda moves to the nearby corner.

First jump — to the bottom turnbuckle.

Second jump — to the middle turnbuckle

Third jump — to the top turnbuckle

Before launching into a moonsault.

CRACK! THWAP! THUD!

Nick Stuart: MODEL CITIZEN REDUX!

Richard Parker: Oh… my… goodness.

Tsonda wastes no time, ignoring the pain he feels from not only the triple jump moonsault, but from the hellacious nearly hour long match he has found himself in with FLAMBERGE. He immediately sits on top of FLAMBERGE’s chest and hooks both legs as he hears the fist of Elvis Nixon slam repeatedly into the canvas.

ONE

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TWO

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DING DING DING!

The bell rings as the crowd explodes in pandemonium, and Tsonda rolls off of FLAMBERGE, both wrestlers lying motionless in the center of the ring as the magnitude of what they’ve just accomplished begins to sink in.

Richard Parker: TSONDA HAS WON THE ALMASY TOURNAMENT! HE HAS SECURED HIMSELF A SHOT AT THE UNIVERSAL TITLE ON NIGHT TWO OF THE COLOSSUS MAIN EVENT!

NIck Stuart: The road for Tsonda since his return has been long and bumpy, but he has reminded EVERYONE here tonight why he is one of the GREATEST to ever compete in PRIME!

Richard Parker: So many people here, are on their feet, going crazy. From this match. From the display both men put on. From the fact that Tsonda has climbed up to the top of this mountain once again, determined to stake his claim!

Nick Stuart: Surreal doesn’t even begin to describe it.

Slowly, Tsonda makes his way to his feet, with the help of Nixon, who then raises Tsonda’s arm in victory, though The Model Citizen can barely lift his head, while FLAMBERGE remains unconscious from the devastating impact of the super finisher that finally ended this tournament.

Vince Howard: Your winner… AND THE ALMASY TOURNAMENT! CHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANDLER! TSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSONDA!

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Nick Stuart: If you’ve never heard around fifty-thousand people lose their minds, you have now!

Richard Parker: I’m stunned. If I had to put money on it, I would’ve put FLAMBERGE to walk away tonight after an unbeaten year.

Nick Stuart: Three months ago, Tsonda was in one of the most brutal matches we’ve ever seen with Ivan Stanislav in the Warchamber. No one would’ve thought tonight was possible after that match and yet… he’s done it.

Tsonda is celebrating, as much as his body will allow him to. FLAMBERGE, meanwhile, is sitting up in the corner, in disbelief at losing this match. Chandler walks around the ring, soaking in this moment, this moment that seemed at the tip of his fingers for the past couple of years, but just out of reach. Now he’d grasp it and wouldn’t ever let it go.

His eyes land upon FLAMBERGE, whose head is in his hands, trying to figure out what has happened. Tsonda walks over and extends his arm to FLAMBERGE. The Bearded Dragon looks at it, not trusting it, and ignores it as he pulls himself up. The two men lock eyes, with Tsonda’s hand still extended.

And the Bearded Dragon, recognizing game, accepts it.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Nick Stuart: That is sportsmanship, ladies and gentlemen!

RIchard Parker: That it is, because the man who tried to put down Tsonda could see his Glueminati cohort stand across from Chandler three months ago.

Nick Stuart: That is true! If Farthington wins tomorrow night and again on the road to Colossus, Tsonda and Farthington could be our main event at Colossus.

Richard Parker: Lots to happen before then.

Nick Stuart: But that’s for tomorrow night! Tonight though, is all about the Model Citizen. For Richard Parker, I’m Nick Stuart… we will see you tomorrow night for Ascension, Night Two! Good night!

We watch as Tsonda climbs the turnbuckles and takes in the adulation of the crowd gathered before him. He knows the climb isn’t done yet, but it’s the furthest he’s been in two decades and he won’t let that moment slip by him easily.

Tonight though, he is the winner of the Almasy Tournament.

And that feels damn good.

FADE.

TO.

BLACK.